The Darkest Fire (2 page)

Kadence didn't allow herself to shudder. Lucifer was tall, muscled like a warrior and sensually handsome despite the dark inferno raging in his eyes. But he did not compare to the beast who guarded his domain. The beast whose face was too rough to be considered anything other than savage. The beast whose half-man, half-monster body should have disgusted her but didn't. Instead, his haunted brown eyes captivated her; his protective nature intrigued her.

She might never have become interested in the guardian, might have assumed he was like every other hated creature here, but then he saved her life. Sadly, even immortal goddesses could be slain—a prospect that had never been clearer as the outer gates had parted to welcome a spirit and a minion slipped free. It should have been afraid of her, should have bowed to her, but had probably sensed her fear and reacted, racing straight for her, hungry for her living flesh.

She'd frozen, but still it had not reached her.

The guardian—what was his name?—had intervened, destroying the fiend with one swipe of his poisoned claw. He hadn't spoken to her afterward, and she hadn't spoken to him, her belief that he was like all the other creatures in this underworld shaken but not yet completely broken. She
had
begun to study him, though. Over time, she'd become fascinated by his complexities.

He was a destroyer, yet he'd saved her. He had nothing, yet he hadn't asked for anything in exchange.

Did he favor her in return? Sometimes when he looked at her she would swear she saw white-hot flames that had nothing to do with the damned.

Lucifer regarded her silently as he settled atop his throne of swirling, ghostly souls. A bejeweled goblet materialized, already clutched in his hand, and he sipped from it. A drop of crimson slid down the corner of his mouth and trickled onto his stark white shirt.

Revulsion besieged her, but she kept her expression neutral.

“You are disgusted by me but do not show it,” he said with another of those wicked smiles. “Where is the mouse who usually visits? The one who trembles and stumbles over her words? I like her.”

Kadence raised her chin. He could call her all the names he wished, but she wouldn't comment. “Your walls have been compromised, and a horde of demons fight to escape.”

The prince quickly lost his smile. “You lie. They would not dare.”

His agitation was understandable. Without his legions, he would have no one to rule. “You're right. Your band of thieves, rapists and murderers would not dare disobey their sovereign.”

His eyes narrowed in a show of anger. Then he gave a casual shrug to counteract the telltale sign. “So they're compromised. What do you want from me?”

Always he made things difficult. “The guardian. He can help me stop the ones responsible.”

Lucifer snorted. “No. I like him where he is. My last guard fell victim to a demon's lies and almost allowed a legion to escape. Geryon is impervious to their wiles.”

She barely stopped herself from running her tongue over her teeth. Was this a game he played? He needed the wall repaired as much as she did; his refusal grated. Well, not
as much
, she mused. Unlike her, he would not die if the wall crumbled. “I am your sovereign,” she said. “You will—”

“You are not my sovereign,” he growled in another display of anger. A deep breath in and out, and he calmed. “You are my…observer. You watch, you advise and you protect, but you do not command.”

Because you are too weak
, he did not say. But then, he didn't have to. They both knew it was true.

Very well. She would go about this a different way. “Shall we bargain?” she asked.

He nodded, as if he'd merely been waiting for the question. “We shall.”

 

Gates of Hell

 

“I do not understand,” Geryon said, refusing to leave his post. He even crossed his arms over his chest, an action that reminded him of his human days, when he'd been more than guard, more than monster. “Lucifer would never have agreed to release me.”

“I promise you, he agreed. You are free.” The goddess cast her gaze to her sandaled feet, saying no more.

Did she hide something? Plan to trick him, for whatever reason? It had been so long since he'd dealt with a female, he wasn't sure how to judge her actions.

She was paler than usual, he noted, the rosy glow in her cheeks gone, her freckles stark. Her golden ringlets tumbled down her shoulders and arms, and he could see soot woven throughout the fine strands. His hands ached to reach out, to sift those tresses through his fingers.

Would she run screaming if he did so?

Today she wore a violet robe and matching necklace—a necklace that boasted a teardrop amethyst as large as his fist and as bright as the glistening ice he had not seen in hundreds of years. She had never worn such a thing before; usually she draped herself in white, an angel among evil, with no adornment.

“How?” he persisted. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” Her gaze lifted, boring into him with the precision of a spear and cutting just as deep.

“To me, yes.”

She gave a little stomp of her foot. “To save the wall, I need your help. Let that be enough for now.” Her fingers beckoned him. “Come. I can show you the damage that has been done.”

The goddess did not await his reply. She turned away from him and walked to the far corner of the wall. No, not walked. She glided, a dream of falling stars amid shimmering twilight.

Geryon hesitated only a moment before following her, breathing deeply of her honeysuckle scent along the way.

To Geryon's surprise, no one jumped from the shadows as he walked; no one waited to punish him for daring to leave his post. Was he truly free? Dare he hope?

The goddess didn't face him when he reached her, but traced a fingertip along a thin, jagged groove in the middle stone. A groove that branched into smaller striations, like tiny rivers flowing from a churning ocean.

“It's small, I know, but already it has grown from what I saw yesterday. If the demons continue their abuse, it will continue to grow until the rock splits completely in two, allowing legions to enter the human realm.”

“Were a single demon released upon the unsuspecting world,” he muttered, “death and destruction would reign.” Whether or not a punishment would be delivered to him, he would help her, Geryon decided. He could not allow such a thing to happen. Innocence should never be taken from the undeserving. It was too precious. “What would you have me do?”

She gave a startled gasp. “You'll help me? Even knowing you are no longer bound to the prince?”

“Yes.” If she spoke true and he
was
free, he had no place to go. Too many centuries had passed, his home gone. His family, dead. Besides, he might crave the very freedom the goddess promised but he feared trusting her. She might not intend malice, but Lucifer certainly would.

With the prince, there was always a catch. Free today did not necessarily mean free tomorrow.

No, he dare not hope.

“Thank you. I didn't expect—I—Why did you sell your soul?” she asked softly, tracing the crack again.

There was a beat of silence.

“What would you have me do?” he repeated rather than answer. He did not wish to admit the reason for his folly and the subsequent humiliation.

Her arm dropped to her side, and her expression softened. “I am Kadence,” she said, as though he had asked for her name rather than instruction.

Kadence
. How he loved the way the syllables rolled through his mind, smooth as velvet—gods, how long since he'd touched a material so fine?—and sweet as wine. How long since he'd tasted such a drink?

“I am Geryon.” Once, he'd had a different name. Upon arriving here, however, Lucifer had dubbed him Geryon. Guardian of the Damned, it translated to, which was what he was and all he would ever be.

Some legends, a demon had once jeered at him, proclaimed him to be a three-headed centaur. Some, a vicious dog. Nothing compared to what he was, so he did not mind the stories.

“I am yours to command,” he said, adding, “Kadence.” Tasted even better on his tongue.

Breath caught in her throat; he heard the hitch of it. “You say my name like a prayer.” There was astonishment in her tone.

Had he? “I am sorry.”

“Don't be.” Her cheeks flushed prettily. Then she clapped her hands and brought the conversation back to what should have been their primary concern. “First we must patch these cracks.”

He nodded but said, “I fear the wall is already compromised. Patching will merely strengthen it for a time.” But might not prevent an eventual fall, he did not add.

“Yes. Knowing demons as I have come to, they will return and inflict more damage.” Once more she turned to him. Once more she lifted her gaze to him, kernels of fear swirling where there should only be satisfaction. A crime. “Geryon,” she began, only to press her lush lips together.

What was left of his heart skidded to an abrupt stop. She was just so lovely, her gentleness and goodness setting her apart from everything he represented. He wanted to duck his head, hide his ugliness from her. “Yes?”

“I should not ask this of you, but I know not what else to do.”

“Ask me anything you desire.” He would see it was done, no matter the consequences. “It will be my pleasure to aid you.”

“I pray you remember those words. For after we've repaired the wall, we must enter hell—and hunt the demons who would destroy it.”

For hours Geryon worked at repairing the wall, pleading with Kadence all the while to remain behind. Demons were dangerous, he said. Demons liked their prey alive and fresh, he said. What he did not say was that she was fragile, breakable. No, he did not need to say it; she read the thoughts in the ever-growing warmth of his eyes.

Through it all, she refused to allow him to go alone. She had not bartered something that would surely earn her the wrath of the gods, only to send him on a mission he could not hope to win without her.

While the demons were not hers to command, she
could
force them to bow to her. She hoped. Besides, she might appear fragile and breakable, but she possessed a core of iron.

Something she'd finally proven to Lucifer earlier.

As a child, she had been an indomitable force. A whirlwind that trampled anything and everything in her path. It had not been intentional. She'd simply followed the quiet urgings inside her head.
Dominate
.
Master
. When she'd realized she had chipped away at her own mother's strength of mind, turning the once vibrant goddess into a lifeless shell, she had retreated inside herself, afraid of who and what she was. Afraid of what she could do, unintentional though it was.

Sadly, with those fears came others, as if she'd opened a doorway in her mind and placed a welcome mat out front. Fear of people, places, emotions. For centuries she had acted like the mouse Lucifer had called her.

Underneath the fears, however, she was still the goddess she'd been born to be: Oppression. She conquered. She did not cower.
Please, do not let me cower.
Not any longer.

Only a few moments ago, Geryon had reluctantly pried apart the boulders blocking the cavern from a yawning pit—only a small slit—flames and scaled arms instantly reaching out. He had entered first, commanding both to recede. To her surprise, they had obeyed the instant she came through. Part of her wanted to believe they had done so because they'd been afraid of
her
. The other part of her knew they'd feared Geryon.

“Ready, goddess?” he anchored himself on a ledge of the wall. He was to the left of the gate, she on the right. “Ready?” he insisted, reaching toward her. To protect her? Aid her? They were hanging onto a massive rock, after all, a fiery pit waiting to catch them should they fall.

“Yes.”
Finally, I will know his touch
.
Surely it will not be as divine as my body expects. Nothing could be
. But just before contact, he lowered his arm and inched further away from her. She sighed in disappointment and tightened her grip on the wall, balancing her feet on the thin ledge as best she could.

“This way.” He motioned toward the crack with a tilt of his chin.

“All right. And Geryon? Thank you. For everything.” Usually she whisked herself to Lucifer's palace without ever opening the gate, too afraid to fall into this smoldering pit and explore the wasteland waiting below. Not today. She couldn't.

“You are welcome.” He pushed the stones back together.

She waved her hand over them, leaving traces of her power there. Because there was no longer a guardian stationed out front, the extra fortification was needed—despite the fact that providing it weakened her.

As fragments of her power adhered to the stones, she was careful to maintain distance from them. Supposedly Geryon was the only one who could touch the gate without consequence. Well, besides Hades and Lucifer. Anyone else, the stones heaped untold pain and horror upon.

She had never dared test the supposition.

A thought occurred to her, and she tilted her head, studying her companion. Without Geryon at the gate, who would open the stones to allow damned souls inside? Perhaps Lucifer had already appointed another guardian. Perhaps? She chuckled without humor. He had. He couldn't leave the gates unguarded. The knowledge that Geryon would not be the man she saw every day…saddened her. For when the wall was safe, Geryon could leave but she would be stuck here.

Do not think about that now
. She glanced around. The air was smokier here, she noticed, hotter. So hot, in fact, sweat instantly beaded on her skin, trickling down her temples, between her breasts. And as Geryon climbed over her to position himself in front of her, widening the distance between them, no longer did she smell the decadent scent of powerful male; she smelled only the pungent odor of decay. Screams and curses assaulted her ears.

Something fiery brushed the back of her neck, and she yelped.

Geryon jumped into immediate action, growling and swiping out his claw. But the flame receded, and she would swear she heard it laugh.

No, they were not intimidated by her.

“Are you all right?” Geryon asked her.

“Yes,” she said, but gods, what had she gotten herself into?