The Darkest Craving (Lords of the Underworld #10)(79)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Will your friends like me, do you think?” she asked, and nibbled on her bottom lip. “The few I’ve actually met have only seen me at my worst.”

He heard the uncertainty in her tone. “The wedding was your worst? Honey, your worst is most people’s best. My friends will love you.” If not, Kane would hand out some serious beatings. “They’ll guard you with their lives.”

“Yeah, but what if they think I’m all wrong for you?”

“Impossible. You’re perfect for me. Besides, wait till you meet their wives. Or have you already heard stories?”

She shook her head. “New reports of your most recent exploits haven’t yet come in to the masses.”

It was humiliating to know they’d never realized they were being spied on. “Well, Sabin and Strider are consorts to bloodthirsty Harpies. Lucien is engaged to Anarchy. All three females are annoying, always stealing weapons out of my room, but as they would say, they’re simply amazeballs—and so are you.”

A smile—small, but there. “Thank you.”

He soared. “Is there anything you’d like to purchase before I take you out of the city? Anything at all. I plan to get you some clothes, but we can also get shoes, purses, jewelry, whatever you’d like.” If he had to buy her affections, he would. He didn’t care how pathetic that made him. He just wanted her happy.

“No. Really, I’m good.”

The vibrations in his wedding ring intensified significantly, startling him. Frowning, he held the metal band to the light. In the center, as if the band were a movie screen, he watched Red shove his way through a crowd.

Kane glanced up—and spotted Red, shoving his way through the crowd, closing in on him. The ring had known, had…warned him?

“Is something wrong?” Tink asked.

“Yeah. We’ve picked up a tail.” He trashed his coffee, did the same to Tink’s.

“Hey,” she grouched. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“Sorry. Don’t want you to burn yourself.” He launched forward, barreling past oncoming humans, dragging Tink with him. With his free hand, he withdrew a dagger.

“Who’s the tail?”

“One of William’s kids.” No. Scratch that. All of William’s kids were probably here. Those four were like ants: never alone.

“What are they, anyway?”

“Trouble.” And they weren’t coming near Tink. He would kill them first.

Yeah. It was time to kill, he decided. He’d warned the Rainbow Rejects about what would happen if they came after Tink. The warning had been a courtesy to William. His last courtesy. The boys hadn’t listened. Now, Kane would follow through.

“I’m going to hide you in one of the shops, okay? I need to have a chat with the boys, and I don’t want you to—”

“Kane!” Tink vanished.

No, not Tink. Kane. No longer was he racing down the sidewalk with his woman behind him. He was standing in a narrow hallway, white fog wafting all around him. A shout of denial split his lips as he turned left, right, searching for Tink.

He clawed through the mist, only to discover—more mist. He checked his ring, but there was no longer a reflection. Panic set in. Where was he? What had happened? Not many beings had the power to flash another without contact. Only Greek and Titan royalty, and—

The Moirai, he realized with sickening dread. They’d used their powers to transport him from New York to their home in the lower level of the skies.

He sped down the hall. He’d been here before, knew the way, and didn’t need to look to know the walls were comprised of thousands upon thousands of braided threads. Those threads vibrated, coming alive, playing scenes from his life—past, present, and maybe even future—but he didn’t allow himself to stop and study.

He was careful to breathe as little as possible. The air was laced with some kind of drug, something to keep him pliant, and maybe even susceptible to suggestion. Tink thought the Moirai operated that way, that they weren’t really controllers of fate, but rather massagers of it, pushing and kneading, tricking, until their victims were putty in their hands, blindly following wherever they led.

Not me. Not any longer.

He reached the end of the hall and entered the weaving room. The three hags sat on wooden stools, each female hunched over the loom, with her long, white hair frizzing over her shoulders.

Klotho had spotted hands and spun the threads.

Lachesis had gnarled fingers and wove those threads together.

Atropos had pupil-less eyes and snipped the ends of the locks.

“Send me back. Now.” The last time he was here, he’d shown the utmost respect. He’d kept his tone level, his gaze averted. This time he whipped out his demands, his gaze direct. The outcome was too important.

“You made a wrong turn.” Klotho cackled.

“Such a bad wrong turn,” Lachesis reiterated.

“Bad turns lead to bad ends,” Atropos said without any inflection. “You should have married the other one. Or two.”

No. No, he wouldn’t believe it. Tink belonged to him, and he belonged to her. He wanted no one else—would have no one else.

“There’s still time to change directions,” Klotho added.

“Oh, yes, there’s still time,” Lachesis reiterated.

“That’s the only way you’ll survive the pain,” Atropos said.

Kane came forward, with every intention of shaking the females into submission. “Send. Me. Back.”

Klotho looked up and frowned. “You’re ruining our tapestry, warrior. The scenes you’re creating aren’t as colorful as the ones we wish to create.”

They’d predicted his future for the colors his actions would lend to their blanket? Inconceivable!

Roaring, Kane slashed his dagger through the threads closest to him. Moved forward, slashed through more. All three hags gasped with horror.

“You’re going to send me back to my wife, or your throats are next.”

“You wouldn’t!” the one in the middle gasped.

“If you’ve seen my past, and gotten a glimpse of my future, you know I’ll do much worse than that.” Determined, he stalked forward.

* * *

ONE SECOND JOSEPHINA was being dragged by Kane, the next she was on her own in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. Shock had her stumbling to a halt, but she quickly righted herself. Where had he gone?

She spun, searching the area, trying not to panic. People, people, so many people, each on a mission, marching in every direction. A building here, a building there. Birds on the sidewalk, pecking at trash.