The Darkest Lie (15 page)

          He reached out, realized his shaking had increased--damned truth-telling weakness--and caressed a fingertip down her nose before his muscles gave out and his arm flopped uselessly at his side. Need to touch her. Always.

          For the moment, he would have to be satisfied with the knowledge that she was here. How? Why? Did it matter? She was here! They could talk, and he could begin that pampering. Foot massages every day, her enemies' heads delivered to her doorstep like the morning paper.

          Come on, baby. Wake up. Through the windowed doors that led to a balcony, he could see that the sun was muted and falling, darkening. That pampering could begin sooner rather than later. Any moment now and Scarlet would--

          Her eyelids popped open and she bolted upright just as he had done. Her head slammed into his chin, and he winced.

          As she rubbed the point of contact, their gazes met. Her eyes...so dark, so mysterious. So filled with pain and hope and regret. A treasure as priceless as this woman should only ever look satisfied.

          She licked her lips and slowly eased back onto the mattress, twisting to her side to face him. Her mouth floundered open and closed for a moment, as if she were searching for the right words to say. He didn't want her to bring up the dream. Not yet. That was a heavy subject and right now they both needed to relax. Or rather, he needed to comfort her as he hadn't done before.

          "So, who aren't you today?" he asked, lying down so that they were eye to eye.

          There was a flicker of relief on her face. "Scarlet...Long," she replied.

          Long. As in Justin. A man with black hair and brown eyes. Gideon almost smiled. Sweet progress. Hopefully, she'd never pick a blond again. And one day, maybe she'd even call herself Scarlet Lord.

          Did he want that? Yes, he did, he realized almost immediately. He liked the thought of this woman belonging to him. Truly belonging to him in a way that all the world would recognize.

          "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

          "Worse."

          A lengthy breath escaped her. "Good. That's good."

          With the last of his strength, he settled his arm over the curve of her waist. She didn't rebuke him for so intimate a gesture, and he took heart. "When I'm even worse, I don't want to hit Cronus's bedroom." He needed to get his hands on a slave collar. That way, the doors to Tartarus would open right up for him. Those collars were like keys to the gate. To get in, that is. Getting out would be a different matter entirely. "But damn. I've got my necklace, so I can roam freely." Without it, Cronus would know where he was and what he was doing. The god king could stop him and send him back to Buda before he set a single foot in the prison realm.

          One of Scarlet's brows arched. "You're saying you don't have your butterfly necklace, so you can't move freely around this palace?"

          He nodded, trying to gauge her expression.

          She pulled both chains from a knife sheath at her waist, letting them dangle from her fingers. "I've got them. I found where you'd tossed yours like garbage." She sounded almost bitter. "So they aren't just pretty decorations?" Now she sounded...disappointed.

          He'd made her think the necklace was a present from him. And when she'd found his, she had thought he'd "tossed it like garbage." As if she were garbage. He wouldn't allow her to think such a thing.

          I will never lie to her again, he vowed. Then blinked. Wait. He would never purposely mislead her with his lies. Better. "They don't prevent the gods from watching us. From listening to us."

          As he spoke, her eyes widened. With that widening, she should have been even easier to read. Only, those orbs offered no hint of her emotions. "The necklaces are blocks, then."

          At least she hadn't erupted at his deception. "Exactly wrong."

          "Good. Smart." She moved to anchor one around her neck, but he shook his head, stopping her. "But why wait?" Okay, now she looked ready to erupt. Her eyes were narrowed, almost...fiery, and her teeth bared in a fearsome scowl.

          "I'm too strong to leave right now--" too weak "--and we shouldn't wait until we're ready to sneak out of the palace to fall off Cronus's radar." They absolutely should wait. The moment Cronus lost his connection to Gideon, he would suspect the truth and do everything in his power to stop Gideon from succeeding.

          "So you're going to sneak out to--"

          Again, he nodded.

          Anticipation wafted from her. The two of them were going to Tartarus, and they were going to kill Zeus.

          "How long till you're recovered?" she asked.

          "Not another day." One more day.

          Blink. "So what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

          Kiss. Touch. Relearn each other. Make love. "Not talking."

          She rolled her eyes as if he'd just made a funny. "You and me? Talk? I don't think so. We've said all we need to say to each other. We'll work together in this, because we're stronger as a pair, but that's all we're doing. Working together. Killing together."

          Great. She was falling back into stubborn mode. But he didn't mind. She could say anything she wanted, do anything to him. He planned to stick to her like pasties on a stripper.

          "And anyway," she continued, resolute, "let's be real here. I don't have to wait around. I can sneak through the palace and kill any god or goddess I stumble upon. I'm actually doing you a favor."

          A growl rumbled low in his throat, rose, lashed out. The thought of Scarlet traipsing through the palace halls alone did not sit well. She wouldn't be up against humans, but immortals. Stronger, more violent immortals. Pure male instinct wanted her safe, happy and not in fucking constant danger.

          Calm. He would just have to keep her busy. And if she wasn't interested in talking, that left only one other option. What he'd wanted to do in the first place.

          He'd considered himself depleted, but the thought of having her rallied his cells, muscle and bone, allowing him to roll on top of her. She gasped at his weight, but he didn't shift away. No, he pressed himself down, giving her more.

          "Talking it is, then," he said, and as he'd done the last time he'd needed to soften her, he meshed his lips into hers.

CHAPTER TWELVE

          SCARLET STARTED to utter a protest. She'd already kissed Gideon once, and now had his intoxicating taste seared into her mouth, her body, after centuries of fighting to remove it. Centuries of fighting to forget his weight, his heat, his strength. She didn't need to do so again, didn't need another reminder. Didn't need the cravings to return.

          Not that they'd ever stopped.

          She thought to push him away. He was weakened right now, and wouldn't be able to stop her when she scrambled off the bed and out of the bedroom. He wouldn't be able to draw her back into his arms, hold her close, overshadowing pain with pleasure.

          But then his tongue rolled against hers, so damn sweet she could have wept. Then he whispered "Scar" as if the nickname were a prayer, and rather than protest, rather than push him, she cupped the back of his neck with one hand and tangled her fingers into his hair with the other, canting his head.

          The kiss deepened, from languid to shattering in a single second. A match lit, thrown. An inferno. Raging. Thoughts derailing. Nothing mattered but here, now. The man, the passion. The past fading.

          Thoughts struggling to form.

          What are you doing?

          Mouths claiming. Feasting. Breath mingling. Warm, then hot, then scorching. Tearing her down. Building her back up.

          A glimmer of reason.

          Don't just start to protest. Do it! Protest. Don't just think to push him away. Do it! Push.

          Fire, cooling. Ice, crystallizing. Yes, yes. That's what she needed to do. Protest, push. She wouldn't lose herself again. She was smarter than that.

          Prove it.

          Scarlet wrenched her lips from his. Panting, she said, "You want to talk, we'll talk." Her body shrieked a protest all its own. Still, she continued. "I'm the daughter of Rhea, and I was born inside Tartarus. For thousands of years, it was all I ever knew." The words rushed from her, laced with desperation. Surely this topic would douse her passion completely.

          Gideon stilled. There was disappointment in his bright eyes, but also thrums of eagerness. Finally, he was getting what he'd really wanted. Information. "Don't go on." He didn't move off her, though, and she foolishly didn't insist that he do so. "I don't want to know everything about you."

          How easy she was. Another declaration like that, and she might kiss him. "At first, Rhea loved me, cared for me. But then, as I grew older, she began to see me as a threat. She wanted me dead. Real bad."

          This topic should have dulled her passion, but it didn't.

          Every muscle in Gideon's body tensed. And not in desire.

          Great. The distraction ploy had worked. Only, it had worked on the wrong person.

          "When we were freed, the Greeks defeated, I tried to follow her to this palace. I hoped to make amends with her, make use of the libraries." To search for information about Gideon, but Scarlet kept that to herself. "She had me barred from entering." Bitterness trickled from her voice, but again, it didn't dull her passion in the slightest. He was on top of her, and all she had to do was open her legs. "She told me I wasn't worthy to walk the halls."

          His eyes narrowed dangerously. "How'd you get her to keep you out this time?"

          Knowing what he meant--how had she gotten her mother to let her in--Scarlet said, "I bargained with her." Would he be pissed about that? "I have to stop you from giving Cronus whatever it is you promised him. What did you promise, by the way?"

          No. No anger. Surprising. "We didn't agree to discuss it at a later date," he said.

          Ah. The old you'll-owe-me-a-favor-of-my-choosing-at-the-time-of-my-choosing. "You lied to him, of course." It was a statement, not a question.

          Gideon hiked his shoulders.

          She'd take that as a resounding yes, and wished she could trust herself to flatten her hands on those wide shoulders, feel the muscles bunching and straining underneath. "So there you have it. What you didn't know about my life in a dirty nutshell."

          He peered down at her for a long while, silent, searching. So many emotions played over his features. Regret, sorrow and the anger she'd looked for before. "I'm...not sorry for all you've endured. I'm...not sorry for my part in it. Damn it!" The anger clearly won, and he pounded the mattress with his fists, bouncing them both. "I really love that I can't tell you what I really mean without setting us back a few days."

          His apology weakened her as nothing else could have. His vehemence delighted her. Combined? They slayed her. "Hey, don't worry about it," she offered, at last giving in to the desire to touch. Her fingers traced up his arms, learning every ridge of muscle and sinew. "Gideon Speak is kinda fun."

          Like that, the anger drained from him, wonder overshadowing everything else. "You aren't too good for me. In every way. No, thank you, devil. For everything."

          He thought she was too good for him? Slayed. Her. "No welcome," she replied softly.

          He licked his lips as his gaze fell to hers, and suddenly she knew his passion hadn't been extinguished, after all. "I--I--"

          "Want to kiss me?"

          He nodded. "I'm not dying to do so."

          Don't admit it, don't you dare admit it. "Me, too."

          One more time, she thought dazedly. She would enjoy him one more time. Sex, though? No, she wouldn't go that far. But kiss him, continue touching him? Oh, yes. She needed to pass the time, anyway. At least, that's the only reason she would cop to just then. Besides, it wasn't like she truly would have left him here, helpless against any god or goddess who entered the room. For the moment, he was still her husband and she would protect him.

          "If we do this, the shadows and the screams will return," she warned. "I won't be able to stop them. They're part of me, part of my demon."

          "I dislike anything that's a part of you. I don't want to experience everything you have to offer."

          Melting... "Then kiss me," she commanded. Then his sweet words would cease, and she could begin to rebuild the ice. That needed ice.

          Gideon needed no other encouragement. His lips were on hers a second later, kissing her as if he needed the air in her lungs to survive. He moaned as if he'd never tasted anything more delicious. Kneaded her breasts as if nothing, even weakness, could prevent him from enjoying them.

          Once again, her blood heated in her veins, a growing inferno that liquefied her bones. Her nipples hardened, ever-ready for his mouth, and her skin tingled, a plea for more.

          "Want you clothed," he rasped.

          Only time she ever had to translate his demon's lies was when they were in bed, her mind on other things, so it took her passion-fogged brain a moment to realize that Gideon actually wanted her naked.

          Sex? she thought again. If she got naked, he would be inside her. She might even beg for it. Beg...yes... Hopefully, though, she had a little too much pride for that. "No," she managed.

          He paused, lifted his head. Their gazes met, his eyes so bright a blue they rivaled a king's ransom in sapphires. He licked his already moist lips, breathing careful. "How about we don't negotiate?" His voice was rough, as if each of the words had been rubbed with sandpaper.

          Negotiate, huh? "All right." Never let it be said that she was unreasonable. "Shoot."

          "All rather than half."

          Reality: he was willing to remove half her clothing rather than all. A concession, yes, when he could have insisted on full nudity. Eventually, she would have caved. "And in return I get...?"

          "Definitely not an orgasm."

          Her lips quirked at the corners. "Do you want me to remove the top or the bottom?"

          "Top." Lightning fast, no hesitation.

          He wanted her pants off, and gods, she wanted to take them off. "Deal," she said with a nod. "You can take my top off." Better that way.

          Too bad she hated "better."

          His lips quirked as hers had done, because he knew she'd purposely misunderstood. "As if you didn't know I wasn't lying," he said, calling her on it. "As if I don't know you meant to say pants."

          With a strength she wouldn't have thought him capable of in light of his demon's curse, Gideon shoved the sweats and panties from her waist to her ankles, then off completely. A gasp left her, cool air suddenly caressing her. He didn't give her time to complain or even encourage him. He crawled down her body. And there was the moment to stop him...gone. He pushed her legs apart. Another moment...gone again. He licked the most aching part of her.

          "Yes!" Her back arched as she cried out, her hands already in his hair, holding him close.

          She rode the waves of pleasure with abandon. No, no, not abandon. Had to keep the shadows and the screams inside. Gideon didn't mind them, he'd said, but she wasn't yet ready to share him. She wanted this moment all to herself, that fiery tongue working her, loving her.

          "Don't want more?" he rasped.

          "I--I--" Can't admit it. He'll say something sweet, and more of that ice will melt. "More. Please."

          "No more it is." He continued to lick, his teeth scraping perfectly, making her shiver. Soon his fingers joined the play, one sinking in and out, then two. Three. The shadows pulled, and the screams tugged.

          "Gideon." She released him and grabbed the headboard, hips arching in a fluid, desperate rhythm. Felt so good, so damn good. Was propelling her so close to the edge...

          "Terrible," he muttered, eye closed to half-mast, lips curled in a half-smile. "Just terrible. Had my fill. Will always have my fill."

          He likes it, she reminded herself. Wants more. Wouldn't ever get enough.

          Ice...melting. Heating...

          Don't care, she realized suddenly. She wanted the blaze to grow, consume.

          Scarlet draped her legs over his shoulders, the heels of her feet digging into his lower back, her thighs squeezing his temples.

          "But something I do like...you're not holding out on me." A muscle ticked below his eye as his lashes lifted and he pinned her with a hard stare. "Where are the shadows and the screams you didn't promise me?"

          "I don't...I can't... Don't stop now!"

          "Don't let them go, and don't show me our wedding," he said, and then sucked her clitoris between his teeth.

          She screamed, she shook, she almost came, the pleasure was so intense. But she wasn't quite there. Just a little more, and she'd fly to the heavens. "Please."

          "Scar...wedding...I don't want to see it." His voice was strained, as if he had to force the words out.

          "Now?" she panted. While he was...while she was..."We're a little busy."

          "Can't you do it while I'm sleeping?" He blew a puff of air against her warm, moist folds, and as sensitive as she currently was, she was thrust ever closer to satisfaction.

          It was wonderful and terrible, gratifying and frustrating.

          "Yes," she grumbled. "I can do it while you're awake." She could project images into his mind at any time. Nightmares was just as able to invade daydreams, after all. But just then Scarlet wanted Gideon concentrating only on her aching body. On the here and now.

          "Then, nope. I want you to do it later."

          "Why?" Why couldn't he wait till after? Because he feared she'd leave him? Because he thought she'd deny him? "Never mind. But be warned. The ceremony was short, we couldn't risk something longer, and kind of somber." She'd give him what he wanted, though. "Just know that the moment you stop, I stop." There. Bargaining, just as he liked.

          "My displeasure," he practically purred, tongue flicking out and darting back and forth over her clit.

          Once again, her back bowed. Okay, maybe demanding he continue hadn't been the most brilliant of plans. Her thoughts were fragmenting again, her blood heating yet another degree, her organs blistering before erupting into more of those decadent flames, her bones melting, wanting only to pour over him.

          In a burst, the shadows and the screams escaped her hold, swirling around Gideon and filling the room. Just as well. She could use them to create the daydream.

          Concentrate. Scarlet dug through her favorite mental files--files she'd buried and thought to never consider again--and found the one Gideon desired.

          Instantly the scene opened up in both their minds.

          Late at night, while the prisoners of Tartarus slept, Gideon roused Hymen, the imprisoned Titan god of Marriage, and brought him to the cell they used for making love.

          For Scarlet, Gideon had arranged a lingering bath a few hours before, and had given her a clean white robe. Only, that robe was composed of lace and that lace conformed to her curves. She'd never felt lovelier, before or since.

          When the two men stepped into her cell, she threw back her hood in eagerness, and her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, brushed and silky for once. Gideon reached out, pinched a lock between two fingers, and brought the strands to his nose. He breathed deeply his gaze perusing her.

          "Hideous," the Gideon between her legs breathed just as the Gideon in the dream rasped, "Exquisite."

          A blush stained her cheeks, then and now. But she wasn't the exquisite one, and she knew it. There was no more gorgeous sight than Gideon. His black hair rose in spikes, his blue eyes were bright, the midnight lashes framing them like feathered fans, and his lips still swollen from her earlier kisses.

          He possessed a shadow beard, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. There wasn't a flaw to him. He wore the thin silver armor she'd shown him in his dream of Steel, as directed by Zeus, and that armor was etched with jagged butterflies exactly like the tattoos they now bore.