Her cleft brushed his shaft, and the rest of the blood left his brain. The moist tip of his cock even pushed past the waist of his pants. The fact that the shadows were still drifting from her, the fact that those screams were still echoing between them, failed to faze him. His desire for her was simply too great. He, too, had to have more.
Not sex, he told himself. Not yet. He still thought it would be pushing her too hard and too fast. And he wouldn't have her crying foul later, claiming he'd taken advantage of her and using that as an excuse to distance herself further.
"You're just sitting there. Hurry!"
Complaints about his performance already when she was clearly passion-drunk. He'd like to say that was a first, but couldn't. Many women had complained about his get in as fast as you can, get and give an orgasm and leave mentality. "Gideon! Obey."
"Sure, sure. Don't show me what you want first." He didn't leap into action, of course, but watched as Scarlet began kneading her own breasts, exactly as he'd yearned to do. Strands of her silky black hair fell down her shoulders and curled around her fingers, as if tickling her.
Her eyelids closed to half-mast, and her teeth chewed at her bottom lip as she reached down with one hand, past her pretty blue panties and into the wet heat of her. Gods, she was sexy. Her stomach hollowed into the most sensual navel he'd ever seen, and her thighs stretched into the hottest legs.
"That good enough for you? I showed you, damn it, now keep up your end of the bargain."
Finally, he moved. He reached out and fisted her dress, lifting the material the rest of the way over her head and then tossing it aside. "Press your knees closer together," he croaked out.
At first, she obeyed and closed her legs to him. When he applied pressure to her knees, urging them farther apart, she realized what she'd done and dropped them open. Spreading herself, eager for him. Her hips arched forward, back, beseeching him to do something, anything.
For a moment, he luxuriated in the image of her. He'd seen her like this before. He knew it, to his very soul he knew it. For this image didn't seem new, but somehow a part of him. Deep inside, hidden but there. Yet, when he tugged those panties aside, pushed her fingers from the place he wanted to be and lowered his head, when he traced his tongue up the slick heat of her, the taste of her was new. He had absolutely no memory of it.
And what a shame. Nothing had ever tasted as sweet, as heady. She filled his mouth, invaded each of his senses, branded his every cell.
"Gideon. Please. Please, please, please." Scarlet. "More. Now!" Her demon. Funny that he could tell the difference between them already.
But he needed no more urging. He lay on his belly, his face right between her legs, and did everything his fevered brain had been imagining since he'd discovered her in his dungeon. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled, he tongued her in the sweetest possible way, sinking deep, savoring every drop of her.
When that wasn't enough, his fingers joined the play. First one, then two. Three stretched her, and he was afraid he was hurting her, so he took his time, letting her become used to him. And when she did, she rode those fingers with complete abandon, arching into him, tugging on his hair, clawing at his scalp. Again, he loved it. Couldn't get enough. Wanted it to last forever.
Wanted to do more. Do everything. Things he'd only ever dreamed of doing to others but hadn't been able to do because of his demon. Wicked things, things most women would probably shy away from. Hell, things most men would probably shy away from. But he was a warrior who had seen and done things most people couldn't comprehend. He'd lived for a long, long time and normal had grown yawn-inducing.
Perhaps Scarlet would have let him do everything he wished. Perhaps she even would have enjoyed it. She'd lived a long time, too. But with her past, having spent so many centuries as a slave, she might have hated it. Either way, now wasn't the time, he reminded himself.
This was about getting each other off while reassuring her that he wouldn't do more until she was ready. Mentally as well as physically. That she could trust him. With her body. Her secrets.
A lie? Suddenly, he didn't know anymore.
"Gideon, Gideon. Yes, like that. Don't stop. What you're doing...gods, I love it."
More decadent words had never been spoken. She was getting close, her body tensing, readying for completion.
Not without me, he thought. Though he wanted her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him, maybe even cupping and pulling at his testicles, he fisted himself. As he began licking her once again, he worked his shaft up and down, his grip strong, the glide sure and wet from her. Gods, yes. That was good.
He sank his tongue deep, just as he had done with his fingers, and just like that, she erupted. Her inner walls clamped down on him, holding him captive. Her knees squeezed his temples, hard, and he thought his skull might crack. He didn't care. He'd done that to her; he'd given her that pleasure. He'd pushed her over the edge of control.
Pride and possessiveness poured through him as he tasted the sweetness of her orgasm. His strokes on his cock increased in speed, in intensity, and he shot up, over her, keeping himself from crushing her with one hand flattened beside her shoulder. Her eyes were still at half-mast, and she was panting. Sweat glistened on her brow, and there was a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her swollen mouth. Her nipples were still hard, even though an air of absolute satisfaction radiated from her.
Mine, he thought, and then he, too, was hurtling over the edge, jetting hot seed onto her stomach. Perhaps he should have angled away from her, but he wouldn't have been able to turn away if a sword had been poised at his throat. His gaze was too busy drinking her in, and yeah, he liked the thought of his seed on her. Like a brand. It was only fair, after all. Her essence was inside him, swimming through him.
Now he collapsed on her, crushing her, unable to help himself, the last drop having emptied him out completely. He had no energy left. He couldn't quite catch his breath, and the only thing his mind wanted to do was to relive what had just happened. The sights, the sounds, the taste, the feel.
It was probably the same for her, her mind caught up in what had happened, her heart softening toward him. He could ask her anything now, and she'd tell him the truth; he was sure of it.
"Get off me, you big lug," Scarlet said, shoving him aside.
Wait. What?
Surprised by her vehemence, he rolled to his back, looking up at her as she stood. The shadows were no longer pulsing around her, and the screams of pain had died. She kept her back to him as she marched to the bubbling spring. It was too dark to see the nuances of her tattoos.
Next time, I'll kiss those tattoos. But oh, he could see the contours of her ass, and damn. Three words: Per. Fec. Tion. Firm, made for cupping. Why didn't I cup her?
He'd concentrated on her fun zone, and lost focus on everything else. Next time, he thought again.
Without a word, she entered the water and sank to her shoulders. That's when she finally faced him, though her gaze never quite touched him.
"You've got a, uh, slow recovery time," he told her. He sat up and scrubbed a hand through his tangled hair.
"Well, there wasn't much to recover from," she replied tartly.
His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in affront. The little brat had really gone there, not so subtly telling him the experience hadn't been good for her. She was lying. Of course. And he didn't need his demon to tell him that. (Which the bastard did not.) She'd enjoyed the hell out of herself. She'd writhed and screamed. She'd begged for more, damn it.
Scowling, he jumped to a standand pretended he'd tripped when his knees almost gave out. Apparently, he hadn't recovered. Motions stiff, jerky, he removed the tattered remains of his shirt and shoved his pants to his ankles.
Shit, he thought, seeing himself. His anger drained. He was still wearing his boots. What kind of lover wore his boots when tasting a woman for the first time?
He kicked those off, nearly falling on his face again, and stepped out of his jeans. He removed his weapons, too, all ten thousand of them, it seemed, strapped over every inch of him. Naked, unabashed, he strode to the spring and settled in beside her. Steam rose, the mist like glitter as it danced in the air. The hot water caressed his tired muscles.
"What are you doing? You weren't invited." Scarlet swam to the other side, putting as much distance between them as she could. Yet nothing could have separated their gazes. They were now locked together in a heated clash of wills. At least her eyes were black now, rather than red.
"I could have done a lot less to you, you know," he grumbled. "Where's my no thanks?"
"Your no thanks is right here." She flipped him off with absolute relish. "And yes, I know you could have done a lot more to me." Her hand fell back into the water, and her head tilted to the side, her study of him intensifying. "Why didn't you?" Soft, whispered.
A loaded question, and far worse than "Do I look fat in these pants?" There was no way to answer without damning himself. You weren't ready would be met with How do you know what I'm ready for; you don't even know me. Or the lie I didn't want to do more, which was what he'd have to give her, would be met with Neither did I or a thousand questions about whether or not he now remembered her.
Time to change the subject. "Why don't you stay there?" As he spoke, he crooked a finger at her.
Stubborn, she shook her head. But she said, "I will, thank you."
A muscle ticked below his eye. He wanted to hold her, damn it. Wanted to wrap his arms around her and snuggle her close. He wanted to, well, bask in her. Because that would thaw her out. Of course.
"You didn't know what I meant, Scar."
"Look," she said, strength weaving itself into her tone. Her butterfly necklace sparkled as a ray of amber moonlight fought its way past the canopy of leaves above them. "What happened, happened. We can't undo it, but we can take steps to ensure it doesn't happen again."
He could only gape at her. Why the hell would they want to do that?
"We just don't need to go down that road again," she continued, as if she were reading his mind. "It didn't end well the first time and it would only end worse the second."
"You can know that for sure." He straightened, meaning to close the distance himself and shake her. She was too determined, too sure of herself.
She kicked out a foot, flattening it against his chest, and stopped him. "Stay where you are." The red reappeared in her eyes, matching the glimmering ruby in her necklace.
So. The demon wasn't too far from the surface now, after all. But Nightmares had seemed to like him, and had certainly wanted him. Did that mean Scarlet was battling her body'sand her demon'sneeds, even now?
Pensive, Gideon settled back against the rocks. But when Scarlet tried to remove her foot, he grabbed her by the ankle and held on.
"Let me go. Oh, gods. Don't let go. Don't you dare let go."
He'd pressed his thumb into her arch, massaging. If he couldn't shake her without a fight, he'd settle for disarming her. Her head fell back against the rocky wall behind her, and the harder he worked, the more she gasped.
"I'm not trying here," he told her. Damn, but he'd never tried so hard. "To remember, to make amends, to make something work."
While continuing to gasp in pleasure, she said, "You don't want me. Not really. You want answers."
He couldn't deny it. He did want answers. But with every second that passed, he wanted her more. "To part is to die," he said, and because it was a liethough he almost wished it wasn'the wasn't struck with pain and weakness.
"Stupid words that mean nothing."
He felt that way, yeah, a little bit, but her memories were intact. She shouldn't. He tried not to let his irritation and frustration show. "Give me nothing." Something. "Just a little nothing." Anything.
A long moment passed in silence. He continued to rub her foot, and she continued to enjoy, but she didn't speak. He thought she meant to ignore him. But then, finally, she sighed, so many emotions tangled in that heavy exhalation.
"Once, you were delivering a prisoner to Tartarus. An immortal who had tried to kill Zeus in order to claim the heavenly throne for himself. Before you could get him locked inside one of the cells, you noticed that I was fighting a goddess." Her brow furrowed. "I can't remember who it was, only that she was tall and blond."
That could be any one of thousands. "Please, don't go on."
"She was...winning." The furrow deepened, and Scarlet frowned. "That doesn't feel right. I mean, in my mind I can see her holding me down and scratching me, but the image feels...wrong. I'm not making any sense." She waved a hand through the air, droplets of water dripping off and splashing. "Anyway, you noticed us and released the prisoner to rush to me. While you pulled the goddess off me and helped me to my feet, the new prisoner tried to escape. You ran after him, and all the gods and goddesses inside my cell tried to escape, as well. I held them back while you captured the male because I didn't want you to get into trouble."
Wow. She could have run herself, but she hadn't. For him, she'd stayed. The knowledge was...humbling. If she spoke true, that is. Why the fucking hell couldn't Lies tell with her? "And what didn't the gods and goddesses do in retaliation?" They wouldn't have let that kind of betrayal go. She'd stopped them from gaining their freedom; they would have punished her. Severely.
She shrugged, deceptively cavalier. "I told you one thing, as you asked. That's all you get."
Damn it. The story had only whetted his appetite for more. "Seems like you haven't endured a lot of pain to be with me. Why would you not do that?"
"None of your business." Once again, she didn't pretend to misunderstand what he was saying and his respect and admiration for her grew. Along with his frustration.
"Don't tell me, and I won't give you a boon. Anything you don't want." Without a doubt, she'd ask for liberation. He'd give it to her, because damn, he just couldn't lie to her anymore, and then he would catch her again. Lock her away as planned.
It was necessary, he reminded himself. She was dangerous, could destroy him and everyone he loved. He'd remind himself of those facts until the word necessary was simply a part of him, as vital as breathing.
Her interest perked. "A boon to be named later?"
"No."
She tugged her foot from his clasp and gave him the other one. He tried not to smile as he set to work, massaging this arch in turn. So quietly demanding. So adorable.
Necessary.
"All right, yes," she said. "I'll tell you." She licked her lips, averted her gaze and peered up at the heavens. "Just...give me a minute."
"A minute" turned out to be eleven. Not that he was counting every damn second.
The suspense was killing him, though he suspected what she was going to say. I risked punishment because I loved you. Part of him wanted to hear the words, even if that made him a sadist. The other part of him really wanted to hear the words. Even if that made him a masochist. She didn't feel that way now, and it wouldn't end well for her if she did. A thought that left him hollow and sick.
Fucking necessary.
"Are you sure you want to know?" she finally asked, hesitant yet hopeful. "The knowledge will change you, and not for the better."
Couldn't be "I love you," then. Her expression was so troubled, he'd never seen its like. Dread coursed through him and his fingers stopped moving. He sat up straighter, his gaze trying to burrow into her soul. "No. Don't tell me. Don't tell me now."
She gulped. "Gideon. We...you and I...we had...a son. We had a son, and his name was Steel."
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMUN, KEEPER of the demon of Secrets, lounged in a plastic lawn chair in the middle of the thriving green forest surrounding his home. He had a battery-operated mister in front of him and a cooler of ice-cold beer beside him. Alcohol didn't do much for immortals, but he liked the taste anyway.
Overhead, the sun was shining so brightly, a few thousand amber rays managed to seep through the thick treetop canopy and directly onto his skin. And yeah, he had a lot of exposed skin. He'd come out here clad in his swim trunks and a smile.
When he closed his eyes, it was easy to pretend he was on a beach. Alone. He did this as often as possible; it was his time away from people and the secrets they could never hide from him, no matter how hard they tried. Secrets his demon was always desperate to unearth, always prowling through their heads to find, listening to their thoughts. Thoughts Amun then heard himself.
That was hard enough, but bearable. If that had been his only ability, he thought he might have been able to live a normal life. But his demon could also steal those memories, each new voice joining the thousands of others already floating through his head, increasing in volume until finally blending with his own, so that he could no longer distinguish which were truly his.
It was as if he had lived the life of the person whose memories he took. Whether that life was goodor utterly horrific.
Swiping thoughts was something Amun hated to do, but sometimes it was necessary. Learning what your enemy knew and had planned could win a battle. Making that enemy forget could win a war. So, though he hated it, he would use his demon in that way without hesitation. And had, over and over again.
A woman's giggling snagged his attention, and he opened his eyes. He didn't have to see her to know who was approaching his hideaway. Olivia, the angel. Aeron was in hot pursuit of her.
Amun could already hear their thoughts.
Gods, her laugh is sexy as hell.
If I use my wings, he won't be able to catch me, and I really want him to catch me. Almost...got...her...
He's almost got me!
A panting, grinning Olivia broke through the bush, spotted Amun and grabbed the dagger strapped to the outside of her thigh beneath her robe. When she realized who he was, she stopped, relaxed and waved.
Not expecting her sudden pause, Aeron rushed through the bush a second later and slammed into her, propelling them both to the ground. Aeron twisted midway, taking the brunt of the fall. But Olivia's glorious white wings spread and flapped, easing their momentum, and they settled gently on a bed of leaves.
"Got you at last, sweetheart," Aeron said with a mock growl, attempting to kiss her.
"Aeron," Olivia protested, gaze darting to Amun. "We have company."
"Company?" The warrior popped to his feet, already reaching for his own weapon, as well as flipping Olivia to her stomach, doubtless to protect her vital organs. When he saw Amun, he, too, relaxed. And, if Amun wasn't mistaken, he blushed. "Hey."
Hey, Amun signed. He would have loved to greet his friend properly, would have loved to talk with him, but Amun knew too well the dangers of opening his mouth while all those voices fought for release. One word, and they would overrun him. They would smash through his defenses and become all that he knew. Everyone around him would then hear what he was forced to listen to on a daily basis.
He loved his friends too much to subject them to such poison. Besides, he was used to it. They were not.
Aeron helped Olivia to her feet and brushed the leaves and twigs from her gleaming white robe. "What are you doing here?"
Again, Amun signed his reply.
Aeron just watched him blankly. The warrior was learning the language, but wasn't proficient yet. "Slow down, please."
"He said he's on a mini-vacation," Olivia supplied.
Amun nodded to let Aeron know the female was correct.
"We'll go, then," Aeron said.
Stay. Please. Olivia had no secrets, no sins, something Amun adored about her. She was the most open, honest and innocent person Amun had ever met. And Aeron, well, Amun already knew all of his secrets. They were nothing new to his demon, therefore his demon remained dormant while in the warrior's presence.
Their thoughts, though, were another matter. Amun was helpless to do anything but listen to what went on inside their heads. To him, it was as if they were speaking aloud. Aeron thought, How can I get out of here without hurting his feelings? And Olivia thought, How sad Amun looks. I should cheer him up.
"We would love to stay with you," Olivia replied, and clasped Aeron's hand.
The former keeper of Wrath scowled at her. Clearly, he'd wanted to spend the next few hours rolling around with her, naked, not talking with Amun.
Amun tried not to grin. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than this time alone, it was teasing his friends. He didn't get to do it often, as quiet as he had to be, so he worked with what he was given.
Thank you. I would love to spend time with you.
"Then we shall spend as much as you'll allow us," Olivia responded happily.
Aeron's scowl deepened, and Amun fought a laugh. As Olivia tucked her wings into her back, she led the shirtless warrior toward Amun's chair and gave him a little push.
He settled with a heavy sigh, his many guns and daggers clanking together. Once, Aeron's entire body had been a canvas of tattoos. Dark tattoos of death and violence to remind himself of the things he'd done, and the things he might do again if he wasn't careful. But not too long ago, Aeron had been killed and miraculously brought back to life. His resurrected body was tattoo-free.
Or had been.
Aeron had already begun decorating himself again. This time, however, the images were almost comical. Olivia's name claimed the spot just above his heart, and her face was etched in perfect detail on his wrist. He even had black wings tattooed on his back, reminiscent of the wings he'd lost during his transformation.
"Oh, is that beer?" Olivia clapped excitedly as she settled on Aeron's lap. Her dark curls bounced around her shoulders, intermittently hiding and revealing the glittery flower petals woven throughout. "I've always wanted to try beer."
Amun shoved the cooler away from her, even as Aeron shouted, "No! No trying beer." Then, more calmly, "Sweetheart. No. Please."
Too well did they recall the last time Olivia had indulged with alcohol. Without a doubt, she was the world's saddest drunk.
A huff escaped her. "Fine. I won't taste it."
Aeron relaxed. Maybe because he had no idea she planned to guzzle it instead of taste it.
Before she could reach for a bottle, Amun clapped for her attention. You look very pretty today. And she did. Her cheeks were rosy, and her sky-blue eyes bright. Love radiated from her.
"Thank you," she replied, beaming up at him.
"What'd he say?" Aeron demanded.
"He thinks I look very pretty."
The warrior's lips pursed. "I told you that a few minutes ago and you ran from me."
"But I was going to reward you when you caught me."
The warrior's narrowing violet eyes landed on Amun. Why'd you have to be here? he thought, knowing Amun heard. Now I have to wait for my reward. "So. Do you come here often?" he said aloud.
Trying to appear somber, Amun nodded.
That violet gaze shifted, perusing their surroundings. "I can see why. It's nice here. Peaceful."
Which was one of the reasons Olivia had chosen to lead him down this path. She'd wanted her man to forget his troubles, if only for a little while, and simply enjoy.
A paradise, certainly, Amun signed.
"But aren't you worried about Hunters sneaking up on you?" Olivia asked, and seemed to sink into herself. Hate was not part of her makeup, he knew, but she didn't like the pain those men had brought her man.
Were you?
She blushed, and Aeron choked on what seemed to be a bout of laughter. That, he'd apparently understood.
Actually, with the iron fence around the property and Torin having this place monitored 24/7, I'm not worried about anything but relaxation.
Torin, keeper of Disease. The poor man couldn't touch anyone skin-to-skin without infecting them with some sort of sickness. Of course, that sickness wouldn't kill immortals, but it would infect them and they in turn would infect everyone they touched. Therefore, Torin spent most of his time alone in his room.
Well, not so alone anymore.
Amun had picked up on his thoughts, as well as Cameo's. Cameo was keeper of Misery, and the two had been engaged in a passionate affair of You-can't-touch-me-but-you-can-watch-me-while-I-pretend-you-are for weeks. Both knew it wouldn't last, but they were enjoying the hell out of each other right now. So much so that Amun often wanted to cut off his own skull and dig out his brain, just for a few moments of peace.
"We really didn't mean to intrude on your relaxation time," Aeron said. "So we'll just be on our"
What's mine is yours.
Aeron's shoulders slumped, and Amun fought another laugh.
"Yeah, but my darling is right. You deserve to relax in peace. So why don't you take half the forest, and we'll take the other half? No, that won't work," she rushed on. "We'll just stress about the dividing line."
Silly woman.
"Oh, I know. We can work out a schedule." Olivia grinned, proud of herself. "Something like, you get Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and we get Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Or I get every day, since I've already staked a claim. And you can visit me upon occasion.
"Or you thank us for allowing you even those three days," Aeron retorted when Olivia translated. "Otherwise, we might spill your secret and then every last person living in the fortress will start coming here."
Amun flipped him off, a sign that needed no interpreting.
The booming laugh that next escaped his friend was like soothing balm to his ears. Before Olivia, and the events that led to Aeron's death, Aeron had never exhibited such merriment. He'd been very much like Amun projected himself to be. And, truthfully, most often was. Somber. Sorrowful. Almost grief-stricken.
What's it like? Living without a demon? So many centuries had passed, Amun barely remembered how it had been, living in the heavens, carefree and without interference.
"Honestly?" Aeron leaned back until his shoulders were resting against a tree trunk. He pulled Olivia with him, and helped her curl herself around him. "Amazing. There's no voice in the back of my head, beseeching me to do terrible things. There's no urge to hurt or maim or kill. But it's also...odd. I hadn't realized how much I'd come to rely on the bastard, uh, fiendsorry, sweetheartfor information about people. I'm having to relearn how to read people's intentions."
Amun knew that, because of Wrath, the warrior had sensed a person's sins the moment he'd neared them. He'd then become filled with a need to punish them, hurting them the way they'd hurt others.
You'll adapt.
"Soon, I hope."
"The good news is that he's not as moody," Olivia added.
Lips twitching, Aeron kissed the tip of her nose. "All thanks to you, sweetheart."
"You're welcome."
Amun's heart gave a little lurch. In happiness for what his friend had found. And yes, in jealousy. He wanted a female of his own. Desperately. He'd found one he could have enjoyed, too. Kaia, a Harpy. She was a liar and a thief, but she was open about it, her sins there for everyone to see. She kept no secrets.
But she'd also slept with Paris, keeper of Promiscuity and one of Amun's closest friends. Not that Paris wanted her again or could have her even if he did. Once Paris slept with a woman, he couldn't get hard for her again. That was part of his curse. But while Amun knew the little Harpy was intrigued by him, he also knew she would not be settling down anytime soon. And Amun wanted forever.
With other women, human women, well, it was too difficult. He knew what they were thinking every minute of every day. He knew when they found another man attractive. He knew when they said something nice to him but were thinking something cruel.
Aeron sighed, drawing his attention back to the present. I'm here. I might as well ask him, the warrior thought.
Amun straightened. He'd known Aeron would approach him sooner or later with the coming question, but hadn't known how to respond. He still didn't. Don't ask me, he signed. Not yet.
A muscle ticked beneath his friend's eye. "I hate when you read my mind."
Then conceal your thoughts. He didn't think there was a way to do so, though. No one had ever managed such a feat.
"I can't," Aeron confirmed. "Which means you already know that Olivia and I are leaving tomorrow."