The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

Frowning, Sabin rubbed his arms. “There’s something different about you. You’re making me...tingle.”

Lazarus ran his tongue over his teeth. The warrior sensed Pandora’s box, despite the leather sheath and chain mail. With Hera hot on his trail, he’d had to bring the pendant with him. “What you’re feeling is probably sexual attraction. Sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Sabin’s consort, Gwen, sidled up to him and flashed her fangs at Lazarus. “I don’t feel any different, but I’ll definitely use your skull as a toilet.”

Gwen was a Harpy from Clan Skyhawk, but he bore her no ill will. He knew better than to hate an entire race for one person’s sins.

Every other open door had another warrior in place, waiting to terrorize him. This was a Walk of Promised Pain, wasn’t it? Whatever. He was dating Cameo. This had to happen sooner or later.

“I tingle, too, and it’s definitely not sexual attraction.” Maddox, keeper of Violence, had black hair and violet eyes, a male as lethal as he was pretty. “Might be rage, though. Upset Cameo, and I’ll play Go Fish with your internal organs.”

“I don’t feel your new mojo, but I do want to jump your bones.” Gideon, keeper of Lies, had a punk rock vibe, with multiple piercings and blue hair that was a perfect match to his eyes. He couldn’t utter a single truth without suffering debilitating pain. He added, “And FYI, Cameo isn’t like a sister to me. I won’t give a shit if you use and abuse her, and I certainly won’t use your severed skull as a masturbatory aid.”

A pregnant dark-haired woman wound her arm around Gideon’s waist. She offered Lazarus a soft, sweet smile. “What my husband means is, he will fuck your skull to hell and back.” That sweet smile never wavered.

Damn, but Lazarus liked these people.

Amun, former keeper of Secrets, stood beside his woman, the heavily tattooed Haidee. “Hurt Cam? I’ll slit your throat while you’re sleeping and dance in your blood.”

Nice.

Aeron, former keeper of Wrath, kissed his woman, a dark-haired Sent One, before meeting Lazarus’s gaze. “However you came back from the dead...you won’t be doing it again when I finish with you if you screw over Cameo.”

“Great chatting with you boys.” Lazarus reached Cameo’s room and entered without knocking. He shut the door with a soft snick, nearly overcome by an oppressive taint of sorrow.

Not yet noticing him, his μονομαν?α hurried here and there. For the first time since they’d parted, he felt like he could breathe. Despite her dark mood. He was finally home. Tension evaporated, arousal taking its place.

“I want more than a night with you,” he announced.

She spun, jet-black hair dancing with the movement. Her delicate cheeks flushed prettily, but her thick lashes were spiked and damp, her silver eyes rimmed with red. She’d been crying?

A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“Lazarus. You’re here.” The sorrow in her voice contained a sharp edge and utterly ripped him up inside. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

Remaining in place proved a Herculean feat. If he touched her, the conversation would end. “Tell me what’s wrong, sunshine, and I’ll fix it.”

A fresh round of tears welled, and her chin began to tremble. “I’m so sorry I ruined everything for you. I missed you...going to lose you soon...our time together is limited, even tainted, and...and...”

Misery had used their separation to strike at her, he realized. Teeth gnashing, Lazarus reached up and wrapped his hand over the apple, still hidden under his shirt. More and more he longed to kill the demon, to teach him the error of his ways.

Can’t risk Cameo.

“If you kill Hera,” she said, and sniffled, “I die.”

His brow furrowed. “How do you know?”

“The mirror showed me.”

“Remember, the mirror shows possible futures.” But he could not tolerate the thought of her death in any capacity. “Now that I know, I can take measures to ensure you remain safe.” And he would. “I have always refused to ask anyone for help. I believed needing help meant I was weak. But I’m asking you. Help me find Juliette. We’ll kill her together. The faster the better. I’m sure there’s a study out there that will confirm couples that slay together, stay together. Besides, if she knew where to find Pandora’s box, she would have used it to kill you already. When Juliette is rotting in a grave, we can focus on Hera. Lock her away, if necessary. And once she’s defeated, we can find and kill my father.”

Hope flared in her eyes, only to be snuffed out. Tears streamed down her cheeks, wrecking him. “You want your father dead? That’s so sad. I mean, I knew he was a brute, but surely you have some fond memories.”

If she weren’t so upset, he would have been amused. Such a soft heart for such a hardened warrior. “Typhon enslaved and raped my mother. I will celebrate his demise.”

“Oh, Lazarus. I’m so sorry. No wonder you want to wed a queen for an army. An army I can’t give you.” Sniffle, sniffle. “And thanks to me, you’re missing a testicle—”

“You, sunshine, are an army of one,” he interjected. “I’ll lead you. And your friends.”

She snorted now. “You’ll lead me? Lead us? Wow. What an honor. Everyone will be...pleased. I foresee zero problems with your plan.”

He feigned shock. “Did the Mother of Melancholy just crack a joke?”

“She most certainly did, and her joke even has a punch line. Guess what? It’s you. Because the first time you issue an order to my friends, they’ll take turns punching you. A few might even kick you in your ball.”

His gaze slid over her, lingering on his favorite places. “You’ll be pleased to know my testicle has regrown. Perhaps you should give it a welcome back kiss?”

She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly swept away by a new tide of sorrow. “You shouldn’t let my lips anywhere near your jewels. Did I mention I ruin everything?”

Cursed demon. Time to pry his claws out of her emotions.

Lazarus sighed. “You’re right. You ruined my well-ordered life, my plan to wed a queen I wouldn’t love and probably wouldn’t even like, and you destroyed any chance I had for a peaceful existence. You’re terrible. You have zero positive qualities.”

Her jaw dropped. “I must have a few positive qualities.”

“Please. You’re only kidding yourself. You’re hopelessly irredeemable. Go on, admit it.” He put enough sneer in his voice to aggravate a saint. “Admit it so I can pity-kiss the hell out of you.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Go pity-kiss yourself!”

Unable to stay away—and unsure how much longer he could hide his smile—he closed the distance and hauled her against the solid length of his body. “Accept my offer, and I’ll give you a panty-melting kiss.”

Shivers caused her nipples to rub against his chest. He stilled, his every cell catching fire and burning his control. She stilled, though the pulse at the base of her neck raced.

“I suspect you’ll give me the panty-melting kiss, anyway,” she whispered.