The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

Had the mirror lied about the different paths her future could take?

“Why only one night?” she asked softly. “Make me understand.”

His sigh ruffled the hairs on her crown. “You want to remember me, sunshine. I want to remember you well.”

Meaning...what? Misery would taint his thoughts if Cameo stuck around?

Ouch! The knowledge cut, and yet it shouldn’t have been a blip on her radar. Truth was truth. But...shouldn’t the man of her dreams consider her worth any hardship?

“I can walk into a room and ruin a party,” she snapped. “You can open your mouth and do the same.”

Not missing a beat—when did he ever?—he traced his white-hot tongue around the shell of her ear. “Speaking of a party... I’m inviting myself to the one in your pants.”

Damn him! The blistering heat of arousal quickly melted her anger. “Stop. There isn’t—”

“But there will be.” His hands inched up, up to cup her breasts as her nipples puckered for him. He strummed the crests, sending a stream of fire straight to her core.

Her hips undulated, and her bottom met the long, hard length of his erection. Oh, mercy, the pleasure was incredible and...it cooled, just as it always cooled, the demon inundating her with sorrow.

Lazarus kneaded her breasts and, mentally, she knew it still felt good. Really, really good. But physically and emotionally, pleasure remained at bay.

“You might as well stop,” she told him. “I could fake my enjoyment, but I wouldn’t be doing either one of us a favor.”

Far from disappointed, he uttered a husky chuckle. “I’m going to need you to promise me something, sunshine.”

That didn’t bode well. “What?”

“You’ll be very, very quiet the next time I move my hands. All right?”

Oh no, no, no. He’d fallen into the alpha-male trap. He believed he could make all women lose their minds with pleasure. Fool! He thought he could bring home the gold despite Cameo’s warning.

Actually, he thought he could bring home the gold because of her warning. She would have to teach him better.

Class is in session, and Miss Lord is a bitch.

“Listen up,” she said. “Hear me when I say—”

“Promise me,” he insisted.

He wasn’t going to drop this, was he? He’d have to learn the blue-balls way. With a sigh, she twisted to look him in the eyes. “Very well. I promise.”

Her wry tone continued speaking long after she’d quieted. You’re going to regret this.

She thought...maybe, there was a chance... The corners of his mouth were lifting in a grin. Before she could be sure, he forced her to turn, traced the lobe of her ear with his teeth and slid his hands down...down...once again stopping on the waist of her sarong.

“You’re not fighting a moan, are you?” he asked.

He sounded amused. “Not even a little,” she said.

“Tsk. Tsk. I told you to be quiet.”

“You asked me a question!”

“What about now?” He moved a fingertip along the sarong’s band, brushing against her navel. “Are you fighting a moan now?”

She tingled and ached and thought, Yes, this is it, this is actually going to happen... But once again the glorious sensations faded.

“No,” she grated.

“Still talking,” he said on a sigh. “My sunshine is so terribly unresponsive. I’m disheartened.” And yet he still sounded amused.

He truly believed he’d stoked a fire inside her.

Teeth gnashing, she said, “A few moans and groans mean nothing. I haven’t climaxed, darkpit.” He compared her to sunshine; she would compare him to an abyss.

“A few moans and groans? You’re adorable.”

“And your little experiment is finished.”

“Temper, temper.” He tsk-tsked. “Someone—and I won’t mention any names—needs to climax.”

For centuries she’d been desperate to experience something millions of women enjoyed on a daily basis. And now he thought teasing her was a good idea? After he’d failed to deliver what he’d promised?

A bomb of anger detonated inside her. “Your prowess is far overrated. And so is your opinion of yourself!”

“There she is, the vixen I’ve been waiting for,” he said, and then he pushed his hand between her legs, under her shorts—and thrust a finger deep inside her.

A surge of bliss exploded inside her, and she gasped.

“Your anger weakens the demon,” he purred, “giving me an opportunity to act.” As he spoke, he moved his thick, beautiful, amazing finger in and out of her. His erection pressed insistently between the cheeks of her ass, adding to the delicious sensations.

“More.” She leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder and offering him easier access. “I want more.” Neeeeded more. “Please.” Here, now, she wasn’t too proud to beg.

He withdrew his hand, despite the nails she dug into his wrists in an effort to hold him in place. “Someone just broke her promise.”

“What are you doing? You were finally getting somewhere. Keep going!”

Eyes like pools of sizzling obsidian, he licked his finger. “Isn’t it obvious, sunshine? I’m punishing you, leaving you in a state of torment. You’re going to remember the feel of my finger inside you and soon you’re going to beg me for its return.”

*

Teasing a woman into a snit had never been one of Lazarus’s life goals. Until Cameo.

After giving him her version of the finger, she returned to her horse. He hid a grin. Let her desire for him grow and fester. Soon she would become a boiling pot of lust. The steam would, hopefully, create a barrier against the demon.

Besides, Lazarus wanted revenge. The little vixen had kept him shielded from her mind all day.

The next time he glanced at her, exhaustion had completely overshadowed her anger. She was slumped in her saddle. Her adrenaline had crashed, and crashed hard.

“Let’s stop for the night,” he called.

The entire procession stopped. Lazarus dismounted and patted his mighty steed on the rump for a job well done.

Within minutes, tents were erected. Viola and the children were ushered inside the biggest—the goddess insisted. When Cameo attempted to follow the trio inside, Lazarus clasped her hand and led her toward his tent.

At any other time, she probably would have protested. Tonight she leaned against him, using him as a crutch. Her feet dragged, leaving deep grooves in the dirt.

“Up you go, sunshine.” Lazarus swept her into his arms and carried her inside. The significance of the action wasn’t lost on him and it—

Nothing.

When he set her on her feet, she stumbled to a thick mound of furs and collapsed. Eyes already closing, she muttered, “Whatever you plan to ask me, the answer is no.”

Sleep claimed her in the next instant, her beautiful body going lax.

“Here’s a question,” he muttered. “Should I keep my hands to myself tonight?”

He eased beside her, careful not to touch her. He would personally oversee her protection. All night long.

Her roses, bergamot and neroli scent enveloped him. His mind opened, seeking a connection with her. She’d never been more vulnerable, and he hated himself, but closing his mind proved impossible.