The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(39)
Author: Gena Showalter

Once, she’d BBQed another Harpy who’d trashed her appearance. Cool, right? Well, as the girl screamed and writhed, a guilty Bianka had raced off to fetch a glass of water for her. Who did that? Marshmallows, that’s who.

“If you won’t sit still, at least tell Papa Stridey what’s bothering you.”

There was that rumbling voice again, caressing her, seeping past her skin to fuse with her cells, becoming a part of her. It was clear the bud remained un-nipped. “I’m thinking that only prison rules are going to apply.”

A laugh burst from him. “What does that mean? That you shouldn’t drop the soap? What, does round one involve multiple showerheads?”

“Would you be serious?”

He snorted. “You telling someone to be serious. Weird. But…” He sat up, his features lighting with interest. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing row after row of muscled strength. “Tell me round one involves multiple showerheads.”

Her lips twitched, even as her mouth watered for a taste of him. “No, you pervert. No showerheads. I have to kill the biggest and the baddest my first day on the inside. That way, all the others will leave me alone.”

“Smart. How can I help?”

“By sitting in the stands and looking pretty.”

“A given. But what can I do to help you win? That’s why I’m here, right?”

As if she’d forget. He wasn’t here because he loved her, needed her, wanted to make something work between them. He was here to help her win that damn Paring Rod.

He didn’t know about the Rod when he arrived. He likes you. You know that. Yeah, he liked her. Just not enough. She sighed.

“Just…I don’t know, cheer me on.” Hearing him might strengthen her. It might also distract her, but they would find out together.

“I can do that. You’re fun to watch.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His voice had dropped, huskier than before, all kinds of innuendo in his tone. Her ni**les tightened, and she had to jump to her feet and turn away from him to prevent him from seeing the evidence of her arousal.

He’d watched her last night, when her Harpy had simply reacted to the threat around him, determined to protect him at all costs. He’d also watched her when she… She shuddered, remembering.

Something had happened to her while she’d fought her mother’s soldiers. Something that had never happened before. She had burned. With rage, yes, but also with actual, literal flames. They had licked inside her, searing her cells, her organs, and leaving only ash. Or so she’d thought. Yet when she had stilled, she hadn’t noticed a single smear of soot on her skin.

Now suspicions danced through her mind, adding to the already turbulent waters.

Phoenix blood flowed through her veins, half of her genetic makeup. She’d met her father once, when he abducted her and Bianka, whisking them to the Land of Cinder. He—and all his kind, really—were utterly heartless, completely detached from emotion, as if any softer side was burned away in their constant fires. Not even her mother could compare, and that was saying something.

Not only were they emotionally callous, they were physically formidable, too. Poison leaked from the Phoenixes’ fangs and claws. Their wings, which looked as smooth and delicate as the clouds around her, were actually tongues of blue flame. A single brush from those flames, and an entire building could be razed.

There was a bright side, though. When a Phoenix burned something—or someone—the resulting soot was powerful enough to bring the dead back to life.

Her dad had hoped his baby girls would be more Phoenix than Harpy, but the opposite had proven true, and he’d released them. After torturing them with his poison, of course. He’d scratched their biceps, just a tiny scrape for each of them, and they’d felt as if they’d been injected with a mix of acid, broken glass and Napalm. They had writhed and screamed for days.

A true Phoenix wouldn’t have hurt like that, would have been immune to the toxin, which was why Kaia had never thought she’d develop Phoenix-like tendencies. But yesterday’s burning…could she have developed an immunity, and in turn taken on their abilities?

“Yo, Kye. We need to beat feet,” Bianka suddenly called from the other side of the door.

Kaia blinked, realized she still stood beside the bed, but now Strider towered beside her. She hadn’t heard him move, but there he was, his heat already wrapped around her, his scent strong and sweet in her nose.

He gripped her forearms, his head tilting to the side thoughtfully. “Where were you that time?”

“Nowhere,” she answered automatically. Her standard reply when someone other than her sisters asked her a question like that.

Did she lose herself in her thoughts that often? If I weren’t so entertaining, maybe I wouldn’t—

“Kaia!” Strider rolled his blues, and she noticed the pupils had gobbled up his gorgeous irises. He’d also loosened his grip, was now caressing the length of her arms with his fingertips. “We’re really going to have to work on your lying, baby doll.”

Did he…could he…desire her? “Here’s an idea. You want the truth from me, you’ll have to buy it.” With kisses. Or orgasms. Whatever. Yes, he’d already offered to buy her artifact-stealing services with sex, and yes, that had pissed her off. But he hadn’t truly wanted her then. He might want her now, and that changed everything. Not about the Paring Rod, of course, but about them.

His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Who said I wanted the truth?” He stopped the caressing only long enough to tweak her nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”

She popped her jaw. Puppies and goldfish were “cute.” I’m hot, damn it. “I lie amazingly well. Just ask everyone I know! They’ve never been able to tell.”

“Actually, I’m probably the only one who can tell you’re full of shit. I’m observant like that.”

“And humble, too. Meanwhile, you need to work on your man-sluttiness.” She rolled her shoulders, lifting her forearms and thereby his hands, causing his knuckles to brush the sides of her br**sts. Dear gods, that felt good, lighting her up inside.

He flashed his teeth, as if he’d experienced a jolt of pain, and his nostrils flared with the force of his breathing. “And just how will we work on that sluttiness, hmm? In bed?”

He did, she thought, dazed. He desired her. Why else would he mention a bedding when she’d been hinting that he was too slutty? “I like the way your mind works. We should—”