The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

“Wow. This is the thanks I get?” Viola muttered. “I prefer flowers.”

Cameo fought her way free of the weight. Daggers still in hand, she stood. Where were—There! Lazarus had climbed atop one of the piles. Or he’d been dropped there. The griffin hovered above him, spitting poison. Lazarus dived out of the way while tossing the spiked dagger he so often stroked. That dagger cut through the griffin’s throat and came out the other side—with a trachea caught in one of the hooks.

The loss would have killed any other creature. This one shook his head, injured but alive—and angrier. He chomped at Lazarus, trapping his wrist. As Lazarus had done to her and Viola, the dragon did to him, tossing him across the room.

My cue. Hurt my man and suffer. Cameo threw herself into the fray.





12

“Fear isn’t your friend and it won’t keep you safe. Fear is the first stage of self-destruction.”

—Living on Your Own Terms, Damn It

—Eternal Truths for Every Man

Lazarus had made several tactical errors, each of them critical.

Oh, he’d done everything he’d set out to do. He’d hidden the females under a pile of steel. He’d forced the griffin to focus solely on him while opening his mind to the beast’s thoughts—erratic, dark, vile—in order to predict every move against him. But he’d underestimated Cameo’s resolve, and his own growing weakness. He’d thought the fight would end swiftly, so he hadn’t given her the gifts currently burning a hole in his pocket. He’d expected her to stay down and safeguard the weaker Viola.

Instead, Cameo attacked the griffin, moving too quickly for Lazarus and his crystalized veins to block her.

She soared past the griffin and slashed at his ankles. The second she hit the ground, she rolled and stood.

Thump. The beast’s foot detached. A high-pitched squawk nearly busted Lazarus’s eardrums. At the same time, rage consumed him; through his connection with the beast, he felt the white-hot burn of the emotion in every cell.

To the griffin, Cameo had just been marked for a bloody death.

As Lazarus shouted, “No,” leaping at her with every intention of sheltering her body with his, the griffin flared his wings. One wing swiped at Lazarus and nearly tore him in two. The other swiped at Cameo. She jumped out of the way and—yes! She reached the safety zone. Or she would have, if other blades hadn’t unfolded from the tip of the wing, drawn to her as if she were a magnet.

Lazarus watched in horror, helpless, as the blades cut through her midsection.

Her eyes widened, and she grunted with shock and pain. Trembling, she dropped her weapons and clutched at the gaping wounds.

Blood and organs spilled to the floor as her knees collapsed.

No. No!

The griffin loved the sight and smell of her injury. He clicked his teeth together and inhaled deeply.

That. Very. Second. The tether to Lazarus’s control snapped, his own rage overtaking him. He became the stuff of nightmares.

For the first time in his life or death, fangs sprouted from his gums, more lethal than any sword. Claws grew from his fingertips, sharper than any weapon. His veins burned as if molten lava rushed through them, even where the crystals had grown.

A thousand times as a child, he’d witnessed this transformation overtake his father, making him strong. Invincible. In all his years with Juliette, he’d prayed for this to happen.

Lazarus was every inch the Monster’s son.

As he raced forward, the griffin chomped at Cameo’s neck. She shouldn’t have the strength to move, but by some miracle she managed to roll over, the creature’s teeth sinking into her shoulder. Her back bowed, and she screamed.

Lazarus grabbed hold of matted fur, his claws slicing all the way to bone. He swung himself around—a move he’d watched Cameo execute against his sky serpents when he’d first invaded her mind and witnessed her memories of the battle—and dropped down in front of her, at the same time using his momentum to snap the griffin’s spine in two.

Hurt...more.

The creature’s head hung at an odd angle. However, the lack of muscle control didn’t stop him from flinging his weight at Lazarus.

Expecting the action, Lazarus blocked, buried sharp claws in the griffin’s chest and tossed him across the cavern.

Lazarus flashed, greeting the griffin when he landed by punching fangs into his vulnerable neck. He shook his head and ripped out the bastard’s regrown trachea, black oil spraying from the wound.

More!

Lazarus used his claws to slice those metal wings into ribbons...to cut through scales as easily as butter.

A flicker of rational thought. Careful, need the heart.

He flung the dead, withered organ aside. Then he railed, overcome by madness once again. There went the face. The shoulders. The entire chest cavity, what remained of the organs ripped into so many pieces they were unrecognizable.

At first, the griffin fought, desperate to fend off Lazarus’s relentless brutality. As black oil continued to spray, the source of his afterlife drained, along with his strength. Bones snapped and shattered, until the griffin couldn’t move.

“I’m keeping this!” Viola called. “And this. And this. This, this and this. Oh! Cameo, did you see this? We’ve hit the mother lode of metals. Am I weeping? I think I’m weeping. I can build armor...the home of my dreams. I can protect myself and my Fluffikans from everyone.”

Panting, Lazarus scanned the cavern until he found Cameo. She’d managed to stuff her internal organs back inside her torso, her flesh in the process of weaving back together.

A cool tide of relief swept over him. She would heal. And now she would forever know the truth. He could defend her from any danger.

Despite my weakness, I am stronger than ever.

The realization bolstered him. Did this mean... Could he dare to keep her?

“Over here, Lazarus,” Viola called. “Come help me. It’s the least you can do since I’m letting you borrow my ring, right? You kind of owe me one. A big one. And this small one. Oh! And this one. And by kind of I mean definitely.”

“My ring.” Lazarus pushed to his feet.

He couldn’t go to Cameo like this, not while she was in such a fragile state. He breathed in and out with purpose, focusing on a single thought in an effort to calm himself. He would be kissing his woman at some point today. Would finish what they’d started...

His veins sizzled as rage bowed to arousal. He grew rock hard, his erection straining against his leathers, throbbing, desperate for the clasp of her hand, her mouth. Her beautiful red mouth, with lips so plump and soft. Her hot, wet inner walls. How tightly she had squeezed his finger.

The woman had been made for him. She came to life within the circle of his arms. He and he alone could bring her to climax.

He just had to prove it to her.

The red waned from his vision. The bitter taste of griffin dulled, and his fangs and claws retracted.

I’ll give her pleasure every day, every hour, every—

Between one heartbeat and the next, his weakness returned. His veins constricted, the rivers of crystal spreading.