The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(45)
Author: Gena Showalter

A shuddering breath escaped her. Abruptly she released him, cheeks heating. “That depends. Have you put a muzzle on your friend?”

“Working on it. And as I’ve told you, the demon isn’t my friend.”

“Then I’m fine now, yes.”

There’d been resentment in her tone. “Sure?” He traced his thumb along her hairline.

“Sure. You can let go of me now.”

He didn’t want to; he wanted to hold on forever. And that’s exactly why he released her, stepping away. He’d already marked her. Anything else was overkill. Unnecessary and dangerous to his ultimate goal.

Doubt whimpered in disappointment, receding to the back of his mind to decide on its next point of attack.

AFTER SHE APPLIED a layer of makeup to cover her skin, makeup Sabin borrowed from one of the female residents, Gwen and Sabin left the fortress. He touched her constantly. A brush of his arm here. A caress of his fingers there. She never wanted him to stop. She knew the magic he could work, after all.

She shivered. The stimulation and memories were almost—almost—enough to distract her from the beauty of Budapest. There were castlelike homes, modern buildings, green trees, bricked streets and birds eating crumbs from them. There was a murky river, an iron-enclosed bridge and a chapel that dusted the sky with its points. There were columns and statues and multihued lights.Sabin almost managed to distract her from the townspeople, as well. They regarded him with awe, stepping out of his way but still trying to connect with him, any part of him. Some even gasped, “Angel” when he passed.

They shopped for several hours, and not once did he seem irritated with her need to try everything on, to draw every piece of material across her cheek and twirl in front of the full-length mirrors. Often she caught him smiling.

After deciding on several pairs of jeans, a handful of colorful T-shirts and glittery pink flip-flops, as well as her own set of makeup, they moved on to the food. But who cared about ever eating again? She was wearing her new clothes! A snug pair of denims and a lovely pink T-shirt.

She’d never been so happy with how she looked. After a year in that skimpy white tank and skirt, she felt beautiful and comfortable and, well, normal. Human. As they left the grocery store with their bounty, Sabin eyed her as though she was his favorite ice cream cone.

Of course, then the whispers began.

Are you sure you look okay? I wonder if your breath smells bad. How many women has Sabin been with? How many were prettier and smarter and braver than you?

Gwen’s happy mood faded, edginess taking its place. The whispers continued, and soon even the Harpy’s feathers became ruffled. If a total meltdown happened, havoc would invade this lovely town and Sabin would be hurt. Much as Sabin irritated her, Gwen still didn’t want a single drop of his blood spilled.

Right now he was loading their groceries into the back of the car, his muscles bunching with every movement. Breads, meats, fruits and vegetables abounded. The scents were divine. Several times in the store the temptation had proven to be too great, her mouth watering, and she’d pilfered. But her skills were seriously rusty, for Sabin had caught her every time. He hadn’t protested, though. No, he’d encouraged her with a smile or a wink, as if he were proud of her. That had shocked her—shocked her still.

Gwen leaned a hip against the taillight. “Your demon is very close to ruining my entire day.”

“I know. I’m sorry. For the record, you look amazing, your breath is fresh, I haven’t been with that many and there are none prettier or smarter than you.”

He didn’t mention braver, she noticed. “Distract me. Tell me more about the artifacts you’re looking for.”

He paused, a bag suspended midair. Sunlight cascaded all around him, dark hair shimmering, lifting in the breeze. His eyes narrowed on her—something they did a lot, she mused. “That isn’t something I can discuss out in the open like this.”

Was that just an excuse to keep her in the dark?

Or was his demon rubbing off on her, and she doubted him just because?

Argh! “You can tell me. I’m working for you now.” Wasn’t she? Hadn’t they decided she would do the clerical stuff? She hadn’t named her price, but that was because the first thing that had come to mind was room and board in his fortress. For, like, ever. How dumb was that? “I’m helping you find them.”

“And I’ll tell you about them. Later.”

Okay, so maybe the demon was rubbing off on her.

Sabin returned to the bags, finesse gone as he tossed them inside with a flick of his wrist. She winced when she heard the eggs crack.

“By the way, we never reached an agreement about your duties,” he said.

Gwen propped her elbow above her head, resting her head in her hand, nails digging into her scalp. “Do you not think I’m capable of clerical work or do you just not respect me enough to let me prove myself in that way?”

“Wait. Did you just throw out the R word in a discussion about clerical work?” His jaw worked left and right, popping. “What is it with women? Make out a little, and suddenly everything you do means you lack respect for them.”

“That’s not true.” He’d had to go there, hadn’t he? Just talking about it, she felt the hot drops of water on her skin, felt his hands caressing her, his teeth biting at her. He’s not the kind of man you want for yourself. It was sad that she needed the reminder. And would probably need it again. And again. “One, I’ve been offering to help and you claim you want me to, but you’ve never actually told me how I can get started. Two, the shower has nothing to do with anything. In fact, let’s make a pact never to discuss what happened in there again.”

He turned to her, bags completely forgotten now. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to physically fight your enemy.”

“No, not why do you think I don’t respect you or why do I want you to do clerical work, but why don’t you want to discuss the shower?”

Cheeks heating, she straightened, looked away. “Because.”

“Why?” he insisted.

Because I’ll want more. “Mixing business with pleasure is more dangerous than we are,” she said dryly.

A muscle ticked below his eye and he stared over at her, taking her measure, she was sure, and waiting for her to back down. She didn’t, and that surprised her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she realized. Not even a little.

“Get in the car,” he commanded.