The Darkest Craving (Lords of the Underworld #10)(65)
Author: Gena Showalter

“I could lie and tell you that’s why. I could tell you I want someone else and you’re in the way. But the truth is, I don’t think you can help me. Not without getting hurt.”

He felt as if he’d just been punched in the stomach. Like his friends, she doubted him. Had no faith in his abilities.

Disaster laughed with undiluted glee, at last appeased.

“I want you to leave this realm,” she said with a tremor. “Tonight. Now.”

Kane was a man well acquainted with pain. At least, he’d thought so. Now, he learned the error of his ways. This was true pain. Rejection from the female he craved.

He’d gotten good at building walls inside himself, and used the skill now. Expression even, giving nothing away, he said, “Very well,” with all the calm of a man discussing the weather. “I won’t bother you any longer.” He turned from her and stalked out of the enclosure.

As he stormed down the hall, he ran into William.

“The problem?” William asked after taking one look at him.

“Doesn’t concern you,” he said. “Just keep your boys away from Tink. I won’t be around to protect her.”

“Hell-ooo. We’ve talked about this. She’s yours and I won’t let them—”

“She’s not mine,” he interjected harshly. “And keep your boys away from me, too. They come near me, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

He stalked away from William, grabbed the first drink he found, then another and another, and nearly drowned himself. He danced with Synda, twirling her across the floor. He danced with her friends. They put their hands all over him and he had to swallow back vomit time and time again. Then he danced with Synda again while the king nodded his approval.

“I have to have you, Lord Kane,” Synda whispered, warm breath fanning against his ear. “Let me. Please. You won’t regret it. I’ll do anything you ask.”

He opened his mouth to refuse her, locked gazes with Tink, who was watching him with guarded eyes as she cleaned a table, and said, “Yeah, let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Realm of Blood and Shadows

TORIN SAT AT his desk, fingers pounding at the computer keyboard with so much force he cracked the outer shell. Again. With a curse, he tossed the thing aside and grabbed a new one from his box of spare parts.

There were disturbances all over the world. People were fighting, rioting and looting. For no reason! Cameo and Viola were still missing, and he’d failed to find a single trail to lead him to their whereabouts. They were out there, possibly hurt.

He had no idea what kind of defensive skills Viola possessed. Cameo, on the other hand, was a warrior to her soul and could take care of herself. He knew that. Had seen her fight. Girl had a wicked habit of slitting throats. But she wasn’t infallible.

An unfamiliar sound caught his attention and he spun in his chair, cocking the gun he always kept in his lap.

A young girl stood there, holding her palms up, all innocence. “Please,” she said in a strained whisper. Color drained from her cheeks.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” he demanded, even as he looked her over.

She had dirty hair, at one time it might have been blond, the strands tangled and knotted and hanging limply to her elbows. A stained and ripped nightgown bagged over her too-thin body, the material falling all the way to the ground.

“You are Torin, correct?”

“I’m Death, if you don’t answer my questions.”

“I’m not willing to share my name, and I flashed.” Still she whispered. Why?

“Well, then, I’ll call you Crazy, because only a crazy person would come here without an invite.”

She nodded, no inflection of emotion darkening her features. “You may call me whatever you wish.”

Very accommodating, wasn’t she? “Why are you here, female?”

She ignored him, saying, “Please, may I lower my hands?”

“No.”

“My arms are shaking, and I can’t…I’m not strong enough…” Her arms lowered slowly, as if heavy weights had been tied to her wrists and pulled. “I’m sorry. Please don’t shoot me. That’s not the way I want to die.”

“You’re lucky I don’t like blood in my room.” He lowered the gun as well, placing it on his thigh, making sure to keep the barrel aimed at her stomach. “I don’t like it—but I’ll deal with it. This is the last time I’m going to ask. Why are you here?”

Nervous, she twisted the fabric of her gown. “Cronus came to me several weeks ago and told me I was to grant you twenty-four hours of my time.”

Still. Whispering. He didn’t like it. He was reminded of all the nights he’d spent with his friends, on the road, when they’d found women and brought them back to the tent—but he never had. The couples had tried to be quiet, but they’d always failed.

I want you, the females had whispered. I need you.

This girl—

Her claim finally registered. Cronus was the former king of the Titans. Sienna, Paris’s girl, had killed him, and taken over the Titan realm of the skies. But just before his death, Cronus had made a bargain with Torin. In exchange for guarding the All-key—a spiritual relic capable of freeing the possessor from any lock—Torin would be granted an entire day with a woman he would be able to touch without causing a plague.

Despite the king’s death, the bargain must still stand.

And that might explain why the Paring Rod hadn’t sucked him up. Because of the All-key, it couldn’t hold him. A startling realization—one that suddenly paled in comparison to the knowledge that he could…touch her…

The moisture in his mouth dried as he narrowed his study of her, taking in smaller details. Despite her disheveled state, she was pretty in a subtle, understated way. Her eyes were large and brown…and haunted. There were secrets inside her. Dark secrets. Her nose was small and rounded cutely at the end. Her upper lip was plumper than her bottom lip, and shaped into a heart.

Her hands were scabbed over and streaked with dirt. There was a bruise on the side of her neck—and it wasn’t a hickey. It was too long, too thin, and extended under the fabric of her gown.

She stood utterly still, quiet, allowing him to scrutinize her at his leisure. Her gaze remained averted, glued to the side of the wall. It had taken a warrior’s courage to come, and yet she couldn’t face him head-on while he looked his fill?