Текст книги "The darkest seduction"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

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“Welcome,” he said stiffly. Then, “Do you still think I’m evil and in need of snuffing out?”

“No! You’re not evil.” That she had ever placed the man in the same category as the demon… She was so very ashamed. How foolish she’d been. How gullible. “I’m sorry that I ever thought you were.”

The visual perusal he next gave her peeled away her clothing, leaving her bare, trembling. “And I should believe you?”

He would never trust her, but then, why should he? “Being paired with Wrath, well, my eyes were opened. I saw the truth for the first time. The things I did…the things I’m urged to do…you’ve been dealing with that for thousands of years, and still you fight. Doubt me all you want, but I vow to you now.” To stop herself from reaching out to him, she fisted her hands at her sides. “I will never hurt you again.”

In his hooded eyes she saw flecks of anger, a blaze of arousal. Then, nothing.

He looked away from her, gaze landing on the room’s only window. There was a crack in the thick, black curtains, a single ray of moonlight slipping inside. Then he offered a shrug of one strong shoulder. “You asked why I came for you.”

Disappointment rocked her. A response to her vow would have been nice. But then, she didn’t deserve it. “Yes.”

“I– Damn it. I couldn’t let you suffer.”

He couldn’t…let her…suffer…oh… Here was a mercy she was no longer capable of offering to others, so she knew how precious it was. Tears sprang to her eyes and tracked down her cheeks, a trickle at first, then a flood. Until her body was heaving with the same force as the women in that dream hallway. Until she couldn’t see the bedroom or Paris.

What happened to growing a pair of lady balls?Breaking down now, in front of him, was humiliating, but she couldn’t stop.

Her shame exploded, little pieces tossed into every corner of her body, saturating her. All her life, she’d only ever been able to rely on herself. Her mom’s alcoholism, which had started right after Skye’s abduction, had eaten away at any love the woman had felt for Sienna. Her dad had eventually taken off and started another family, forgetting the little girl he’d left behind.

Then in college, she’d begun dating Hugh. He’d listened to her stories about her past, offered sympathy and aid. He’d told her about himself, and his belief in the supernatural. When she expressed doubt, he promised to show her—and he had. She’d been scared yet thrilled at the same time, because then she’d had someone to blame for every single one of her troubles.

How freeing that had been. How marvelous to realize that her mother wasn’t at fault. Her father wasn’t at fault. Shewasn’t at fault. How soothing to think her parents would have loved her still if not for the evil the Lords had brought into the world. So, yeah, she’d jumped headfirst into the good-versus-evil game.

And yet, the Hunters had gunned her down to get to Paris.

Paris, who hadn’t wanted her to suffer.

Her sobs emerged so powerfully, she was soon hiccupping, eyes and nose running freely, and that sent her embarrassment to a new level. Stalwart arms wrapped around her, careful not to brush against her fragile wings, lifting her, drawing her into a hot, muscled chest. His heartbeat hammered as swiftly as hers.

And wouldn’t you know, that made her cry even harder.

“Calm down,” he commanded, clearly uncomfortable. And wow. You would think a man who’d been with as many women as Paris had would know how to finesse one who was nearing hysteria, but no. He patted her back a little too roughly, then glared down at her when she failed to obey him.

How could he notwant her to suffer? How could she ever have judged him so harshly?

“Sienna. Stop this.”

“Can’t…help…it. Did such…terrible things to…you. And you…you’re here. And you’re being so nice.”

A pause, as if he couldn’t quite digest her words. Then, very gently, he said, “But I did terrible things to you, too. Didn’t I?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SIENNA TOLD HERSELF TO SHUT UP, to lock down tight, but the words poured out of her of their own accord. “You were going to have sex with me and walk away. Not the most chivalrous behavior, but that hardly justifies being drugged, tortured and nearly killed. I tricked you, let them hurt you. And then I raped you. I think I raped you.” She choked, but still the words kept coming. “I’m sorry, Paris. I’m so sorry. I know that’s not good enough. Nothing I say will ever be good enough, but—”

“Sienna.”

“I’m sorry. I am. And afterward, when I was dying, I blamed you, but it wasn’t your fault. I told you I hated you, and I’m so very sorry for that, too. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Another pause. His hands began to move down her back, caressing now, before sliding back up again, soothing her. “You didn’t rape me,” he said, and there was a surprising tinge of amusement in his tone. “I wanted you. I wanted you so damn badly, even though I didn’t want to want you.” Or maybe she’d imagined the amusement. His timbre was now an abrasive rasp.

“I slept with you because I was told to, because I wanted to destroy you,” she said.

“I slept with you to strengthen myself.”

“But I still wanted you,” she added in a soft whisper.

His fingertips pressed into the muscles just under the rise of her wings, but the pressure eased all too soon. “And I still wanted you. That’s one of the reasons I took you with me when I got free, because I wanted to be with you again.”

Another sob left her. “I thought you used me as a shield, and I…I…” Well, crap. The sobs became so great her voice box finally closed up.

He pressed a kiss into her temple. “I didn’t use you as a shield. Not intentionally, at least. I’m sorry for how things ended, so very, very sorry. If it helps, I’ve punished myself a thousand times, will probably punish myself a thousand more. Had I known what would happen, I would have left you there…and come back for you later.”

The last was offered hesitantly, as if he feared her reaction to such a truth. “I’m glad.”

An eternity passed just like that, the two of them clutching at each other, the silence no longer prickly but calming. And, okay. Maybe she was the only one doing the clutching, but he didn’t seem to mind. He continued to caress her.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d craved contact with another body until just that moment. That the body belonged to Paris, well, that made it even better. He was so strong, and smelled so sweet, and if she wasn’t careful, she would soon be rubbing her cheek against his chest, burying her nose in the hollow of his neck and twining herself around him like a vine.

When at last she quieted, exhaustion set in and she just kind of sagged against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were swollen, heavy, her nose stuffed up, and her throat raw from her tears.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. I…I… Paris.” Her lips parted, and she inhaled through her mouth. “Despite everything, you came here to help me. You put yourself in danger.”

“Danger is nothing to me.” His voice had become gruff, as if he disliked the direction the conversation had gone in.

Danger might be nothing to him, but she’d seen him with his friends. Theywere everything to him, and still he’d left them to save her. A surreal—and even more shaming—realization.

What did his unwillingness to let her suffer mean? Did he, dare she hope, have feelings for her? Crave something morewith her? Though she wasn’t ready to release him, she did just that, pulling back, taking another deep breath and drawing in the dark-chocolate scent of him. If the movement hadn’t disrupted the angle of her wings, lancing a sharp pain through her, she would have sat there, savoring him, drowning in a sudden burst of arousal, for hours.

Frowning, Paris maneuvered the gossamer extensions of her wings into a more comfortable position. He was infinitely careful, his every motion checked. When he finished, he eyed her warily. “Better?” he asked again.

He hadto have feelings for her. Impossible, and yet, possible all the same. “Yes, thank you.” She looked down at her hands. They were wringing her shirt, twisting and wrinkling the material, yet she hadn’t realized she’d moved them. She should ask him about his feelings. She should—

“Why did you walk away from me when you first saw me?” he asked, his tone curious rather than accusatory. “When the gargoyles had me.”

“I thought you were a hallucination. A memory. They’re like film reels, playing around me in a never-ending stream.”

His frown deepened, pulling those lush lips tight over perfect white teeth. “Even now?”

Her gaze darted around the room, and she could only gape. She saw crumbling stone, portraits draped by sheets, but no memories. “No. It’s just you and me.” Probably because they couldn’t steal her attention away from Paris. “Paris, I want to tell you things. About the Hunters. Things that could help you and your friends. I—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off.

“But—”

He gave an abrupt shake of his head. “No,” he reiterated.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want you to tell me anything about them.”

“But…why?” Even when she had been poised over his helpless body, moving on him, even when he had rightly blamed her for his condition, he had not peered at her with such harsh resolve. Red flickered through his eyes, those shadows once again dancing through his irises.

She didn’t have to consider the problem long before the answer slithered into place, a boa ready to suffocate its prey. He thought she would mislead him, send him straight into a trap, and there would be nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. That hurt, but then she deserved that and more.

Not knowing what else to do, she shied away from the topic. “How can you see me, hear me? Touch me? You couldn’t before.”

The red faded, the shadows stilled. His pupils did that expanding, contracting thing, taut rubber bands ready to snap.

“I learned a few tricks about the dead,” he said. “That’s all.”

And he wouldn’t share those tricks or anything else with her; his tone made that clear. An ache ignited in her heart, dropped into her stomach and guillotined every bit of happiness his presence here had wrought.

“Did you also learn how to break a curse and bust someone out of a castle they can’t leave?” she asked. Good. Back to business. Withoutanother breakdown.

A terrible stillness came over him. “I knew you were trapped here, but I’m still not sure how.”

“Do you know where here is?” She could guess, but the answers that came to her made her sick.

“A hidden kingdom in the Titans’ section of the heavens.”

Her eyes widened. “Heavens? Really? I would have bet somewhere in hell.”

“What happens when you try to leave?”

“There’s some kind of invisible block. I approach a door or a window and I hurt, and if I remain in front of the portal for too long, I pass out. But sometimes…sometimes Wrath takes over and the blocks fall away. I end up outside the castle’s walls, not too far from here, I don’t think. And I do things. Terrible things,” she whispered. “Then I come back here, I can’t stop myself. I step inside and the blocks immediately go back up.”

He reached out as if he meant to cup her cheek, to offer comfort. Then he growled, low and guttural, and his arm dropped to his side. That made her want to erupt into a fresh round of sobbing, but she didn’t allow herself the luxury. Not even when he jerked to a stand, stalked to the window and tossed the curtains aside, the distance a great chasm between them—symbolic.

Dust wafted around him. A few tugs, and he had the pane lifted. Hot, pungent air drifted inside, stinging her nostrils. He palmed a blade, extended his arm into the darkness—and met no resistance.

Others couldleave, she realized. Only she was trapped.

He slid the glass into place and spun to face her. He didn’t return to her side, but leaned back, propping himself against the wall. The bulge of his muscles stretched the black material of his T-shirt. His pants hugged his thighs—and an impressive erection.

Could he possibly…want her? The way she wanted him?

Who are you trying to fool? He’s the Lord of Sex. He probably has that reaction with everyone.

“Can you let Wrath take over your body without taking over your mind?” he asked, a catch in his voice.

She forced herself to meet his eyes as heat flashed in her cheeks. “I, uh… He takes over both, but I’ve never just let him. I don’t always win, but I always fight him.”

“Stop fighting him. Let him take over your body, but try to maintain some kind of tether to your mind.”

Her mouth fell open, snapped closed. Just like that, he wanted her to allow the being that thrived on punishing everyoneto consume her, to drive her every action? “You don’t understand what would happen if I did that.”

He gave a bitter laugh that did nothing to mar his masculine perfection, and everything to enhance it. Maybe because with the unveiling of his bitterness came a need to kiss him better. “Oh, but I do.”

Yes, she supposed he must. “Wrath hurts people. Ihurt people. And what if I hurt you?”

Melted steel in his eyes, bubbling from his voice. “I can take care of myself, and I want to get you out of here.”

“I want that, too.” Just not enough to risk hurting him. And really, her demon wasn’t the only—or even the worst—worry. Her eyes widened. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment? “Cronus,” she gasped out. “If you help me, Cronus will come after you. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

“Way I hear it, he’s been too busy to concern himself with me.” Paris grinned, slow and wicked. Eager. “But he and I are due a reckoning, and we’ll soon have it.”

Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Not on my account. I don’t want you—”

“Do you have any family?” he asked, interrupting her. “Anyone I can take you to once I get you out of the heavens?”

She blinked. He’d saved her, still felt desire for her if his erection was any indication, but he didn’t intend to keep her, or even be with her. He wanted to foist her off as quickly as possible. Of course. Stupid, stupid Sienna for ever hoping otherwise.

They couldn’t make anything work between them, anyway. She knew more about his demon now and knew Paris couldn’t sleep with her again, despite… that.Right? He was a one-time only joyride. Right?

“Sienna,” he snapped. “Eyes on my face. Please.”

The heat in her cheeks rose to scalding as she jerked her gaze away from his man business a second time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like a piece of meat. I was just lost in thought.”

“About my di—uh, junk?”

“Well, yes.”

His jaw dropped with the force of his astonishment, and she had to wonder why the god of sex would find such a revelation so unbelievable.

Anyway.What had he asked her before? Oh, yeah. Her family. “No. There’s no one who could take me in, no one who could even see me.” As she spoke, she looked the rest of him over. He was still cut from the Gargl, the wounds now scabbed. He had healed, but only slightly. And his skin had lost a bit of its glittery sheen. Was he weakening from lack of sex? That’s what had happened in the Hunters’ prison.

“When was the last time you had a woman?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant about a very sore subject between them.

The frost she’d seen earlier fell over his entire body. His eyelids narrowed, the gleam in those ocean-pretty irises flint hard.

“I don’t remember,” he gritted out.

The confession relieved and thrilled her, she was ashamed to admit. He was clearly hurting. “Well, I’m…uh, I’m, you know…available. For you. If you can, I mean. And if you, you know, want me and can use…that on me.” How pathetic she sounded, but she wanted to touch him again, to be with him one last time. Even if she had to reduce the act to a simple clinical procedure. “I owe you.” Or a favor between pseudo-friends.

The ice thickened, cracked, thickened again, as if a battle raged inside him. The ice won. “Really? You’re availableto me? You owe me?” He popped his jaw. “Thank you for that generousoffer. How could a guy like me ever refuse?”

A guy like him? “I didn’t mean—”

“Just so you know, I didn’t come all this way to enjoy your availabilityor to collect on a debt. So, while I can, in fact, screw you again, I hope you’ll understand when I do the unthinkable and pass. But don’t worry, I’ll still help you. Screwing me isn’t a requirement.”

She chewed on her bottom lip to stop herself from responding. Deserved, deserved, deserved,she told herself again. And maybe his refusal was a good thing. He still resented her. And as he’d already proven, he didn’t trust her. Being with him, and watching him walk away afterward, would slice her into pieces so jagged she’d never be able to fit herself back together.

More than that, she had to go after Galen. The thought hit with so much force her entire body shook. She had toyed with the idea, but hadn’t decided officially. Now, she saw the truth. She’d told Paris she had no family, but what if she did? And what if only she could save them? If there were the slightest possibility that Galen was torturing her sister and her child, Sienna had to act, which meant she might have to…do things with him. Necessary things. Things she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do if she forged any kind of bond with Paris. A white-hot toxin flooded her veins, stinging.

“You look disgusted and scared,” Paris said, his voice as sharp as any dagger. “Why?”

“Neither emotion is for you,” she said quietly. Never for him. Not anymore.

A hard knock sounded at the door, followed by the homely guy’s rough timbre. “Paris. This isn’t exactly life and death, my man, but things are quiet in there so I figure you haven’t quite learned how to undo her bra strap. Give it a rest and come out here. You have to see this.”

Paris looked like he’d just been granted a reprieve from a firing squad. He straightened. “On my way,” he called. He stood there for a moment, grinding his molars, thinking about something unpleasant, judging by the expression on his face. Then he stalked to the bed and held out his hand, helping her lumber to her feet.

His calluses abraded her palm in the most delicious way, and she shivered. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t lead her out, but leveled her with a fierce frown. “Don’t try to leave my side. Understand?”

Was he afraid she’d run from him? Afraid she’d tell someone where he was so they could kill him?

Deserved,she reminded herself. What really sucked about the whole situation was that she couldn’t ask for a second chance with him, or even an opportunity to redeem herself. As she’d just realized, they were already doomed, her path already decided.

Another realization struck. That same path could give him what he wanted more than anything. Victory against the Hunters. Not that he would ever know the part she’d played. If Cronus had his way, Paris would assume she was Galen’s mistress. His sexual toy. And…and she would be, at least until she learned the truth about Skye. Then she would kill him, as shewanted, no matter the consequences to herself.

“Sienna,” Paris snapped, drawing her back to the present.

She peered up at him. No matter how things shook out, she was going to lose him, and that was a hard fact given that she’d only just found him again. But for today, she was with him. That would have to be enough. “I won’t leave your side.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GALEN, KEEPER OF HOPE, leader of the Hunters, leisurely explored the rooms inside his enemy’s fortress. He’d only recently healed from battle wounds he’d received courtesy of the Lords of the Underworld. Now it was time for payback.

The blade he held was new and had never seen a single moment of action. Today, that would change.

“—shut that damn thing up,” Cameo, keeper of Misery, was saying as she snaked around the corner and stomped past him. Draped as he was by the Cloak of Invisibility, she failed to spot him.

He studied her as she passed. In all the centuries since their creation, she hadn’t changed. She had long, dark hair made for fisting, and the slim body of a dancer made for screwing. Her eyes were liquid silver—and made for dangling from his necklace. “If you don’t, I will stab both of you. And let me tell you, one-point-eight people die every second. I never mind adding to the tally.”

Maybe she hadchanged. The low, raspy resonance of her voice carried the heavy burden of a world’s worth of sorrows. Enough to spring an ache in his chest, one that promptly seeped outward, invading more and more of him. In the heavens, her voice had brought only pleasure.

Scowling, Galen tucked the length of his wings into his sides and pressed against the wall. The action caused a white feather to loosen and drift to the floor, no longer hidden by the Cloak. He bent to pick it up, stopped.

A short, curvy blonde clutching a black dog…thing darted after Cameo. “All’s I’m saying is that with a little makeup you could look like my country cousin rather than my undernourished uncle. Maybe no one’s told you this, but bags are meant to be carried in your hands, not under your eyes.”

The—mutant dog’s?—head twisted, twisted, its beady eyes locked on Galen. A lethal growl rent the air, fangs spearing its lower lip. Evidently the Cloak’s magic did not work on all creatures. (What wasthat thing?) He flipped it off, and it yipped.

“Hush, princess. Mama’s teaching Beauty 101 to the clueless. Besides, we don’t want the silly Lords upset with you again, do we?”

Galen didn’t recognize the blonde or her ugly “princess.” What he did know? The Lords welcomed only a select few into their exalted midst. That meant she was either a new addition to the Lords’ army or a warrior’s girlfriend. Pitiful how many of the once-stalwart men had fallen in lurrrverecently.

Whatever or whoever she was, she would die like the others.

The duo and their not-quite-canine companion stormed into one of the bedrooms. A door slammed. No alarm was sounded.

His scowl melted into a grin. They couldn’t see him, but they could have sensed him. That they hadn’t meant this would be easier than he’d thought.

Strider, the idiot, had given the Cloak of Invisibility to the Unspoken Ones, beings so vicious, so evil, even Hercules would have trembled in fear at the slightest mention of them. Cronus had enslaved them before his own imprisonment, had once thought to control them. In turn, they wanted him dead. Now they were trapped on their private island in Rome and reduced to bargaining.

A point in Galen’s favor. They knew he was destined to remove the Titan king’s head, and so when he visited their island, they sought his support. Their first gesture, giving him the Cloak. Their second, teaching him exactly how to use it. He’d assumed it was a shield against prying eyes, but he’d assumed wrong. The Cloak was also a weapon. A very effective one at that.

He needed every advantage he could get, even if that meant aligning himself with the worst creatures ever to roam this earth. His men were disappearing right off the streets, never to be heard from again. His queen had disappeared, as well. He’d had no contact with her for weeks.

She knew him well enough to know he looked out for Number One. He would betray anyone to get what he wanted, and if she’d decided to walk away, to betray him as he’d betrayed so many others, that was her problem. He would go after her the same way he continued to go after her husband. With everything he had.

Galen planned to rule the heavens. And I’ll succeed this time.He knew it, but then, he always “knew” his plans would work. His demon could convince anyone to do anything—and Galen was included in that number. Hope built up everyone’s dreams, then laughed when those dreams came crashing down.

But it wasn’t Hope driving him this day. It was Jealousy. His other demon.

Oh, yes. His former friends might not have been bright enough to figure this out yet, but Galen was possessed by twoof Pandora’s demons.

Because he had convinced his fellow warriors to steal her box, because he’d then betrayed them, thinking to become leader of the Elite Guard himself, taking Lucien’s place, he’d committed two crimes. Therefore, he deserved two punishments. Or so Zeus had said when he’d set about pairing each Lord with their demon and restoring order to the heavens.

He despisedhaving two demons. Hope built him up only to tear him down, then Jealousy would rile him back up, whispering things like, That male has a female, yet we are far better. Why don’t we take her from him?Hope would then fill him with an urge to do just that, to take, the need becoming a living thing inside him, every ounce of his being certain he would succeed—but somehow always falling short of victory.

Well, today he would not fail.

Today he landed a stunning blow to his enemy.

He would steal away Legion, the devil-woman they’d once sent to kill him. The she-cat who had seduced him. The innocent virgin who’d been living inside a porn star’s skin. She’d screwed him within an inch of his immortal life before biting him with her poisoned fangs. While he had writhed in pain, she had left him to die, only to be carted into hell thanks to a deal with her maker gone bad.

Galen had hunted her, but the Lords had found her first. They’d brought her here, and Galen wanted her back. Wanted to have her again. Wanted to punish her. To kill her and cut the tether she seemed to hold him on.

He was sick of wondering about her, sick of thinking about her.

How many warriors had she given herself to since her return?

Yeah, like that. He was sick of imagining her with a thousand others, sick of the constant rage of jealousy concerning her.

He would discover the answer, though, and if any of the Lords had enjoyed her luscious body, they would pay a higher toll than their friends. Oh, each and every one of them would die, but some would scream for months before he took their heads.

Except…he searched the fortress from top to bottom, looked in every chamber, accounted for every warrior still in residence—and not even Torin, who monitored the place, noticed him—but there was no sign of the girl.

Very well. He’d go with Plan B. He would take a page from the Unspoken Ones’ book and “bargain” before he struck.

Despising the delay, he stalked to Maddox and Ashlyn’s bedroom and ghosted through the wood. He wasn’t just invisible, he was insubstantial. Maddox, keeper of Violence, was no longer inside. His very pregnant female reclined on their bed, reading a book to her unborn babe. A babe Maddox would be desperate to save.

Ashlyn was a pretty thing, with hair, skin and eyes the color of a honeycomb. Truly, she was as golden as the moon on the brightest of nights, and she was delicate and fragile as only a human could be. Her voice was soft, lilting, and filled with love.

No question, Maddox would move heaven and earth to get her back.

Galen padded to the side of the bed and pushed the Cloak from one shoulder. As he materialized, another grin quirked the corners of his mouth. Ashlyn noticed him and quieted, her entire body jolting with fright.

“Galen,” she gasped out.

“Scream for me, little Ashlyn,” he said, reaching for her. And she did.

WILLIAM KIND OF EXPECTED to be pulverized the moment Paris emerged from the bedroom. Fists hammering at his face, teeth ripping at his jugular, something menacing like that since he’d dared to interrupt the happy reunion. After all, madness and mayhem were a Paris Lord staple. What William hadn’t expected was a half grateful, half thunderous stare, but that’s exactly what he got.

“What did you want to show me?” the Lord of Sex snapped.

Paris had moved mountains to get here. Had done things that made a reprobate like William look like a choirboy, all to save the girl he currently had tucked into his side. And that he was holding her hand as if she were a life raft and the flood had come, rather than swinging at the man who had just cock-blocked him…well, that was just weird.

It could mean one of two things. Paris had already had sex with her, so there’d been nothing to block. Yet only an hour had passed since their parting. So thatwould mean Paris was quick on the climax trigger and, as many ladies as he’d nailed, William would bet the guy could go all night and then some.

Option two was slightly more likely, but still improbable. Paris hadn’t known what to do with the girl and had wanted to bail.

But why would he want to bail? For that matter, why, with every second that passed, did he appear more pissed than ever? Had Sienna turned him down flat?

Impossible, William thought next. She was clutching Paris’s hand as desperately as he clutched hers.

William raked his gaze over her. She was pale, her freckles stark in contrast, and she was a bit shaky on her feet. Hmm. Studying her like this, he wondered what Paris saw in her.

At first glance, and hell, maybe even at second, she appeared plain. He looked deeper, though, and that’s when the delicacy of her bone structure became evident. What’s more, those hazel eyes were large and unbelievably lovely, the perfect blend of emerald and copper. Her hair was a waterfall of mahogany, cascading around her. And her lips…yeah, he would have committed a few crimes himself to have those fit around his shaft.

She was on the slender side, small-breasted and even underweight, but damn if she didn’t call on every protective instinct a man possessed.

“Are you just going to stare at her?” Once again Paris snapped the words. This time, menace poured from him, the threat of attack very real.

Now William doubted his face would be the only thing rearranged. His favorite appendage would be on the receiving end of a nice little slice and dice. Sooo.The biggest he-slut ever created was possessive as hell over a woman who’d once wanted to kill him. Talk about comeuppance. But then, wasn’t that what Wrath specialized in?

Paris took a step toward him, the menace intensifying. “I asked you a question.”

William cut off a grin and held his hands up, palms out, questions rolling through his mind. How much did Paris really want the girl? Did he regret coming here? How much influence could she wield over his emotions? Was the plan still to get in, get out and get rid of her? Only one way to find out.