Текст книги "The darkest seduction"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

She’d looked at him, had met his gaze, and sadness had wafted from her. Sadness and regret, and even horror. The horn-rimmed glasses she’d once worn were gone, her eyesight probably perfect in the afterlife, but her features were the same. Big hazel eyes, plump red lips. A flow of mahogany waves, now to her waist.

His woman. His mine.One by one his friends had fallen in love, and he’d been so jealous. Now, here was the woman who’d fascinated him as no other. He’d thought, Must reach her…must wipe away the horror…

Sex had thought, Must have her.

Now his demon retreated into the back of his mind, the coward, as Paris fought his way free of the gargoyles to run after her. In an instant, his captors swarmed him, their fervor intensified. He tossed one, then another, then another still, slamming the rigid stone bodies into walls. They recovered instantly and returned to him. More clawing, more jabbing.

They slowed him, but they didn’t stop him. He was weak and growing weaker, because he hadn’t had sex all day. Didn’t think he’d had sex yesterday, either. He’d already forgotten. Whatever. Sienna was here, and with one glance, he’d gotten hard for her.

He couldhave her again. No question about that now.

He just had to reach her.

As the darkness rose up inside him, clouding his mind with thoughts of destruction and death, he offered no more resistance, allowing it to drive him deeper and deeper into the place where only demolishing the obstacles in his path mattered. These gargoyles wanted to keep him from his woman. They did not deserve to live.

One step, two, three, the things clawing at his thighs, his calves, hanging on to his ankles, he eked his way into the ballroom. All the while he punched at heads, kicked and stabbed at middles. Stone cracked. Pieces scattered on the floor.

“Sienna! Where—”

She flew around the far corner, her dark hair tangled behind her, her hazel eyes wild and bright. In a blink, the world slowed down and he noticed details he’d missed before. Her lips were more swollen than usual, with droplets of blood dried at the corners. A bruise colored her cheek, a blue-black testament of the pain she had been forced to endure. One of her obsidian wings was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken.

She’d been hurt. Someone had hurt her.

Red mixed with the black, both swimming so thickly in his brain they compromised his line of vision. Shimmers of rage sparked a thousand must-kill-must-protect fires, each one warring with the others. In his veins, his blood was molten, turning jerky movements into fluid, lethal arcs.

With a roar, he tossed away two other gargoyles. He grabbed another by the neck and punched, punched, punched,creating a hole in the creature’s cheek, the rest of the stone chipping away bit by bit. Still the creature fought Paris’s hold, teeth chomping at his fist.

“Let them chain you,” Sienna shouted. “Please, just let them chain you.”

She wanted him bound? Hated him as much as he’d feared? No matter. Her command and plea were discarded, his determination unwavering. Must kill…Punch, punch. Enemy must die.Punch, punch, punch. Stab. Obstacles must be eliminated.Punch, stab. Debris flew in every direction. The gargoyles forgot about their desire for pleasure, or whatever they’d felt while writhing on him, and went on full attack, no longer going easy on him.

Sienna reached him, smelling of wildflowers and…ambrosia? He inhaled deeply. Oh, yeah. Ambrosia’s sweet, sweet perfume permeated his skin, overshadowed everything else, including the need to kill, but oh, he now wanted to imbibe. Had to imbibe. His mouth watered, even as he wondered why she would smell of the immortal drug he had forced himself to stop using not too long ago, when he was hurt during a fight he would have won if he’d been clearheaded. His injuries had almost caused him to miss his appointment with a goddess to purchase his crystal blades, and he’d decided then and there to stop using. Thankfully, he had gone through the worst of the withdrawal already; he couldn’t afford to go through it again. He would stop caring about anything but his next fix.

Want her.As close as she now was, Sex perked up, pouring strength straight into Paris’s system and changing the direction of his own thoughts. Must touch her…must have her…

For once, they were in agreement.

“You have to let them chain you.” When she attempted to jerk two of the gargoyles away from him, they turned on her, some biting, some clawing, some head-butting her. Her knees collapsed under their weight.

Another roar ripped from his throat. She had tried to save him? The very idea was foreign to him. Ignoring the beasts still attempting to subdue him, he concentrated on the ones climbing on top of her. He grabbed one and threw. Grabbed another, threw.

“Run!” he commanded her.

The beasts returned to him in a snap. He tried to knock them away, clearing a path for her, but she didn’t run. She lay panting, her limbs unmoving, not even trying to shield herself.

Her watery gaze pleaded with him. “Please, Paris. Be still. Don’t fight.”

Heated breath caught in his throat, and though every instinct he possessed screamed to continue fighting, continue hurting anything and everything in his way, he planted his heels on the floor, sheathed his blades and lowered his arms. She had tried to save him; he would trust her.

He would surrender.

For a moment, the beasts took full advantage, converging on him like flies to honey. Steady.Like Sienna, he remained unmoving. Shockingly, the fighting frenzy soon eased. The gargoyles latched on to his arms and once again began dragging him to the prison where they’d already locked William.

Sienna lumbered to her feet and followed, never allowing eye contact to break. A good thing. If she had, he would have erupted all over again. Can’t lose even that much.

“They’ll leave you alone after they chain you.” Her voice trembled, pain in the undercurrents. “They simply have to complete their task, and then you’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

Want her…

Despite his injuries, he hardened a second time, his demon’s scent wafting from him, a rich chocolate mingled with the most expensive champagne. If he’d needed more proof that he could have this woman again, here it was. He could have her as many times as he wanted her, however many times she would allow him. He was awed. He was vindicated.

He was undone.

Finally, he was with the woman he craved above all others.

The beasts not holding his limbs leapt back on top of him, grinding, rubbing against him in that disgusting way. Harder this time, and much more determined. Even their need to complete their duty and chain him couldn’t override his demon’s allure, he supposed. He tuned them out, kept his focus on Sienna.

She was here—he would never tire of the thought—and she was breathtakingly lovely, the essence of all that was feminine. Even dirt-smudged and blood-caked as she was, he’d never seen a more exquisite female. His mind had not built her up during their separation. On the contrary, his mind had not done her justice. Those hazel eyes glittered with swirls of emerald and copper, hints of summer and winter combined, framed by spiky jet lashes. Her lips were bee-stung and utterly wicked. The kind women paid to have and men paid to use.

Her hair wasn’t too dark or too light, but the perfect shade of russet streaked with shimmers of the purest gold. The locks were longer than before, with waves as mesmerizing as those in an ocean.

Her freckles had lightened, but they were as decadent as ever, a treasure map for his tongue. The rest of her skin, cream and rose petals, glowed as if she had swallowed the sun. Her body, so slender, so elegant, was as graceful as a ballerina’s. Her breasts were small, but they would fit amazingly well in his big hands as he tongued her nipples. Her legs were long and would wrap around his waist, holding him tight.

Mine,he thought. Mine.

Take her.Sex had abandoned the I wantsand I needs,and was now all about the commands. As if Paris would argue. One question plagued him, though. Would being with her a second time actually strengthen him?

Around the corner, William waited—and he was grinning, his electric-blues calling Paris all kinds of stupid. He had broken free of his chains, as Paris should have done to avoid the beating, and waved as Paris passed him. The beasts paid him no heed, still clinging to Paris and proving Sienna’s claim. He relaxed. So close to holding her, to touching her as he’d dreamed.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to her…

She might push him away; she might not. Either way, at long last he would find out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PARIS WATCHED AS WILLIAM flowed into motion beside Sienna. Still she didn’t look away from him and he wondered what thoughts she entertained. Was her body reacting to him, as his was reacting to her?

Blood-spattered walls framed her, and Paris cursed. He would have given anything to see her surrounded by silks and velvets. Would make it so, before he let her go. A vow, even as the thought of letting her go made him want to howl.

“Nice to see you again, Sienna,” William said, as pleasantly as he was able. The frost in his eyes belied his endearing facade.

Paris tensed. If the warrior hurt her…

“We’ve met?” she asked.

For a moment, William radiated absolute bafflement. Then his expression cleared, and he offered a sugar-sweet smile. “It distresses me that you don’t remember, but I don’t mind reminding you. Allow me to paint the scene. We were in Texas, and you were crouched on the concrete like a dog, holding on to Paris like a leech.” His cruel, sneering pitch was meant to intimidate her, to put her in her place for everything she’d done to Paris.

“Tone,” Paris snapped. She might have done him wrong, but he would not allow her to be disrespected.

Sienna shrugged, apparently unconcerned by what the warrior had said. “You’ll have to forgive me for not noticing you back then. Next to him, you’re kind of homely.”

William choked on his own tongue.

For the first time in forever, Paris grinned with true amusement. The only other time he’d witnessed such spunk from her was when she had drugged him. He hadn’t liked it then, but he liked it now, especially since it was directed at someone else.

William caught his breath and added, “Just so you know, I’ll kill you if you harm him in any way. And I don’t care how much it will upset him.” So calmly stated, there was no arguing the warrior’s intent. “Paris has proven to be stupid where you’re concerned, and that means his friends have to pick up the mental slack.”

There went his amusement. An animalistic growl left him, his lips peeling back from his teeth. Darkness rising again…rage returning… Paris struggled to free his arms, intending to wrap his fingers around William’s neck and squeeze. No one threatened Sienna. No one. Ever.

You don’t really want to injure him. Stop.A plea from deep inside himself, where remnants of the old Paris must still reside. William’s loyalty was a nice surprise, and something he appreciated on a visceral level.

Where Sienna was concerned, however, Paris was not exactly rational, and his struggling intensified. Must defend her…

The gargoyles stopped dragging him, stopped humping him and returned to fighting him, shoving him to the floor and into a pile of bones. They raked at him with their claws and teeth.

“See?” William splayed his arms, his point proven. “Stupid.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Paris forced himself to chill a second—third?—time. He huffed and he puffed like the big, bad wolf he was, knowing he would be given a chance to make his point about Sienna later, when he could get to his knives. His friends could do and say anything they wanted to him, but not to her.

Once again the creatures lost interest in the battle and resumed the trek to the prison.

Sienna and William continued to follow, and soon Paris’s wrists and ankles were shackled to a crumbling stone wall in a four-by-four chamber devoid of any luxuries. Claws scraped the floor as the creatures filed out, each squawking happily about what they clearly considered a job well done.

Sienna severed visual contact and collapsed at his side, her trembling fingers working at one of the metal bands. He could have freed himself. Or hell, William could have freed him, but Paris liked having those soft, elegant hands on him. They were his favorite part of her body, every movement an exotic dance.

On a raspy catch of breath, she said, “They’re tasked with chaining anyone who survives the walk from drawbridge to castle, and once that’s accomplished, they lose interest. You’ll be free to move about the place as much or as little as you want.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her voice drift through his mind. Husky, low, a caress he’d missed more than he’d realized. He could listen to her forever.

Did part of him still hate her? Yeah. Definitely. Hated what she’d done to him, hated what he’d done forher. Hated how strongly she affected him. And beneath all the hate, he resented that she hadn’t seen beyond her ownhatred to choose him all those months ago, the way he’d chosen her.

He would have taken her home. He would have pampered her. At least, that’s what he told himself now. He wouldn’t contemplate what he would have done to her before the pampering commenced. Wouldn’t think about the interrogation he’d planned or the chains he’d imagined buying for her.

“I’m having trouble… I can’t… The fall must have hurt worse than I realized.” Her voice had thinned to a mere wisp of sound, barely audible. “So…sorry…” Her hands fell away from him, and she slumped forward, her slight weight resting on his chest.

“Sienna?” he demanded, but there was no response. Anyone who could see and touch her could injure her spirit form; he knew that. And the gargoyles had certainly been able to see and touch her. But without a heartbeat or need to breathe, she should rebound quickly. Right? Except, the bloodstains around her mouth… howhad she bled? he wondered now.

“Must have fainted from the sight of my beauty,” William remarked with a sigh. “There goes the tickle fight I had planned.”

Ignoring him, Paris yanked one of his arms, ripping the chain from the wall. He wrapped that arm around Sienna’s waist, holding her against him, keeping her steady.

She fit him perfectly.

After he ripped the other arm free, he eased her to her back and peered down at her, his heart causing a riot of sensation in his chest.

Her head lolled to the side, and she was pale, paler than before. Another rip, followed by another, and his ankles were free. Then he jerked at the cuffs themselves until they fell away. Thenhe did what he’d wanted to do since the first moment he’d seen her. He touched her, smoothing the hair from her brow. Her skin was as soft as it appeared, and warm, so wonderfully warm. He’d craved a moment like this so desperately, had dreamed of it over and over again, and had nearly killed himself a hundred times over to have it. To his delight, reality was so much better than the dream. More than feeling her heat, he smelled her scent all around him, enveloping him. The wildflowers, the coconut sweetness of ambrosia, both creating a heady musk of arousal.

Why ambrosia? He couldn’t get past that. Was she a user? If so, he’d bet someone, like, say, Cronus, had forced her to become one. She wasn’t the type to willingly fall into drugs. From what little he knew about her, she liked order and craved control.

I’ll protect her from further abuse,he thought next. She was his. For just a little while, she was his.

Sex jumped up and down. Take her, take her, take her.

Instinct demanded he obey. Still he resisted. Not like this. Not while she’s out.

A sigh of frustration, maybe even a muttered you’re no funas Paris looked her over, shielding her from William’s gaze as he moved her clothing out of the way to check for injuries. Every newly revealed inch of skin acted as a lick of flame to Sex, causing the demon to hiss and shake. Or maybe youare fun.

Though Paris admired the body beneath him just as fervently as his dark companion, he hissed and shook for a different reason. Another rise of darkness, another increase of boiling rage. Beneath fading bruises, his woman was as fang-and-claw-mark-ridden as he was, blood oozing from her in tiny rivers of pain.

His next mission crystallized. Finding out how to hurt the gargoyles and then making them pay for every mark.

Reallymaking them pay, he decided when he spied a deep, angry gouge in her side. He sucked in a breath to try and calm himself down, but he inhaled so sharply his lungs felt like mini-vacuums, drawing the air in with commando force. His muscles tensed, his head fogged all over again and his mouth watered. He could actually tastethe ambrosia in the air. Frowning, he bent down and sniffed along the line of her neck. The closer he was to her, the stronger the scent became.

“Kinky,” William said.

“Can you be serious?”

“I wasbeing serious. I always figured you for the in and out type. Kinda stealthy, leaving the girl wondering whether you’d even been there or not. But I didn’t know you were quite thisstealthy.”

“Nice to know you’ve considered my sex life,” he grumbled.

“Hasn’t everyone?”

“Screw you.”

“Again, hasn’t everyone?”

“This is pointless.” Another sniff. The fog thickened, Paris’s brain practically swimming through it. Could the fragrance originate in Sienna’s blood? Yet another sniff, another infusion of that ever-thickening fog. Yeah, it was definitely in her blood—and a lot of it. More than even an addict could handle. Her scent was as strong as if she were actually growing in an ambrosia field.

Which should be impossible. Right? Ambrosia was harvested in special meadows elsewhere in the heavens, as far from this dark realm as the moon was from the earth. Lavender petals were plucked from the foliage, the clear, intoxicating liquid squeezed out before those petals were dried and turned into powder. No one could handle the liquid, not even immortals, and humans certainly couldn’t handle even the powder.

But Sienna wasn’t human anymore, was she.

He was ashamed to admit he was tempted to bite her, to drink her down and savor every drop. He’d walked the path of addiction, sprinted it, really, but he had somehow managed to skirt the edge of need during his journey here, knowing his wits were required to succeed. If only that would lessen the sweet, tantalizing lure of her right now…but no.

“As interesting as this is, and honestly, I don’t mean to interrupt your seductive process,” William said, air-quoting the last two words, “but are you gonna get to the good stuff or what?”

“I thought I told you to shut it.”

“No, you told me to screw you, and that was five minutes ago. A lot’s changed since then. Like, I’m currently bored.”

Biting his tongue until he tasted copper, Paris finished his search for injuries. And shit, there was another shot of desire—his own rather than his demon’s. He shouldn’t notice those lovely pink nipples, shouldn’t notice the soft dip of her belly or the trim length of her legs. Shouldn’t be counting her freckles, already planning his tongue’s attack. (He would start with the darker ones on her stomach, and work his way to the lighter ones on her thighs.) He was a bastard. He was sick, disgusting. He should be whipped.

When she woke up, she’d take care of that for him, he would bet.

Hate myself.“She’s already dead,” he gritted out. He noticed her right wrist no longer bore the tattoo of infinity, a symbol the Hunters used. “Why is she bleeding? Shouldn’t she heal as quickly as we do?”

“Oh, now you want to talk to me?” the warrior quipped.

“Just answer the question before I cut out your tongue and nail it to the wall.”

“You’ve really lost your sense of humor, you know that? But okay. Fine. I’ll play along. She’s dead, yes, but she’s also possessed by a demon that is very much alive. His heart beats for her. His blood fills her veins. I shouldn’t have to explain demon physiology to you.And what the hell is that smell? It’s mouthwatering. A real party for my—”

“Stop breathing!” Paris didn’t want anyone else breathing her in.

“O-kay. Possessive much?”

“Let’s get back to the subject that won’t get you maimed. She’s possessed by a demon, yes, but she’s also a dead human spirit. So…”

“So, you’re still able to touch her.”

To borrow the bastard’s phrasing: Obvious much? “What I’m asking is, will she heal?”

“Yeah, because her demon will heal. And here’s a little tip for the next person held captive by your stunning conversation. You should have started with that and saved us time and trouble.”

Okay. Okay, then. Good. She would heal. Paris scooped her up in his arms—pissed all over again with the gargoyles. What they’d left on him…was now on his woman.

Sex adored the contact and purred his approval.

“I’m taking her upstairs, looking for a bedroom.” Paris would clean and bandage her. If she didn’t wake up and demand he leave her the hell alone first. “You’re not invited.”

As much as he wanted her awake, looking at him, talking to him, he hoped she slept through the cleaning. He was desperate to get his hands on her, really on her. Yeah, he was a sick, sick bastard. But that wasn’t the main reason, he told himself. He didn’t want her to feel any pain while he doctored her.

He studied the chains for a split second, thinking it might be a good idea to tie Sienna to a bed while he had the chance. That way, she couldn’t run until after they’d discussed a few things. But he hadn’t come all this way, done all those things, only to enslave her himself. His goal was, and had always been, her freedom.

And shit. She might not run from him. Earlier she had ignored him, had watched as he’d passed her, but a few minutes later, she had rushed to his rescue. Whatever the reason for the change, she hadn’t sought to get rid of him.

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, luxuriating in the feel of her silky hair before carrying her out of the cell. The gargoyles hadn’t bothered shutting the iron bars that would have kept him and William inside. At least until they’d picked the lock, that is.

“You’re such a wuss,” William said, pacing beside him. “I hope you know that.”

“Really? I’m not the one carrying conditioner around.”

“Maybe that’s why your hair has so many split ends.”

“Tell me about your hair one more time. You’ll wake up bald.”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say. We both know I’d have your guts spilled before you ever got the razor near me.” William raised his chin. “By the way, only a real man can accept his feminine side.”

“I don’t know who fed you that line of garbage, but I can promise she’s laughing at you right now.”

“Surprise! It was your mom—after I boned her.”

A mom joke. How original.

The gargoyles were no longer in the ballroom. Paris hadn’t noticed the interior before; he’d been a little too busy getting his ass kicked. Now he had a look around. It was dark, crumbling like the rest of the place, with blood dried on the walls and bones tossed about haphazardly.

Up the stairs they climbed, the carpet threadbare in multiple places. On the new rise were statues, a lot of damn statues. Male, female, old, young. Only thing they had in common were their expressions of horror.

“I take it you’re gonna be busy for a few hours, since I suspect that’s how long she’ll be out and you can do your thing.” William brushed his fingers over a large pair of alabaster breasts. “I mean, that’s the reason I’m not invited to join you, right?”

“You better shut your mouth while you still have a head.” Even as irritated as he was with William’s suggestion, pulses of desire shot through Paris at the thought of being alone with Sienna and touching her as easily as William had touched the statue—little flames he wasn’t sure whether to douse or welcome.

“Shout if you need me. Like, if she’s too much for you.”

“That day will never come.” Paris veered left as the warrior veered right. “By the way, if you knock on my door, you better be dying. ’Cause if you’re not, you soon will be.” He shouldered his way into the first room he came across. His luck was holding, because it was a furnished bedroom. All he had to do was remove the thick layers of dust and the tarp draping everything.

Or maybe he should leave the tarp. Because when Sienna woke up, this might become a war zone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

KANE, KEEPER OF THE DEMON of Disaster, could not believe his luck. Usually his life took the express train to hell, whether he’d purchased a ticket or not, with rocks falling on his head, lightbulbs shorting out and holes opening up at his feet. Stuff like that could really mess with a guy’s mind, so over the years he’d developed a philosophy that had saved his life: bad shit happened, but whatever, he would deal and move on.

Now he was actually inhell, but he wasn’t being tortured. He wasn’t being questioned, and catastrophes weren’t occurring. He was being worshipped. By demon minions, sure, but worship was worship, right? Their scaled, clawed hands caressed him, their horned heads rubbed against him gently, and the rest of their bodies…he wouldn’t think about.

Mine,Disaster whispered inside his head, pride bubbling to the surface and washing through Kane’s entire body.

Yeah, Kane knew these minions belonged solely to Disaster. Long ago, the High Lord had lived in this section of hell, had ruled here, and then had chosen to leave it all behind and escape. And even though thousands of years had passed since that time, the connection hadn’t faded. The minions, or lesser demons, had sensed their leader inside of Kane and rescued him from his attackers.

Currently Kane was perched on a throne of the freshly…excavated bones. Okay, okay. That was a nice way of saying the bones used to belong to the Hunters who’d thought to hurt Kane, and only a few days ago they’d been plucked out. And, when you considered the fact that Kane’s shirt and pants were made from the tanned and leathered skins—because of the heat, the process had been swift—well, a chair of femurs? No biggie.

They were gifts, the minions had said. And like he could really say, “Thanks, but I’d rather have a toaster.” In return, all they wanted was his sperm.

Yeah. That’s right. His baby juice.

Seemed his demon had once possessed a jealous streak and, true to his name, had caused a disaster that wiped his male minions from existence. Only females remained and they were desperate to procreate with their favorite Evil Overlord.

Kane hadn’t had sex in centuries; the act was simply too risky for his partners. So yeah, his body was primed and ready. Gnarled the demon hands might be, but they still stroked and gripped just fine. His mind, however, was sonot on board.

“Back up, ladies,” he commanded. He could have been nice about it, sure, but something he’d learned was that demons only responded to strength. Nice wouldn’t get him crap.

Still, he expected a fight. Instead, moans of disappointment echoed and contact ceased. They obeyed him, inching backward. But they lingered nearby, prostrate, still reaching for him, clearly hoping he’d change his mind.

Inside his head, Disaster prowled with purpose, unhappy with the distance. The females belonged to him, they were his right, and he wanted to mate with them. Take,he said.

No.Kane wasn’t the type of guy who could walk away from his kids, even half-demon ones, and that’s what he’d have to do in this situation.

Take!

I said no.He’d rather find a way out of here. But every time he stood, and no matter what he said while he was standing, within seconds the females would swarm him, pushing his pants around his ankles. He wasn’t sure whether Disaster had trained them to react so swiftly, or if Kane was just special.

Two things he wascertain about. His friends were worried about him, and they were searching for him. He didn’t want them coming down here, risking their lives when his was no longer in danger.

Take one, then. Just one.

Ah, so they were supposed to negotiate now, were they? Well, the answer was still a resounding hell no. But…maybe he could pretend, Kane thought. Maybe if he picked one of the females, got her alone, he’d have a better chance of sneaking out of the cavern.

His gaze skated over the kneeling, writhing bodies. Some had horns protruding from their spines, some had pointed wings. Some had red scales, some had green. Beyond them was the cavern, blood caked on the jagged rocks, fires blazing in every corner, and screams of the damned floating on the hot, sulfur-scented air. When he found a smaller body with no horns orwings, her scales on the lighter side of jade, he pointed.

“You.” If for once in his eternal life, his good luck held, she would be a weak link.

Gasps of surprise. Hisses of jealousy.

“I want you,” he reiterated.

His chosen stood. Her legs were twisted, facing the wrong way. Her feet were hoofed, and when she smiled, he saw a mouthful of bloodstained fangs. Disaster slammed against his skull, bang, bang,desperate to leave him, to touch her, to pound inside her.

Mine. She’s mine!

And just how would the bastard react when—hypothetically—Kane nailed her? Murder Kane, the same way he’d once murdered his own people? Probably. Because if he managed to end Kane’s life, he could remain here, a place he’d once fought to escape but now realized he missed. Sure, if that happened, Disaster would be crazed from the loss of his human host, but the demon would be free to screw whoever he desired, all by himself.

Talk about a messed-up sitch.

Demon Girl limped to the throne, and the wanton gleam in her eyes suggested she intended to climb Kane like a carnival pony the second she reached him, while everyone watched.

Bang, bang.Disaster was on board with that.

Kane shook his head and extended a hand, palm up, to stop her progress. “Nope, sorry. Don’t come any closer.”

A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth as she obeyed.

“Privacy,” he said. Bang, bang.Harder, faster. “I want to…take you in a tent.” He wasn’t sure what verbiage these demons would understand.