The Darkest Destiny, page 6
part #32 of 1001 Dark Nights Series
“Yes, I did,” she said, surprising him with her honesty once again. She ducked under the spray, droplets sluicing from head to toe, momentarily mesmerizing him. “But you have no right to judge. You do the same, and you can’t deny it. You’ll cross any line to aid your loved one.”
He couldn’t deny it.
“Besides.” She ran her fingers through her wet hair. “Everyone says I’m incredibly brave for my actions.”
Look away. Just look away. A command from his fraying control. A command he did not heed. He tilted his chin instead, eyeing her through his lashes. “Are you everyone in this scenario?” Steam began enveloping her, reality morphing into every fantasy he’d never allowed himself to entertain—for more than a few minutes at a time. “I think you’re everyone,” he croaked.
“I’m certainly your everyone.” Her lips lifted in another smile, sleepy yet sharp at the edges. “Be a dear and fetch me the essentials. Soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. A negligee. Make sure to get the best of everything. I deserve nothing less. Well?” she prompted when he remained in place. “The longer I’m forced to wait, the longer I stay in the shower.”
Growling, he flashed to his room at the Downfall and hurriedly gathered an array of items from his bathroom. With a huff, he returned to Viola and dropped the bundle inside the stall.
Another squeal of delight left her as she looked everything over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then she frowned and pouted. “What about my negligee? I specifically remember requesting one because your leathers got noticeably tighter the second I did.”
He pursed his lips. The gratitude surprised him and perhaps even softened him. The taunting prodded his nerve endings. “You may consider the toiletries a token of my goodwill only as long as you answer my queries.”
“Sure. Ask away. I have nothing to hide.” She pumped shampoo into her palm. “I’m happy to discuss the world’s favorite topic—me.”
How could she act so natural while naked with a fully clothed male? Not charmed by her confidence. More and more annoyed. Her boldness kept him off-kilter. “Who are your parents?”
“Yikes. You dove straight into the deep end, huh?” She lathered her hair, every move a sensual dance. “How about this? I’ll tell you their identities when you earn my trust or provide a candlelit dinner for two. Whichever comes first. Which isn’t a refusal to answer, so no storming over to spank me. Not as punishment, anyway…”
He gnashed his teeth. The things she said to him! “Why keep the identity of your parents a secret?” And it was a secret. Most of the records he’d found were noticeably doctored. “Are you ashamed of your sires?”
She rinsed off and sighed. “Perhaps I am. My married mother slept with a husband, but he wasn’t hers. I was the result. To conceal her actions, she hid me for over two decades. Her disloyalty to those she was supposed to love and cherish disgusts me to this day.”
“In this, we are agreed. There is no viler trait than disloyalty.” Disregard the ache in your chest. “Is she living or dead?”
Viola flinched ever so slightly. “She is dead.”
I don’t care if the past upsets her. This doesn’t matter. Nothing changed her crimes against his family. “She disgusted you, but still you loved her.” A statement, not a question.
“Well, surprise, surprise. You just ensured I don’t like talking about myself,” she muttered. As she massaged conditioner into those glorious tresses, arching her spine and thrusting up her breasts, she wrenched a sharper growl from deep in his chest. “When you requested conversation, I thought you planned to ask me about my turn-ons.”
He jerked and tried to hide the action with a cough. What did turn her on? “Tell me where you’ve secreted the key, and we don’t have to talk of anything at all.”
In lieu of a response, she smeared soap over her torso, taking extra care in select places, daring him to try and stop her. Or comment. The scent of roses blended with the fragrance of sandalwood. Her perfume melded with his, becoming theirs.
He wiped a hand over his face. “How many immortals have you bespelled and abandoned?” A topic sure to douse the fire spreading through his veins.
“Hundreds,” she replied with a breezy tone. She canted her head, thoughtful. “Times three.”
“Did you bathe for any of them?” The query shoved its way through his clenched teeth.
“They wished! They never passed my test, so they never made it past first base. They weren’t worthy.”
McCadden hadn’t bedded the goddess? Why did every cell in Brochan’s body suddenly heat? “There’s no greater male than my brother. He is worthy of anyone. More than worthy.”
“If that’s true, why did he—?” She pressed her lips together, going quiet. “I bestowed a single kiss upon him. Prize enough for his sacrifice.”
He scoffed. “My brother gave up his immortality for a lone meeting of lips?”
“I’m that good.” She rinsed her hair.
A soap bubble sluiced over peaks and planes, catching his attention, and he swallowed a groan. How he remained in place without flashing to her, he might never know. “Tell me about your test.”
She moved to the bench and eased down, every inch the Victorian lady clad in ruffles and lace. Water sprayed over her outstretched legs. “I’d rather hear about you. What kind of male are you? I mean, I know you were a decorated demon assassin in the sky realms and a major irritation in whatever world we currently occupy, but little else.”
She’d investigated his past? Pretend your chest isn’t puffing up. “I was a decorated assassin, yes. I liked my job. I love my brother more.”
“You fell from the skies to remain with McCadden? Wow. You value loyalty as much as I do,” she said, sounding dazed. “Color me curious. Are you worthy of all this?” She twirled a fingertip around her navel, and he swallowed. “Let’s find out. Once you’ve fallen in love with me, I’ll give my test to you.”
The sight of this woman… Concentrate. “What does the female who condemns innocent immortals to demise consider worthy, exactly, if not forcing a man to sign his own death warrant?”
“Trust me,” she purred, “you’ll find out soon.”
Do not close the distance and put your hands on her.
Do not.
Do…
No! He was panting, every breath as sharp as a razor. “Finish your shower.” A towel. She needed one. Yes. He flashed to the Downfall and back, terrycloth in hand. She hadn’t changed positions. “You’ve used enough water for today.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Soaked, flushed and utterly wicked, she leaned against the wall and lifted a leg into the spray. “Except… Permission to linger a bit more, sir. My thoughts are only getting dirtier. They could use a good scrubbing.”
“Do not try my patience, goddess. I’ve treated you kindly so far.” Far kinder than she deserved, going against his basest instincts. “That can change at any moment.”
“What am I supposed to wear? Someone forgot to fetch me that negligee. Or am I supposed to walk around naked?”
Growling again, he returned to his room at the Downfall, where he gathered a handful of garments from his closet. He returned to the same spot and—stopped breathing. In anticipation of his arrival, Viola had switched locations. Now, she stood only a whisper away. So close he detected the golden flecks in her whiskey eyes.
His heart thudded. “Goddess?”
“I have a question for you,” she intoned, peering up at him. Her cherry-red lips were parted, a moan of delight seeming poised for release. “How badly do you want me, beast?”
Chapter Five
Caught up in her own game? Check. Viola kept forgetting Brochan bore a terrible grudge against her. But maybe he kept forgetting too? The longer she’d showered and chatted with him, doing her best to feign nonchalance, the more intently he’d surveyed her. He struck her as a man at the end of a year-long fast, who’d just discovered the last morsel of food in existence. How could she not crave more of that?
She wasn’t the only one. Narcissism loved every second. With each longing glance, Brochan flooded her with satisfaction and incomparable power. Was there anything better?
Why had she ever run from Brochan, anyway? Here, now, as the Forsaken radiated great waves of heat, she wished to sidle closer to him. For her mission, of course. Only her mission.
Will enjoy entrancing this volatile male, then punishing him for daring to threaten Fluffy.
Unless Viola did, in fact, make him fall in love with her. Should she? Added bonus: She would be punishing him so much worse. Lust burned brightly for but a moment. Love lasted forever.
Change a man’s endgame, and you forever altered the course of his life. The moment she won Brochan’s heart, his vendetta reached its end. Love conquered all, and that was an inescapable truth. She’d seen it time and time again. The moment the Forsaken loved her, he would long only to protect and pleasure her. Harm Fluffy? Never again. He might even offer Viola the same loyalty he granted McCadden.
Loyalty was her kryptonite, and Brochan’s exhibition of it was oh, so enticing.
As amazing and wonderful and perfect and glorious and magnificent and exquisite and brilliant and delightful as she was, she deserved such loyalty. Yet, no suitor had ever demonstrated devotion equal to hers.
Before Viola accepted a gift of immortality from a male, she presented him with the opportunity of a lifetime: Betray
Brochan dropped the bundle of clothing at her feet. Even as he heaved his breaths while repeatedly fisting and opening his hands, he reminded her of a statue. Cold. Hard. Intractable. “Remove yourself from me, goddess.” The hoarse command lacked substance.
“Happy to,” she told him with a silky undertone. She brushed the tip of her nose against his. “After you answer my question.” In case he’d forgotten it, she said, “How badly do you want me? If you’d rather not get into the nitty-gritty details, a simple more than anything will do.”
“Understand me now. I will never take you,” he vowed, his gaze like flint on hers. Except, his pupils were expanding, overtaking those pale irises.
He wants me bad. Who could blame him? She was naked, damp…and hungry.
“Now, now, Brochan. That isn’t an acceptable answer. It’s a lie.” She wound her arms around his shoulders and toyed with the ends of his dark hair. “Besides, think back. I never offered you the use of my body. I merely inquired about your overwhelming feelings on the matter.”
His eyelids drooped, his calm mask slipping. Just enough to offer a glimpse of the uncivilized beast lurking beneath the surface. “Feelings have no bearing on the situation,” he grated. “Overwhelming or otherwise.”
Adorable monster, with his long, curling lashes and freckles. Aggressive warrior, with his harsh features and big body, simmering hotter and hotter. Sexy body. The most muscular one in existence—a visual feast! Faultless.
How had he not exploded already? Better question: How far did she want this to go?
Voice low and silky, she asked, “No bearing on the situation? Not ever? Because I’m feeling a need to be kissed by you. Surely you’ve wondered how good I taste…”
A growl rumbled in his chest. “I owe you nothing, goddess. Not answers. Certainly not a kiss.” He settled his grip on her hips, lifted her, and set her a few feet away from him. Seconds passed, but he maintained his hold, never releasing her. He began to pant. “I should let the other Forsaken have you.”
“Do they put out? Because I might go willingly.” As she awaited his next move, cool air lapped at heated flesh. What would he do? “I’d do anyone right now. Obviously.”
He narrowed his eyes and tightened his clasp, squeezing before lifting her a second time and placing her directly in front of him. “You should curry my favor.”
“Or you should curry mine. I’m quite handsy when I’m happy. By the way, I’m happiest when I’m safe…and recovering from an orgasm.”
His gaze slid to her lips, and he gulped.
Oh, yes. He wants me. Awareness of him seared her brain, her every cell. Sizzling arousal rushed through her veins. Her limbs trembled. She should have undressed and showered for this male sooner.
In a day, perhaps two, Brochan would be so besotted, he’d do anything she asked, even acquire an energy boost for Fluffy. Then, they could work together to ensure the forever murder of the Forsaken.
Everything was falling into place quite nicely.
“I like this half-maiden, half-conqueror thing you’ve got going on,” she told him, dragging her blunt-tipped nails along his scalp. “Yeah, you’re right. You probably shouldn’t kiss me. I’d be super into it.” When she brushed the base of a horn, his breath hitched. A delightful reaction. “And you do hope to punish me, yes?”
“Hope? No. I will.” Moving too swiftly to track, he gripped her throat. A favorite hold, apparently. As he angled her chin higher, his claws pricked the length of her carotid. Why, why, why did the action thrill her? “Understand me, goddess. I’m not one of your conquests. I’ll never be one of your conquests.”
Are you sure, beast? “Very well. If you don’t want to bend me over that bench and slam into me from behind, that is your prerogative. Let’s hammer out the details of our partnership instead.” With every word she uttered, her throat moved against his palm, a shockingly erotic caress. “With my help, you can destroy the other Forsaken.”
“Choose my brother’s treacherous ex over my own kind?” He glared down at her, a man at war, the battlefield harsh and bloody. “Why would I ever?”
“For starters, I look better naked.”
“You…do,” he grated, grinding his erection between her legs. Tendons pulled taut as if he fought his actions. Fought and failed.
A gasp of delight escaped her. “Also, they are your competition. They, too, seek the key. Do you honestly believe they’ll share it with you, if they get it?” She pushed her advantage. “Plus, you crave me.”
“You speak of pleasure.” Narrowed eyes, strained tone. He grazed the pad of his thumb over her racing pulse point. “I thought we killed that line of conversation.”
“We did. But you brought it back to life with groin-to-groin resuscitation.”
His mask of civility slipped again. Holding her gaze, he moved his big, callused hands to her sides—his trembling hands. Her breath caught with the realization. He was a steady warrior…until she neared.
Trembling just as forcefully, she awaited his next move. One minute passed. Two. They stood still and silent, staring at each other.
“What are you waiting for, Brochan?” The neediness in her voice embarrassed her because it wasn’t feigned. She continued anyway. “Taste me already. I want your lips on mine.”
He shook his head, but the war inside him visibly intensified, his breaths coming faster. Strain seemed to coil in his every muscle. Then…
“This means nothing.” With a growl, he swooped down and slammed his mouth over hers. He wasn’t shy or tentative about kissing her, but he wasn’t finessed, either. He used force, thrusting his tongue against hers, conquering with abandon, taking everything and demanding more.
Viola kissed him back with equal fervor but far more gently. While his passion fueled her internal fires, she had no desire to speed to the finish line. She was a fine wine. She should be sampled slowly and savored.
Soon, he responded to the gentler laps. He licked and sucked and moaned, his appetite for her unrivaled. She clung to him, desperate for more and more and more.
As he glided those big, rough hands along her back, grazing his claws against the ridges of her spine, she shivered. Then he cupped her backside, yanking her closer and erasing the final gap of air between them. Suddenly, her every heaving inhalation sparked an agonizing friction.
“More,” she demanded.
An error on her part. The split-second pause allowed his fury to rear its ugly head. With a roar, he wrenched his mouth from hers.
Remaining in place, panting, he glared at her, still clasping her tight. Tighter. “I was right. It meant absolutely nothing!”
“Let’s make it mean even less.” Nonplussed, she rose to her tiptoes, gripped one of his horns and—argh!
He jumped backward, dislodging her grip. Though fuming, he didn’t flash off. Or use the separation to calm. No, appearing wilder by the second, he backed her into the wall, walking through steam and hot water without concern for his leathers. His attention remained laser-focused on her as he braced his palms beside her temples.
Voice nothing but smoke and gravel, he said, “You shouldn’t have touched my horn, goddess.”
“Why? Did I summon your basest instincts?”
“Yes,” he hissed, pressing her against cool stone. “Why must you be so beautiful?” Despite his harsh tone, he kneaded her hip, winning a new gasp from her. As she melted into his touch, his eyes blazed. “Why must you look, smell and feel like paradise?”
“The answer strikes me as obvious. I am paradise, Brochan.”
“That’s not—never mind.” He nipped her bottom lip. “Tell me if I do something you do not enjoy.”
So far, she had no complaints. “You won’t know by my reactions?” Something warm and sweet spread through her. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you a virgin, Brochan?” Many Sent Ones were.
Cheeks reddening, he made to turn away from her. She sank her sharp pink claws into his shoulders. And yes, he was strong enough to break her hold. But he didn’t.
“Well?” she prompted, continuing to use that soft, smooth tone. He remained rooted in place, his rich, woodsy scent filling her nose. “Are you?”
“I am not,” he snapped, defensive to the max.
“But…?”
“But.” He glared down at her as if she were to blame for whatever information was poised for escape. “I had not experienced a kiss before. Both females offered me their cheeks.”
The sweet, warmth coated every inch of Viola, parts of her tingling with anticipation. “Foolish girls. I enjoyed your kiss very much. In fact, I demand another right this second.” She clasped his nape and rose to her tiptoes, claiming his mouth with hers.
