The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

While the crystals remained dormant without contact with Cameo, given life only in her presence, the damage she caused was permanent.

He would become a target for every vampire, shifter or witch hoping to earn a moniker. Look at me. Look, look. I’m the one who took down the only son of the Monster.

Juliette could use his weakness against him. Hera, too.

“Perhaps I think I’m fat,” he finally muttered. “Do these pants make my ass look big?”

The corners of her mouth twitched, giving him hope he would see...nope, her frown returned. “Be serious. You’re hiding a bad tattoo, aren’t you? Maybe a former girlfriend’s name scripted inside a heart? Oh! I know. A man’s face on your thigh. Or a rocket that resembles a penis?”

“I’m making a mental note to get each of those tattoos. They sound world-class.”

“Yeah, but what name will go inside the heart?”

“My own. I’ve always loved myself best.”

She batted her lashes at him. “We have so much in common. I’ve always loved myself best, too.”

Her attempt at flirting was a-dor-able. “Such a naughty little liar. I’m your favorite. Admit it.”

“Darkpit, you barely crack the top ten.”

Lazarus was a selfish bastard, greedy in the extreme, and so possessive he wanted to lay siege to every aspect of his woman’s life—even if they wouldn’t be together. “Give me names. By morning I’ll be the only one left.” Half tease, half unadorned promise. “You’ll have to award me the number one spot.”

She snorted. Then she fell silent. Then she stiffened. Her defenses lowered, her mind suddenly open to his, the shield gone. Her relationship with Alex and the heartache the male had caused consumed her thoughts. So had the torment the Hunters had dished.

She’d been confined to a dank, dark cell that reeked of sweat, urine and other things Lazarus couldn’t bear to contemplate. She’d been chained to a wall except for the times she’d been chained to a rack, each of her limbs pulled out of its socket. Hot pokers had been pressed into her filth-caked skin, appendages removed while she screamed in pain. While her demon laughed. Laughed.

The bastard had no right!

Lazarus struggled to control a surge of black rage. Calm. Steady.

Galen, leader of the Hunters, had swooped in, demanding to know more about the other demon-possessed warriors. Information Cameo had refused to give him, no matter how many of her bones the male had broken, or how many times he’d sliced into her already injured flesh...or when he’d removed her tongue.

Don’t want to talk? Fine. Now you can’t talk.

Galen was a demon-possessed warrior himself. The keeper of Jealousy and False Hope. According to word on the street, the Lords had recently welcomed him back into their fold.

Lazarus’s rage only worsened. He was not so forgiving and added the name “Galen” to his vengeance list. The male would become the star attraction in the next Garden of Perpetual Horror.

As for Misery, Lazarus yearned to use the box, to laugh as the demon was ripped out of Cameo.

He continued digging through her memories, a strange detail seizing his attention. Blurred at the edges. Why? He followed the thread and landed square in the middle of Misery’s memory.

Lazarus began to dig through the demon’s thoughts and sucked in a breath. The evil creature couldn’t wipe Cameo’s mind without her permission. And when that permission was granted? He could do more than wipe it. He could distort it, causing her to view the past through a sorrow-tinted lens.

Lazarus had uncovered a fact Misery tried desperately to hide.

Cameo hadn’t loved Alex, not in the deep and romantic way she believed. She’d loved her ability to speak with him without causing an influx of tears. My darling Cami. For centuries she’d craved companionship, understanding and adoration.

The truth was, Alexander had been a tiny bandage placed over a massive wound in her soul. The human hadn’t helped her, but he hadn’t hurt her, either. At the time, she’d never experienced anything better.

And how sad was that?

Alexander had been a troubled man, searching for someone, anyone, to blame for his own wounds. Cameo had offered comfort and at first, the human had felt grateful, even indebted to her. Lazarus could see the gratitude in his eyes. As the days, weeks and months had passed, Cameo’s personal misery had fed the human’s. He’d continued to hurt, and eventually he’d come to consider her the perfect outlet for his pain.

The day Hunters approached him with tales of demons released from Pandora’s box, Alex had been ripe for plucking.

“Lazarus. Stop!” Wave after wave of sadness poured from her, sweeping them up in an ocean of grief. Then her mind blanked, her shield back in place. She bolted upright, dark hair a cascading waterfall around her strong but delicate shoulders. “My head isn’t your personal playground.”

When she threw her legs over the side of the bed, he clasped her by the waist to hold her prisoner. “I won’t apologize. I know you better now. Like you better. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. Alexander’s actions reveal his weakness, not yours.”

Tremors rattled her in the cage of his arms, stoking the need that always simmered in his blood. “My past is off-limits unless I choose to share it. Or maybe you’d be fine with me exploring yours without permission?”

His guilt resurfaced, an anchor dropped in the middle of her ocean. Denying her so much already. “You’ve made a valid point. I’m sorry, sunshine.”

Bit by bit, she relaxed against him. “I told you a handful of people committed suicide after spending time with me, right?”

“Right.” You also told me you tried to kill yourself, he silently added, nauseated by the thought. What if she’d succeeded?

“By the time I met Alex, I had the worst of the sorrow contained, except when I spoke. I allowed myself to hope, but I should have stayed away from him. I should have stayed away from you, too.”

“No!” The denial rushed from him with more force than he’d intended. Calm! He might have been better off without his μονομαν?α, but he was certainly happier having her at his side. “You’re allowing Misery to speak for you now.”

Lazarus had lived for a long time, had fought many different opponents. Demons were evil, detestable and spiteful, no exceptions; they possessed not a single shred of goodness. They enjoyed corruption and destruction, feeding on the carcasses of those they successfully corrupted and destroyed. They couldn’t be tamed or redeemed because they didn’t want to be tamed or redeemed.

“How can I not?” Cameo said. “We are one.”