The Darkest Seduction

“I thought you were a hallucination. A memory. They’re like film reels, playing around me in a never-ending stream.”

His frown deepened, pulling those lush lips tight over perfect white teeth. “Even now?”

Her gaze darted around the room, and she could only gape. She saw crumbling stone, portraits draped by sheets, but no memories. “No. It’s just you and me.” Probably because they couldn’t steal her attention away from Paris. “Paris, I want to tell you things. About the Hunters. Things that could help you and your friends. I—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off.

“But—”

He gave an abrupt shake of his head. “No,” he reiterated.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want you to tell me anything about them.”

“But…why?” Even when she had been poised over his helpless body, moving on him, even when he had rightly blamed her for his condition, he had not peered at her with such harsh resolve. Red flickered through his eyes, those shadows once again dancing through his irises.

She didn’t have to consider the problem long before the answer slithered into place, a boa ready to suffocate its prey. He thought she would mislead him, send him straight into a trap, and there would be nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. That hurt, but then she deserved that and more.

Not knowing what else to do, she shied away from the topic. “How can you see me, hear me? Touch me? You couldn’t before.”

The red faded, the shadows stilled. His pupils did that expanding, contracting thing, taut rubber bands ready to snap.

“I learned a few tricks about the dead,” he said. “That’s all.”

And he wouldn’t share those tricks or anything else with her; his tone made that clear. An ache ignited in her heart, dropped into her stomach and guillotined every bit of happiness his presence here had wrought.

“Did you also learn how to break a curse and bust someone out of a castle they can’t leave?” she asked. Good. Back to business. Without another breakdown.

A terrible stillness came over him. “I knew you were trapped here, but I’m still not sure how.”

“Do you know where here is?” She could guess, but the answers that came to her made her sick.

“A hidden kingdom in the Titans’ section of the heavens.”

Her eyes widened. “Heavens? Really? I would have bet somewhere in hell.”

“What happens when you try to leave?”

“There’s some kind of invisible block. I approach a door or a window and I hurt, and if I remain in front of the portal for too long, I pass out. But sometimes…sometimes Wrath takes over and the blocks fall away. I end up outside the castle’s walls, not too far from here, I don’t think. And I do things. Terrible things,” she whispered. “Then I come back here, I can’t stop myself. I step inside and the blocks immediately go back up.”

He reached out as if he meant to cup her cheek, to offer comfort. Then he growled, low and guttural, and his arm dropped to his side. That made her want to erupt into a fresh round of sobbing, but she didn’t allow herself the luxury. Not even when he jerked to a stand, stalked to the window and tossed the curtains aside, the distance a great chasm between them—symbolic.

Dust wafted around him. A few tugs, and he had the pane lifted. Hot, pungent air drifted inside, stinging her nostrils. He palmed a blade, extended his arm into the darkness—and met no resistance.

Others could leave, she realized. Only she was trapped.

He slid the glass into place and spun to face her. He didn’t return to her side, but leaned back, propping himself against the wall. The bulge of his muscles stretched the black material of his T-shirt. His pants hugged his thighs—and an impressive erection.

Could he possibly…want her? The way she wanted him?

Who are you trying to fool? He’s the Lord of Sex. He probably has that reaction with everyone.

“Can you let Wrath take over your body without taking over your mind?” he asked, a catch in his voice.

She forced herself to meet his eyes as heat flashed in her cheeks. “I, uh… He takes over both, but I’ve never just let him. I don’t always win, but I always fight him.”

“Stop fighting him. Let him take over your body, but try to maintain some kind of tether to your mind.”

Her mouth fell open, snapped closed. Just like that, he wanted her to allow the being that thrived on punishing everyone to consume her, to drive her every action? “You don’t understand what would happen if I did that.”

He gave a bitter laugh that did nothing to mar his masculine perfection, and everything to enhance it. Maybe because with the unveiling of his bitterness came a need to kiss him better. “Oh, but I do.”

Yes, she supposed he must. “Wrath hurts people. I hurt people. And what if I hurt you?”

Melted steel in his eyes, bubbling from his voice. “I can take care of myself, and I want to get you out of here.”

“I want that, too.” Just not enough to risk hurting him. And really, her demon wasn’t the only—or even the worst—worry. Her eyes widened. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment? “Cronus,” she gasped out. “If you help me, Cronus will come after you. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

“Way I hear it, he’s been too busy to concern himself with me.” Paris grinned, slow and wicked. Eager. “But he and I are due a reckoning, and we’ll soon have it.”

Her hand fluttered to her throat. “Not on my account. I don’t want you—”

“Do you have any family?” he asked, interrupting her. “Anyone I can take you to once I get you out of the heavens?”

She blinked. He’d saved her, still felt desire for her if his erection was any indication, but he didn’t intend to keep her, or even be with her. He wanted to foist her off as quickly as possible. Of course. Stupid, stupid Sienna for ever hoping otherwise.

They couldn’t make anything work between them, anyway. She knew more about his demon now and knew Paris couldn’t sleep with her again, despite…that. Right? He was a one-time only joyride. Right?

“Sienna,” he snapped. “Eyes on my face. Please.”

The heat in her cheeks rose to scalding as she jerked her gaze away from his man business a second time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like a piece of meat. I was just lost in thought.”

“About my di—uh, junk?”

“Well, yes.”

His jaw dropped with the force of his astonishment, and she had to wonder why the god of sex would find such a revelation so unbelievable.

Anyway. What had he asked her before? Oh, yeah. Her family. “No. There’s no one who could take me in, no one who could even see me.” As she spoke, she looked the rest of him over. He was still cut from the Gargl, the wounds now scabbed. He had healed, but only slightly. And his skin had lost a bit of its glittery sheen. Was he weakening from lack of sex? That’s what had happened in the Hunters’ prison.

“When was the last time you had a woman?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant about a very sore subject between them.

The frost she’d seen earlier fell over his entire body. His eyelids narrowed, the gleam in those ocean-pretty irises flint hard.

“I don’t remember,” he gritted out.

The confession relieved and thrilled her, she was ashamed to admit. He was clearly hurting. “Well, I’m…uh, I’m, you know…available. For you. If you can, I mean. And if you, you know, want me and can use…that on me.” How pathetic she sounded, but she wanted to touch him again, to be with him one last time. Even if she had to reduce the act to a simple clinical procedure. “I owe you.” Or a favor between pseudo-friends.

The ice thickened, cracked, thickened again, as if a battle raged inside him. The ice won. “Really? You’re available to me? You owe me?” He popped his jaw. “Thank you for that generous offer. How could a guy like me ever refuse?”

A guy like him? “I didn’t mean—”