The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(35)
Author: Gena Showalter

Danika raised her chin. It was an action of defiance and one he’d noted she performed often, ready to take on the world. "The one called Sabin said to tell you to stop acting like a pu**y and do your duty. What’s in Rome? Someone mentioned a temple."

Reyes ignored her question and glanced down at himself to hide the glint of fury he knew must be shining in his eyes. His weapons were no longer strapped to his ankles and thighs, but he still wore his jeans. They were unfastened. While he liked the thought of Danika undressing him, he did not like the notion that she could have taken his weapons.

He hated that he had slept like the dead. She could have done anything at all – might have done everything – and he wouldn’t have known. Frowning, he hastily snapped the jeans and turned back to his closet. He withdrew the velvet-lined cache of guns and knives, saw that was in order, nothing out of place. Good. He wouldn’t have to frisk her.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"I didn’t steal from you," she said sharply.

"All right." Not that he believed her. He palmed one of each weapon, then checked the gun’s chamber. Loaded. He’d have to be more careful now that Danika was living with him. He couldn’t keep his weapons at the ready. His frown deepened as he stored the semiautomatic at his back and faced her.

She was watching him warily, her features as pale as a snow queen’s might be. The ache returned to his chest, and he bit the inside of his cheek. The gods should be punished for endowing one person with so much beauty.

"Headed somewhere?" she asked.

"Maybe." His gaze roved over the walls. Two daggers were missing, though she’d taken great pains to cover her tracks by shifting the angle of the weapons that had once surrounded them.

He didn’t blame her, wouldn’t take them from her. He was surprisingly…aroused by the thought of this woman being armed. Idiot. She probably wanted his blood spilled all over the floor, pooling between the stones.

He shivered at the thought. She would have to stab him to spill his blood, and gods knew how good that would feel. If she wanted you dead, she could have cut off your head last night.

"Why didn’t you run from me while you had the chance?" he asked.

She slapped a hand over her forehead and fell against the pillows. "I don’t know. I’m a moron."

"Why didn’t you hurt me?"

"Again, I don’t know. Okay? You’re the goddamn enemy. I should be able to cut your throat, no problem. I’ve trained for it, you know?"

He blinked. "For cutting my throat?"

"Yes. I’ve taken classes. Not just self-defense, but classes that teach you how to take down your enemy and get away with it." She brushed a piece of lint from her leg. "I will never be helpless again."

I helped destroy her innocence, and I didn’t even have to touch her. Shameful.

Reyes leaned his shoulder against the closet’s frame. "Do not be too upset with yourself. Perhaps you could not bring yourself to hurt an unconscious man. That is an honorable thing."

"Yes, but you aren’t a man."

No, he wasn’t. He was a demon, and the reminder stung. Enough to prompt the next words to tumble out of his mouth. "I am awake. Try now."

"Fuck you," she snapped.

"Try."

"Go to hell."

"Try, Danika. Prove to yourself that you can take me down."

Her gaze shot to him, twin laser beams that cut past skin and bone. "So you have a chance to hurt me? No, thank you."

"I will not move. You have my word."

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Do you want me to hurt you?"

She sounded incredulous, yet he realized that’s exactly what he’d been pushing her toward. He wanted her to jump from the bed and attack him. He wanted her nails deep in his skin, her teeth deep in his neck again. He wanted pain. From her. Only her.

He wanted pleasure, the only way he could get it. Even though he knew better. Her innocence was already gone. What harm could there be in taking things a little further?

"If you will not attack me, kiss me," he said. He was trembling now, his need too strong to be denied. If he couldn’t have the pain he craved, he would take something else. Her taste. He doubted it would sate him, but he didn’t care.

She gasped, and he wasn’t sure whether it was in horror…or anticipation. Then he saw her ni**les harden, and he knew. Anticipation.

His chest felt as if steel bars were pressing down on it. "Kiss me," he said, and the words were so low, so quiet and needy, he could barely hear them.

"Go to hell," she repeated, staring at his lips. This time, however, there was no heat in her voice. Only husky desire.

"If you will not come to me, perhaps I will come to you."

She didn’t offer a protest. Goose bumps broke out over her delectable skin, her breaths shallow and the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly. And yet he suspected deep down that if he kissed her, she would hate him. Hate him more than she already did. She didn’t want to want him, would be ashamed for giving in to her captor, one of the men responsible for her family’s current predicament.

Still, he found himself stepping toward her.

She jerked upright, panic in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

To gain his bearings, he paused in the center of the room. His chest had started aching again, Pain soaking it up, savoring every pang. "I have to know."

"What? What do you have to know?"

"What you taste like." Another step.

"What happens when you know?" she rasped.

"I stop wondering. Stop dreaming of you every night, thinking of you every minute of every day." Another step closer. "I think you wonder, too. I think you dream of me and wonder. You hate yourself for it. You hate me for it, but you cannot stop."

She was shaking her head, sunny hair flirting with her shoulders, caressing her elegant neck. He wanted to be the one to touch her, tickle her. He wanted to give her pleasure, even if he could feel none himself.

Finally he admitted the truth. She was different from the other women he’d known. While they had been living beings, they hadn’t been fully alive. Danika was. She was the epitome of life and vitality. Perhaps, for one blessed moment, he could soak up that life force and find pleasure in a pleasurable act. Perhaps she could gift him with release – without pain, without suffering and agony. Just once.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"I don’t want you," she choked out.

"Liar." If he didn’t do this, he would be haunted by what-ifs for the rest of eternity.

Two more steps and he was at the side of the mattress. She didn’t scoot away. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her little white teeth nibbled once more on her bottom lip.