The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter
clothes. We can drug you or we can beat you. Which do you prefer?”
“Neither.”
“Choose or I’ll choose for you. Don’t forget, Danika, you’re doing this for your family.”
“So much for my training,” she’d laughed resentfully. “Drug me. Again, apparently.”
“Danika, what did those men do to you?”
Present collided with past, tearing her from those surreal musings. Stupid girl. Do not relax your guard in front of Reyes!
She pried her eyelashes apart. The world around her was blurred, Reyes nothing more than a dark slash directly in front of her. His fingers were gripping her shoulders and urging her down…gently…softly. As her vision cleared, she saw that his usually harsh features now seemed almost tender with concern.
“No touching,” she told him, the words slurred. Delicious heat once again enveloped her. Perhaps the demon blood she’d ingested was responsible. “We agreed.”
“Shhh.” His breath caressed her cheek, as warm as his touch. “Relax. We will talk later.”
“Go to hell.”
He had no trouble understanding her. “Didn’t we once have this very conversation? I’m already there.”
Fight this. Fight him! She tried, she really did, but a dark tunnel beckoned her, dragging her closer and closer to the edge. “Where is…my mom? My sister? Grandma?”
“I’m sure they are fine.” Fingers brushed her brow, softly smoothing her hair behind her ears.
“I want…to see…them. I won’t…sleep. Can’t make me. Hungry.”
“I’ll feed you.” A petal-soft press of…lips? Yes, lips against the corner of her mouth.
She inhaled deeply, suddenly drowning in the scent of man and spice and inexplicably happy for it. “Hate you,” she said, wishing she meant it.
“I know.” He whispered directly in her ear, his warm breath traveling inside. “Sleep now, angel. You are safe. I will allow nothing else to happen to you.”
She sagged. The cool mattress pressed against her back. Flames on top, ice beneath. Unable to fight any longer, she fell into the tunnel. Oblivion claimed her.
SHE WAS HERE, IN HIS BED. His bed.
Waiting for her to awaken had been a lesson in self-control and Reyes had begun to grow fearful that she would sleep forever. Then she had pulled herself from slumber, those long lashes cracking open to reveal bright emerald eyes, and he’d gotten a real lesson in self-torture.
Pain didn’t like that Reyes was in the process of tiptoeing from the room. More, want more teeth and nails and hurt. “No.”
The demon roared inside his mind.
Reyes pressed onward, only throwing one backward glance over his shoulder. Danika’s black locks were splayed over his pillow, her face where his often rested. That knowledge filled him with pride. Even now, she might be breathing in his scent, making his essence a part of her.
Or perhaps not.
Danika slept fitfully, eyes rolling behind her lids, body twisting, small moans of alarm escaping her. Did she dream of what the Hunters had done to her? What had they done? Torture her for answers? Rape?
She had not answered him when he’d asked, had told him nothing, in fact. He hadn’t pressed her, for her pulse had quickened at the base of her neck, her skin had lost any semblance of color and panic had glazed her lovely eyes.
Fists clenched, he pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Soon. He would see her again, talk to her again and learn the truth. He had to know. And perhaps by then he would forget the horror he’d seen in her expression when she realized he had enjoyed being bitten.
Gods, that bite. His heartbeat had yet to slow from the pleasure of it. He’d held Danika, her sharp little teeth in his neck. For a single moment, she’d responded to him sensually; she’d wanted him, had been unable to stop herself from grinding against his cock. Then he’d realized it wasn’t him she desired but pain, the demon already clouding her judgment, and he had commanded her to stop. She’d wrenched away. The physical agony he’d experienced in that moment had been the worst of his life—and the best.
Pain wanted more.
Hands shaky, Reyes opened the refrigerator. Paris did the shopping, so Reyes never knew what he’d find. Today’s selection was shaved meats and loaves of bread. A sandwich, then.
“Where is Aeron?” Lucien asked behind him. “I kept my part of our bargain. The time has come for you to keep yours.”
Reyes didn’t turn. “I will take you to him. In the morning.”
“No. You will take me to him now.”
Reyes withdrew a package of turkey and a package of ham, looked from one to the other, then shrugged. He didn’t know which Danika would prefer, so he would make her both. “Danika is weak and hungry. After I see to her needs, I will be at your disposal.”
The usually calm Lucien uttered a low growl. “Every minute he is locked away is probably absolute agony. Our demons cannot stand to have their hosts restrained, and you know it. Wrath is likely screaming for release, even now.”
“Need I remind you again that he begged for it? And what I know is that when Aeron is brought here, he will have to be…what? Locked away. What is the difference if the prison is somewhere else? Besides that, he does not want to be near us.” Reyes tossed the packages onto the counter and grabbed one of the loaves of bread. Wheat.
Did she like wheat or white? After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to use both. Just in case. He pinched the plastic covering the white and slid the loaf in front of him. “I’m only asking for one more night.”
“What if he’s dying? We are immortal, yes, but under the right circumstances we can die like any other living thing. Another fact you already know.”
“He’s not dying.”
“How do you know?” Lucien insisted.
“Somehow I can feel his desperation burning inside of me every minute of every day. It is stronger with every second that passes, as I’m sure he is weaker against Wrath.” Reyes drew in a breath, held…held…then slowly released it, letting his sudden burst of anger leave him, too. “Just a few more hours. That’s all I ask. For me, for Danika. For him.”
There was a heavy pause. He fit two slices of meat atop each slice of bread, smashed them together.
“Very well,” Lucien said. “A few.” His boots clomped as he strode away.
Reyes studied the sandwiches. “Not enough,” he muttered. Humans needed variety. Isn’t that what Paris always said about his lovers? Frowning, Reyes opened the refrigerator again and searched inside. His gaze landed on a bag of purple grapes. Yes, perfect. Last time Danika had stayed here, she’d plowed through a bowl of the fruit in minutes.
He withdrew the entire bag, washed the contents and spread them around the four sandwiches.
What would she like to drink? Back to the fridge he went. He saw a bottle of wine, a pitcher of water and a carton of orange juice. He knew better than to give Danika wine. The wine here was laced with ambrosia stolen from the heavens and had once almost killed Maddox’s human woman, Ashlyn.
Reyes scooted the chilled bottle aside and latched on to the juice. He poured every drop into a tall glass.
“Damn, boy. You feeding an army?”
Reyes tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. Sabin leaned against the door frame, thick arms crossed over his chest. He was as modern as Paris with his silly