The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

With a flick of his wrist, Lazarus hurled the stuffed animal down the temple steps.

“What’s your beef with toys?” Cameo asked. “And why did you pack this one if you didn’t—”

“You want answers? Remember,” he snapped. Then he scrubbed a hand over his face. At this rate, he would scare her away.

Time to plan his next move. He’d sensed the portal from the forest, even on the steps. The power had only intensified as he’d ascended. Unless Hera could cast illusions? When she’d shown up at the Downfall, he’d suspected it.

Had she tricked him the same way he’d tricked so many others?

Cameo stalked through the empty chamber, tracing her fingertips over the columns. “Whose temple is this?” She asked the question hesitantly, as if she had no desire to set him off again.

“Hera, former queen of the Greeks. Never trust her. She wants to kill you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Many reasons.” Why not tell her? When he left her, she needed to remain on constant guard. “I vowed to kill her. You are my woman, the only leverage she has against me. And you have Pandora’s box.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I have never lied to you, love. Never will.” His ear twitched as a pebble rolled in the distance. He had two daggers at the ready as he turned—

A whirlwind gusted between him and Cameo, knocking them apart. Any other day, he could have stood strong against such a blast, but not now, not like this. He flew through the entrance and tumbled down several steps, his damaged body screaming in protest.

Adrenaline surged, dulling the sharpest edges of pain, allowing him to jump to his feet and race into the temple once again.

The whirlwind stopped at the far edge, revealing a smug, grinning Hera. She’d pinned a surprisingly calm Cameo to a column, a sword tip pressed to her neck.

Terror wrapped its claws around his neck and squeezed. He stilled, not even daring to breathe, lest he goad the goddess into striking. This. This paralyzing fear, born as a boy forced to watch as his mother was murdered, was why he’d always abhorred weakness.

Cameo’s gaze remained steady, the color in her cheeks deepening rather than draining. Was she preparing to fight back?

“Let her go,” he commanded the goddess. Must protect Cameo at all costs! “She’s done nothing to you.”

Hera raised her chin. “I loved your mother, and yet I tore her limb from limb. I will do the same to the keeper of Misery without a moment’s hesitation.”

“You want Pandora’s box, and you want me dead so you’ll be safe from my wrath.” She had no idea how close she stood to the object of her desire, the pendant hidden underneath the truth of Cameo’s shirt and his illusion. Finally, Lazarus forced himself to move, placing the tip of a dagger against his own throat. “You will never have the first, but I can give you the second.”

Now Cameo paled. “No! Don’t.”

“Quiet!” Hera squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. With her free hand, she slapped her temple once, twice, as if to dislodge a thought...or a voice? Lazarus had witnessed the same action by each of the Lords at some point. “Why would you want to save this woman from me, anyway? She is your weakness.”

“Wrong. She is my greatest strength.”

Hera blanched. “Impossible. Zeus did not create her to be a warrior. Oh, no. Not my husband. He’s always considered women an inferior species. He created her and Pandora to be whores, responsible for pleasing the—quote, unquote—real soldiers. Why do you think Cameo was inclined to date two of her friends?”

Cameo tensed as if poised to strike. “That’s not true.”

Hera flinched.

Lazarus schooled his features to reveal nothing but mild contempt. “Wrong again, goddess. Cameo was created to be my perfect mate.”

Hera’s eyes—those hated eyes that reflected the aerial view of Earth—filled with regret, sorrow...relief? She shook her head a second time, shouting, “No one has a perfect mate. Men have obsessions, at least for a little while. And I will have the box. I must.”

Must. Why?

The answer didn’t matter, really. He would not be giving it to her. Ever. The box could be used to slay Cameo.

“I’m the only one who knows where it is, and with my illusion in place, you will never find it,” Lazarus said. “Send Cameo home, and we’ll talk.”

She glared at him. “Your father wasn’t as protective of your mother. Do you think he knew how badly Echidna wanted to die? How she begged me to punish him with her murder?”

The words shook him. “You lie.”

“No, but I do kill.” Hera pressed the sword in a little deeper, drawing a bead of blood from Cameo’s vulnerable pulse. “Give me. The box.”

Cameo’s lips parted, a soft sound leaving her.

His rage continued to build, scorching the reins of his control, soon growing into a wild fire. He forgot about the crystals as his muscles and bones expanded, as fangs sharpened from his gums and claws extended from his fingertips.

The monster was back.

As he took a step forward, Hera screeched, “Do not move!”

An animalistic roar echoed through the entire chamber, and Lazarus almost smiled. Rathbone was back, as well. The leopard—no longer a stuffed animal but the real deal—leaped into action, locking his teeth around Lazarus’s wrist and then flinging him across the room. He slammed into Hera, knocking her down, and the sword skittered from her grip.

Cameo sprinted across the open floor and claimed the weapon.

Lazarus jumped up to push his boot into the goddess’s throat, trapping her on the dirty floor as Rathbone’s image shifted into that of a leather-clad male.

He grinned at Lazarus. “Having a friend is better than having an enemy. Admit it.”

“A true friend would have gone for the bad guy instead of launching me across the room,” he replied drily.

Panicked, Hera struggled against his hold. “Let me go!”

“You threatened my woman. You die one way or another this day.” He peered down at her. “How you do so is your only choice. Tell me where my father is, and I’ll end you quick and easy.”

Despite the raggedness of her inhalations, she uttered a small laugh. “Like all your kind, you are a fool. You never see what’s right in front of you.”

What did that mean? Had Lazarus seen his father, but failed to recognize him?

“You are also easily distracted,” she said, grinning now, no hint of panic. Her skin darkened, quickly turning to mist, until a small tornado had taken her place.

He punched his claws at her, intending to rip out her trachea if any part of her remained inside the wind, but she whisked away, and he cut through the marble.

The tornado slammed into Rathbone, pitching him across the temple. The warrior crashed into the floor face-first. Then the tornado executed a sharp turn and slammed into Cameo. Lazarus shouted a denial as he stood. He expected his sunshine to fly backward, but the closer the winds came to her, the weaker they blew.

Something had impeded Hera’s power. Cameo’s demon?

No, the queen wasn’t sobbing. Pandora’s box? No, she wasn’t demon possessed.

The way she’d shaken her head...