The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(86)
Author: Gena Showalter

"He sobbed, actually."

Still want to. Pain curled into a ball in the corner of his mind, licking at its emotional wounds. The creature had fallen in love with Danika just as Reyes had. Was lost without her. They were two halves of the same whole, so Reyes supposed it stood to reason they would love the same woman.

"If anyone can bring her home, it’s him."

He listened vaguely, still drinking in those flickering visions of little Danika. Even then she’d been an angel, full of light and hope for the future. I’m nothing without her.

"Are you listening to me?" Ginger stood in front of him, hands anchored on her hips. She was taller than Danika, even thinner. Pretty, but she was not his angel.

"No," he said. "Move."

Tinka joined her daughter, linking their arms. "There has to be something else you can try."

"Bring her back," Ginger said, "and we’ll stop trying to convince her to leave you."

"Not that it did any good. She wanted you in her…in her…" Tinka sobbed. "In her life."

The two women embraced. Reyes’s chest ached.

Pain took no notice. Want my angel.

Me, too.

Need her.

Ginger and Tinka released each other and clomped off to the corner to whisper. Finally Reyes was able to see the screen in full detail. There was Danika, proudly waving her hand in front of the finished painting.

"They mean well," Mallory said.

"I know."

"Maybe, if I concentrate hard enough, my visions will come back. Maybe I can discover a way to fix this."

Maybe. But he would not get his hopes up. Reyes noticed the design of Danika’s painting for the first time. He frowned, grabbed the remote control. The camera panned away from the painting, showing a frowning woman – a younger version of the grandmother, who was studying the colors and the lines.

Reyes pressed Rewind. When the painting reappeared, he pressed Pause. Ginger strode back in front of him, determination radiating from her.

"Move," he told her.

"Uh, excuse me. You – "

"Move!"

Gasping, she raced out of the way. "Fine. No need to shout."

His gaze locked on the painting once more. Could it be – was it…? It was. It really was. He shot to his feet, numbness giving way to anticipation. "Mallory. Look at the painting and tell me what you see."

She obeyed, wide-eyed. "Oh, my God. Is that…is that…?"

"I think so." He might just have found the way to save Danika.

DANIKA FLOATED on a sea of black, surrounded by winter’s chill.

Every so often she could feel the brush of fingertips across her face and neck, and knew a cloth draped her naked body because the cool silk somehow kept her from drifting away into absolute nothingness. Too, she periodically heard a voice inside her head.

Tell me what you see.

She knew what the speaker wanted: to know what the demons in hell and angels in heaven were doing and saying. She also knew the speaker couldn’t invade her mind without an invitation, for he had tried, over and over again, to scan her visions and had failed.

Purposefully, she projected an image of Reyes. Her shadow warrior. Her love. Oh, how she missed him. Craved him. He had held her tenderly while she’d bled, his body offering her strength, his eyes begging her to heal. She’d wanted so badly to stay with him but ghostly hands had grabbed her and jerked her away.

She hated the owner of those hands and knew it was the man even now shouting, Enough of this. Do not show me the demon again.

I will show you nothing else. Return me to him.

Silence.

How much time passed while the hands continued to touch her, the cloth continued to hold her, she didn’t know. Time was endless here…immeasurable. There was no more denying who and what she was.

I just want to go home.

The speaker once again approached her. Tell me what you see.

Everything inside her stilled. For a moment that had sounded like –

Tell me what you see.

Reyes! The voice belonged to Reyes. Her heart sped up, her blood rushing hot and fast in her veins. My love, she said.

I’m here, sweet Danika. I’m here. Two fingers traced her lips.

But the chill didn’t leave her. No, the cold remained. The scent of sandalwood didn’t fill her nose. She smelled only the sweetness of the clouds and the drift of baby powder.

In that moment, she knew it wasn’t Reyes who had spoken and her joy plummeted, fury taking its place. Reyes doesn’t call me his sweet Danika, you sick bastard!

There was a rumble of anger. Reyes will die by my hand if you do not tell me what you see! The voice had returned to normal.

In her mind, she screamed and screamed and screamed. The sound was one of anguish and pain, agony and anger, and she projected it into the mind of her tormentor.

Stop. Enough.

Will you hurt him?

No.

She didn’t know whether she could trust him or not, but she quieted. Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?

You can help me rule this world. Together, we will ensure the safety and prosperity of the heavens. No harm shall befall us.

Who are you? she insisted.

Let me show you. A moment later, an image of a tall, lean man floated into her head. He had a kind but formidable face, with a head of thick silver hair. He was wearing a white toga and sitting upon a bejeweled throne.

She recognized him from the painting she’d made for Reyes. Cronus.

The image in her mind shifted and she saw a woman reclining in a chaise beside the king’s throne. A beautiful woman with long pale hair and wide green eyes. Like Danika, but not. The pair smiled at each other, happy, unimaginable peace radiating from them.

You helped me once. You can help me again. With your vision and my might, we can make the world all that it once was: sublime, serene, beautiful.

Not me. I didn’t help you.

The image faded. No, not you precisely. But the power of the Eye passes through your bloodline. At one time, your ancestors guided my path, kept me informed. Helped me to rule. Why won’t you do the same? Once you agree, you will be free to roam the heavens. Your only job will be to observe my allies and enemies and report to me their activities. The rest of the time will be yours to use freely.

I want Reyes. Again she projected an image of the warrior. Where was he? What was he doing? In her mind, she heard herself sob. Tears began to fall. They didn’t stay inside her mind, however, but began to rain over her entire body, the cold causing her skin to ice over.

You cannot have him. He belongs to the Underworld and you belong to me.

No!

Arguing with me does not change anything.

Then know this. I belong to Reyes, and he belongs to me. You will have no answers from me as long as I’m parted from him.