The Darkest Lie (Lords of the Underworld #6)(48)
Author: Gena Showalter

How could her mother have kept this from her? How could the woman who’d given birth to her have treated her so poorly?

Like you treated your own son?

Gideon popped his jaw. Someone stole my memory of him, damn it.

That didn’t ease his guilt. He should have remembered that precious boy. Some part of him should have, at the very least. Yet, of all the times Gideon had seen flashes of Scarlet in his mind, he’d never seen flashes of Steel. He didn’t have a single tattoo to represent and honor his dead son.

I’m the worst f**king father in the world.

Lies had nothing to say on the matter; it was as if the demon didn’t care about the boy, living or dead, truth or lie, on any level.

But Steel couldn’t be a lie. No one would fake the pain Scarlet had projected upon his murder. Not even the actors Scarlet liked to eat with her eyes.

With his free hand, Gideon scrubbed at his scalp. Even now, he couldn’t remember his life with Scarlet. Couldn’t f**king remember, even though their wedding was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. She’d glowed. Oh, had she glowed. With love, promise…hope. Just thinking of it, he was humbled.

And yeah, he wanted her to look at him like that again. He didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t stop the desire.

He fingered the butterfly necklace once again clasped around his neck. Thank the gods Scarlet had found it and brought it to him. Even though she had every reason to hate him, she’d thought of him, looked out for him.

She truly was far too good for him.

“Can you imagine living here?” she asked with wonder. Wonder tinged with regret and sadness. “I mean, I’ve been forced to live in caves and crypts and this was my legacy. Wow. Just wow.”

“Believe me, I don’t prefer to live below.” Here, he was one of a thousand others who were just as strong as he was. If not stronger. There, he was a man of power.

He wanted to be all-powerful in Scarlet’s eyes. He wanted to be well able to provide for her.

Hell, he might just buy her a palace of her own. Actually, no. He’d build the bitch with his bare hands.

“Amazing.” She tugged free of his hand, stopped and pressed her palms to the glass. Her own necklace clinked. “People actually read in those chairs?”

He paused beside her and sighed. “Take your time. We don’t need to reach Cronus’s room, like, ASAP. He won’t be returning for me soon, and we don’t need to be long gone by then.”

“I know that, but why venture into his bedroom?” Her gaze was glued to the heavy velvet drapes and the gold-inlaid tables that filled the empty sitting room. No, not empty, he realized. Someone—a tall, blond male—was striding to the bookcase. “Can he hear us?” Scarlet whispered.

Did she want him to? “Yes.”

“Oh. Good. So we can drool in peace.”

He didn’t recognize the god, but that didn’t stop Gideon from hating the male at first sight.

“Anyway. As I was saying,” she continued. “Why can’t we just head to the prison?”

“We don’t need a slave collar to open the gates of Tartarus.”

“Hell, no! I’m not wearing a slave collar. Not ever again!”

“We have to wear it, smartie, not just hold it. Now. Do you not know who that is?” So I know the name of the next man I kill.

“Of course I do. That’s Hyperion, Titan god of Light. Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Damn her and her attraction to blonds. “I might have known the face, but I don’t know the name. I also don’t know that Hyperion is a sociopath. He doesn’t enjoy setting immortals on fire just to watch them burn and hear them scream.”

“Sexy.”

“You didn’t meet him in prison?” he gritted out.

“Met, yes. We didn’t share the same cell, though. Unfortunately.”

If Scarlet thought to kiss another man the way she’d kissed Gideon, if she thought to allow another man to touch her the way Gideon had touched her, burning to death would be the least of her worries. Right now, she belonged to Gideon. She was his wife. He didn’t share. At least, not anymore.

Scowling, Gideon grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. “Not enough of that.” His steps were clipped, his boots thumping into the onyx floor. They snaked a corner and another room came into view. A ballroom. Glittery sprites were darting throughout it, dusting and polishing the entire area.

Around another corner, the hall tilted at a steep incline, and though his still-tired thighs hated the burn, he didn’t slow. His growing anger gave him strength. Anger, not jealousy. He didn’t do jealousy.

“So who aren’t you today?” He hadn’t asked yet, he realized. But as always, once he wondered, he could think of nothing else. Say Lord. You had better say Lord.

“Scarlet…Hyperion. Yes, that has a nice ring to it.”

Enough! At the top of the incline, Gideon stopped and spun. When Scarlet slammed into him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. She kept her gaze averted and…was that…was she… Sure enough. Her lips were curling into a smile. She was fighting laughter, the witch.

Gideon released her, his anger draining. Anger, not jealousy. “You’re not begging for a spanking, you know that?”

“I—” Her words cut off as she gasped. Once more she pressed herself against the glass, her amusement forgotten. “That’s Mnemosyne. My aunt.”

Knee-mah-zee-knee. Odd name. He followed the direction of Scarlet’s gaze. Inside an opulent bedroom of cherrywood and gold-threaded marble, a slender blonde sat upon a ruffled pink bed. Her hair curled innocently to the middle of her back. In contrast, she wore a slinky black dress that was slit up both thighs.

“No hurry, remember?” He wrapped his arm around Scarlet’s waist. He hadn’t dared before. She would have rebuked him, and he’d known it. But she had teased him a moment ago, and she was distracted now; he wasn’t above using either to his advantage. He wanted to touch her. All the damn time.

“I have to talk to her, Gideon. Please.” Dark eyes flicked briefly up to him, imploring. “She’s the goddess of Memory and she might know who messed with your mind. Or how they did it, at the very least. Gods, I can’t believe I didn’t think about asking her before.”

It was the first time Scarlet had asked him for anything, and he found, even as urgency raced through him, that he could deny her nothing. “Sure you can’t trust her?”