The Darkest Passion (Lords of the Underworld #5)(68)
Author: Gena Showalter

“We know about that,” Paris said gently. “Danika told us.”

“Not me.” William swung back to face the front, but not before she caught a glimpse of utter, undiluted fury on his face. “How do you know that?”

“I was once assigned to her care.”

The rest of the drive was made in tense, oppressive silence. Finally they were winding through a neighborhood, a suburb, the houses utterly wonderful and inviting. Thick green trees surrounded the area, one side situated on a hill and rising majestically.

The car stopped in a parking lot, and Paris flicked William a glance. “I’ll just be a minute. Watch the baggage.”

Without warning, and moving so quickly there was nothing Paris could do, William dumped Scarlet in the demon’s lap, no longer quite so careful. “I’ll just be a minute. You scare Gilly, and I’m not having that. Not today.”

“I don’t scare women. I delight them. Besides, you aren’t on the checkout list, and I am.”

William rolled his eyes—a favorite action of his, apparently—and exited the vehicle. “Like that’ll stop me. Have you seen my eyes? They’re electric. Women take one look and I’m immediately placed on their checkout lists.”

“Stop praising yourself and hurry,” Olivia told him just as he slammed the door shut.

He saluted her with a grin.

She watched his progression into the school, fingers tracing over Aeron’s warming brow. He wasn’t getting any better, was even beginning to thrash a bit. His brow was beaded with sweat, and his teeth were digging into his bottom lip.

Not knowing what else to do, she began to sing. Sweet songs of peace and health. A few chords into the hymn, Aeron stilled, his pinched expression even relaxing somewhat.

“My gods,” Paris whispered brokenly.

Her voice tapered off, and she looked up at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

Aeron began thrashing again.

“Don’t stop!” Paris said. “It’s beautiful. My ears are already addicted and need more.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Olivia launched into another serenade. Outside, she could see all manner of animals emerging from the forest and approaching the vehicle. Once more, Aeron calmed and she could have wept with joy.

Would she die for him? Her finger traced one of the skeletal tattoos on his cheekbone. Maybe.

WILLIAM STOOD in the school’s main office, waiting for Gilly. The receptionist had already called her. As he’d told the female that his name was Paris Lord, she’d summoned the girl without incident. List crisis averted.

She was short and curved, in her mid-thirties with a sleek brown bob and brown eyes—eyes she was now in the process of stripping him with. A routine occurrence. One he usually enjoyed. Not so now. He just wanted to haul Gilly the hell out of here. He liked the little smart-ass, and wouldn’t rest until she was safe.He’d had no idea she’d led so terrible a life, and he was ashamed of himself. He knew women. He could figure them out in the span of a once-over. So why hadn’t he realized Gilly was hurting?

Her f**king mother and would-be stepfather! Two people who were supposed to protect her. Well, William was with her now and William would ensure nothing like that ever happened again. He was tempted to cut her mother and stepdad’s throats. Maybe give her their heads for Christmas or something.

“Are you Gilly’s father?” the receptionist asked. She’d abandoned her post at her desk and now stood across from him at the counter.

Shit. He hadn’t seen or heard her move. That level of distraction was dangerous. “Brother,” he replied, a bit irritated that he looked old enough to have a seventeen-year-old daughter. Yeah, he was pushing two thou, but he didn’t have a wrinkle on him, damn it!

“Oh. That’s nice.” She grinned and slid a piece of paper his way. “If you’d ever like to discuss her curriculum, here’s my number. Call anytime.”

“I’ll definitely be in contact.” He, too, grinned, though his was forced. He pocketed the paper, knowing he wouldn’t use it. “Education is so important.”

That earned him a giggle, and he tried not to cringe.

Women. They were both a blessing and a curse. Sex, he loved. Sex, he needed, craved. Sex with the wrong woman had gotten him locked up. Sex with the goddesses who visited him in prison had gotten him kicked out of the heavens. That hadn’t stopped his libido, however. Actually, nothing stopped his libido. Even the curse hanging over his head.

One day, a woman of great beauty and power would tempt him. One day, that woman would trick him into loving her. One day, that woman would enslave him. And then, that woman would kill him.

It had already been prophesied.

Maybe—perhaps—okay, not really likely—he could have avoided females altogether and saved himself the trouble of such a death sentence. But even that wouldn’t have saved him. That, too, was part of the prophesy. To avoid women and sex was simply to condemn himself to a much faster, much more painful death.

The only way to stop the unnamed woman and break the curse had been written in a book. A book that was nearly impossible to decode, so he had yet to find the answer. Also, the minor f**king goddess of Anarchy had possession of that book, returning it page by stingy page. He’d hate Anya for such a thing if he didn’t love her so damned much.

They’d spent hundreds of years in Tartarus as cell neighbors. Her wit had been the only thing to keep him sane.

“William?” Gilly’s husky voice suddenly rang out.

He turned on his heel and there she was, standing at the end of a long hallway. She was slender, dark haired, dark eyed, and more…knowledgeable than someone her age should ever be. That should have been clue number one, he thought.

Maybe he’d sensed it, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.

She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and sneakers that had a tracking device hidden in the soles, not that she knew it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, not a speck of makeup on her face.

That didn’t seem to bother the boy next to her. He was staring at her as if hypnotized. But having heard her say William’s name, that boy had frowned. And when he followed the line of her gaze and spotted William, his frown deepened and he paled.

Boyfriend? Or potential boyfriend?

Someone would have to put a stop to that. She was too young, with too traumatic a past. She needed to be alone. Until she was at least forty.

“Hey, pet,” William said with a finger wave.