Текст книги "The darkest seduction"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Cowardly, perhaps, but effective. He frowned at her.

“I’m staying, and that’s final,” she added.

Paris sensed the new threat and unleashed an unholy roar. He dove on Zacharel, knocking the robed warrior down. The angel didn’t shove him off. Didn’t touch him in any way, in fact, and yet Paris propelled across the cavern and slammed into the opposite wall.

The pink-haired punk was on him a second later, the fight speeding into a new level of ferocity. But through it all, Paris never dropped the blade that had done a meet and greet with his heart. He cozied the tip, and then the hilt, up to those extra-special soft spots in the guy’s side and stomach, just as he’d showed her.

A pain-filled grunt, a black curse. Then the guy was slumping over and Paris was whipping back around, his crimson sights once again on Zacharel—who was now standing beside Sienna.

With a gasp, she skirted around the spring, creating as much distance between them as possible. “Back off, angel boy.”

Black brows winged into his hairline. “Hardly, demon girl. I do this to save you, to save thousands of others.”

Uh, what now?

“Walk to me, Sienna.” Paris was panting, bleeding, shaking, and the crazy, animalistic glaze hadn’t left him. “Now.”

With every fiber of her being, she wanted to run rather than walk to him. And she would have, if the angel hadn’t said, “I cannot let her do that, demon,” and appeared at her side in the next blink, taking hold of her wrist and locking down.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

OH, HELL, NO, PARIS THOUGHT. Two pansy wingers—one of them practicing, one of them fallen—were not gonna get the drop on him. He hadn’t killed the fallen, not yet, he’d just hurt the guy a little. Or a lot. Whatever. Now he wanted the bastard to suffer for a long damn time.

His need to protect Sienna burned hot. The fact that the fallen had interrupted their sexual play, the fact that someone other than himself had seen her delicate features overcome with desire, were reasons to kill. Savagely.

Zacharel he actually kind of liked, but that didn’t mean he’d tolerate interference in this matter. Only thing going for him right now was the fact that Sex was either asleep or hiding, and thankfully had no opinion.

“Let her go,” he snarled. He was losing blood fast, his chest like a waterspout that had sprung a leak. Hurt like a son of a bitch, and he knew he’d go down sooner or later. He was determined to make it later, when Sienna was safe.

The angel gave a single shake of his head. “Your temper is too fierce.”

So the hell what? “I’ve got myself under control.”

“Do you really?”

No. “I said I did, didn’t I? So let her go before I make you.”

“By taking my hand? My balls, as you told the fallen?” A pregnant pause, anger fighting to be freed from a man who clearly denied his emotions—but couldn’t fully suppress them. One day he would erupt, no question. “What will you do to yourself when you accidentally hurt your female?”

One stomping step, two. “Back off. Now.” The darkness inside him was so deeply rooted, he knew the stuff had moved in and set up shop and he’d never get rid of it, even when he and Sienna parted. Especially when they parted. Already he was going to sink into despair when he lost her, and if he allowed himself to relax with her, to like her that much more, he would only drag her down with him. That’s why he’d fought his emotions so hard after having sex with her.

Now he was glad for that. If he had to murder the angel, he would, and the darkness would be shooting out happies over the deed rather than remorse.

“Your darkness,” Zacharel said.

“You reading my mind?” The invasion would cost him.

“No,” the angel replied, saving his life. “Your eyes. The darkness is there. Do you know what it is, warrior? Do you know what you play with? No? Well, allow me to explain. As a human body can grow a child, a demonic one can grow evil. That is what you have done. You have allowed your demon to birth another demon, for lack of a better word. This one is all yours, your baby, and like the other possessing you, he will never leave you.”

Should have surprised him, didn’t. Shouldn’t have angered him further, did. Sienna had heard those damning words. “Unless you want a personal introduction, you better step away from my woman.”

“Paris,” she said, sadness dripping from her tone.

Sadness rather than anger, leaving him confused. Whatever. If she tried to tell him that she wasn’t his woman, that this second demon—or whatever it was—was a deal breaker, he’d lose it. When he had to let her go, fine, whatever, he’d reevaluate and dial back the possessiveness. But here? Now? There’d be no dialing back. He’d just pounded inside her, had just come inside her, branded her, and he still had her decadent taste in his mouth. She’d cried his name, had wanted more, and would have given him more.

“I still have your present,” she reminded him. “Should I… Do you want me to…use it? I thought he was your friend, but…”

He blinked. She would stab the angel? For him? The thought probably shouldn’t have cranked up his desire for her, but it did. And that she would do this after hearing Zacharel’s condemnation of him was heartwarming.

“Not yet.” Behind him, he heard the punk lumber to his feet. His hand tightened on his weapon.

“No,” Zacharel said, stopping him. At last he released Sienna. “The red is receding from your eyes. That is good. You will not hurt the girl now. Therefore I will take the fallen elsewhere and return later. As for you, you will head for the doorway leading out of this realm.” He vanished a moment later, the fallen going with him though Zacharel had never touched him.

As if his presence had been the only thing keeping Paris upright, he collapsed, toppling to his knees. Sienna rushed to his side and eased him the rest of the way down. Thick black spiderwebs wove through his line of vision. Any moment, and he’d sink into unconsciousness.

“I’ve got you,” she said. “I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He didn’t want to say what he now needed to say, didn’t want to spoil what had happened before with what had to happen now. He’d been here, in this very situation, a thousand times before. Injured and fading—with only one way to heal.

“I have to… You have to… Sex, I need sex.”

His demon was all over that, torpedoing out of hiding to shoot blood into his cock. Happened so fast, Paris suspected the demon would battle whiplash for days. This was uncharted territory, though. Until Sienna, he’d never been with the same woman twice. Now that he had, he knew it would keep him level, strong, but would being with her more than once actually mend his body?

“Sex? But you’re in no condition for that. You should rest.”

“No resting. I hate that it has to be this way, but I can’t change it.” When he was injured like this, he needed full-on, hard-core sex with as many different partners as possible. But even if a hundred beauties had surrounded him, he’d still only have wanted the one looming over him, silent, her hands gentle as they explored his wounds. A woman he shouldn’t trust, especially while he was like this, but one he couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn away from.

No matter what happened next.

“Please, Sienna. Ride me.”

Only the slightest pause. “You don’t have to beg me for anything, Paris,” she said, using his own words to comfort him. “I told you I’d take care of you, and I will.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

IF I EVER GET PARIS completely naked,Sienna thought wistfully as she unbuttoned and unzipped the black, flowing material of his pants, I’ll probably spontaneously combust.

Not wanting to jar him, she stretched the fabric apart rather than tugging it down his legs, allowing the massive length of his shaft to spring free, just as he’d done earlier. No man should be so beautiful all over, a study of hard strength and dark sexuality no matter where you looked.

He threw an arm over his face, hiding his features from view. “I hate this.”

She’d been reaching for him, but now reared back. “I’m sorry. I can find you someone else if you’d rather—”

“No,” he rushed out. He must have heard the horror and distress in her voice. “I don’t hate being with you, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Good, because she wasn’t sure she could have followed through. Becoming his pimp would be a special kind of hell.

“What I hate is that we’re chasing something meaningful and organic with something clinical and mechanical. Something forced.”

Her first thought: he’d enjoyed the sex, too, and considered it meaningful. Joy careened through her, bright starbursts that warmed each of her cells. Her second thought: he was ashamed right now. The joy withered, cooled. They had so much working against them already, she couldn’t allow him to add such an awful emotion to the mix.

“You’re not forcing me to do this, Paris. Before we were interrupted, I was wet. I’m still wet.” And she didn’t mean from the water. “Why does this time have to be any less meaningful than the other when we were headed in this direction, anyway?”

He’d groaned at wet.Now his arm fell away, and he peered up at her with those amazing eyes of searing azure. “You’re so lovely.”

When he looked at her like that, all heavy-lidded and dreamy, she feltlovely. “Let me show you the rest of me.” She pushed to her feet and disrobed, his gaze tracking her every movement.

Throughout the centuries, he had seen countless others naked. She knew that; she had seen them. He had been with tall women, short women, skinny, heavy, black, white and everything in between.

Sienna was nothing special, and yet, when he said, “Beyond gorgeous,” with a fine sheen of sweat dotting his brow, she believed him this time. He was right. Her demon would sense a lie. The joy returned.

“I think the same about you,” she admitted. Naked, emboldened by his praise, she straddled his hips and eased down. But she didn’t impale herself on his thick length. Not yet. He needed the sex, and time was imperative, but he needed stroking more. Needed assurance that she was here, in this moment with him, all the way.

His arousal jutted out between her legs, her warmth all over it. She traced her fingers over the tip, and he sucked in a breath.

“Climb up here and straddle my face,” he croaked. His palms found her breasts and kneaded, rolling her beaded nipples through his fingers. “I want to taste you again.”

The desire to do just that nearly slayed her. Blood rushed through her veins at an alarming rate and heated dangerously, chasing away any lingering chill. “I’ll hurt you. My weight… Your chest is injured.”

“How about this? I needto taste you again, and I don’t care if my chest hurts.”

She licked her lips. “How about this? I’lltaste you.”

He stilled, even seemed to stop breathing.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” she hurried to assure him.

“It’s not that.” The words sawed from him, hoarse and throaty, more grit than substance. “I haven’t let anyone do that to me in more than a thousand years.” He sucked in a breath. “No, that’s not actually true. I let a slave perform the act on me on the journey here, and I hated every moment of it.”

“Oh.” Bafflement widened her eyes. All men loved receiving oral sex. Right? So why had he stopped the women from sucking on him? And he’d stopped them, she knew that he had. Every woman he’d welcomed to his bed had probably wanted to fit her lips over that cock and drink him down.

“But you,” he went on, still on edge. “I will let you. If you want to.”

She flattened her hands on his stomach, felt the cords of the muscles clench. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or do something you don’t like—”

“No. You misunderstand.” His shook his head, all that astounding hair performing a ballet around his temples. Strands of black and brown and gold she longed to fist. “I didn’t let the others do it because I was already using them and didn’t want them doing me any more favors. And the only reason I let the slave was because I needed answers, and that was the fastest way to get them.”

Answers about me.

“And Sienna? The slave was…he was a male.”

And that was not his preference. Sympathy washed through her. To have no control over your body and its reactions, to be forced to submit to a desire you yourself did not feel, had to be torture. “Just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with that. And I won’t be doing you a favor, Paris. You are a beautiful, charming, intelligent, sexy as hell man, and I’m dying to have you. Just as you are. With all the others you were simply practicing for this moment,” she said, hoping to tease him into seeing the truth of her claim. “In doing this, I’ll be pleasuring us both. I hope. I mean, I have about as much experience with blow jobs as I do with sex.”

“If that’s the case, I’m about to come my brains out. You’ll be perfect.”

“Quiet. Sienna’s not done putting you in your place.”

A smile bloomed. “Yes, ma’am. But, uh, what’s my place?”

“The pedestal for the most admirable man I know. I don’t care what you’ve done, or who you’ve done it with. You could have rampaged the entire world, could have raped viciously, constantly, but you don’t. As for the sex of the slave, well, I hope you respect me in the morning, because I think you’re even sexier now and I’m going to be very upset if I don’t get my turn.”

He licked his lips. “You want a turn?”

“More than anything.”

Already his hips were writhing underneath her, as if he were imagining her mouth on him, working him over. “Please, Sienna. Please, do it.”

“Yes. But only if you’ll like it.” She shimmied down until her lips were poised over that beautiful erection. This is mine,she thought, dazed.

“I’ll like it. I swear I’ll like it.”

“Let’s find out for sure.” Her tongue emerged, licking up and down his shaft, treating his length like a lollipop. Groan after groan left him, and she took that for approval. On her third upward glide, she fit her fingers around his base and her lips around the head. As she gloried in his flavor, her hand continued the erotic journey on his shaft.

Her wings arced down and around, the tips stroking his sides. For the first time, she understood the joy of having them. Surrounding him like this, she forgot about the rest of the world. Only they existed. Only the pleasure.

A curse roared from him as his hips jerked, thrusting him deeper. Immediately he apologized and backed off. “More. Please, more.” He pounded his fists against the floor. “I have to have more.”

She sucked harder, tasting him deeper, savoring, then swallowed him down as far as she could go. He was too big and stretched her jaw, but she didn’t care. His entire body shook with the force of his enjoyment. She never stopped working him with her hands, either, one doing the stroking, the other tugging at his testicles.

But then she started wondering what those tasted like and released his cock with a popto run her tongue over the tightness of his sac. He enjoyed that, too, especially when she drew one, and then the other, into her mouth.

Would she ever get enough of this man?

When he was shouting her name, she returned to the main event, taking him in, taking him down, his wild reaction spurring her on and on and on, her body lighting up, desperate for him, for all of him.

“I’m close, baby, I’m so close. If you don’t want to taste me, you need to—”

In answer, she sucked him so hard her cheeks hollowed.

“Oh, yeah!” His hips jerked up, his muscles knotting on his bones, and a roar far louder than any that had come before ripped out of him. He jetted down her throat and she swallowed every drop, holding on until the very end, when he sank onto the ground, his panting breaths filling the entire enclosure.

“Ride me,” he commanded in that voice full of gravel. “I need to be in you. Now.”

“Yes. Now.” She knew she had just repeated what he’d said, again, but that rich scent was seeping from him, surrounding her, blinding her to everything but him. And this. Oh, sweet heaven, this.

She lifted, surprised to find that she was shaking. A quick glance, and she saw that his wounds were no longer bleeding, and the skin had even sewed itself back together. And despite his recent climax, he was still rock-hard and ready for her.

Once again she straddled him, and this time she took him in, all the way, until she was sitting on him, her ass resting on the backs of his thighs. Now she was the one to cry out. Like before, he stretched her, but it was such a good, burning stretch and she was so damn wet, so damn eager.

He clamped his fingers on the rise of her hips and moved her, up and down, his strength a shock. Because when he moved her down, he slammed her, forcing himself as deep as he could go, lifting himself up to meet her halfway.

“Kiss me,” he growled. “Lean down and kiss me.”

Even as she rocked on him, she obeyed, her chest smashing into his as she slanted her head and meshed their lips together. His tongue immediately shot inside her mouth, claiming her as his, owning her. His hands went to her back, sliding under those slits that housed her wings. It was as though he’d put his fingers and his mouth on her clitoris at the same time, using his nose and his chin and his beard stubble, anything and everything to stimulate her to the fullest.

Release slammed through her with the same force Paris used. Wild exhilaration pumped through her, the pleasure so intense her nerve endings were electrified. Pinpricks of white behind her lids, fire in her veins. A storm of satisfaction through every inch of her.

She didn’t mean to, but she bit his lip until she tasted blood, and even that was a stimulant. Her nails dug into his scalp, holding him still for her abuse as she rode out the thunder and the lightning. But he didn’t seem to mind, seemed to like it. One of his hands fell to her ass and pressed her down as he rose up, and then he was roaring, spurting inside her, sending her over the edge a second time.

When at last they calmed, they collapsed on the ground in a tangled heap of arms and legs, shaking together, gasping, desperate for air but not caring that they couldn’t find it.

“Thank you,” he panted.

“You liked?” she replied when she found her voice.

“Woman, you nearly killed me. I should be manning back up, putting us back on track, but I’m completely blissed out.”

So was she. Each time together was better than the last. “I hope we do that a thousand times today.”

“I hope that’s an accurate guesstimate and not hyperbole.”

“If anything, I underestimated. You’re very good with my wings.”

She felt the warm stroke of a chuckle against her skin. “I’m not too rough?”

“You’re perfect.” A kiss at the cord that bound his shoulder to his neck, a scrape of her teeth. “Ever been with a winged woman before?”

“Uh…I…” He hesitated, even as his skin prickled with heat beneath her mouth.

His shame had returned, and once again she experienced sympathy for all he’d endured. “I’ll take that as a yes. Was she an angel, like your friend?” He needed to purge the memories and the feelings that accompanied them.

“Uh…”

“Another yes. A demon, too?”

Only the slightest pause. “Yeah.” He ducked his head in the opposite direction, as bashful as a schoolboy.

Adorable. Just adorable. As strong as he was, as fierce as he was, he cared about her opinion. “Paris, it’s okay. I know you have a past, and I wasn’t pressing for details to embarrass you or to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know there’s nothing you could have done to disgust me.”

Slowly he relaxed and turned toward her. Those dark shadows swirled in his irises, but as she watched, they thinned and misted away. Zacharel had said those shadows were another demon, an evil inside of Paris that he could never get rid of. She wasn’t sure why he’d welcomed that evil, or “birthed” it, and she didn’t care. To her, he was Paris, only Paris, and she would never again make the mistake of hating someone for a perceived malevolence.

“Thank you,” he said again, tightening his hold on her.

“Listen, you. If I can’t put myself down, you can’t thank me for my stunning common sense.”

One of his hands slid to her face, cupped her jaw. She’d meant to make him smile, but his expression had never been fiercer. “It’s a deal.”

Emotion clogged her throat, and she forced a cough. “How about I tell you something embarrassing about me, so that we’re even?”

A rough, ragged, “Please.”

“When I was little, I played beauty shop with my younger sister. I was the stylist and put her gorgeous honey-blond hair in a ponytail—then I hacked off the entire thing. She was the makeup artist, and painted my face with permanent markers. Our parents were horrified.” A bombardment of nostalgia had her choking back a sudden sob.

Enna, Tommy from class says I have too many freckles, and that they make me ugly.Tears rolled down cheeks still baby-round.

Well, Tommy from class is stupid. You don’t have half as many as me, and I’m the prettiest girl in the world. You said so.

A girlish giggle. And I never lie!

I miss you so much, Skye,she thought now. I’ll find you. I’ll save you.

Paris’s thumb caressed the rise of her cheek. “I lost you there for a moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was just saying your story isn’t embarrassing. It’s cute. By the way, I think your wings are hot, and I’m curious to know why I never wanted to lick them when Aeron had them.”

She placed her hand over his and forced herself to smile. Soon she would lose him, so she had to enjoy him while she had the chance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you get stabbed again. Like, real soon. I loved kissing you all better.”

Finally, a surprised laugh barked from him. He pulled her down until her body covered his. “Baby, I’d willingly stab myself for that kind of kissing. But thankfully there’s no need. I already have another owie and it needs your special doctoring skills.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

BY THE TIME THEY WERE DRESSED and stepping out of their private cave into the big, bad realm where Zacharel the Chastity Belt waited, Paris had regained every bit of his strength and then some. His muscles were jacked with adrenaline, his bones fortified with steel. His steps were heavier from his increased weight, surer with his superior balance.

All because of Sienna.

“I used my energy escorting the fallen…someplace else. We’ll have to walk to the doorway,” Zacharel said to Sienna. His cheeks werea little gaunt, his bronzed skin now lacking any shine. “That is what you still prefer, yes? Before, you told me you would rather walk with Paris than fly with me, anyway, and though you will soon discover why that is unwise, it is the best I can offer at the moment.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, ever polite.

“If you’re going to hang with us, make yourself useful.” Paris took the lead, urged Sienna to follow him and forced the angel to take up the rear. “Guard her with your life.”

A gust of wind danced around the angel, and only the angel, more chilling with every second that passed. “I plan to do so. No matter the threat against her.”

An easy tone, but his expression implied Paris himself was a threat, and Zach would take him down if necessary.

Good to know.

During the trek to find Sienna, hardly any creatures had been out and about, and there’d been a small measure of light, a crimson glow from the moon. Now, there were a lot of those hungry, oozing shadows slithering in every direction, and the only light came from the occasional fiend—like the ones who’d followed Sienna, with every intention of harming her. They were staked to poles and burning alive.

Paris reached back and hooked her fingers around the waist of his pants. “Don’t let go of me unless you have to fight.” I don’t want her to have to fight.

“I won’t.” Confident, unafraid.

That’s my girl.Their little train crept through the wilderness, and, like now, some sort of campground. Tents stretched on either side of him. Sex kept his big mouth closed, and this time Paris knew beyond any doubt that the demon was sleeping off the pleasure rather than hiding.

A hiss. A snap of teeth.

Enemy.

Paris searched through the darkness, found the source just up ahead at the top of the closest tent, and leapt into action. He went low, sliding on his knees, running his blade along the trunks of the same vinelike creatures he’d encountered on the climb down that cliff. He was back on his feet a second later, watching as the remains slithered along the sides of the fabric.

No time to relax. Three more rained down. He kept his pimp hand moving, arcing, slicing, and from the grunting he heard behind him, he knew Sienna and Zacharel were doing the same.

A quick look to check on his woman—she had her gaze on his back, swiping at anything that made a play for him—proved she had no wounds, hadn’t been hurt. One of the vines snapped in her direction, dripping fangs protruding from a pair of razored leaves. She was too busy protecting him to protect herself.

Paris swiped out his arm, and got a hunk of skin and muscle torn away. He sucked back a howl of pain. Okay, so now he knew what dribbled from those teeth. Acid.

“Fly her out of here,” he commanded Zacharel, even as he spun, hands crisscrossing and chopping, pieces of vine flung away. He’d rather lose her that way than another, more permanent way.

“Told you. I expended the rest of my energy removing the fallen.”

From the beginning, Paris had known he should off the punked-out bastard, but noooo.He’d sympathized with the guy’s plight. Lesson learned, though. Show a softer side, and boom, you’d be punished later.

“I’m not leaving you,” Sienna said while grabbing on to a stalk and hacking off the head with the crystal blade he’d given her. She was fast, but not fast enough, and soon they would be all over her. “Must have dropped the gun in the water. Sorry.”

Darkness…rising…Paris dropped his daggers and went for his own crystal blade. A single mental command, and the metal elongated…becoming a torch crackling with flames. He pressed those flames against the leather walls, the material soon engulfed…and the sparks jumped to the next tent.

Shrieks blended with the blaze’s crackle as he, Sienna and Zacharel raced away.

After a mile or so they slowed down and Zacharel said, “I thought you wished to remain inconspicuous.”

“We needed to send a message.” Thankfully, the shadow creatures got the message, too. Mess with Paris’s ragtag group, and fry. They kept their distance. Only Sienna’s presence prevented Paris from stomping over and doing some damage.

He wanted to hurt them, but he wanted her safe more.

You can always return for them.True. When Sienna left him, he’d need a good fight to level him out.

Great. Now, at the thought of her leaving him, he was ticked all over again. He only began to calm a few hours later. Nothing and no one dared approach, and more than once his thoughts skipped back to what Zacharel had said.

Paris’s darkness…his temper. Zacharel had implied that Paris would one day hurt Sienna. Yet, when they had been inside the cave and he’d been worked into a dark, consuming rage, he had remained totally aware of her. He hadn’t let the action near her.

With the vines, same deal. He’d remained aware of her. Had sought to protect her, placing that need above the one to maim.

Good news, right? Except, what if sheever pricked his temper? What if all his darkness focused on her?

Oh, hell, no. That wasn’t happening. Zacharel had made him paranoid, that was all. But doubts, once planted, could take on a life of their own, and Paris found himself sweating over the possibility.

Sienna affected him in a way no one else ever had. She accepted him as he was, good, bad and ugly. But if she ever betrayed him, if she ever lied to him, if she ever fought him or turned against him, he couldn’t predict how he would react. Especially now that he knew the thrill of her complete surrender.

What are you doing, pondering the worst?He’d given her a small measure of his trust. By succumbing to these fears, he would dishonor them both. He’d never minded dishonoring himself, but the thought of dishonoring herweighed heavily on his shoulders.

She’d taken him in her mouth, tasted all that he was, and loved his body with such shattering sweetness he would never be the same. She’d seen him at his worst. She knew his past, his future, and yet she still watched him with awe in her eyes, as if he meant something to her. He would not diminish that gift. And it wasa gift.

A stumble over a rock propelled her into the side of his body and jerked him out of his head. He caught her with his free hand before she fell.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out,” she muttered as she straightened. While the sex had strengthened him, it had clearly tired her.

He shouldn’t have felt such pride about that, but he did. “You don’t hear me complaining about having you in my arms.”

Her lush, lovely grin flashed up at him. “True.”

Zacharel might have rolled his eyes.

Paris gave him a mental bird before scanning the stretch of land ahead. There were miles of dark yet to travel, filled with lots of little landmines. Like the puddle he next had to jump over, then help Sienna do the same. His nose wrinkled. The water smelled like rotting corpses. Probably because…yep, he saw a pair of dull, dead eyes floating underneath.

A fly as big as his fist darted past, then another. One landed on his arm and immediately bit his biceps. He slapped the insect, meaning to fling it away from him, but he ended up smashing it, the damn thing splattering all over him.

The entire realm was a cocktail of creepy from some of his favorite worst horror movies ever. Yeah. He dug the cheese. He also enjoyed romance novels, bench pressing buses and baking chocolate chip cookies.

He hadn’t had time for that stuff in a while, and now…now he realized just how much he’d missed it. How cool would it be to throw in a DVD, kick back with Sienna beside him and watch the bloody good times roll. After that, they could curl up together and maybe read a few scenes from a romance novel.

None of that would happen, though. He and Sienna were parting as soon as they reached the exit. And what do you know. Now he wanted to kill something—simply hurting was no longer good enough—with his bare hands. Was actually praying some feral, foaming-at-the-mouth male would jump out and attack him.