The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(52)
Author: Gena Showalter

“No, of course not,” he said, and she began to relax. Then he added, “I’m not going to train you.”

She wanted to rant and rail at his lack of trust and support. She’d vowed to win the next round, hadn’t she? Yes, yes, she had. Her mind might have been hazed by pain, but she remembered that.

Kaia held her tongue, though. Victory was as important to Strider as it was to her. He wasn’t doing this to be cruel. But damn it, even knowing why he’d set this into motion, the hurt escalated inside her.

I’m good enough just the way I am. A plaintive plea in her head. “Why won’t you do the training?” she asked. Gods, was that whiny voice hers?

There was a heavy pause before he admitted, “My demon.”

What did the pause mean? He was lying? No, she thought next. He wasn’t lying. But she doubted his demon was the only reason. “And you’re afraid training with me will challenge him?”

“Yeah. It’s happened before.”

He’d once told her that everything was a challenge with her and that was one of the reasons they couldn’t be together. She’d thought he would soon come to see the merit in her challenges. After all, he experienced pleasure every time he won, and if he won multiple times a day because of her…

So far, that mind-set had only backfired on her. He hated the pain that accompanied defeat so much, he viewed every competitor as a threat. The more she pushed him, the more he pushed away from her.

That has to change. So. Okay. She would give him what he wanted, she decided. Peace. Smooth sailing. Utter tranquility. She’d be so easy to be with, he’d have more fun watching grass grow. Maybe then he’d take her to bed.

Why couldn’t he like her for the girl she was, though?

Why couldn’t anyone?

“Fine,” she said on a sigh, hating herself for throwing a pity party. He was with her. He hadn’t taken off. Hadn’t searched for the Rod while she was too weak to stop him. “That’s fine. I’ll train with whoever you want.”

The truck wound down the city streets, lights flashing over the windshield every few seconds. Kaia propped her booted feet on the dash and leaned as far back as her seat would allow. Her dress hiked up her thighs, revealing the edge of her panties.

He kept his gaze on the road. “I didn’t expect you to agree with my plan.”

Did he sound…disappointed? Nah. Just wishful thinking on her part. “I aim to please.”

“I—” He smashed his lips in a mulish line, shook his head. She didn’t press for more—as her new plan for peace dictated—and he didn’t offer it. Several minutes ticked by in utter silence. Then, “Why don’t I have a nickname?”

That clearly wasn’t what he’d wanted to discuss, but she could roll. Smooth sailing, she reminded herself. “Well, you haven’t earned one.”

“So what do I have to do to earn one?”

“Don’t know. Everyone’s different. It’s a we-know-it-when-we-see-it kind of thing.”

Another bout of silence ensued, this one so tense and heavy she couldn’t have hacked through it with a sword and chain saw. She had no idea what was swirling through his head.

“I thought you didn’t care what we called you,” she said, just to shatter the tension.

“I don’t,” he gritted out. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Again with the agreeable attitude. Are you more injured than I realized?”

She busied herself with plucking at her dress, trying not to let the comment get to her. “I’m not always a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Stop messing with your clothes,” he growled.

She froze, not even daring to breathe. He’d still not glanced her way, yet he’d known what she was doing? He was that aware of her?

“Okay. Consider it done.” Smooth sailing was already paying off. Fighting a grin, she settled deeper into the seat and dropped her feet onto the floorboard.

About an hour from civilization, they pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a dilapidated shack sporting a blinking neon sign that read Crazy Abel’s. There were a handful of other cars there and two big burly guys stumbling from the front door.

“A bar?” she asked, trying not to pout. “A human bar?”

“You get to play before you pay.”

Really? Forget pouting. Excitement poured through her. “You should have told me. I would have worn my slutty outfit.”

His narrowed gaze swept over her, lingering on her cle**age. He parked—nearly sideswiping another car—and she jumped out, halfway to the entrance before he’d even opened his door. She passed the still stumbling humans, grimacing at the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. They whistled at her and changed directions to follow her.

“How much?” one asked.

Oh, no, he didn’t. She spun around, hands on her hips, teeth bared in a scowl. “What did you say?”

“We’ll pay the price, whatever it is, we swear,” the other said. “After.” Both snickered, then the first patted the second on the back in a job well done, as if he’d just negotiated the deal of a lifetime.

Before she could reply, Strider stalked over and punched them both in the back of the head. At the same time. They propelled forward, but he caught them by the hair before they could hit the ground, used his knees to slam into the back of theirs, and forced them both to kneel before her.

“Apologize,” he commanded, and there was so much darkness in his voice she could almost smell the fire and brimstone. “Now.”

Kaia’s heart fluttered. The men obeyed, babbling and crying. Strider lifted one and tossed him. The human went soaring and crashed into a car, the alarm suddenly screeching. The second man joined him a moment later.

“Thanks,” she said, fighting the urge to melt into a shivery puddle at his feet. “My pleasure.”

They entered the bar side by side.

THE WOMAN WAS GOING TO SLAY him with that killer body of hers. Delicious curves were wrapped in a swath of material that might not pass for a bathing suit in some countries. Her skin was luminous, but lacking its multihued shimmer. She must have covered herself with total-body makeup. Not that he’d complain.

Anything that would stop other men from desiring her had his stamp of approval.

Who was he kidding? Men not desire her? That was never going to happen. No matter what she did to her skin, no matter what she wore, men would always desire her. The knowledge pissed him off—and filled him with pride.