The Darkest Seduction (Lords of the Underworld #9)(43)
Author: Gena Showalter

He cupped her jaw, forcing her to peer up at him rather than scanning her surroundings for a hiding place. As if he would ever hide from an enemy and leave a female to fight for him. “What’s coming? Talk to me, baby.” He knew she wasn’t too keen on endearments from him—at least, she hadn’t been before—but then, he’d never called another woman his baby. Only sweetheart and honey, meaningless words like that, and never with such a note of affection.

Those lush lips parted on a gasp, and she blinked in bafflement. “Baby,” she whispered, and he decided she liked it. There’d been a note of reverence in her tone. Calm suddenly smoothed out the panic. “The shadows. They dart through the walls, and they feed on us. All of us. Even the gargoyles hide. There are so many of them. They’ll cover you, they’ll be all you see, all you know, and they’ll eat at you.”

Corporal shadows with a hunger for flesh. He thought he’d traveled every corner of the heavens, but he’d never heard of such a creature.

William had, though, because he muttered, “Oh, shit on a brick. This is bad. Exactly what I feared.”

Paris met his troubled gaze. “What do I need to do?”

“Just stay where you are.” The grim-faced warrior reached up and unsheathed a knife from behind his shoulder blades, then sliced his arm open from elbow to palm. Instantly crimson flowed. He closed the distance, bent down to the floor, and smeared a bloody circle around Paris and Sienna. “Don’t step out of this, do you hear me? Both of you, stay there. Disobey me, and you’ll regret it.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, but sprinted to the entrance of the female immortal’s room and dashed his wound across the clear shield separating them. The female was too busy clawing at her walls to notice. Before William reached the second room, his wound closed and he had to make another incision. He painted a line of blood over that shield, as well.

He didn’t make it to the third room.

Just as Sienna had predicted, shadows burst through the walls. In a snap, it was lights-out, the black so thick oil could have been saturating the air.

The entire castle rattled and shook. Screams echoed, fervent songs of pain and anguish. The darkness inside Paris responded, practically purring with approval the way Sex always purred for physical contact, enjoying every terrible note. Wanting out, wanting loose. Wanting to cause everyone around him to hurt, too.

Paris was on the path to giving in, to stepping out of the circle William had drawn and fighting with the shadows, hell, fighting with William, when Sienna trembled against him. He pressed against her more firmly. Must protect, he thought. That’s why he was here. For her. To be with her. To ensure her safety.

She trembled again, this one worrisome in its intensity. He wasn’t sure what was happening behind him or around him or even how long this would last, but she knew, and it terrified her. And yet still she had thought to protect him, he realized. Still she had wanted to hide him. Him, not herself. His warrior core had been offended by that, true, but just then he could only thrill over her concern. She cared about his well-being.

I want her, Sex said. Of course, the purring started up again.

So do I. And he would have a taste of her. Finally, here and now, the circumstances be damned. She was too worried for sexual contact? Hardly. She needed a distraction, and there was nothing better than desire.

Paris felt his way to her jaw, cupping her to hold her steady while luxuriating in the silky warmth of her skin, the delicacy of her bones. “Concentrate on my voice, baby. Can you do that?”

A jerky nod.

He wished he could see her and discover whether or not color was returning to those delicate cheeks. At her ear, he whispered, “You’re so soft. I’ve never felt anything softer. And your scent intoxicates me. I can’t help but think you’ll be even sweeter between your legs.”

Her breath hitched, her hands finding his chest and flattening over his pectorals.

“When I drive my fingers deep inside you, you’ll be so wet for me, won’t you, baby? I’ll eat you up, drink down every drop of your honey, and you’ll scream for more.”

Yesss, Sex said on a moan. Pleassse.

“Paris,” Sienna breathed.

A needy plea for more? That’s what his demon heard in her tremulous tone. Paris found himself leaning down, the rest of the world forgotten, his nose in her hair as he sniffed the heavy waves. He scented the wildflowers and the coconut, now mixed with something rare, a bloom found only at night.

Oh, hell, yes. That was her arousal.

Sex liked it, too, tossing out his own special fragrance. The two combined, the most wondrous bouquet enveloping Paris. Wondrous—and torturous. Instantly he was revved up, more than primed, more than ready, desperate to sink inside this woman and thrust his way to orgasm. All he had to do was rip open both their pants and kick her legs apart. He’d drill her deep and sure. She would be hot, dripping and so tight around him.

Sharp little nails burrowed past his shirt and into his skin, as if to hold him in place. He could feel the heat of her, pulsing, seeping into him, blending with his own and lancing straight to his cock. He ached unbearably. Before he even registered that he’d moved, he’d edged her legs apart with his foot and arched into her, fitting his erection against her feminine core.

Hello, sweet damnation. Either he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life, or the best. They fit together like matching puzzle pieces. He rubbed against her, slowly at first, just enough to tease and tantalize them both. The pleasure built, right alongside the pressure. Yeah, he definitely should have taken her earlier. His demon was ready to burst free of his skin.

Paris couldn’t gauge Sienna’s reaction through sound because of the surrounding screams, so he moved one of his hands to her throat, keeping his touch gentle. Nothing could stop him from feeling her moans, and the vibrations were so damn gorgeous.

“Paris.” Her lips pressed against his ear. Definitely not a plea this time, but not a warning, either. “You can’t want me.”

He circled his hips, pressing, retreating, pressing. “What is this, then?”

“A treat for the only available woman in the room.”

The words were like a slap across the face, and his volatile inner darkness responded poorly, rampaging through him and demanding he hurt the one who’d harmed him. He bit back the urge and snapped, “So a guy like me can only want what’s available?”

“You didn’t want me before, in the room. So maybe this is punishment.” Anger threaded her tone.