Someone patted his shoulder. Someone placed a gun in his hand. Then footsteps sounded. How long he sat there, weapon gradually slipping from his too-loose hold, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the next time he opened his eyes, his friends were back.
Aeron and William stood before him, panting, barely managing to maintain their grip on a wildly bucking demon. The creature was as tall as they were, with green scales over portions of its body and a face composed only of bone. Several horns protruded from its spine and even its feet.
“Not a High Lord, but close enough,” Aeron gritted out. There was a new gash on his forehead and blood was seeping into his left eye.
“Do your thing,” William commanded. “Before it’s too late.”
Though it required every ounce of his strength, Amun managed to reach out and place his hands on the creature’s skull. The bucking intensified. Frantic screams escaped. Twice, Amun’s sweaty palms slid out of place, but he eventually made the mental connection and his hands were no longer needed.
Memory after memory flooded him. A lifetime of rage and pain and torture. All inflicted upon others. The creature was second in command to the High Lord Pain, Reyes’s demon. Upon Pain’s escape, this creature had taken over. And oh, had it enjoyed hurting others. In every way imaginable and even some Amun had never considered.
This one had even hurt Legion. And now her shrieks were trapped inside Amun, her terrified expression the only thing he could see. Gods, he wanted to vomit. And did vomit, the moment the connection was severed.
William and Aeron released their burden, and it collapsed to the ground, useless now, brain wiped clean.
A hand settled atop Amun’s head and caressed down, stopping at the base of his neck and massaging. A comforting touch meant to soothe. Nothing could soothe him, however. Not ever again.
“Do you know where she is?” Aeron asked gently.
Amun nodded, tears burning his eyes. Those shrieks…the blood…too much…
The hand on his neck stilled. “Where? Tell me, Amun. Please.”
Amun raised his gaze, ready to vomit again. She’s given to a new demon every other day. She’s beaten, tortured…and worse. In between those days, she returns to Lucifer, who entertains his minions with her screams. Today, she’s with him. And he…he…he knows you’re here. He plans to kill you in front of her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SCARLET DIDN’T move or speak as Gideon crawled up her body. He took his time, too, removing her boots, socks and pants along the way. She could have protested. She didn’t. She needed this, she realized. Just once. A moment of beauty and pleasure to overshadow a lifetime of hate and regret. Of sadness and pain. Of deceit.
Funny, Gideon was keeper of Lies, yet he’d been the only person ever to be honest with her.So this moment? Yes, she would take it. Cling to it. Anything else with him…no. As long as her mother lived, as long as her aunt could manipulate her mind, she was a danger to him.
A danger he didn’t deserve. He was blameless of every crime she’d ever tossed at his door.
Gods, she was a fool. Deserved only punishment. She should leave, not luxuriate in her own selfishness by stealing this moment. She owed him that, at the very least. But she couldn’t force herself to pull away from him. Just once, she reminded herself. She’d have him. He seemed to want her, too, so really, leaving would make her selfish.
“So ugly,” he whispered, reverently tracing his fingertips along the inside of her thighs.
Goose bumps broke out over her flesh, but when he realized what he’d said, he froze and looked up at her with budding panic.
“I know what you meant,” she told him softly. He’d left her in a T-shirt and panties, so he couldn’t see the hard tips of her nipples. Couldn’t see how much she already desired him.
Slowly, he relaxed. “I’m not amazed by you, devil.” His thumbs dabbled at the indentation behind her knee, caressing her, tantalizing her. “Don’t tell me you know that.”
How could he be so gentle with her? How could he stand to touch her? After everything they’d just learned? If you’re going to enjoy this, you have to stop traveling down that thought path.
But she couldn’t stop. The thoughts lanced at her, sharp and undeniable. She had built fantasies around this man. She had. All on her own. Her aunt had merely made the suggestion that they’d been married, and Scarlet had created a full-blown history. She was humiliated. She was remorseful. Vulnerable. Raw. Humiliated. Had she mentioned that?
Mostly, she was mourning. Her beautiful wedding had never happened. She’d never lain in this man’s arms, hopeful and sated. She hadn’t given him a son. Her chin trembled as white-hot tears flooded her eyes.
“You don’t have to do this.” She might not want him to end it, might want this one moment with him, but she had to offer him a way out. If he was doing this out of pity, well, she couldn’t handle any more embarrassment and that would embarrass her more than anything else. “You aren’t really my husband.”
“Keep talking,” he muttered, lifting her shirt, bending down and laving at her navel. “I’m loving what you have to say.”
A tremor moved through her, sultry and hungry. “Keep talking” equaled “shut up” in Gideon Speak. Who would have thought she’d enjoy hearing those words? “All I’m trying to say is that you don’t owe me anything.” Was that breathless voice hers? “If anything, I owe you.”
He stilled, raised his head again, his eyes narrowing, lashes tangling together and blocking that gorgeous ocean-blue. “You owe me lots.” There was unrestrained fury in his tone. “That’s exactly what this is about.” O-kay.
“I don’t want you desperately,” he said tightly. “Do you not understand? My body doesn’t ache for yours. I haven’t dreamed of being with you since the first moment I saw you. The past matters. It does.”
Several tears splashed over and trickled down her cheeks. Embarrassing tears. But still she couldn’t move away. The past didn’t matter to him? “Really?” How could she dare to hope?
He nodded, his unrelenting gaze never leaving hers. “You aren’t mine.”
She was his. And just like that, something snapped inside her. The resistance she’d fought so hard to build against him, perhaps. All that remained inside her was desire. So much desire. She would have him. Just this once, she reminded herself a second time. She would hold nothing back. Would give him everything.
What would happen to her heart afterward, she didn’t know. Liar! What’s left of it will shatter. She wouldn’t worry about that until absolutely necessary. Right now, Gideon was with her. He wanted her. That would be enough.
Though she’d wanted to jump him every time he’d neared her, she’d never allowed herself to be the aggressor with him. Her resentment and pride had hindered and muted every sensation. But not this time.
Slowly Scarlet sat up, forcing Gideon to do the same, until he straddled her thighs. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders. The strands weren’t long enough to shield her cleavage, and that irritated her for a moment. Such a thing would have been sexy, and she wanted to be sexy for this man. In every possible way.
She wanted him to want her with the same intensity she’d wanted him all these years. All these centuries.
He sucked in a breath. “No more.”
More. “Not yet. I want to see you.” She gripped the hem of his shirt and jerked the material over his head.
Now she was the one to suck in a breath. Gods, he was magnificent. Perfect in every way. His skin was golden, his stomach roped with unparalleled strength. The black eyes and red lips he had tattooed on his chest and neck caught her gaze and she traced them with a fingertip. She even traced an imaginary butterfly on his right shoulder, nail scraping lightly, leaving an imprint of red. They might not be married, but the symbol connected them.
“Cools so bad,” he panted.
Burns so good, he meant, and that thrilled her. She moved her touch to the indigo loop piercing his nipple, then the sapphire stud in his navel. Blue again.
“Why do you like blue so much?” she asked just before flicking her tongue against the nipple ring. Cold metal and hot skin, a delicious combination.
A moan escaped him. “You don’t want to talk about this now?” He curled a hand over the erection straining over the waist of his pants and rubbed up and down. “There’s not something better for us to do.”
And she’d thought him magnificent before. Silly her. Here he was, at his most primal. A warrior who saw what he wanted and took it, damn the consequences. But… “Yeah. I do want to talk.” Knowing him was just as important as being with him. Only this once.
That time, she despised the reminder.
Gideon’s hand fell away, and he sighed, placing her desires above his own. He didn’t edge away from her, but cupped her ass and urged her forward, until the core of her covered him. Hard, hot. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a reckless groan from forming.
He licked his lips. “There wasn’t this kid in Tartarus, and he wasn’t the ugliest little thing I’d ever seen. One day I didn’t deliver a new prisoner into his cell and the kid didn’t ask for a game. Only thing I couldn’t find was paper and a crayon. Wasn’t blue. When I didn’t hand them over, the kid didn’t smile the sweetest smile I’d ever seen and tell me that blue was the bestest color in the world, like the sky he’d heard about but had never seen. That day, blue didn’t start to represent…freedom to me.”
As he’d spoken, Scarlet had ceased breathing, the tremor sliding the length of her spine too intense. “This boy,” she managed to say. “Did he have a shaved head and black eyes?”
Frowning, Gideon tilted his head to the side. “How did you—” He went rigid. His gaze widened, and his attention zeroed in on her face, studying intently. “It wasn’t you,” he gasped out. “But you—”