The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(52)
Author: Gena Showalter

"There’s another demon out there, Hope, and he’s their enemy. Other than that, nothing. They’ve kept me isolated, asking questions about you and your group."

"Another demon?" The sound of a pen sliding against paper echoed. "What have you told them?"

"That you guys asked me questions about them, but I didn’t have any answers for you." That, at least, was the truth.

"Is it possible to search the fortress for journals, pictures, information about anything they’ve been up to?"

"No. I’ve been locked inside a bedroom."

"No good with locks?"

"No." Another lie.

"Have you considered…" His voice trailed off.

Seducing one for answers, she finished for him. "I – I – " She couldn’t force an answer to form.

"Just think about it." There was a pause. "Everything you do is for the greater good. Remember what I told you. Peace, harmony. No more adultery, no more suicide. The welfare of your family."

In his fanatical way, he really did care about the world and its people and was willing to do anything to save them. Not altogether altruistic, but he did believe perfection waited just around the corner, the Lords the only thing blocking the way.

Danika wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Reyes had said there would always be evil in the world as long as people had free will, demons roaming the land or not. "I’ll think about it." But she knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t whore for him, no matter the cause. If she slept with Reyes, it would be because she desired him.

"We’ve been watching the fortress," Stefano said, "yet there’s been no activity inside. Any idea what they’re doing?"

If she admitted most of the Lords were in Rome, the Hunters might view the fortress as fair game and sneak inside. Torin and Cameo and anyone else who’d stayed behind couldn’t fight them all.

"I don’t know," she finally said. God, am I possessed by the demon of Lies? "I’ll try to find out."

"Have you heard – "

"Wait. Someone’s coming. I have to go." Yet another lie, but she hung up and shoved the phone back into her pocket. For a long moment, she simply sat there, shaking. Then her shoulders slumped, and she covered her eyes with her hand. She had trouble drawing in a breath.

What’s wrong with me?

She’d asked herself that very question a thousand times, it seemed. For once, she thought she might know the answer. Infatuation. She was infatuated with Reyes, and had been since the beginning.

There. She’d admitted it. No excuses this time, no talking herself out of it. He drew her; she wanted him, and she needed to not want him. Her desire had begun to color her every action, her every thought and what little common sense she had left.

Danika jumped to her feet. Her knees nearly buckled, but she latched on to the bedpost and held tightly. Being with Reyes wouldn’t be pleasurable. It couldn’t be. She’d have to stab him. But maybe she needed to experience it firsthand. Maybe that would finally drive him from her mind and her fantasies.

She could purge him from her thoughts as surely as she purged her nightmares when she painted.

Just the idea caused goose bumps to form on her skin and shivers to trek the length of her spine vibrating through her so that the shaking in her limbs increased. Her mouth dried. Desire and nervousness swam through her bloodstream, a balance of good and evil. The thought made her laugh, but it emerged as a croak.

Licking her lips, she released the post and stumbled forward. No telling how long Reyes would be gone. She’d have to keep herself busy, distracted, or she would be a bundle of anxious energy and sickness when he returned, unable to crawl into bed for anything more than sleep.

There was only one thing she knew of that would absorb her concentration completely. Painting.

Her hands were itching with anticipation before she reached the closed door. The metal was cold against her skin as she twisted the knob. As she stepped inside, she expected a closet full of supplies. Instead, she found another bedroom, spacious, airy – and converted into an artist’s studio.

She drank in the luxury, a shocked gasp escaping her. Canvas after blank canvas awaited her, each propped on an easel. Against the far wall was a table lined with multisized brushes and tubes of color.

He did this for me. Not because he’d wanted to see into her dreams. He hadn’t known about them when he’d done this. But simply because he wanted her to be happy. The realization was as shocking as the studio itself, and she found herself softening all the more toward him.

"What am I going to do with you, Reyes," she whispered.

How many times would Reyes surprise her like this? First the clothing, then his attempts at soothing her fears, and now this dream studio. Everything he did, everything he said, battered against her sense of self-preservation. Danika’s hand fluttered over her racing heart. Even at home, she hadn’t had such an elaborate setup. She’d made a livable wage painting portraits, but spare cash had been a rarity.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

Before she became aware she’d taken a step, she was standing in front of the table, lifting the brushes, testing their weight and feeling their bristles. Reyes wanted to see the images from her dreams, the angels and the demons, the gods and goddesses. Suddenly she wanted to give him anything, everything.

But as she studied the palette of colors, both oils and acrylics, she knew her dreams would not be the focus of her first painting tonight. He would.

REYES PREPARED ANOTHER MEAL for Danika. Thankfully Paris had gone shopping before leaving for Rome, so there was plenty to choose from.

He carried the tray of fresh fish and salad to his bedroom, experiencing a slight twinge of panic when he didn’t spot Danika right away. A quick search, and he found her in the studio, serene as she sketched something on one of the canvases. So absorbed was she that she didn’t hear him enter. Did not even look at him when he called her name.

Her eyes were glazed, as if she were in some sort of trance. Her wrist flicked up and down the blank board gracefully, her body swaying from side to side in a fluid dance. His chest ached, his c**k swelled. Pain battered against his skull to get to her. None of that.

Not wanting to distract her, he left. Breathed in and out, trying to still his raging heartbeat. He didn’t think her lovely image would ever leave his mind. Hair hastily tied back, several strands escaping. Black smudges on her cheek and jaw. Lips red and glistening from the sharp nibble of her teeth.

He was rock hard and shaking uncontrollably by the time he reached the entertainment room. He hadn’t realized he’d done it, but he’d already palmed his blades. Desperate for pain, he plopped onto the dark red couch; the men refused to buy any other color upholstery because of him, a fact that sometimes embarrassed him.