The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(33)
Author: Gena Showalter

"I told you to stay put."

Spinning, experiencing another wave of dizziness, Danika released a startled gasp. Lucien had appeared once more, stoic, uncompromising. He was cradling Reyes in his arms as he strode to the bed. Gently, he laid the still-motionless warrior on the mattress. The springs creaked.

Danika rushed to Reyes’s side.

"Take care of him," Lucien uttered, a warning in his tone.

"I – will." The last was said on a sigh. He had disappeared again.

Almost afraid to look, she slowly turned her head. Her eyes landed on Reyes, and her stomach twisted. There were so many sides to him: captor, savior, demon, man. But he was still such a mystery to her, this being who had both threatened her life and saved it. And here he was, defeated. His throat was smashed, his Adam’s apple smooth and discolored.

His chest was utterly still.

The tears that had stung her eyes so often this day now ran freely down her cheeks. How could someone so strong have been – Through the watery haze, she thought she saw his chest move, thought she saw his decimated throat constrict. Please! Let that be real.

Her hand fluttered to his heart, the beat frantic against her palm. A wheeze filled her ears, and it was a glorious noise.

He was alive!

Crying out, she fell to her knees. She clutched at his hand, felt his fingers give a weak squeeze. The strength of her relief was appalling. Unwelcome. Because it meant she would never be able to betray this man. This demon. Not now, not later. Aeron, yes. Sabin, yes. But not him, never him. Not even to save her family. "I’m here, Reyes."

His eyelids cracked open.

"Don’t try to talk. Just know that I’m here. I’ll take care of you." Only problem was, she had no real medical training and didn’t know what to do. She choked back a pained laugh. She’d been in this situation once before. Ashlyn had been sick. Bargaining for her mom, sister and grandmother’s lives, she’d lied, told Reyes she was a healer, and doctored Ashlyn as best she could.

Ashlyn had come out okay. Would Reyes?

Dark irises came into full view. They weren’t flooded with pain; they were glazed with…pleasure? Surely not. Their gazes collided a moment before he closed his eyes again. Her lungs deflated on a sigh.

Reyes’s lips moved, but no sound emerged from them.

"You’re hurting yourself," she said. "I told you not to talk. We’ll – "

"Don’t go back to Aeron without me," he managed to get out, the words savage. "Promise." His hand clutched at her. "Protect you."

Again, he wanted to protect her. Little wonder he’d battered down her defenses and reduced her to a devoted puppy. "I promise."

CHAPTER TEN

REYES AWOKE GRADUALLY, his senses already on alert thanks to several oddities.

One, there was a weight on his chest. Warm, so warm, and soft. He was used to waking unfettered, a little cold. Two, the scent of thunderstorms and angel-skies filled his nose, sultry and erotic. It was a scent he craved with every fiber of his being, but one that was dangerous to his peace of mind. Three, he never wanted to leave this paradise.

Pain did not agree.

Pain was prowling the cage of Reyes’s mind, roaring. Roaring so loudly Reyes covered his ears. The weight on his chest shifted to the side, taking with it that delicious warmth and softness.

The roaring increased in volume, and he cringed.

"You okay?"

The voice of an angel, a perfect match for the scent. Danika. The roaring became a broken mewling, her rich timbre soothing the beast.

What was it about her? What made her so different from the other women he’d known?

Ashlyn had alleviated Maddox’s torment. Anya had renewed Lucien’s desire to love. Both women had accepted the warriors for who and what they were. Danika enhanced Reyes’s pain and drove him crazy. She would never accept him. But even if a miracle happened and she could, he would never be able to bed her, thereby allowing Pain to sink its claws inside her. Change her.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

As a couple, they were hopeless.

That failed to lessen his need for her. Again, he wondered why. She was pretty, intelligent and courageous, but other women were equally so. Weren’t they? At the moment, he could think of no one else whose bright eyes pierced him to his soul. No one else whose silky hair caressed his skin so perfectly. No one else who faced him dead on and refused to back down.

Only Danika.

Her name whispered through his mind, and he eased open his eyelids. First thing he noticed was that morning sunlight seeped past the black curtains, painting hazy yellow dots everywhere he looked. Normal enough. Then a dazzling halo appeared in front of him, strands of pale hair tickling his chest. A soft breast meshed into his side.

"You okay?" Danika asked again. Concern burned in her sleep-rich eyes, lids at half-mast. Through the thick shield of her spiked lashes, he could see electric green, his new favorite color. "You took quite a beating last night."

"Last night?" His voice was raspy, and every word rubbed his throat raw. A delicious sensation. "Your hair." He reached up and drew several strands through his fingers. "Pale again."

"I took another shower and the semipermanent dye washed the rest of the way out."

"I like it."

Appearing uncomfortable, she nibbled on her bottom lip.

His body heated another degree. Oh, to have those teeth nibbling on him again. "Last night?" he prompted.

"With Aeron. In his cell."

The memories flooded him, images flashing one after another, and he jerked upright. He’d taken Danika into the dungeon. He’d entered Aeron’s cell. Aeron had looked guilty at the mention of Danika’s family, as if he’d already taken one – or more – out. Then Aeron had attacked him and Pain had loved it.

Mortification created a symphony inside him: the pound of his heart, the rush of his blood, the purr of his demon. He’d reveled in it, and Danika had been there, had seen him take pleasure in so vicious an act.

Shamed to his soul, he closed his eyes, dropped his head into his waiting hands. She doesn’t know, he assured himself. Otherwise, she would not be sitting calmly on the bed, conversing with you. She would be hurling insults like "pervert" and "deviant."

Some women could accept his particular brand of pleasure. Most could not. For a few years, Reyes had found his partners in BDSM clubs. They’d been secret venues back then. Private. The women had liked to be strapped down, whipped, and he’d liked delivering the pain. And when he’d commanded them to hurt him, they’d done so willingly, happily.

But after learning that the women he’d bedded had erupted in violent sprees, he’d stopped going to the clubs. For centuries, he’d relied only on his own hand, cutting himself while he fisted his cock. Then he’d had what he’d considered an epiphany. Surely those females had been predisposed to violence. Surely that was why they’d harmed innocents so casually after bedding him.