The Darkest Seduction

some way. “I know someone’s out there. Reveal yourself. Now.”

“We’re dealing with one of Cronus’s spies, I’m sure,” Winter said, her voice as smooth and sultry as a caress. Her gaze almost, but not quite, met Sienna’s. “I heard him talking earlier.”

“I…will…gut…you,” Cameron seethed. He wasn’t talking to Winter, but to Sienna. He might grouse at Winter, snap at her and sometimes even scream at her, but he never threatened her. And if anyone could find a way to slay a ghost…thing—or whatever she was—Sienna was willing to bet it was Cameron. Because, and here was a shocker, he wouldn’t stop until he had what he wanted.

“Do your tirades never end?” Irish asked, that accent giving her a case of the oh-mys.

“Actually, Irish, you mythological douche,” Winter fired back, “they don’t, and he’s going to tirade all over your ass if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Someone should have spanked you a long time ago, little girl.” Irish.

“Touch her and you’ll soon be eating your own balls. And they’ll just be the snack pack. Main course will follow.” Cameron.

Sienna didn’t mind their bantering. This was mild in comparison to what they’d thrown at her. Besides, they only had each other. And while they loved to snipe and snark at each other, they united the moment Cronus appeared, their mutual hatred bonding them.

She held out her hand, reaching for the clear shield that blocked her from Winter’s room. Contact. She sighed when the barrier refused to yield. Yesterday she had palpated the top half, searching for any vulnerable pockets. She’d found none. Today she would tackle the bottom half.

“Sienna!” Paris’s voice echoed off the walls. “Sienna! Where the hell did you go?”

Something lurched in her chest, and she was once again fighting tears. Damn you, Cronus. Of all his torments, this was the worst. Her hands continued to move along the shield, quaking now.

“Sienna!”

Those scalding tears flooded her eyes and splashed down her cheeks, leaving burning tracks. The memories had never followed her before. When she moved to a new room a new one would appear, one horror exchanged for another. This was the first ever to dog her.

And…she stilled, frowned. This couldn’t be a memory, she realized, the answer to her earlier concern finally slipping into place. As far as she knew, Paris had never been to this castle, and she’d never seen the Gargl anywhere else. So, the two had never fought in her presence.

Could he… Was he…

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Sienna!”

Another beat.

“Who is that?” Winter demanded.

“Another prisoner?” Cameron.

“And who’s this Sienna?” Irish.

They heard Paris’s voice. They had never seen or heard the memories before. This wasn’t… This couldn’t be… Her heart stopped altogether.

“Sienna! Damn it.” Grunt, bang. “Get off me, you perverted bag of stone.” Bang. “Sienna!”

This wasn’t a memory, wasn’t a vision. This was real and happening right now. Paris was here. He’d come for her. Was searching for her, trying to get to her. A second later, her heart kicked back into gear, slamming into a too-fast rhythm, making her pant. The Gargl might have hurt him, might be hurting him even now.

“Paris!” Panicked, she straightened and raced down the hall, down the steps. Just as before, her wings caught on the carpet. Her momentum propelled her forward, onto her face. She cringed, moaned, but two seconds after she landed, she was back on her feet and sprinting. “Paris, I’m here!”

If he continued to fight the Gargl, they would have his organs as snacks. She’d seen it happen too many times to count. And once they tasted a man’s insides, nothing and no one could stop the ensuing feast.

She quickened her step and prayed she wasn’t too late.

CHAPTER NINE

CRONUS FLASHED TO HIS private bedchamber in his favorite secret palace, gripping a puny, wretched Hunter by the scruff of his neck. The moment the wall murals appeared at his sides, a large bed crafted from the darkest ebony materializing in front of him, he shoved the Hunter to his knees, maintaining that hard grip. A thick crimson carpet kept the action from fracturing the human’s kneecaps, the only mercy the man would receive this day.

Atop the bed, chains rattled. The naked female bound to the posts spotted him and struggled to free herself. Of course, she failed. The chains were not just reinforced steel; they were mystically enhanced. And really, she only had herself to blame for her confinement. Cronus never would have captured her if she hadn’t come here with the intention of seducing and chaining him.

Had he not been in possession of the All-Key, she would have succeeded. Now, nothing could restrain him.

Grinning, he studied her. Dark hair tangled around bruised shoulders, evidence she had struggled long before his arrival. Skin usually the color of flawless cream was now amusingly sallow. When eyes a mix of crystal and crimson flashed absolute hatred at him, his grin widened.

“I will massacre you for this,” she snarled. Before he had time to respond, she calmed, returned his grin with a wicked, wanton one of her own, and purred, “But only after I play with you a bit.”

“Now, now, darling.” Cronus tsked under his tongue. If any female were capable of harming him, it was this one, but he would never admit it. “Is that any way to greet your husband of countless centuries?”

Rhea, queen of the Titans, eyed him as if he were an animal—and she wanted to wear his pelt as a victory coat. “A better way to greet you would be with a sword swinging at your neck.”

He waved his hand through the air as if he hadn’t a care, the action so patronizing it was sure to reignite the fuse of her temper. “Careful, my dearest. You’re in danger of protesting too much.”

“Argh!” With her demon, Strife, flashing ruby-colored scales and gnarled bone under the surface of her skin, she intensified her struggles. “You will pay for this.”

“So you’ve said innumerable times. Alas.” He let out a mocking sigh, barely audible over her raspy panting. “How you humiliate yourself, my heart of hearts, but do go on. My favorite part comes when you realize nothing you do, nothing you say, will aid you, and you sag in defeat.”

Despite his taunt, she did indeed continue to fight. And as his own wrists and ankles throbbed in protest, he lost his amusement. He was connected to this horrid creature. Connected in a way he could not escape.

When someone injured her, he was injured also. No matter where he was or what he was doing. Likewise, when she experienced pleasure, so did he. Yes, he always knew when she bedded another man. But then, she always knew when he bedded another woman.

Perhaps that was why they despised each other so passionately, and why they had chosen opposite sides of the war that raged between immortals and their human enemy. Cronus had aligned himself with the Lords of the Underworld, and Rhea the Hunters.

“Death is too kind for you!” she spat just before sagging against the mattress as he’d predicted, perspiration dotting every inch of her body and making her glow.

He enjoyed seeing her this way. Helpless, naked and utterly unable to protect or cover herself. She had lush breasts with lovely tawny tips. A soft belly, and even softer thighs. And once upon a time, he truly had loved her. He would have given her anything, would have given everything, to make her happy. Actually, he had given everything.