The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(47)
Author: Gena Showalter

Grandma Mallory could be alive.

The numbness encasing her began to melt, leaving flickers of relief. "I’d rather leave tonight," she said. "Aeron knows where they are. Make him tell."

"I tried. Twice. But do you really want to continually remind him that they’re out there? When he craves their deaths? Torin can do this, I have no doubt. He just needs time."

She clasped his wrist and peered up at him, wanting to kiss him and push him away at the same time. To hug him and hit him. "Thank you."

"You are so lovely," he whispered. Then he shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he’d uttered those words and needed to clear his thoughts. "In the cell you said you paint to purge yourself of your nightmares. Why don’t you paint tonight? Perhaps it will soothe you."

Do not soften. You are already too close to the edge. "You just want another glimpse inside my head."

"Can I not want both your comfort and the knowledge you possess of the gods?"

She released him, feeling bereft, and shrugged. "I would need the proper supplies." There was a bloom of excitement in her chest at the thought of holding a brush. She’d never thought to paint again.

Twin pink circles suddenly colored Reyes’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat. He straightened, looking away from her. "I – I already have everything you will need."

Danika studied his profile. His nose was a shade longer than the other warriors’, very aristocratic. His lashes were thick and curled up toward his brows. His jaw jutted stubbornly. "What do you mean?"

"I visited your home. I had your purse, your address, and after you left, I could not stay away. I traveled to your home, saw your supplies and bought some for the fortress. Just in case." The admission croaked from him. "Will you use them?"

Just in case what? "I – Maybe." He’d been inside her home? What had he thought of her small and cluttered house? Loved? Hated? And why did the image of him surrounded by her things feel so…right?

Reyes didn’t try to pressure her. He simply nodded as if he understood her reluctance. "I need to leave for a little while, talk with Torin. Will you be all right on your own?"

She wasn’t sure she would be all right ever again, but she said, "Yes. Of course."

Reyes faced her, leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Hers parted automatically, welcoming him inside. The hot length of his tongue pressed forward, slowly, tenderly, giving comfort rather than passion. She accepted, too raw to resist.

"Angel," he breathed.

Her arms wound around his neck of their own accord, holding him close. Perhaps she would hold on forever. Here, right now, there was no pain or loss or what if, only a strong man who scared her demons away.

His fingers settled on her waist, and he pulled her as close to him as he could get her. Her legs parted to allow him the final contact, placing hardness to softness. A gasp left her as a jolt of pure desire speared her, chasing away her fatigue.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

She remembered how he’d kissed her this morning and experienced no real pleasure. Until she’d hurt him. He’d even told her that he could not really feel without a sting, a bite or a scratch.

Even though this kiss represented the passing of his strength to her, she wanted him to like it. She told herself she wanted him to like it so that he would continue to protect her. That if the time came, he would choose her over Aeron and slay the man. She told herself it was because if Reyes desired her, he would not renege on his word. He would take her to her family in the morning.

Sadly, she knew she lied.

Deep down, she wanted him, desired him madly, and had from the first. She’d been a captive here and had found herself face-to-face with him after he stormed into the room she’d been locked in, demanding a healer for Ashlyn. It had seemed as though a match were being struck inside her chest, lighting everything on fire. Burning and blistering. Every man she’d ever dated, every man she’d ever kissed, and the two men she’d slept with over the years had faded from her mind as if they’d never existed.

So odd. Besides her dreams and her secret paintings, she’d never been a fanciful girl. Oh, she believed in love – her parents might have divorced when she was just starting her teens, and her dad might have taken off and begun another family, forgetting the one he already had, but she did believe. Her grandparents had loved each other madly, only parting for death.

And while Danika had never experienced the emotion herself, she’d always been content to wait, not to rush out and force it as so many of her friends had done. She had lived as if there would always be a tomorrow, as if the here and now were of no significance. As if the future meant more than the present.

Everything had changed after the kidnapping. Her entire world had crumbled and as she’d slowly rebuilt the pieces of her life, she’d realized a future was not guaranteed. Here and now mattered. Nothing else.

Right now, she had Reyes.

She would have to hurt him to make him like her. Before, watching him cut himself, she hadn’t thought herself capable of such a deed. Now…"I want to," she said, only realizing she’d spoken aloud when the words echoed in her ears.

He nipped at her bottom lip. "What? What do you want?" His fingers tightened on her hips, digging into the bone.

"You." She had trouble catching her breath.

The fine lines around his eyes softened. "You don’t know what you’re asking for, angel."

"Show me, then."

"No." He meshed their lips back together and his tongue rolled over and under hers, his addicting flavor a drug to her starved senses.

How long since she’d been held like this? How long since she’d stopped running and simply experienced?

"We have to stop soon."

"What?" Her arms tightened around him. "No!"

"Must." His fingers wrapped around her wrists, gripping firmly, branding her. He moved her arms away from his body, and then he dared to release her.

Her eyelids flickered open. He was sweating, his lips compressed in a thin slash. His breathing was uneven. Lines of tension bracketed his beautiful dark eyes – eyes alive with a thousand different needs, needs he would not allow her to meet.

He wanted her this time, it seemed, but she hadn’t hurt him. He’d said such a thing was impossible. What did that mean?

"You don’t need a man pawing you right now." One step, two, he backed away.

She flattened her palms against her thighs, nails digging deep. "You weren’t pawing me."

"But I wanted to."

Would she have cared? Surprisingly, she didn’t think so. He’d given her hope, hated hope, but she was grateful. Or had his demon overtaken her mind again?