The Darkest Pleasure

body tense, but he didn't want to go home. Maddox had Ashlyn, Lucien had Anya and now Reyes had Danika. Seeing them together reminded Paris of the woman he wanted—the woman he had killed.

Sienna.

Adorably plain Sienna with her freckled skin, thick glasses and dark curly hair. Thin, too thin, with barely any curves, barely any breasts. Yet she'd snared him from the first. He'd desired her, romanced her as best as he was able and seduced her. And she'd quickly betrayed him. Had planned to betray him from the beginning.

She'd been a Hunter, his worst enemy, and she'd used his arousal against him, distracting him and drugging him, then leaving him for her coworkers to find. They had locked him up, chained him. Studied him. He'd almost died and they'd had to throw Sienna into the lion's den, so to speak, to keep him alive.

Promiscuity couldn't survive without sex. The longer Paris went without it, the weaker he became. Those Hunters hadn't wanted him dead. How, then, could they have studied his abilities? How, then, could they have used him to lure his friends into Hunter territory? More than that, to kill him was to unleash his demon onto the world, crazed and blood-hungry, insane without its host.

Hunters didn't want that. Oh, they wanted the demons sucked out, but not until they found Pandora's box. As yet, no one was close to finding it. Not even the Lords.

So they'd sent Sienna into his cell. She had ridden him hard, just right, just the way he liked, and he'd regained his strength—more than usual, in fact. For the first time since his bonding with Promiscuity, he'd gotten hard for the same woman twice.

Paris had decided to keep her. Punish her, yes, but keep her for the rest of her life all the same. Because for the briefest of moments, he'd thought he'd found a woman who could save him. He'd no longer cared that she was a Hunter and that she thought the world would be a better place without him and his friends in it. He'd only cared about finally, blessedly having the same woman over and over again. Savoring her, learning her. Maybe even loving her.

He'd foolishly assumed they were meant to be together, that the gods had at last decided to relieve his inner torment. He was tired of searching for a new woman every day, tired of making love without really loving, not remembering who he kissed and touched, never really discovering what they liked or didn't like because there were so many faces, bodies, preferences and requests swimming in his memories.

So he'd escaped that Hunter prison with Sienna at his side. Like an untrained soldier, he'd allowed her to be shot. Not once, not twice, but three times.

She'd died in his arms.

Should have protected her. Weeks had since passed, but Paris couldn't scrub her face from his mind. Could no longer get hard unless he thought of her.

She wanted me. She hadn't wanted to want him, but want him she had. She'd been dripping wet as she slid down his swollen shaft. Despite everything, ecstasy had glazed her eyes. Over and over she had moaned his name. His name. Not another man's.

Despite their differences, they could have been happy together.

'But no. I allowed her own people to snuff her out.' He laughed bitterly. 'Some warrior I am. My fault, all my fault.'

'What's that?' his companion asked, her voice sleep-rich. She rolled toward him, hand flattening on his chest.

Shit. He hadn't meant to wake her. Didn't want to talk with her.

Paris threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, dislodging her.

'Hmm,' she said. 'I like the view.'

Motions clipped, he gathered his clothing from the floor. There were blades strapped on his arms and legs, and he didn't bother trying to hide them. They had turned the woman on.

She purred his name.

He ignored her and dressed.

'Come back to bed,' she beseeched. 'I want you again. I need you.'

Similar words had been said to him a thousand times, would probably be said a thousand more by a thousand others. The thought made him cringe. 'I need to go.'

She huffed in disappointment. 'Please stay. I need to start my day right, and having you inside me is oh, so right.'

At the moment, he couldn't even remember what she looked like—and he'd been looking at her just seconds before. She wasn't Sienna, that much he knew. His cock was as limp as a wilted flower and would stay that way.

'Perhaps another time.' It was a lie, but it was the kindest thing he could say.

The covers shifted. A little moan escaped her. She was probably fondling herself, seeking to tempt him or maybe find release. Either way, he didn't care. His body gave no reaction. This is what my life will always be reduced to: fucking and leaving. I'm pathetic.

He adored women. They were his life's blood and he'd always taken care to soothe their emotions, plump their self-esteem. More and more, he just didn't have the energy for it.

'Paris,' she whispered, breathless. 'Replace my fingers with yours. Please.'

'Sounds as if you're doing a good job. The room's paid up for the rest of the night. I'll leave you to it.'

'Leave?' She jolted up, reached for him and dragged a fingertip down his side. 'Stay. I'm begging you.'

'Forget me. I've already forgotten you.' He strode out of the room, out of the hotel, and never looked back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HAVING AWOKEN in Reyes's bed alone, another turbulent nightmare swirling in her mind, Danika had realized she couldn't do it. She couldn't stay here, no matter her purpose. Not with Reyes. Just being near him affected her in a thousand different ways, none of them good.

Every time she spied him, hate should have filled her. Hate and rage and violence. But every time she peered into the dark fathomless pools of knowledge and pain that were his eyes, she experienced…something else. She drowned, pieces of her dying then quickly reforming for him. Him. Not her family, not her own survival. Him.

How could she forget her purpose like that? How? Kidnapped all those weeks ago, and now bereft of even the miserly life she'd built, how could she still want to reach out to Reyes? To be held by him? Comforted? Even pleasured? How did he slip into her most private fantasies and rouse her animal needs?

Not knowing what else to do, she'd sprung from the bed and raced from the bedroom. She'd gotten pretty far, then backtracked, fearing that a wrong turn could land her face-to-face with one of Reyes's friends. Her legs had finally given out, and she'd stopped here at the staircase.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to conserve warmth. The cold had returned full force, and she shivered. Only one thing had managed to warm her: Reyes.

'Danika!'

Speak of the devil—or rather, demon. Reyes's voice echoed through the hallway behind her, panicked and as sharp as a razor. She propped her head against the stair railing, fatigue and dizziness swamping her. I should run. She remained in place. Like a fool, she was eager to see him.

'Danika!' He sounded closer.

She didn't waste her time responding. He would find her soon enough. No reason to help him.

'Dani—'

Her name trailed off as a gust of air brushed the back of her neck. He must have stopped abruptly. She couldn't see him, even peripherally, but she could feel his heat all the way to her bones. God, he was warm. Her shivers faded.

Then suddenly he was there, sitting beside her, his thigh brushing hers. Jolts of electricity shot through her