The Darkest Passion. Gena Showalter

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      “No. It doesn’t matter,” his hard voice proclaimed. “We have the scrolls for that.”

      “Yes, but they give names, not locations.” The female Lord’s stare became penetrating. “Sabin will want to talk with her when he returns.”

      “Too bad.”

      “If that dickwad Sabin wants to talk to her, that means Gwennie will want to, as well.” Kaia drummed her nails against the tabletop. “And as you know, puppy, I ensure that my sister gets what she wants. Besides, I’m about to die of boredom since no one has attacked the fortress as promised.”

      “Harpy,” Aeron snapped. “Don’t try my patience. You will obey me in this and let the angel go.”

      “Warriors are so adorable when they think they’re all tough and commanding.” Kaia’s arm shot out, again rattling dishes, and she snatched up a handful of eggs. A handful she then launched at Aeron.

      Olivia quickly dodged, and the eggs slapped Aeron in the face. His lips curled in a grimace as he wiped away the yellow mess. Rather than touch her again, however, he flattened his palms on the arms of the chair.

      Kaia giggled like a schoolgirl. “Don’t act surprised by our insistence that she remain here. Paris told me what you said to Cronus the other night on that rooftop. ‘Send me a woman who will deny me,’” she mocked.

      “Oh, really? When did you and Paris have time for a heart-to-heart?” William asked as he buttered a blueberry muffin.

      Kaia shrugged, her focus remaining on Aeron. “A couple nights ago, I was looking for a little fun, and he was looking a little weak.” Another shrug. “He was feeling chatty afterward.”

      Paris merely nodded in confirmation. Every time Olivia had seen the keeper of Promiscuity, he’d appeared sad. Just then, he looked almost…happy, if a little tired. That must have been some chat.

      “But I offered you a place in my bed,” William whined to the Harpy.

      Bed? Oh. Oh. Kaia and Paris had apparently accomplished more than talking during that heart-to-heart.

      “You suck at ‘Guitar Hero,’ so I figure you’re bad with your hands. Besides, someone else we all know and love has staked prior claim on you.”

      “Who?” Olivia asked before she could stop herself.

      Kaia ignored her, continuing on. “Therefore, I picked Paris to keep me warm the other night. And I can’t wait to give Bianka the down-and-dirty details.”

      “Oh, no. No, no, no. You can’t kiss and tell,” Paris sputtered.

      The Harpy smiled lazily, evilly. “Just watch me. Any-hoodles. You want your little demon to return, Aeron-bo-barren, you’ll have to go into town and play with her there. The angel stays.”

      The heat of Aeron’s breath was like fire on the back of Olivia’s neck. “This. Is. My. Home.”

      “Not anymore.”

      Kaia and William had spoken in unison. They shared a smile, though William still looked sulky over Kaia’s choice of bedmates.

      “Yeah,” Olivia said, chin lifting yet another notch. “Not anymore.” She wanted Aeron here with her, yes, but he apparently needed time away to reflect on how lucky he actually was to have her.

      That wasn’t egotistical of her, she told herself. Truth was never egotistical. Besides, it shouldn’t take him more than a few hours to realize just how much he needed her and wanted to be with her. He was smart. For the most part.

       Please, let him want to be with me.

      Once more Aeron’s hands settled on her waist. This time, he squeezed hard enough to make her gasp. “Do you know where Pandora’s box is, Olivia?”

      Of course he’d ask the one question she didn’t have an answer for. “Well…uh…no.”

      “Do you know where the Cloak of Invisibility and the Paring Rod are being held?”

      Okay. Two questions. “No,” she admitted softly. What she did know was that the Lords had found two of Cronus’s artifacts: the Cage of Compulsion and the All-Seeing Eye. What they lacked, as Aeron had mentioned, was the Cloak of Invisibility and the Paring Rod. As the One True Deity had no use for such relics, her kind had never searched for them.

      Aeron lifted her to her feet and released her. Olivia had to grip the table to keep from toppling over. She also had to press her lips together to keep from moaning in disappointment. Touch me.

      “Still want her here?” he asked the others, emotionless. “Her, rather than me?”

      One by one, they nodded. Unrepentant.

      “Fine.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “She’s yours. Get what information you can from her. As suggested, I’ll be in town. Someone text me when she’s gone. Only then will I return.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      THERE WAS A CONSPIRACY to drive him mad, Aeron thought darkly.

      First, his friends had kicked him out. Second, his demon had screamed at him to stay. To stay. With Olivia. A being Wrath should despise. A being Aeron should despise. Instead, he understood his demon’s dilemma.

      She was enchanting.

      This morning, when he’d woken up and realized she was fully healed, the desire he’d denied only a few days ago had sparked to life. Ever since, it had refused to fade. She’d fallen to the floor, robe bunched at her waist, and her panties—shit, her panties. Too white, too pure. Made a man want to rip them apart with his teeth and dirty the wearer up a bit. He’d wanted to tear her robe away, too, and devour her.

      Somehow, some way, he’d managed to stop himself.

      Maybe because he’d realized—and reminded himself, over and over again—that Lysander had been the voice he’d heard the day before. That Lysander had been the one to heal Olivia, the one who wanted her happy and whole.

      “Unsoiled,” he muttered.

      And Lysander would be a terrible enemy to have.

      The Lords could fight Hunters, yes. But Hunters and an angelic army? Hardly.

      So Aeron had finally gotten himself under enough control to leave the bed without falling on top of Olivia in a desperate rush to touch and taste her. He’d finally convinced himself to get rid of her. He’d finally, blessedly forgotten there was a throbbing erection between his legs while she wiggled on his lap and made love to her food.

      Only to have Wrath insist on “more.”

      “I liked you better when you were merely a presence. An urge,” he told the demon now.

      A snort was the only reply. At least there was no more of the demon’s pleading. Wrath had only quieted a few minutes ago, when realizing what Aeron planned.

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