The Darkest Craving

She couldn’t make out his features, could only see the red glow of his eyes. Who was he? What was he? Would he be friend or foe? Was he guarding Pandora’s box? Trying to prevent her from destroying it?

With so little muscle mass, he’d never stand a chance.

Find Viola. Find him.

Footsteps echoed inside the room. Hinges on the door creaked.

Maddox stormed inside, violent anger radiating from him. “Don’t you dare—”

She grabbed the Rod before he could finish his sentence, just in case, and felt the coldness of the crystal against her skin.

And then she knew nothing more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Séduire

CURRENTLY, JOSEPHINA WAS the ketchup in a beefcake sandwich. Two palace guards held her in a viselike grip, preventing her from running away. They were beautiful men, tall and strong—though not as tall and strong as Kane—with looks typical of the Fae. Each had white hair, blue eyes, pale skin and red lips. They wore fitted violet overcoats, and had several medals pinned along their shoulders. Their pants were white, without a speck of dirt, and practically painted on. Black boots stretched to their knees.

Oh, yes. They were beautiful men, but they were the proud owners of cold, dead hearts. They knew what would happen to her, but wouldn’t let her go. They held her all the tighter.

So close to freedom, she thought, fighting a wave of despair. And yet here I am.

At least the hatred and evil she’d borrowed from Kane had left her and returned to him.

The royal dais loomed in front of her. King Tiberius sat upon a lavish throne carved from a single block of the purest gold, his hand curled around the center of a bejeweled scepter. On his right was a smaller throne, and perched there was the elegant Queen Penelope. On his left was yet another throne, this one for the flawless Princess Synda.

Behind the trio was a higher tier. Higher, yet still it seemed the area was nothing more than an afterthought. There sat Prince Leopold. Even as much as he claimed to want her, he’d wasted no time escorting Josephina to the guards and abandoning her to their “care.”

The Opulens stood behind her. Dressed in their finest, they had gathered here to watch her newest chastisement. The women wore elaborate gowns with fitted bodices and wide, flaring skirts. Bold makeup decorated their faces, the colors dusted with diamond powder. Their hair was partially hidden by large, bejeweled headdresses that fanned out to form half-moons. Metal necklaces circled their throats and dripped beads down their shoulders and cleavage.

The men wore velvet jackets in every color imaginable, metal pieces sewn into the shoulders, elbows and hem. Their trousers were looser than what the guards wore, but still managed to mold to hard-won strength.

In Séduire, beauty mattered more than brains and clothing mattered more than food. Political intrigues were always in full swing. An open mouth was a lying mouth. Power was just as valuable as cash. Lust, greed and torture were always on the menu.

Josephina hated it here.

Every Fae wielded some type of extraordinary ability—though she actually wielded two—but some were better than others. The king was doubly gifted, like Josephina, able to bequeath abilities to others, as well as form a protective shield around his body. The queen had the power to touch an object and know its complete history. Leopold could cause pain in others with a single spoken word.

Any ability Synda possessed had been buried when she’d obtained the demon. Josephina had heard stories, though, and thought her half sister had once been able to turn any inanimate object into gold.

The king looked Josephina over with those eyes of crystal blue. Oh, how she despised the color. She much preferred Kane’s eyes, jade and amber—and she had to stop thinking about him, didn’t she? Their association was over. She wouldn’t be seeing him again. He wouldn’t want to see her. Not after what she’d done to him.

Regret clawed at her. Already she mourned the loss of him. The strong, beautiful warrior who’d come to save her.

A small cry parted her lips.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself, Servant Josephina?” King Tiberius demanded. “You caused us all kinds of trouble.”

“Yes, you should be on your knees right now,” Queen Penelope said, flicking an invisible piece of lint from the skirt of her dress. “Begging for our forgiveness.”

Ignoring the burn of rejection accompanying those words, Josephina kept her gaze on her father. Though he was hundreds of years old, he looked almost as young as she was. He had silver-white hair, unblemished skin, and enough muscle to snap the bones of any man.

“I’m angry with you, girl. You didn’t return on your own. You had to be hunted, wasting time, energy and resources.”

“I was being chased by demons.” It was the truth.

He flicked his tongue over an incisor. “Excuses aren’t to be tolerated.”

She gulped, and wisely kept her mouth shut.

“However, I am feeling benevolent, and will not punish you. This time. But if you ever again try to deprive my precious daughter of her blood rights, whatever the reason, I’ll be forced to hobble you for the rest of your life.”

I’m your precious daughter, too, her heart cried. The only difference was, the queen wasn’t her mother.

Murmurs of excitement erupted behind her. The people wanted to see her hobbled.

The queen petted the ribbon of fur hanging from the collar of her gown. “We sent guards to await you at the exit to hell. Did you kill them?”

“No. The demons must have done it, because there was no one waiting for me.”

“Ugh. Demons,” said Princess Synda.

Josephina met her sister’s gaze.

The girl blinked. All innocence. Zero remorse.

A quintessential Fae, Synda had her white curls twined with a wide, arching headdress of crystal spears. Her luminous eyes were framed by sharp sweeps of sapphire shadow, and currently without any hint of the red the demon caused when it acted up. Her cheeks were brushed with the dust of rubies, and her lips with the flakes of diamonds.

She displayed moments of utter sweetness, like now, followed by looong stretches of utter nastiness. She obeyed no rules, not even her own, and always acted without thought or concern for anything or anyone.

Josephina was younger by several hundred years, and at the time of her birth, Synda already contained the demon. The stories she’d heard about the princess’s past, about what the female had been like before the possession, had shocked her. Apparently, there had been no one more kind, concerned and happy.

How much had Disaster changed Kane?

You’re thinking about him again.

Tiberius slammed the scepter into the floor, a loud boom shaking the entire room. “You will concentrate on the proceedings, Servant Josephina, or I’ll have to make an example out of you.”

“Maybe she likes it when you punish her,” the queen said with an evil grin. “Maybe that’s why she tempts you to give her more.”

Josephina shuddered. “Just … let me go. Please.”

The king leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Have I not been good to you? Have I not given you a home? A worthy purpose?”

The queen smirked.

Synda selected a pastry from the tray beside her.

Leopold shook his head in regret.

I won’t cry. Not again.

Tiberius sighed. “Take her to the dungeon. I can see the desire to run in your eyes, girl. You will be locked away until you’ve realized how well I’ve treated you—and how much worse it can be for you.”

The Opulens cheered.

She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it with a snap. Speaking after judgment had been handed down would only earn her further chastisement.

As she was dragged away, she heard another guard say to the king, “Two immortal warriors were following Servant Josephina. We left them in the forest, but placed a tracker on their equipment. What would you have us do with them?”

Though she didn’t hear the king’s answer, Josephina mewled with dismay.

THE WHOOSH OF a whip sounded, followed by screams of pain. Josephina flinched as every blow landed on the man on the other side of the crumbling stone wall.

Her poor arms were chained over her head, her fingers ice-cold from pitiable circulation. Once again she was sandwiched between two men. Only, these two weren’t guards. They were prisoners, like her, and they’d made the grievous mistake of owning land the king wanted for himself.

They, too, had their arms chained over their heads, but they were either unconscious or dead. They had been deprived of food for so long, their bodies were emaciated. And they had gone unwashed for years. Oh, the stench …

Footsteps pounded, and the dungeon master stalked around the corner. Prince Leopold smiled at her, genuine affection gleaming in his crystalline eyes. Like Princess Synda, he had curling white hair. Unlike Synda, he was tall, taller than their father, and leanly toned. Eligible Opulens were always drooling and panting for him.

He stopped in front of Josephina and pinched a lock of her hair between his blood-splattered fingers. “Did you miss me, little flower?” he asked, warm breath fanning over her face.

“Not even a bit,” she replied truthfully. “If you want the brutal truth of the matter, it was my hope we’d never see each other again.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, a testament of his anger. First point, Servant Josephina. “Give yourself to me, and the king will no longer use you as Synda’s substitute.”

I’d rather die—obviously. “Even if that were true, which it’s not, my answer would be the same—never. Does that work for you?”

His lashes fused together, leaving only tiny slits. “Why don’t you want me? I’m desirable.”

Where to begin? Oh, yeah. “You’re my brother.”

“Only by blood.”

Was that all? “Well, you disgust me. How about that?”

He leaned in. “I would be good to you. Very, very good.”

She stiffened, gritting out, “Stop. I’m not interested.”

“Just give me a chance.”

Josephina turned her head away. Her body ached in the worst way. Her mind was foggy from hunger. She couldn’t deal with him right now.

He took her chin in a firm grip and returned her attention to him. “I could force you. You know that, don’t you?”

If he’d wanted her that way, he would have taken her years ago.

She remembered the first day they’d come into contact outside the throne room. She’d been walking through the royal garden, plucking the prettiest of the flowers for her mother. Back then, her mother had been the king’s favored concubine and Josephina had been free to do as she pleased—when she wasn’t being punished for Synda’s crimes, of course.

Yes, the king had used her that way even then, despite her mother’s protests.

Leopold had just achieved his immortality, never to physically age again, and he had been celebrating in the garden with two female slaves. Josephina had stumbled upon the group, seen them doing things that still made her blush; he’d heard her startled gasp and looked up. She’d backed away, afraid he would tell his mother she was a spy, and the queen would have her whipped. Again.

But Leopold had smiled, commanded Josephina to stay where she was, then righted his clothing and sent the females on their way. He’d gently teased her about her blush, picked up the flowers she’d dropped and gallantly presented them to her, as if she were an Eligible and worthy of his attention.

For the next few years, he’d met with her often, purposely, talking with her, laughing with her, and for the first time in her life, Josephina had felt a kinship with someone other than her mother.

But the day Josephina had achieved her own immortality, though so much more fragile than those of full blood, the focus of Leopold’s attention had changed. He’d gone from brotherly to amorous, charming to persistent, and had even tried to kiss her. At the time, she’d run away from him.

He’d been chasing her ever since.

Things had never been the same between them, and never would.

“You won’t,” she said, confident.

The prisoner across from her snickered over her continued rejection.

Leopold’s cheeks reddened the slightest degree. He released her and stomped over to the offender. Rather than rain his fists in a fury of punishment, he tilted his head to the side and said, “Agony.”

The man screamed in sudden anguish, his entire body shaking. Blood soon leaked from his eyes, his nose, and the corners of his mouth.

“Stop!” Josephina cried. “Stop it, Leopold! Please.”

He did. When the man was dead.

Bile burned her chest, and collected in her throat.

Leopold spun to eye every male in chains. “Anyone else have anything to say?”

Only the rattle of chains could be heard.

The scowling prince locked gazes with Josephina, spit on the ground at her feet. “It’s only a matter of time before Princess Synda commits another crime. You’ll be whipped in her place. Or worse. Let me protect you.”

“Even if you could save me, I’d never consider you the better choice,” she replied raggedly.

“We’ll see about that. I leave to capture the men hunting you. One of the imperial guards will be in charge of your care. I doubt he’ll be as gentle.” With that, he stalked from the dungeon.

A bitter laugh escaped her. Kane had wondered why she wanted to die. Kane had wanted to know what he could do to help her. Well, here was why. And clearly, there was nothing he could do. Just as she’d known.

There was nothing anyone could do.

But I can help him, she thought. She could use the second ability she possessed and warn Kane about the tracker the guards had placed in his equipment. That way, when they found him, he wouldn’t be caught unaware. He could fight. And he could win. Or run.

It was the least she could do, and had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to see him again. Really.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Texas

The Teaze

ROCK MUSIC POUNDED through the nightclub, shaking the floor, rattling the walls. Strobe lights flashed all the colors of the rainbow and spun, creating a dizzying kaleidoscope that somehow lowered inhibitions. Immortal men and women flailed on the dance floor, walked the aisles in search of fresh prey, or sat at the tables, flirting in between throwing back shots of the beauty maker.

The world might be ugly before you drank a glass of ambrosia-laced whiskey, but it sure was beautiful afterwards. At least for a little while.

Kane wanted to leave, memories of the last time he’d been inside a nightclub playing through his mind, sickening him, but he’d texted Torin for information about Tinker Bell, and for some reason, the warrior had sent him here.

As usual, William was off trolling for women.

Kane pushed a vampire out of the chair he wanted, and claimed a place at the bar. The guy didn’t protest, just took one look at him and rushed away. Kane ordered a shot of the beauty maker. Anything to dull his riotous emotions.

Where was Tinker Bell?

Was she okay? Safe?

She no longer had custody of Disaster—if that’s what had happened, and he suspected it was. There was no other explanation. The demon had come roaring back to Kane a few hours after he’d left the forest. He’d been disappointed for himself, but relieved for her. He didn’t like the thought of such a delicate half immortal going against such evil.

But at least he had an answer to one of his questions now. The Greeks had indeed lied. The demon wasn’t as much a part of him as his lungs and his heart. Kane couldn’t survive a single moment without the organs, but he could survive a few hours without Disaster. Maybe more.

Hate you, Disaster growled.

Assure you, the feeling’s mutual.

One of the legs on his chair snapped, and he nearly hit the floor. He brutally kicked the broken stool out of the way, and decided to stand.

“About time you got here,” a female said.

His gaze snapped to the left, where a tall, lithe blonde stood. She was exquisite, with long hair that tumbled to a perfectly curved waist and snow-white skin covered in makeup to mute its luminous power. Blue eyes held his stare without wavering or fear.

She’s mine, Disaster shouted. All mine.

Kane ground his molars together. Just how many “mines” were they supposed to have?

“Taliyah Skyhawk,” he acknowledged. She was Sabin and Strider’s sister-in-law, as well as a Harpy known for her cold-as-ice demeanor. “You knew I was coming?”

“Torin gave me a heads-up.”

His focus sharpened on her. Well, okay, then. “You got info for me?”

She motioned to the bartender, and waited, silent, for a bottle of vodka to be slid in front of her, as if Kane weren’t suddenly vibrating with impatience. “This belongs to him,” she said, hitching her thumb in his direction.

Knowing Harpies couldn’t eat or drink anything without stealing or earning it, he threw a few bills on the counter without complaint. “Anytime would be great, Tal.”

She drank straight from the bottle, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and faced him, her expression impassive. “There’s a Phoenix chasing your Fae. Her name’s Petra, and she’s a vicious little troll.”

Not exactly a news flash. “So, how did you know that?”

“You remember when my friend Neeka the Unwanted was given to the Phoenix, even though she’s a Harpy, to save my sister? Well, little Neeka keeps getting stolen from different clans—everyone wants a piece of her, which is so wonderfully ironic, considering her name. She gets bored between travels and spies for me. I knew the stuff about Petra would be important to you because my sisters told me about your encounter with the Fae.”

Sabin and Strider were such pansy blabbermouths.

“Anyway,” Taliyah continued. “The rest of the information is going to cost you.”

He arched a brow, saying, “How much?” Whatever the price, he’d pay it.

“I want the fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows.”

A thirty-thousand-square-foot monstrosity for a few words? A fair exchange, in his opinion. He wasn’t sure his friends would agree. “There’s a problem. The place isn’t mine to give.”

Taliyah drained the rest of the bottle with a grace matched by few. “Too bad. It would have been nice doing business with you, Kane. See you.” She walked away from him without another word.

Coldhearted. As always.

Kane leaped into action, dragging her back to the bar—and she let him. She had more at stake than she wanted him to believe, then. “It’s yours,” he said to her. “The fortress is yours. When do you want it?”

Winter-blue eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Three months and two days from now. No sooner, no later.”

“Fine. I’ll kick my friends out myself.”

“Even my sisters?”

“No,” he said, thinking that was what she’d want to hear. “They can—”

“Deal’s off. Sorry.” Once again she walked away, and once again he had to drag her back.

“Fine,” he rushed out. “I’ll kick them out, too.” They’d want to stay with their husbands, anyway.

She nodded, satisfied.

“Why can’t you stay there with everyone else?” he grumbled. She had before.

“You’re not going to tell anyone I’m there. You do, and I’ll hunt you down. Immortal races will be talking about the things I did to your entrails for centuries.”

Harpies, man. They actually had the strength and stomach to back up their threats, and that was a serious downer when the women weren’t on your side. “What do you need the fortress for?”

“None of your business. Now, do you want the information I’ve got or not?”

“I do.”

“Okay, so, apparently, a Sent One—Thane, I think his name is—suddenly appeared in one of the Phoenix camps a few weeks ago. He threw a big fit, and killed lots of the warriors. One of them was the king. The Sent One was eventually subdued, and a new king took the throne. This new king was finally able to claim the woman he’s been craving for centuries—the dead king’s wife.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there. The new king took the widow as his concubine, but only a few days later, this Petra girl killed her. As punishment, she was cast into the Never-ending. And now that Petra’s on the loose, the new king wants her back. Like, bad. The things he’ll do to her when he finds her … it’s going to be legend—wait for it—dary. Oh, and the concubine was Petra’s sister. Meaning, there’s no line this troll won’t cross. If your Fae is on her radar, she’s in trouble.”

He would get to her first.

The glass shattered in his hand, cutting his skin.

Stupid demon.

He dabbed at the wounds with a napkin.

He waited, but Taliyah said nothing more. “That’s all you have for me?”

“As if Neeka is that poor of a spy. I was just waiting for you to digest. So get this. Petra was seen buying a key to Séduire.”

Séduire. The kingdom of the Fae, though many humans lived there, located in a realm between realms. Some immortals could flash there, moving from one space to another with only a thought. Most could not. Kane was among the could-nots, so, for people like him, a special key was needed to open one of the invisible doorways.

“If this Petra is following Tinker Bell’s scent, and she bought a key, Tinker Bell must have returned to Séduire,” Kane said, thinking out loud. Finally, he had a location.

“Tinker Bell?”

Disaster growled.

William scooted into the seat beside him, saving him from having to answer. The warrior was without his usual random woman (or six) and scowling. “What are you doing here, Ice Witch, and how did you find us? We’re on a boys-only vacay.”

Taliyah rolled her eyes. “I just answered those questions for Kane and won’t do it again for the likes of you. And what a way to say hello, Man Whore.”

So. The two hated each other now. Interesting.

William looked at him, and Kane could see the excitement banked in his eyes. “You’re just going to let her talk to me like that? I should pack my bags and leave you.”

“I should be so lucky.” Kane signaled for another whiskey. The glass shattered as he downed the liquid inside it, and he choked on a shard. Coughing blood, he stood. “I’ve got to find a key. Don’t call me if you need me.”

What are you doing? Disaster demanded. Don’t leave the Harpy. She’s mine. I want her.

Taliyah reached out and grabbed his wrist. He … felt no pain, he realized, and no desire, either. Apparently no one’s touch affected him like Tinker Bell’s. “Remember what I told you.”

Yeah. He remembered. No one could know she wanted the fortress.

“What did you tell him?” William demanded. “You might as well confess. I’ll just bug the answer out of him if you don’t.”

Kane rolled his eyes, knowing he’d be dodging William’s annoying prods for weeks, but walked away before the Harpy could respond and never looked back.

THE MOMENT HE was outside, Kane whipped out his cell phone. Yesterday, he’d taken a snapshot of Danika’s painting and saved the image as wallpaper.

In it, he was on his knees, tears streaming down his face, hands lifted toward the heavens. A blonde female lay in front of him, a hole the size of his fist burned into her chest. Her face was turned away from him, so he had no idea who she was—and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The painting was a problem that would have to wait.

He called every black market contact he had, looking to buy a key to Séduire. He would also need a guide, since he had no idea where to find a doorway. But one call after another proved unfruitful. No one was able to help him.