The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(11)
Author: Gena Showalter

Yes. Any moment.

CHAPTER THREE

“GET LOST, WOULD YOU,” Kaia whispered fiercely to Paris as they descended the steps that led to her freedom…and Strider. “You’re like a bad rash that keeps coming back.”

He laughed, a booming sound that still managed to hold traces of pain.

“Seriously. This is the most attention Strider has paid me in forever, and you’re ruining everything. Beat it before I beat you.”

Paris stopped and gripped her arm, forcing her to stop, as well. Sympathy had replaced his amusement, highlighted now by the golden rays stroking him with the care and concern of a lover. Such a beautiful man. Even the elements had trouble resisting him.

“Listen up, sweetheart, because I’m about to give you a lifesaving tip. Be a good girl, and don’t poke at the bear today. He’s on edge already.”

Her eyes narrowed, dark lashes fusing together to keep Paris and only Paris in the crosshairs. “I thought you were the smart one, giving in to my wiles as easily as you did, but, hello. Sometimes the bear needs poking or he’ll never come out of hibernation.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Oh, yeah? Well, think about this. What’s the first thing a bear out of hibernation does?”

Duh. “He eats. And to be honest, I’m really looking forward to that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That can be fun.” Leaning down, mouth still twitching, Paris whispered, “But you know what else? Bears torture. Bears love to torture, Kye. They’re mean. When a human gets in a bear’s way, especially after a long sleep, the end result is never pretty. Let this one acclimate to your…what did you call your smart-ass mouth? Wiles.”

“First, I’m not exactly human,” she said, raising her chin. “And here’s a news flash for you, my little man candy. I’m stronger than you are. Stronger than he is. Stronger than all of you put together. I can handle anything he dishes out.”

“For f**k’s sake,” Strider suddenly snarled. “Enough already. We need to leave, Paris, so you can stop making out with our fugitive.”

Our, he’d said. Not your. Such sweet progress. Trying not to smile, Kaia stepped away from Paris and slowly turned to face Strider, some of her annoyance with him cooling out. Breath snagged in her throat. Paris was beautiful, yes, but Strider…Strider was magnificent.

Her first glimpse in weeks had been of him standing in the station’s lobby, stark white walls surrounding him, and her knees had almost buckled. His finger-combed pale hair had been in complete disarray, sticking out in spikes. His navy blue eyes had swept over her, lingering in all the right places, and her stomach had quivered.

Now, at this second glimpse… He was tall, towering over her even though she stood several steps up and wore high heels. He had a delicious muscle mass that couldn’t be hidden underneath the long leather jacket, tight black shirt and denim. And gods, his face. His oh-so-innocent, yet oh-so-wicked fallen angel face.

At first, she hadn’t recognized that face for the luscious contradiction it was. She had seen only the innocence, and had continued searching for someone with the qualities she’d always found most attractive: brooding, dangerous and temporary.

That’s why Paris had snagged her attention.

He mourned the loss of his human female. Brooding—check. He was an ambrosia addict who could kill without hesitation. Dangerous—check. He was a sure thing, a onetime-only event, and wouldn’t cling. Temporary—check. Afterward, though, she’d snuck out of his bed—a Harpy always left after the main event—hollow and empty.

Which was probably why she’d gone back for seconds a few weeks later. She’d wanted to feel what she’d felt while they were together. Fulfilled. Satisfied. But he’d turned her down, physically unable to give her a repeat, and pushed her out of his room. Yeah, he could have pleasured her and taken nothing for himself, but that would have been a pity-session and wasn’t something she could tolerate.

So, because she’d worn a robe and only a robe to his second seduction, she’d left in a robe and only a robe—and, distracted as she’d been, she’d smacked into Strider in the hallway.

That’s when she first saw the devil in his eyes.

In that moment, she felt as if a switch had been thrown inside her. She’d made a mistake going after Paris. The man in front of her was everything she’d ever wanted and more.

His hair had been wet and plastered to his temples, darkening the strands. He’d had a white towel wrapped around his neck and no shirt to hide a stomach that boasted rope after rope of bronze strength. She’d watched, fascinated, as little droplets of sweat had traveled his golden happy trail before disappearing into paradise. A paradise she’d wanted to visit. With her tongue.

His shorts had hung low on his waist, revealing the jagged edges of the sapphire butterfly tattoo on his right hip. The moisture in her mouth had dried. Clearly, he’d just come from a workout. A very intense workout. Breath had still sawed in and out of his lips. Lips, she had realized, that promised untold pleasure when they curled in sinful amusement.

“Nice outfit,” he’d said, navy gaze blazing a slow journey from the top of her rumpled head to the purple polish on her toenails, lingering on her pearled ni**les and between her quivering thighs.

“All’s I could find,” she’d replied in an uncertain voice, thinking this might turn out to be the immortal version of a walk of shame. How can I fix this?

“Lucky robe, then. It’d look better without the belt, though.”

Okay, maybe I don’t have to fix anything. For the first time in their acquaintance, desire had layered his tone. That desire affected her far more strongly than the once-over had. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. So, you looking for someone in particular?”

“That depends.” Sultry arousal sweeping through her, she stepped closer to him. “What does someone have in mind?”

Behind her, hinges squeaked as a door opened. “Kaia?” Paris suddenly said, and she turned, her stomach rolling. He tossed a pair of fluffy pink slippers at her. “You forgot these. I’d keep ’em, but they aren’t my size.”

“Oh.” They plopped to the floor right in front of her. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Strider. Hey, man,” Paris called.

“Hey,” he replied tightly. “Interesting night?”

“None of your business.”