The Darkest Craving (Lords of the Underworld #10)(48)
Author: Gena Showalter

Not on my watch. He burst from the shield of the forest, turned a corner and made it to the cobbled path that led to the palace. Of course, the first person Kane spotted was Leopold, leading a contingent of armed guards out the front doors.

“You’re going to pay,” the prince vowed.

“You can try to hurt me later,” Kane replied, never slowing.

Blue eyes fell on Tink and flared with concern, the rage completely obliterated. “What happened? What did you do to her?” The prince waved the guards away. The moment Kane was within reach, he snapped, “Give her to me.”

“Get out of my way!” There was enough crazed fury in Kane’s tone to startle the man. Wisely, the prince backed off. Kane barreled past him, past the double doors, and shouted, “I want a doctor sent to my room. Now!”

Leopold rushed to his side, keeping pace. “She absorbed the abilities of someone, didn’t she? No, no need to deny it. I know her. She did. I also know one of our doctors wouldn’t be able to help her. Not with something like that. Take her to my room and I’ll—”

Kane ignored him, stomping up the steps and into his own bedroom. He kicked the fancy, impractical cover away and eased her atop the mattress. She was still too quiet.

His hand trembled as he smoothed the hair from her face. Beads of sweat dotted her brow, causing several of the strands to stick. Her cheeks were fever-bright.

The prince approached the other side of the bed. “I could have you arrested for what you did to me, and what you allowed to happen to the princess’s blood slave.”

“I plan to leave as soon as she’s healed. If you want me to spend my remaining days here wedding Synda, killing your father, taking over the kingdom and ordering your torture, you’ll threaten me again.” Actually, that wasn’t a bad plan. It was quick and easy and effective—but it meant being with someone other than Tink. “If not, you’ll shut your mouth.”

The prince shut his mouth.

Kane hated that a doctor couldn’t help her, hated that only time would heal this woman who’d snuck past his defenses—if there was even a cure. But he hated the feeling of helplessness more, of doing nothing but waiting for her to awaken…or die.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JOSEPHINA TUMBLED THROUGH a world of darkness, every corner offering a new chamber of horrors. Screams of agony here. The worst kind of silence there. Big, fat insects everywhere, buzzing around her, biting at her. Pangs of the most intense, bone-deep hunger she’d ever experienced, burning, gnawing at her insides. And rage, so much rage filled her; she wanted to fight someone, anyone. Wanted to conquer and destroy. But how could she do either? She was conquered herself, already destroyed.

Her blood was molten, liquid flame. Her throat hurt, as if it had been scraped raw with a blade. Did she have any skin left? She felt peeled…exposed to the world.

“Kane,” she tried to shout, but no sound emerged.

Where was he? Where was she? What had happened to her?

Memories of a life she hadn’t lived bombarded her. She swung a sword, beheading a demon. She stood over the dying body of a human soul, laughing. She watched a winged female with desire building in her veins. Death…death…all around her. Pain, suffering, regret. More than even a legion could bear.

Something soft brushed against her cheek, trailed along her jaw. “I’m here, Tink. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice. Soothing, beseeching. Pulling her out of the darkness, out of the horror, and into a light…a growing light…brighter and brighter. A moan left her as she struggled to rise.

“That’s the way, beautiful girl. Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.”

Her eyelids pried apart, and in the next instant she was peering into Kane’s handsome face. I’m safe now. He’ll keep me safe.

Their gazes got tangled up, neither of them able to look away, and relief softened his expression. Yet, despite the relief, lines of tension bracketed his eyes and mouth. His skin was pallid, and his clothing wrinkled. His hair was spiked, as if he’d stuck his finger into a light socket.

“You’re back.”

“Where’d I go?” Her voice was a mere croak. She tried to reach up to massage the soreness out of her throat, but her arm proved too heavy to lift. “Where am I?”

His lashes fused, hiding whatever emotion her words had elicited. “I brought you to my bedroom.”

Her gaze, the only thing she could currently move, swept around to find…yes, Kane’s bedroom. She recognized it immediately—while hers was small, plain and filled with eight cots and seven other females, his was total luxury. A gold-and-crystal chandelier hung overhead. The walls were splashed with gold-framed paintings by famous Fae artists who had died throughout the centuries.

Josephina sprawled across the huge, ultra-soft four-poster bed, wearing a T-shirt far too big for her, as well as her gloves, with a velvet blanket covering the lower half of her body.

“Do you remember the bar?” Kane asked. “The fight? The three warriors you touched?”

Remember…yes. She’d touched one, then the other, and the other, and a surge of strength had overcome her, such beautiful strength. But then…oh, then, the darkness had enclosed her, dragging her down, down, down, into a cavern of despair and helplessness.

“You drew the evil out of them and into yourself. I carried you to the palace,” Kane continued. He removed his hand from her face, becoming her anchor, the only thing holding her here. “You’ve been in bed for four days.”

Four days!

The realization sickened her. Her father would be angry with her—had probably even tried to force her out of bed at some point. She had duties, and she would be punished for failing them. But the real reason she panicked? Kane’s wedding was now that much closer.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I dealt with your father.”

His gorgeous hazels were still glued to her, seeming to drink her in and memorize every feature. She could barely blink, caught up in the intensity of him, captivated by the majesty of him…confused by the number of injuries on him.

“What happened to you?” she asked. “My father? Brother?”

He rubbed the angry cuts on his forehead. “Disaster.”

She’d always hated Synda’s demon, and she’d always hated the Lords’ demons. They wreaked havoc on their keepers and ruined…everything. But what she’d felt then could not compare to what she felt now. She wanted Disaster dead. “Well, thank you for taking care of me.” Besides her mother, he was the first to ever do so.