The Darkest Lie (Lords of the Underworld #6)(26)
Author: Gena Showalter

Their thoughts, though, were another matter. Amun was helpless to do anything but listen to what went on inside their heads. To him, it was as if they were speaking aloud. Aeron thought, How can I get out of here without hurting his feelings? And Olivia thought, How sad Amun looks. I should cheer him up.

“We would love to stay with you,” Olivia replied, and clasped Aeron’s hand.

The former keeper of Wrath scowled at her. Clearly, he’d wanted to spend the next few hours rolling around with her, naked, not talking with Amun.

Amun tried not to grin. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than this time alone, it was teasing his friends. He didn’t get to do it often, as quiet as he had to be, so he worked with what he was given.

Thank you. I would love to spend time with you.

“Then we shall spend as much as you’ll allow us,” Olivia responded happily.

Aeron’s scowl deepened, and Amun fought a laugh. As Olivia tucked her wings into her back, she led the shirtless warrior toward Amun’s chair and gave him a little push.

He settled with a heavy sigh, his many guns and daggers clanking together. Once, Aeron’s entire body had been a canvas of tattoos. Dark tattoos of death and violence to remind himself of the things he’d done, and the things he might do again if he wasn’t careful. But not too long ago, Aeron had been killed and miraculously brought back to life. His resurrected body was tattoo-free.

Or had been.

Aeron had already begun decorating himself again. This time, however, the images were almost comical. Olivia’s name claimed the spot just above his heart, and her face was etched in perfect detail on his wrist. He even had black wings tattooed on his back, reminiscent of the wings he’d lost during his transformation.

“Oh, is that beer?” Olivia clapped excitedly as she settled on Aeron’s lap. Her dark curls bounced around her shoulders, intermittently hiding and revealing the glittery flower petals woven throughout. “I’ve always wanted to try beer.”

Amun shoved the cooler away from her, even as Aeron shouted, “No! No trying beer.” Then, more calmly, “Sweetheart. No. Please.”

Too well did they recall the last time Olivia had indulged with alcohol. Without a doubt, she was the world’s saddest drunk.

A huff escaped her. “Fine. I won’t taste it.”

Aeron relaxed. Maybe because he had no idea she planned to guzzle it instead of taste it.

Before she could reach for a bottle, Amun clapped for her attention. You look very pretty today. And she did. Her cheeks were rosy, and her sky-blue eyes bright. Love radiated from her.

“Thank you,” she replied, beaming up at him.

“What’d he say?” Aeron demanded.

“He thinks I look very pretty.”

The warrior’s lips pursed. “I told you that a few minutes ago and you ran from me.”

“But I was going to reward you when you caught me.”

The warrior’s narrowing violet eyes landed on Amun. Why’d you have to be here? he thought, knowing Amun heard. Now I have to wait for my reward. “So. Do you come here often?” he said aloud.

Trying to appear somber, Amun nodded.

That violet gaze shifted, perusing their surroundings. “I can see why. It’s nice here. Peaceful.”

Which was one of the reasons Olivia had chosen to lead him down this path. She’d wanted her man to forget his troubles, if only for a little while, and simply enjoy.

A paradise, certainly, Amun signed.

“But aren’t you worried about Hunters sneaking up on you?” Olivia asked, and seemed to sink into herself. Hate was not part of her makeup, he knew, but she didn’t like the pain those men had brought her man.

Were you?

She blushed, and Aeron choked on what seemed to be a bout of laughter. That, he’d apparently understood.

Actually, with the iron fence around the property and Torin having this place monitored 24/7, I’m not worried about anything but relaxation.

Torin, keeper of Disease. The poor man couldn’t touch anyone skin-to-skin without infecting them with some sort of sickness. Of course, that sickness wouldn’t kill immortals, but it would infect them and they in turn would infect everyone they touched. Therefore, Torin spent most of his time alone in his room.

Well, not so alone anymore.

Amun had picked up on his thoughts, as well as Cameo’s. Cameo was keeper of Misery, and the two had been engaged in a passionate affair of You-can’t-touch-me-but-you-can-watch-me-while-I-pretend-you-are for weeks. Both knew it wouldn’t last, but they were enjoying the hell out of each other right now. So much so that Amun often wanted to cut off his own skull and dig out his brain, just for a few moments of peace.

“We really didn’t mean to intrude on your relaxation time,” Aeron said. “So we’ll just be on our—”

What’s mine is yours.

Aeron’s shoulders slumped, and Amun fought another laugh.

“Yeah, but my darling is right. You deserve to relax in peace. So why don’t you take half the forest, and we’ll take the other half? No, that won’t work,” she rushed on. “We’ll just stress about the dividing line.”

Silly woman.

“Oh, I know. We can work out a schedule.” Olivia grinned, proud of herself. “Something like, you get Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and we get Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Or I get every day, since I’ve already staked a claim. And you can visit me upon occasion.

“Or you thank us for allowing you even those three days,” Aeron retorted when Olivia translated. “Otherwise, we might spill your secret and then every last person living in the fortress will start coming here.”

Amun flipped him off, a sign that needed no interpreting.

The booming laugh that next escaped his friend was like soothing balm to his ears. Before Olivia, and the events that led to Aeron’s death, Aeron had never exhibited such merriment. He’d been very much like Amun projected himself to be. And, truthfully, most often was. Somber. Sorrowful. Almost grief-stricken.

What’s it like? Living without a demon? So many centuries had passed, Amun barely remembered how it had been, living in the heavens, carefree and without interference.

“Honestly?” Aeron leaned back until his shoulders were resting against a tree trunk. He pulled Olivia with him, and helped her curl herself around him. “Amazing. There’s no voice in the back of my head, beseeching me to do terrible things. There’s no urge to hurt or maim or kill. But it’s also…odd. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on the bastard, uh, fiend—sorry, sweetheart—for information about people. I’m having to relearn how to read people’s intentions.”