The Darkest Craving (Lords of the Underworld #10)(63)
Author: Gena Showalter

Yeah, he thought a moment later. She did.

A long time ago, he’d done something similar. He’d planted tracks, allowing his enemy to find him and escort him into their camp. Once there, he’d rained absolute and total destruction.

“—will suffer for what your people have done,” a male voice said.

Kane pushed through a veil of bushes and found four Fae soldiers pinning Petra to the ground and tying her hands behind her back. She was struggling, but her efforts were puny at best.

“Let her go, and stand back,” Kane commanded, pulling the gun he hadn’t given back to William and aiming at her head.

All eyes whipped to him.

The men frowned. Petra cursed.

“But Lord Kane, the other Phoenix have fled. When they return we can use this girl to threaten them,” the shortest exclaimed.

Kane bared his teeth in a scowl. “I said, let her go.”

The four instantly stepped away from her. She popped to her feet, and the rope they’d used fell away, the ends singed.

“You always ruin everything!” she screeched with a stomp of her foot.

Mine, Disaster purred.

Shut it!

“Let’s have this out,” Kane said. “Me and you. Winner gets the girl.”

She stilled, studied him with intrigue. “You’d fight a female?”

“I’d do worse than that.” Hadn’t he proven it already?

She gloated, saying, “Kill me, and you’ll only strengthen me. I’ll rise from the ashes and enslave you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She paled at the reminder that no Phoenix was guaranteed an eternity. At some point they all died for good.

“To be honest,” he said, “I don’t really want to kill you. I want to give you back to your people. After all, I was told your king would like to…speak with you.”

Fear darkened her eyes, and she backed a step away. Kane smiled—and squeezed the trigger once, twice. Screaming with pain and surprise, she collapsed. Blood leaked from both of her thighs.

“However,” he said, “I’ll do what I have to do.”

“So will I.” Cringing, she reached for one of the gaping soldiers. The moment her fingers touched the male, he burst into flames, flailing about, screaming with agony. Kane lost sight of the girl as he patted the man down. By the time the flames had been doused, Petra was gone.

He hunted for one hour…two…six…determination driving his every movement. He found multiple trails of her blood, but no more than that. She remained expertly hidden.

His mood was black and stormy by the time he returned to the palace. He could hear the murmurings of the crowd, and remembered the party. Tink would be serving. Still in his “hideous” clothes, he snuck in through one of the secret passageways and, after claiming a glass of whiskey, camped in a shadowed corner.

The ballroom had been decked out. The chandeliers dripped with diamonds as big as his fist, and dragon-shaped pillars had been wheeled inside. The heads moved, ruby eyes scanning the room, forked tongues darting from between blackened lips, and releasing smoke.

Fae males were dressed in weird, girly suits with lace and bows, and the women in big, puffy gowns, with their hair styled bizarrely, with knots and spikes shaped to look like animal heads. There was a lion. An eagle. An antelope. The atmosphere was very…Victorian era meets The Hunger Games in Wonderland, with an R rating. The men were feeding the women by hand, then going in for a taste themselves. On the dance floor, bodies gyrated together, hands roaming, clothing being shoved aside.

Kane watched as Synda fluttered from one group to another, sipping champagne and laughing gaily. The king had left his throne and now “graced” the assembly with a dance. Leopold waited at the entrance, greeting guests as they arrived. The queen was perched on a settee in back, ten of her friends sitting at her feet, watching the proceedings with hawk eyes.

William—my PMS—had gotten his stupid kids an invitation, and the group had taken up residence in the corner across from Kane. They watched him watching them, trying to intimidate him. All they did was irritate him.

Ignoring them, he searched for Tink. She had to be here. She—

Had just entered the room.

Breath caught in his throat. Her fall of black hair was tied in a simple bun at her nape, yet several tendrils had escaped confinement and framed the incomparable elegance of her face. She was captivating, and maddening, and utterly enchanting.

She was…everything.

He finished off his whiskey and dropped the glass in a potted plant. His blood heated, practically boiling in his veins as he pushed from the wall and stalked across the room. His gaze remained on her, studying her more intently. She wore the now-clean uniform he’d bought for her, managing to outshine every other woman in the room.

She carried a tray and gathered empty glasses, stealthily looking this way and that, searching for someone. For him?

A female stepped in his path and he ground to a halt to avoid plowing into her. “You’re Lord Kane.” A giggle filled the minute portion of air between them, overshadowing the soft hum of music in the background. She traced her fingertips along the center of his chest. “I’ve been so eager to meet you.”

He bit back an angry retort and set her aside.

Another girl moved into his path, and this one had brought a few of her friends. The females circled him, wolves intent on their prey, and rapid-fired comments at him.

“Ask me to dance, Lord Kane. Please.”

“Let’s adjourn to the balcony. I have a present I’d love for you to unwrap. Hint—it’s me.”

“My husband is spending the night with his mistress. I would love it if you kept me company tonight. I promise not to wear any clothes.”

“The only thing I’d be willing to do is spank the living hell out of you for accosting a stranger,” he said. “This is my engagement ball, and you think it’s okay to come on to me?”

Just like he thought it was okay to chase down Tink?

Whatever.

He barreled past the floundering females. Finally he reached Tink and the tension inside him eased. “Need help?”

She gave him the swiftest of glances. “You shouldn’t be talking to me.” Her hands trembled as she gathered the glasses the guests had discarded in the oddest places—and he cursed himself for what he’d done with his own.

“When have I ever done what I’m supposed to do?” he asked.

“Point taken. Now leave.”

Disaster purred his approval.