The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

Aeron turned his wrist, his hand never leaving Legion as he rattled the chains that bound him. "Free me."

Reyes’s expression was tortured, but not in the usual way. He appeared torn apart by pain – pain for once he did not like. "You know I can’t let you go."

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"I know you won’t."

Bleak, Reyes nodded. "You’re right. I won’t."

"Then you have your answer. You won’t, I won’t."

Legion slithered around him, and two small hands were soon whispering over Aeron’s back. They were scaled yet smooth. Worshipping. Massaging his muscles to loosen them. When he gained the desired results, the creature eased to a stand. His chest pressed against Aeron’s shoulders, and he peeked over at Reyes. His lips smacked hungrily.

"Not yet," Aeron told him. He didn’t understand why the little demon liked him and not the others, but he accepted it as fact. He didn’t understand why the demon had followed him here, but he was glad. For some reason, he needed the creature. Legion calmed him as no one else had been able, quieting Wrath, muting the bloodlust, keeping him aware. Except when Lucien and Reyes had come to take him away from the cave. Then, Aeron had gone crazy.

He’d been so close to escape. Legion had been eating through flesh, about to eat through bone, when the fiend had sensed the warriors’ impending arrival and disappeared. Only to reappear here later when all had settled.

"Do you know where the women are?" Reyes asked, probably unaware Legion was picturing him splayed on a silver platter, knife and fork optional. "Tell me that, at least."

Oh, Aeron knew where the women were. He knew every damned second of every damned day. The knowledge taunted him constantly, laughing at his helplessness, driving him to madness. When the women were dead, the laughter would stop. The madness would fade, and Aeron would stop craving the destruction of everyone he encountered.

"Tell me," Reyes repeated.

"Yes," he finally admitted aloud, knowing the boast would hit its target and slice deep. "I know where they are." What have you become? He knew he should feel guilty, but couldn’t summon the energy. Locked deep in the earth, his emotions had seemed to wither away, leaving only hate. A need to cause death.

Reyes’s nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with obsidian fire. Yes, contact.

"Can I sssuck hisss blood?" Legion asked, claws sinking into Aeron’s shoulders. "Pleassse. Pretty pleassse."

"No," Aeron told him. He owed Reyes a quick death – too much would the warrior enjoy a long and torturous demise. Teeth shredding his veins, blood pouring from him would be pleasurable. And Reyes did not deserve pleasure. After all, Reyes was keeping the girl from him. Such a crime deserved a harsh punishment.

Crime? That is not a crime, that is a mercy. This is not you. Fight this.

His eyes narrowed. There was nothing to fight. He had been given a task, and he would fulfill it.

"What about girl?" Legion asked. "Can I drain girl?"

A low growl rang from Reyes.

"No," Aeron said. "She is mine."

Now Reyes stalked forward, silver blade glinting in his hand. "She is mine." He realized what he was doing in the middle of the cell and stopped, remaining just out of range.

Too bad. "I know she’s nearby," Aeron said silkily. "Her scent is strong, stirring me to battle even now."

Reyes stepped backward, guarding the only exit. Guarding her. Aeron closed his eyes, her screams of death suddenly ringing in his ears. Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me, she would say.

He frowned as realization settled in his mind. Those screams weren’t hers. They were real, a memory, and they belonged to another. Every single cry was a heady caress that pleasured his decimated senses. Clearly, whoever he’d hurt – killed? – he’d enjoyed cutting down.

The scent of blood filled his nose, sweet and sultry, a warm night after a bitterly cold day, gentle moonlight after too much time roasting in the harsh sun. He felt transported, as if he were standing over her body again, jeering at her weakness.

This isn’t you. You hate this, hate what you are, what you’ve become.

Once – an eternity ago? – he’d watched mortals, fascinated by the contrasts between their lives and his own. He often wished for death, yet he would most likely exist forever. They died a little more every day, yet they embraced vitality as he never had. They were weak; he was strong. Yet they were not afraid to laugh and love.

Love – as if they didn’t realize that everything could be taken away in a heartbeat of time.

Why? he’d always wondered. He had long craved an answer, though none had ever come. And here he was, enjoying the recollection of torturing one mortal and plotting the upcoming death of another.

Even Wrath found the concept confusing and wrong.

Aeron hadn’t forgotten that he and his demon had fought these dark urges to slaughter. At first. But the gods had won, and they’d eventually succumbed. Death now flowed through his veins, thicker than blood, and had become – with an irony not lost on Aeron – his only reason for living.

"Would you like it if I begged?" Reyes asked him tightly.

Would he? Aeron smiled, feeling the first true spark of amusement he’d known in weeks. He thought perhaps he would. Proud, headstrong Reyes bowed to no one. To have him do so here and now would surely be empowering.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"I would, I would," Legion clapped, the sound booming in Aeron’s ear.

Reyes didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees. "Please." The word was nothing more than a rumble. "Tell me where they are."

As Legion cackled, Aeron lost his smile, realizing then it was not empowering to have his friend on his knees but shaming. "You love her?"

"No." Violent shake of his head. "I cannot."

Liar! He must. Why else would he debase himself this way, something he’d never done for another? Not even for a Lord.

Aeron and Reyes had been there the day their friend Baden was decapitated by Hunters. They’d watched in horror as the warrior was attacked from behind, stabbed repeatedly, throat slit. They’d run toward him, screaming, enraged, desperate, battle-hungry. But they had not begged the Hunters to stop. They had not begged for Baden’s life. They had simply attacked.

Would pleading have saved the keeper of Distrust?

Probably not, he thought, but why hadn’t they tried? They had loved Baden like a brother and his death had destroyed the small pieces of humanity they’d managed to save from their demons.

"What are you thinking about?" Reyes asked, still on his knees.

"The worst night of my life," he admitted.