The Darkest Angel (Lords of the Underworld #4.5)(2)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Nice when she’s not protecting Sabin, that is.” Kaia shuddered. “I swear, threaten the man with a little bodily harm, and she’s ready to claw your eyes out.”

“Think we’ll ever fall in love like that?” As curious as Bianka sounded, there was also a hint of sadness in her voice.

Why sadness? Did she want to fall in love? Or was she thinking of a particular man she yearned for? Lysander had not yet seen her interact with a male she desired.

Kaia waved a deceptively delicate hand through the air. “We’ve been alive for centuries without falling. Clearly, it’s just not meant to be. But I, for one, am glad about that. Men become a liability when you try and make them permanent.”

“Yeah,” was the reply. “But a fun liability.”

“True. And I haven’t had fun in a long time,” Kaia said with a pout.

“Me, either. Except with myself, but I don’t suppose that counts.”

“It does the way I do it.”

They shared another laugh.

Fun. Sex, Lysander realized, now having no trouble keeping up with their conversation. They were discussing sex. Something he’d never tried. Not even with himself. He’d never wanted to try, either. Still didn’t. Not even with Bianka and her amazing (soft?) skin.

As long as he’d been alive—a span of time far greater than their few hundred years—he’d seen many humans caught up in the act. It looked…messy. As un-fun as something could be. Yet humans betrayed their friends and family to do it. They even willingly, happily gave up hard-earned money in exchange for it. When not taking part themselves, they became obsessed with it, watching others do it on a television or computer screen.

“We should have nailed one of the Lords when we were in Buda,” Kaia said thoughtfully. “Paris is hawt.”

She could only be referring to the Lords of the Underworld. Immortal warriors possessed by the demons once locked inside Pandora’s box. As Lysander had observed them throughout the centuries, ensuring they obeyed heavenly laws—since their demons had escaped hell before those laws were enacted, no one having thought escape possible, they had not been killed but thrust into that box first, and the Lords second—he knew that Paris was host to Promiscuity, forced to bed a new person every day or weaken and die.

“Paris is hot, yes, but I liked Amun.” Bianka stretched to her back, mist again whipping around her. “He doesn’t speak, which makes him the perfect man in my opinion.”

Amun, the host of the demon of Secrets. So. Bianka liked him, did she? Lysander pictured the warrior. Tall, though Lysander was taller. Muscled, though Lysander was more so. Dark where Lysander was light. He was actually relieved to know the Harpy preferred a different type of male than himself.

That wouldn’t change her fate, but it did lessen Lysander’s burden. He hadn’t been sure what he would have done if she’d asked him to touch her. That she wouldn’t was most definitely a relief.

“What about Aeron?” Kaia asked. “All those tattoos…” A moan slipped from her as she shivered. “I could trace every single one of them with my tongue.”

Aeron, host of Wrath. One of only two Lords with wings, Aeron’s were black and gossamer. He had tattoos all over his body, and looked every inch the demon he was. What’s more, he had recently broken a spiritual covenant. Therefore, Aeron would be dead before the upcoming nuptials.

Lysander’s charge, Olivia, had been ordered to slay the warrior. So far she had resisted the decree. The girl was too softhearted for her own good. Eventually, though, she would do her duty. Otherwise, she would be kicked to earth, immortal no longer, and that was not a fate Lysander would allow.

Of all the angels he’d trained, she was by far his favorite. As gentle as she was, a man couldn’t help but want to make her happy. She was trustworthy, loyal and all that was pure; she was the type of female who should have tempted him. A female he might have been able to accept in a romantic way. Wild Bianka…no. Never.

“However will I choose between my two favorite Lords, B?” Another sigh returned Lysander’s focus to the Harpies.

Bianka rolled her eyes. “Just sample them both. Not like you haven’t enjoyed a twofer before.”

Kaia laughed, though the amusement didn’t quite reach her voice. Like Bianka, there was a twinge of sadness to the sound. “True.”

Lysander’s mouth curled in mild distaste. Two different partners in one day. Or at the same time. Had Bianka done that, too? Probably.

“What about you?” Kaia asked. “You gonna hook up with Amun at the wedding?”

There was a long, heavy pause. Then Bianka shrugged. “Maybe. Probably.”

He should leave and return when she was alone. The more he learned about her, the more he disliked her. Soon he would simply snatch her up, no matter who watched, revealing his presence, his intentions, just to save this world from her dark influence.

He flapped his wings once, twice, lifting into the air.

“You know what I want more than anything else in the world?” she asked, rolling to her side and facing her sister. Facing Lysander directly, as well. Her eyes were wide, amber irises luminous. Beams of sunlight seemed to soak into that glorious skin, and he found himself pausing.

Kaia stretched out beside her. “To co-host Good Morning America?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Then I’m stumped.”

“Well…” Bianka nibbled on her bottom lip. Opened her mouth. Closed her mouth. Scowled. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone.”

The redhead pretended to twist a lock over her lips.

“I’m serious, K. Tell anyone, and I’ll deny it then hunt you down and chop off your head.”

Would she truly? Lysander wondered. Again, probably. He could not imagine hurting his Olivia, whom he loved like a sister. Maybe because she was not one of the Elite Seven, but was a joy-bringer, the weakest of the angels.

There were three angelic factions. The Elite Seven, the warriors and the joy-bringers. Their status was reflected in both their different duties and the color of their wings. Each of the Seven possessed golden wings, like his own. Warriors possessed white wings merely threaded with gold, and the joy-bringers’ white wings bore no gold at all.

Olivia had been a joy-bringer all the centuries of her existence. Something she was quite happy with. That was why everyone, including Olivia, had experienced such shock when golden down had begun to grow in her feathers.