The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

World. Rocked.

Lazarus reeled as he cleaned Cameo, then himself. He righted his pants before hooking the clasp of her bra, covering her beautiful breasts. A necessary travesty. One glance at her feminine perfection, and he would be on her again...and again...

He fastened her pants, but left both their shirts on the floor, intending to enjoy a little skin-to-skin contact.

He should leave. He’d gotten off, and he’d gotten her off. A miracle, she would say. His mind should be clear of the passion-fog, vengeance against Juliette his number two priority.

His number one priority? Stopping new crystal formations. Lava flowed through his veins, scorching him, and his muscles ached. Telltale signs of impending growth.

Even still, he crawled into bed with Cameo and tugged her close. Her smile had unmanned him. He would never be the same. Her entire face had lit up, and happiness had glowed through her pores. There was no sight more beautiful in any realm.

He was addicted, already wanted another one.

First, he had questions for her. Later, he would explore every inch of her beautiful body, would see and touch her butterfly tattoo...would see and touch all of her. Nothing held back. Then she would bless him with another smile.

In both his life and death, he’d been with a lot of women, but no one had ever meant more than his μονομαν?α. He shared something with her that he’d never shared with another. An emotional bond.

“I don’t know how,” she said, her voice raspy and tragic, her warm breath fanning his chest, “but you, Cuddles, make everything better.”

“Of course I do.” For you, only ever you.

“Correction. You make most things better.”

“Sorry, but there are no take backs.”

In his arms, she’d been Cameo, a woman without a demon. Happy and content. Never had he beheld a more magnificent sight. Her skin had flushed and glowed with health, vitality—and pleasure, so much pleasure. Her eyes had sparkled like freshly polished diamonds in a setting of platinum. Her kiss-swollen lips had glistened with his essence.

I’ll be forever haunted.

“I’m surprised you were willing to lower your guard in an unfamiliar environment,” she said.

“How dare you.” He gave a mock growl. “I never once lowered my guard.”

She arched a single black brow. “So you didn’t give my body your full attention?”

He barked out a laugh, awed by her wit. “This is a first. You’ve backed me into a corner. If I say yes, you’ll call me a liar. If I say no, you’ll call me a horrible lover. Either way, I’ll be in a whole lot of man-trouble.”


“Well, I can’t exactly accuse you of being a bad lover while I’m still twitching from my very first orgasm.” As she rubbed her soft cheek against his bare chest, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I actually climaxed. A real one, not a fake.”

“Trust me, sunshine. I noticed. Also, I had no plans to stop my expert seduction until you erupted.”

“Well, thank you.” She kissed the hollow of his neck, where his pulse had yet to slow, her lips soft, sweet and giving. “But also no thank you! How am I supposed to live without at least one orgasm a day?”

He nearly choked on another laugh. “You’re not?”

“Exactly!”

Something dark twisted in his chest, his good humor evaporating. What if, when Lazarus parted with her, she turned to another man?

“Hey. You stiffened.” She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Maybe I’m missing your smile.”

“Please. You’ve never even seen my smile.”

Had she already forgotten? “Sunshine, you smiled after you came.”

“What? Me?” The ends of her hair tickled his skin as she shook her head. “I can’t smile.”

“You can. You did.” She had forgotten. Poor Cameo. Poor Lazarus. How soon would she forget him? And how would he react when she did?

Self-preservation said, You’ll rejoice. No μονομαν?α, no weakness.

The rest of him bellowed, Kill the demon!

Lazarus had known the outcome of his dalliance with Cameo from the beginning. One way or another, he would lose her. He’d thought he’d accepted their end. Now, with her cuddled against him, he only wanted to rage. Never again touch her softness? Or glide against the liquid heat only he could draw forth? Never again hear her voice change from tragic to breathy as she moaned in pleasure? Never again watch her unravel as satisfaction burned centuries of hopelessness to ash? Never again see her smile?

There would be no chance he could make her laugh.

Desperate to discover if the memory of him had already begun to fray at the edges, he opened his mind to hers...and brushed against her shield.

“You stop that right now before I remove something you don’t want to lose.” She traced a fingertip around his nipple and as he shuddered—in a very manly way. “What is it you want to know?”

“If the demon has begun to erode your memory of me.”

“No.” She sighed. “I wish I had the ability to read minds. I could read yours after Misery does his thing.” Her chin trembled. “I could remember through your eyes.”

The guilt he’d experienced earlier returned, only sharper. He now had the means to free her of the demon. He also had the means to kill her.

Can’t risk it. Lazarus did everything in his power to turn his own heart to stone. Why bring up Pandora’s box, anyway? He and Cameo would part soon enough, and he would never use the thing against her. He would keep it safe, never allowing anyone to use it against her. Including Cameo herself.

What if she had imprisoned Juliette and Hera, but never told him?

The question was a poison injected straight into his mind. Inescapable and without an antidote.

This—his silence about the box—was the same. If Cameo discovered his deceit, she would be hurt; she would rage and seek vengeance, and rightfully so. If she discovered how close she’d come to achieving a lifelong goal, and discovered Lazarus was the one who’d betrayed her...

No. Absolutely not! His silence wasn’t a betrayal but a kindness. He protected Cameo.

Ask questions, receive answers, give her another orgasm, leave. That was the way his second chance at life had to go. He had to build a new army and attack clan Eagleshield from every side. A new army took time. “You said you were afraid sex with me would be bad. Have I alleviated your concerns?”

She traced one of the crystalized veins in his biceps. “First answer a question for me. Are these...wounds the reason you refused to strip?”

Share his secret? His shame? His fear that he would end up like his father, defeated, trapped and hidden from the rest of the world?

He trusted Cameo, but he didn’t trust her family. If she were to tell a friend—whether wittingly or unwittingly—and that friend told another, so on and so forth, soon the entire immortal community would know about his weakness.