The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

He loved when she was right.

Lazarus claimed her lips with fierce demand. She welcomed the hard thrust of his tongue but she didn’t return his volatile passion. Unacceptable. When he opened his mind to hers, he heard the demon wail.

Vengeance will be mine.

He lifted Cameo into his arms and carried her to the bed—where he tossed her onto the mattress.

“Right now, we’re the only two people in existence.” Reaching overhead, he pulled off his shirt. After removing the apple pendant, he placed it in the top drawer of her nightstand.

Later, he would create an illusion to better hide it. And he would not feel guilty.

She stared at the drawer, the wheels in her head clearly spinning. “You still haven’t told me—” she began.

“Concentrate on your man. Or rather, my smorgasbord of masculine delights.”

Her gaze stroked over him, black pupils spilling over silver irises. She licked her lips, and the sight of her little pink tongue nearly unmanned him. “The biggest thing about you...is your ego. Which is why I shouldn’t admit this, but what the hell. You are so beautiful.”

“You are the beautiful one.” His tattoos failed to hide the onslaught of crystal.

Desperate for any contact she would allow, he crawled on top of her. She traced the human heart etched into the center in his chest, and the daggers piercing each of the chambers. Then her fingertip circled his navel, and his gut clenched with desire.

“You want another orgasm, sunshine?” The question was nothing more than a croak. He wanted to give her orgasms. Plural. As in, thousands.

Breath hitched in her throat. “I do. I really, really do. But first I want to see those testicles you mentioned. A girl’s gotta inspect her merchandise.”

The struggle to hide his smile intensified. “What will you give me in exchange for my cooperation?”

As he’d hoped, the rest of her sorrow gave way to determination. “How about the opportunity to survive this encounter?”

“What’s my other option? Dying of pleasure?”

“Yes. No!” She shook a fist at him.

Laughing, he rose to his knees. Their eyes locked, liquid silver against black. Slowly, he unfastened his pants, letting the anticipation build. As need overtook her exquisite features, his amusement drained. Even more slowly, he drew down his zipper.

She gulped. “No underwear?”

“Why bother? I suspect my woman prefers me bare.” He pushed the material apart, his erection springing free. He gave his testicles a tug before wrapping his fingers around the base of his shaft. “See. Your merchandise is perfect. Happy now?”

“I think I’m getting there.” The husky rasp in her voice drew a bead of moisture from his erection. “I know you’re all healed up, but I’m going to write you a prescription for a little Cameo, and I’m ordering you to take me twice a day.”

His grip flexed of its own accord. Bloody hell. With a fierce growl, he swooped down and fed her another fiery kiss. He devoured her, and she devoured him right back, the kiss quickly spiraling out of control. His insides turned molten, and his shaft ached. Cameo was more addictive than any drug.

He couldn’t get enough of her, this woman who’d enchanted him past all reason. She was passion and pleasure, suddenly his sole reason for breathing.

Fighting tremors, he stripped her. His mind almost couldn’t compute the majesty of her beauty. The alabaster skin. Those dusky nipples already hard and ready for him. How delicate her bone structure appeared...a deception. There was no woman stronger.

Between her legs, a small thatch of damp curls begged for his attention. Helpless to obey... He sat back on his haunches and placed her legs outside his. The woman who claimed she couldn’t come was pink and wet and so very eager.

He ran his finger down her center before slipping it inside her. Her hips arched, and she cried out. When he pulled that finger out of her, she moaned in disappointment.

“Going to give you more. In a bit.” He flipped her over and received his first full view of her butterfly. Its antennae rested between her shoulder blades, its thorax perfectly aligned with her spine and its abdomen ended at the crack of her ass. Forewings wrapped around her hips while hindwings wrapped around her thighs. The colors...a thousand colors glittered within a jagged black outline: a feminine blend of purple and pink, with flecks of silver to match her eyes.

Entranced, he traced the butterfly with his tongue and slid his finger back inside Cameo. Wet heat greeted him, and he grunted with satisfaction. She gasped, her inner walls squeezing him, creating a prison he adored.

He worked in a second finger, and she whispered his name. “Lazario.” The wonder in her voice puffed up his chest with pride. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“Never.” In... He angled his wrist. Out...

Now she shouted. A curse or a request, he wasn’t sure. He quickened his pace. In and out, in and out. Her hips rolled as his fingers slid back in. Her head thrashed over the pillow, ribbons of black silk tangling. She gripped the sheet and chewed on her bottom lip, her nails slicing through the cotton. She was the picture of passion and bliss.

In, out. In, out. In, out. Faster and faster. He brushed his thumb over the scorching heart of her, and she quivered. So he did it again...and again.

“Lazario!” She climaxed, her inner walls clenching and unclenching.

“My Cami.”

When she went limp, he rolled her over. Satisfaction radiated from her as she smiled up at him, wanton and languid.

That smile...the stuff of dreams.

Savage need pulsed within him, his own orgasm almost shooting from him. He gripped his erection, roughly commanding, “Touch me, sunshine. Please.”

She drew a fingertip along her red, kiss-swollen lips. “With my hands or my mouth? I owe you a reward, after all.”

“Hands. Mouth.” Give me. “Both.” He would take anything she wanted to give. He would take everything.

“I’m going to eat you up,” she promised, and he tensed, ready, so damned ready. “But only after you remove your leathers.”

A flicker of panic cooled his ardor. “I want you now. Just like this.”

“Off,” she said with a shake her head. Gaze locked on him, she sat up. Her perfect breasts jiggled, and for a moment, he forgot his own name. “Or I keep my lips to myself, and you wish your testicle never grew back.”

“Why do you want the leathers off?” he demanded.

“I want to see all of you.” Luminous silver eyes beseeched him, her lashes so long they cast shadows over her cheeks. “The way you’ve seen all of me.”

Yes, but he had seen her beauty and strength. She would see in him both his shame and weakness. He would have to explain what had happened to his father, what would one day happen to Lazarus. She might insist they part. On some level, she cared for him. Why else would she trust him with her pleasure? She would want him healthy and whole. She would hate how thoroughly his sense of self-preservation eroded every time he neared her.