The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(87)
Author: Gena Showalter

He gave her a fierce frown. “How does it work, then?”

“Naps don’t count if the Harpy falls asleep while injured. I have to sleep next to you when I’m healed and that hasn’t happened yet.”

“It will.” Determination radiated from him and she knew he saw this as a challenge. A challenge he clearly accepted.

She didn’t let it bother her, though. She wanted to sleep next to him, cuddled into his side, something she’d never done with another man. How or why that occurred didn’t matter.

“Now tell me what the hell happened,” he continued, each word gruffer than the last. “Did those men…are you…?” Okay. Blisters weren’t the only thing coloring his face now. Fury did. So much fury.

Fury over her mistreatment? “Did they what? Pin me to the wall? Yes. Did they catch fire and burn to death? Yep, that, too.” Once more the screams and the flames flashed through her mind. Rather than torment her as they had in the dark, dark void, she experienced a surge of satisfaction.

Victory belonged to her.

“No, baby doll.” His expression softened, became tender and seeking. He traced a gentle fingertip along the slope of her nose. “Did they…rape you?”

“No.” She shivered from the succulent contact. “I would have killed them deader if they had.”

Relief joined the fury and the tenderness. “I won’t piss on their charred remains, then. So how’d you kill them? I mean, I know they burned to death, like you said, but how did you manage that? You had to have done it after you were pinned. Otherwise you would have been sliced like a Christmas ham.”

Smart man. “I…” As those memories surfaced, she frowned, looked away from him. “I don’t want to tell you,” she whispered. While she was satisfied with the end results, getting those results had opened a veritable Pandora’s box of complications—and she didn’t think Strider would appreciate the irony.

Dark lashes fused together. “Do it anyway. Now. And start from the beginning. I want to hear everything.”

So commanding, her warrior. So sexy. She hadn’t wanted to tell him, but she would. Had planned to even while uttering the refusal. She would do anything, even this, to keep him from experiencing a moment of pain. “I climbed the ledge and the Hunters were waiting for me. They rushed me and we fought. I would have won, too, but they knew to go for my wings.” Probably courtesy of Juliette, even though discussing such a weakness with anyone was forbidden and punishable by death. “Once those were broken, pinning me with the swords was easy.”

Every word had him tensing. “I didn’t hear you scream.”

She knew that; she’d made sure he hadn’t, holding her cries inside. She hadn’t wanted to distract him from his fight with Lazarus. Which he must have won, since he was here and evidently pain-free.

Had she called him sexy? She meant irresistibly ravishing. But why hadn’t he heard the Hunters’ screams? she wondered. Interesting. Had someone somehow kept the noise inside the cave?

“The rest,” he urged on a croak.

Do it. “I was so mad, so…desperate, the heat inside me just kind of spilled out.”

“I know that heat,” he said huskily.

Her brows knit together in confusion. “You do?”

“Yeah. When we made love, you burned me pretty badly.”

“What!” She must not have been paying attention to his body, only her own. Selfish much? “Gods, Strider. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” His lips twitched in his first true display of humor since she’d woken up. “I liked it.”

That didn’t calm her. She could have killed him. Rather than considering that, however, and perhaps bursting into tears, she hurried on with her story. “I caught fire, but it didn’t hurt me. I didn’t understand what was happening, just watched as the men around me caught fire, too. And when the others tried to run out of the cavern, I looked at them and the next thing I knew, they were writhing as they burned. My Harpy laughed.” To be honest, so had she. “Then I just kind of blacked out.”

“I don’t understand. How could you catch fire and be okay minutes later?”

The answer was the very reason she hadn’t wanted to discuss this. “I should have put the pieces together before this, but I discarded them as silly. Maybe because I was too distracted with the courting of my consort.”

He barked out a laugh. “Discarded what as silly? And you’re saying you courted me? Baby doll, if the past few weeks are your idea of courting, we seriously need to work on your dating skills.”

“Shut up. I nabbed you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said tenderly, huskily. “You nabbed me.”

That mollified (and melted) her. “As I was saying, my father is a Phoenix shape-shifter. I must have inherited a few of his abilities.” And she didn’t like that she had! Of course she valued her newfound ability to fry her enemies to a smoldering crisp, but the Phoenix were an exclusive, unwelcoming race and anyone who displayed the tiniest bit of pyrokinesis was captured and kept—forcibly—within their territory.

Honestly. She had no idea how her mom and dad had ever hooked up in the first place.

O-kay. Gross. She shied away from that thought. Anyway. That’s why her dad had kidnapped her and Bianka all those centuries ago, to ensure they did not exhibit an affinity for fire. They hadn’t and so they’d been set free. Not just set free, but told never to come back.

She should not be exhibiting such an affinity now. Phoenix could withstand intense heat and control fire from birth. Until now, she’d never been able to. So how had this happened? Why now? Latent ability, perhaps? But then, shouldn’t it have hit with puberty? Only other thing she could think of was the one thing that had changed in her life. Her need, her burning desire, for Strider.

When—if—her dad found out, would he come for her? Demand she live with his people? No need to consider it. Yeah. He would. And she would refuse. Would she be forced to war with him and all his brethren, just to live her life as she wished? Would he make a gamble for Strider in an attempt to force her hand?

“I’m glad you inherited your father’s abilities. You’re alive and nothing is more important than that,” Strider said. “You did a great job.”

“Really?” She would never tire of his praise.

“If your goal was to worry me to death, then yes.” He was glowering now, his affection morphing into anger. She figured the what-ifs were driving him crazy. “You are never going off on your own again. You will chain yourself to my side and like it. Understand?”