thousand sins resting where pupils should have.
Warrior instincts demanded Geryon stride forward and meet the bastard in the middle. Fight there, like true soldiers. Yet his every male instinct demanded he stay where he was. To put any distance between himself and Kadence was to place her in further danger. Another demon could be hiding nearby, waiting for the chance to pounce on her.
'This is my fault,' she said. 'No matter that I had begun to relax, my fear of this place is bone-deep. And that fear is like a beacon to them, isn't it?'
He chose not to answer that, too afraid of scaring her further by acknowledging the truth of her words. 'When he reaches us, I want you to run backward. Press against the wall and scream for me if you see any hint of another demon.'
'No, I want to help you. I—'
'Will do as I said. Otherwise, I will defeat him and leave this place.' His tone was uncompromising. Already he regretted bringing her here, whether the wall needed defending or not.
She stiffened against him, but didn't offer another protest.
A cry of, 'Mine, mine, mine,' rent the air.
The creature closed in, faster…almost…there. Claws raked at Geryon as he grabbed his opponent by the neck. Multiple stings erupted on his face, followed by the trickle of warm blood. Flailing arms, kicking legs. Only when the temptation of Kadence's hands fell away did Geryon truly begin to battle. He tossed the creature to the ground and leapt upon it, knees pinning its shoulders. One punch, two, three.
It bucked, wild and feral. Saliva gleamed on its fangs as curses sprang from its bony mouth. Another punch. Still another. But the pounding failed to subdue it in any way.
'Where is Violence? Death? Doubt?' he gritted out.
The struggling continued, intensified, terror leaping to life in those red eyes. Not fear for what Geryon would do, he knew, but terror for what its brothers-in-evil would do if they learned of any betrayal.
Though Geryon hated for Kadence to see him kill—again—it could not be helped. That's what they had come here for, after all. He raised his hand, spread his elongating, dripping nails and struck. The poison that coated his nails was a 'gift' from Lucifer to aid in his duties and acted swiftly, without mercy, spreading through the creature's body and rotting it from the inside out.
It screamed and screeched in agony, its struggling soon becoming writhing. Then the scales began to burn away, smoking, sizzling, leaving only more of that ugly bone. But the bones, too, disintegrated. Ash coated the air, blowing in every direction.
Geryon stood to shaky legs. He kept his back to Kadence for several minutes, waiting, hoping—dreading—that she would say something. What did she think of him now? Would there be any more of her tending? Finally curiosity got the better of him and he pivoted on his heels.
She stood exactly as he'd commanded, her back pressed against the rocky wall. Those glorious ringlets cascaded around her. Her eyes were wide and filled with…admiration? Surely not.
'Come to me,' she said.
CHAPTER TEN
Kadence had been unable to hold back her entreaty. Geryon stood several feet away, panting shallowly, his cheeks cut and bleeding, his hands dripping with his opponent's lifeblood.
His dark eyes were more haunted than she'd ever seen them.
'Come to me,' she said again. She motioned him over with a wave of her fingers.
The first time, he'd given no reaction. As though he hadn't believed he'd heard her correctly. This time, he blinked. Shook his head. 'You wish to…punish me for my actions?'
Silly man. Punish him? When he'd saved her? Yes, part of her was angry that he'd kept her from the fight, that he'd threatened—vowed—to leave without doing what they'd come here to do. But part of her was relieved. I am not a coward. Not anymore. Next time, I will act. No matter his wishes, no matter mine.
'Kadence,' Geryon said, and she realized she had been staring at him, silent.
'I would never punish you for aiding me.'
Again he blinked. 'But…I killed. I hurt another creature.'
'And you were injured in the process. Come, let me attend to your wounds.'
Still he resisted. 'But you would have to put your hands on me.'
He said it as though the thought should be loathsome to her. 'Yes, I know.'
One hesitant step, two. At that pace, he would never reach her. Sighing, she closed the rest of the distance herself, twined their fingers—experienced a powerful jolt, gasped—and led him to the rocks. 'Sit. Please.'
As he obeyed, he tugged his hand from her and rubbed where they'd been connected. Had the same jolt pierced him? She hoped it had, for she did not want to be alone in this…attraction. Yes, attraction, she realized. Physical, erotic. The kind that prompted a woman to leave her inhibitions and invite a man into her bed.
Whether that invitation was accepted or not was a different story.
Reluctant as Geryon was, she was positive he would turn her down. And perhaps that was for the best. Her lovemaking tended to scare men away. Because when the pleasure hit her, she could not control her nature. The chains she'd erected broke, unleashing her will with a vengeance.
Physically, her lovers became her slaves. Mentally, they cursed her, knowing she had stolen their freedom of choice, unwitting though it had been. She had never bedded the same man twice, and, after three tries, had stopped altogether. One she had considered bad luck. Two, a coincidence. Three, undeniably her fault.
How would Geryon respond? Would he hate her? Probably. Already he knew the horrors of being bound to someone else's will. She would not doubt if freedom was the most precious commodity in his life.
Sighing, she tore several strips of cloth from the bottom of her robe and knelt in front of him, between his legs. His shaft was hidden by a short skirt of leather and metal filigree. A warrior's cloth. Perhaps it was wanton of her, but she wanted to see him there. She licked her lips, thinking maybe, perhaps, what if she–
As if he could read her mind, he sucked in a breath. 'Don't,' he said.
'I'm sorry. I—'
'Don't stop.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Don't stop. Did he mean for her to move his armor out of the way? Or simply to clean him as she'd promised? Already he was nervous, on edge, and had resisted even the slightest of handling. Afraid to risk a mistake, she leaned in, reached up and mopped the blood from his face with one of the strips of cloth. Acting the coward again, are we?
His delectable scent filled her nose, a midnight breeze that inexplicably reminded her of home. A sprawling, opulent home she had not been able to visit since reluctantly agreeing to oversee the fortification of hell. How she missed it.
'In all the years I have known you,' she said, carefully avoiding the deepest gash, 'you have never left your post at the gate. Do you eat?' At first contact, he had jumped. But she maintained a steady, casual rhythm and he gradually relaxed.
Perhaps one day he would allow her to do more. Would she enslave him, though, as she had the others?
'No. There's no need.'
'Really?' Even she, a goddess, needed food. She could survive without it, yes, but she would waste away, becoming a mere shell of herself. 'How, then, do you survive?'
'I'm not sure. I know only that I stopped needing food the day I was brought here. Perhaps the fire and
