The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(17)
Author: Gena Showalter

The bed was swathed in black cotton; turning her head, Danika saw that she was draped by a half-clothed man. He possessed skin of chocolate and honey, taut muscle and ripped sinew. No hair marred his chest, but there was a menacing butterfly tattoo that stretched from one shoulder to the other and up his neck. Menacing butterfly – two words that could be used together to describe only one man.

Reyes.

"Oh, God." She bolted upright, dislodging him. Panting, she scrambled to the edge of the mattress, never turning her back to him. A snippet of her conversation with Stefano played through her mind.

"What if they try and kill me?" she’d demanded.

"They won’t," he’d answered confidently.

"How do you know? You can’t be sure."

"They are men. You are a woman. Think about it. Besides, they could have hurt you before, but didn’t."

"They warned me to stay away from them."

"Why?"

"I don’t know."

"Find out. Find out everything you can. Their weapons, their weaknesses, their plans, their likes and dislikes. You’ll take a cell phone. It’s small, easy to hide. I’ll give you a day to settle in. After that, we’ll talk every night if possible."

"What about you?" she’d asked, not wanting to consider the dangers of spying just yet. "You’re not a woman. By your rationale, they’ll kill you if they find you here."

"By the time they arrive, I’ll be gone, watching from another location if I can. Others will be here to guard you, to make sure the Lords don’t intend to harm you, so don’t fret. These men are willing to give their lives to ensure the downfall of those demons. Don’t let their sacrifice be for naught."

"What? Oh, hell no. I don’t want anyone sacrificing anything."

"Would you feel better if I told you they’ll run as soon as the Lords arrive?"

"Yes."

"Then they’ll run."

Had they, though?

Slowly Reyes sat up, and their eyes met in a heated clash, his as dark as his skin. Turbulent. Hers, a little watery. His lips pulled in a tight frown. Her gaze dropped and she studied the rest of him. His ni**les were hard enough to cut glass; three wounds were healing, one scabbing on his shoulder, one on his sternum and one marring his stomach.

"Where am I?" she asked, the words a mere whisper.

"My home."

"In Buda?"

"Yes."

Her eyelids narrowed, her mind a black hole that couldn’t provide a single memory of being moved from one location to another. "How did I get here? How did you find me?"

He looked away, hiding his gaze under his lashes. "You know I am not human. Don’t you?"

Knowledge she wished she didn’t possess and a conversation it was best not to start. Why, yes, Reyes, I do know you’re a demon. Your greatest enemy gave me the scoop and now I’m here to help him destroy you. "You came for me," she said, changing the subject. Part of her had hoped for just such a thing; part of her had feared it.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"Yes," he repeated.

"Why?" Without the heat of his gaze holding her captive, she was able to scan her own body. She was still clothed, thank God. Her sweater had been removed, but her white T-shirt was still stained with grease and now blood – hers, the man she’d hurt – her jeans ripped from her struggle with her assailant. She…smelled. How long had she been wearing these clothes?

Suddenly the bed bounced, and her eyes jerked back to Reyes. He had propped his back against the headboard, widening the distance between them. That should have pleased her. Yes, it should have.

"I have a feeling I will always come for you." His angry voice whipped through the silence, his accusing expression laying the blame at her feet.

Once again her eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. "Let me guess. You’ll always come for me because you like hurting me. Well, why didn’t you just kill me while I slept? I wouldn’t have been able to fight. You could have cut my throat, quick, easy. That is what you ultimately plan to do, isn’t it? Or have you changed your mind?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He remained silent.

"Have you captured the rest of my family?"

Again, no reply. Only that increasingly erratic tick.

"Answer me, damn you!" She slammed her fist into the mattress. The frustrated and panicked action offered no relief from the sudden horror in her chest. "Do you know where they are? If they’re alive?"

Finally he deigned to speak again. "I have done nothing to them. You have my word."

"Liar!" She’d sprung across the bed before she even realized what she was doing, slapping his face, pounding her fists into his wounds to cause maximum pain. "You know something. You have to know something."

His eyes closed and a blissful smile lifted the corners of his lips.

Her fury intensified. "You think this is funny? Well, what about this?" Seething, not knowing where the desire came from, she launched forward and sank her teeth into his neck, incisors digging so deep she immediately tasted blood.

He moaned. His hands tangled in her hair, not jerking her away but urging her closer. She offered no resistance; she couldn’t. Embers of her anger and helplessness were twisting, breaking apart and realigning into something infinitely sweeter. The heat of him…so good, so damn good. He burned her soul-deep, flames licking at her, consuming her. She liked it, liked hurting him, liked having her mouth on him, and the knowledge shamed her.

Between her legs, his shaft swelled and hardened. When he moaned a second time, it blended with the sound of hers. He arched into her – yes, like that – and she scraped her nails up his chest, to his ni**les.

A harsh animal growl filled her ears as his hands settled on her waist, squeezing. His hips writhed against her. Again. She wanted him to do it again. But a moment later, he stilled.

"Stop, Danika. You have to stop."

No, she didn’t want to stop. She wanted – what the hell are you doing? Nibbling on the enemy?

Her jaw went slack. Gasping for breath, she jolted backward. His arms fell to his sides, his features hard, tight. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaky wrist. Her entire body was shaking. Her ni**les were pearled and aching, her stomach clenched. A metallic tang coated her tongue.

Reyes shifted, covering his jean-clad, swollen c**k with the sheet. His cheeks glowed a rosy pink shade. Was he embarrassed? Blood trickled from his neck and swirled down his chest like a tiny, winding river. As she watched, the blood dried and the bite marks partially healed, already scabbing.

Monster, she reminded herself. He’s a monster.