The Darkest Seduction

Oh, no. He wasn’t veering down that conversation path. Not with a former Hunter and a dead, though brought back to life, newly possessed whatever the hell she was. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“I did.”

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “And?”

“And he offered no response, so I decided it’s because you have to live with yourself, a punishment worse than anything Wrath could mete out.”

Miracle of miracles. The demon wasn’t tattling on him. “The answer will just have to remain a mystery, then. Oh, and a word of warning. Smart mouths really crank my chain. Keep talking dirty to me, baby.”

She rolled her eyes.

Paris inserted himself into the conversation with a hesitant, “Did he show you mine?” That he didn’t threaten William proved the depths of his uncertainty about what Wrath might have broadcast.

William had seen Paris aroused (not on purpose), playful, pissed off, blood-soaked, stubborn, drugged out, relaxed, stressed and everything in between. But he had never seen the warrior frightened. Just then, Paris was frightened, his expression haunted, his muscles knotted over bone.

“Yes,” she replied so quietly he had to strain to hear.

A taut beat of silence. “Do you want me to put you down?”

“No!” Color flooded her cheeks when she realized just how loudly she’d shouted the word. “No. I like where I am.”

From a mouse to a lioness. Adorable really, and William thought he might make a pass at her when Paris finished with her. Because, even as fierce as Paris was about her, he would let her go. Resolve had bled into the fear. Even though Paris had suspected she would not want to be touched by a man who had done the things he’d done, even though she had proven him wrong and that had to be a relief, he was determined to live without her.

“I just meant that, uh, my back hurts,” she added. “I need your support.”

“Like a good jockstrap,” William said, patting his boy on the shoulder. “But then, that’s Paris for you.”

Even with Sienna in his arms, Paris managed to give him a two-fingered salute. Mentally, of course, but William saw it all the same.

“I should have asked him to finish you off, rather than to let you go,” she muttered. Then, “Are we heading to the fifth floor?”

Ah. So she knew what was up there. “Yes.”

“Why?” Paris asked.

“You’ll see,” William replied.

Sienna opted to ruin the surprise. “Other demon-possessed immortals are up there.”

“Other demon…” Paris increased his speed, leaving William eating his dust. “Are they armed?”

“No,” she said, “but they’re trapped.”

“Show me.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” William muttered as he chased after them. One day it would be nice for someone to place him first. Not a lover, though, and not the girl who haunted his dreams. The girl he would protect with his life now and always. She wasn’t meant for him.

His one true love would die—or kill him. It had already been foretold, and there was no other option.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAREFUL TO KEEP HIS MIND on the situation at hand, rather than on his aching, needy body, Paris stopped in the center of the fifth-floor hallway. He was shocked by what he found. Only Sienna’s slight weight in his arms, her tropical, feminine scent in his nose, her silky hair brushing against his skin, grounded him.

Funny, that. The magnification of her drugging scent should have sent him flying straight into a round of withdrawal—or chewing at her neck. Instead, the need to protect her, even from himself, beat everything else.

There were three immortals up here, a female and two males. They stood at the back of their rooms, staring at him, making no moves toward him. He’d never met them, which meant he hadn’t locked them in Tartarus before his possession. Still, they were glaring at him. Did they know who he was? What he was?

I want them, Sex said.

Wow. What a shock.

A whiny I’m becoming weaker by the minute followed.

Believe me, I know. How he longed for the days when Sex retreated into the land of silence and led him simply through urges. Now, do me a solid and stuff it.

That’s what I’m trying to do!

Crude bastard.

Like Paris was really any better. Over the years Paris had slept with thousands of different people for thousands of different reasons, and not all of them had been about passion. He truly needed to take a woman, like, yesterday, and that’s one of the reasons he was here, to be with Sienna again. But he hadn’t so much as kissed her, even though he was desperate to do so, because he didn’t want to be with her for any reason but passion.

Mutual desire mattered.

She desired him, yes. At least, he was pretty sure he’d caught the scent of her arousal while she’d offered to “service” him, but he’d treated her shabbily. She’d looked at him with those sad, watery eyes, hopeful for forgiveness, and he’d snapped at her.

Damn it, he didn’t want her apology or her gratitude. Didn’t want her pity, and certainly didn’t want her to want him because of his demon’s pheromones. Had he taken her up on her offer, gratitude and pity would have been in that bed with them, as well as anger, distrust and regret. He hadn’t done the ménage thing for a long time.

Maybe he should have taken what he could get, though. Waiting was kind of stupid. Case in point—his current weakness. More than that, Sienna might not give him a second chance. She might run, as he’d feared. It was just, she wasn’t like any of the other women he’d been with, and he didn’t want to treat her as if she were.

What makes her different from the others?

The question sprang from deep within him, throwing him. She was gutsy, but so were others. She was witty, but so were others. She was sometimes sweet and sometimes spicy, but again, so were others.

Mmm, spicy.

Stupid Sex. Anyway. Sienna was also guarded, yet vulnerable. Determined, yet kind. She was willing to go to any lengths to see a mission through to the very end. Just like him. She had seen visions of his past, yet had thrown no judgment his way.

Once, Paris had asked Aeron exactly what the demon revealed in regards to him. The reply had been brutal: all the hearts you’ve broken, all the tears you’ve caused. That’s what Sienna had seen and forgiven. So, yes, she was different, and he liked those differences.

She stiffened when Paris returned to the first door from the landing. That suggested there’d been conflict between her and the man inside. So, of course, Paris studied the guy intently. He was tall, muscled and glaring more fiercely than the others, as if Paris were already tagged and under a microscope. Handsome, if you were into deeply tanned skin and freaky bicolored eyes. Not that Paris was jealous or anything.

But just how much time had the guy spent with Sienna?

“That’s Cameron. He’s the keeper of Obsession,” she said with a tremble.

A tremble born of fear…or desire? I won’t ask. I won’t. With the way they’d left things in the room, and hell, with the things Paris had done since their first parting, the answer wasn’t his business.

“Has he ever touched you?” Damn. He’d asked, and with a whole lot of force.

She looked surprised. “No. The same invisible doors that keep me inside the castle keep them imprisoned in their rooms.”