She should end this kiss now, before things went too far. She should—
Brochan gave a guttural shout and disengaged from her mouth, inch by inch. First, he lifted his head. Then he peeled his chest from hers…his lower body, and released her leg, allowing her to stand on her own power. Then he stepped back, ensuring no part of them touched. A chill rushed over her.
Reeling, Viola fought for breath. She couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. He had stopped the kiss? He had? He’d dared? But why?
Was it possible…? No, it couldn’t be. Except, what if his will was stronger than hers?
But, but… She preferred to win, not lose. Didn’t he realize that?
A new whimper attempted to escape, but she clenched her teeth. The war wasn’t lost. She could change Brochan’s mind. Could make him see things her way.
“You told me to bring anything I don’t like to your attention,” she said as casually as she could manage. “Well, you did something I didn’t like. You stopped.”
He sucked in a breath. Then he flashed outside the stall and picked up the towel he’d dropped. Averting his gaze, he offered the linen to her. “Turn off the water. Dry and get dressed. You have clothing and no excuses now.”
The war might be lost.
Though her knees trembled, she jutted her chin and strutted over, accepting the gift. As she dressed, he pivoted, offering his back.
Her movements turned jerky. “Are you going to tell me why you stopped?” Excellent. She sounded curious rather than hurt. Because she wasn’t hurt. She’d have to care for him to experience hurt over a rejection, and she didn’t care. Not even a little. “Did you recall the fact that someone with such a hideous face isn’t good enough for me?”
Hurt me, and I hurt you worse. But again, she wasn’t hurt. And she still didn’t care.
Stiff as a board, he told her, “You’ll find nourishment in the throne room. As long as you remain in the fortress, you’ll be safe. No need to worry that you’ll be harmed. There are no threats here, because you are the only resident. I’ll return in a week or so—”
What! “Did you say a week? Or so? You’re leaving?” He planned to abandon her? “And what do you mean, the only resident?” To while away her days without companionship, exactly as she’d done as a child in her mother’s forgotten palace? At least in Tartarus, there’d been living beings in the cell next to hers. “I require an adoring public!” she shrieked, panic budding.
“And yet you won’t get one.”
The panic mutated into full-blown hysteria. “Don’t leave me here, Brochan. Please!” Was she begging? Yes! Her pride was nowhere to be found. “I promise I’ll be good. I won’t kiss you again, honest. I won’t even shower. Okay? Just stay here and—”
“Goodbye, goddess.” Not giving her time to formulate a different reply, he flashed, disappearing, leaving her alone with her fears.
* * * *
She is my brother’s killer.
My obsession.
No matter the protest, Brochan failed to kick the goddess out of his head. Livid, he materialized in his bedroom at the Downfall. He stalked into his closet and exchanged soaked leathers for dry.
The way Viola had kissed him…. I’m that good, she’d said. Yes. Yes, she was. Still he hungered for her, the intensity of his desires nearly overshadowing his concerns and defenses.
If only he hadn’t felt her emotions. Her excitement. Her pleasure. Her displeasure. She’d stiffened in his arms before getting lost in her thoughts. What had he done that she hadn’t liked? Or had Viola only pretended with him? What if she’d imagined someone else at first?
He bit his tongue. She’d only sought to manipulate Brochan. Exactly as she’d manipulated so many others before him. Kiss—addict him—then demand he provide her with the world for the promise of another taste.
Temptation itself…
But he knew better. He did!
Someone must have heard him stomping around because a knock sounded at the door. “Brother? You have returned?”
McCadden.
Tension stole through him with record speed, betrayal fast on its heels. Speak to his brother, mere seconds after kissing the woman McCadden once loved? How could he dare?
Like a coward, Brochan flashed to the very edge of Nevaeh—to the veil between it and the rest of the skies. He glided his wings, hovering in the night sky. Despite the location change, he couldn’t escape Viola’s panic. He felt it as surely as he’d felt everything else. A trick. Only a trick. She didn’t like the idea of being denied her pet or adoration, that was all. And yet, unease crept over him.
Focus. The wants and desires of his foe meant nothing.
The veil stretched before him, invisible and indestructible. Beyond it, a terrain of dewy flowers carpeted hill after hill. A land untouched by evil. A realm he’d once called home. Mere months ago, legions of Sent Ones had traversed this area at all hours of the day and night. Now, the spot remained abandoned, thousands of soldiers currently waging war in the Underworld.