Gena Showalter - The Darkest Promise

Kane, the former keeper of Disaster, had proved the demon possessed could survive the wound...if love replaced the evil. A transplant, of sorts.

Love conquered all.

But who could love a woman like Cameo?

“I’m surprised you haven’t worked up a disposal plan.” Lazarus glared at her. “The box can be used as a weapon against you and everyone you love.”

How to explain her selfish desire to be rid of Misery without coming across as, well, selfish? “Keeley, the girlfriend of Torin—”

“The keeper of Disease, whom you used to date. Yes.” He gave a clipped nod. “I know of them both.”

Was he jealous? No, no. He couldn’t be. No man had ever envied another’s affiliation with her. Especially a man who only wanted one night in her bed, planning to bail in the morning.

Only because he can’t tolerate another minute in your presence...

Only. Stupid demon!

“Continue,” Lazarus said through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” she said. “I dated him. We didn’t last long, and he’s now with the love of his life. Anyway. She’s the most powerful immortal I’ve ever known. More powerful than you, I’d bet.”

“I wouldn’t put money on that. You haven’t seen me in action.”

Shivers as delicious as his touch, heat burning through her veins. In battle, he would be a magnificent sight, his sword in hand, the blood of his enemies splattered over his skin.

“Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “Keeley told me there’s another being inside the box.”

Lazarus drained his wine and nodded. “Yes. The Morning Star.”

Eyes widening, she dropped her fork. “What do you know?” Keeley claimed the Morning Star could provide a lifeline for every Lord. A type of Hail Mary.

Lazarus buffed his nails, doing a poor job of hiding his smug grin. “Would you like to buy the information from me?”

With her body? “You think I’ll be okay with whoring for you?”

“Of course,” he said, unrepentant. “Role-playing is fun.”

Dirty-minded bastard. Why was he sexier right now? “No? I mean, no.” If he knew about the Morning Star, others knew. Cameo could ask around. “Now it’s my turn. Why do you plan to marry a woman you may not love?”

He pretended to stab himself in the heart. “Way to kill the mood.”

Exactly!

“I plan to marry a woman I do not love because her army will merge with mine, and together we will mete out vengeance when my enemies enter the realm of the dead.”

“Vengeance matters more than pleasure?”

He could have insisted on taking his turn but, over the candlelight, he reflected her somberness back at her. “For me, vengeance is the ultimate pleasure.” The hardness of his tone transformed the words into a vow.

One she had best heed.

Her shoulders rolled in, pushed by the heaviness of disappointment. Perhaps she’d begun to hope. Perhaps she’d thought he would be the one to help her, maybe even save her. He could tolerate her voice, after all, and he found her attractive. Lazarus for the win!

But he would never choose her, would he? She would always be a conquest, unimportant, easily forgotten. As if she had any right to judge. But. He wouldn’t fight for her if—when—she forgot him.

Who would? Misery asked.

“You’re not going to score tonight,” she told him softly. “In fact, you need to leave.” Before she started to cry.

* * *

Viola, goddess of the Afterlife, secret love child of parents she refused to name, and an all-round badass, crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at Urban and Ever. The pair had seriously interfered with her plans to hide from the monster on her tail, steal powerful artifacts lost throughout the ages, and unite the different spirit realms. Her birthright!

What good was a queen without a queendom?

“Stop looking at us like that,” Ever snapped.

“Like what? Like you’re nasty little creatures? Well, news flash. You are nasty little creatures.” Viola shuddered. Despite her lack of experience with the care and feeding of anyone under the age of two hundred, she was certain she had this babysitting gig nailed.

Children were drawn to her, whether they appeared to be drawn to her or not. They couldn’t help themselves. No one could. Why, she could have bagged and tagged the deliciously gorgeous Lazarus if she’d wanted him. But what woman in her right mind wanted a man who peered at another female as if she were the only portal to heaven?

Not me.

Been there, done that, suffered for it.

Ever, the little snot, said, “You’re a horrible person. I hate you and want my momma!”

Beneath the armor of self-love Narcissism had erected, Viola screamed, I know I’m horrible! Run from me. Run now. Run far. Never look back. I’m your worst nightmare, sweetheart.

“Go—” she pursed her lips and waved her fingers “—see how many toy soldiers are needed to clog the toilets here. Auntie Vie has important duties to attend to. And yes, there’s a hidden message in my words. You aren’t important to me.” You can’t be.

As soon as she cared about people, animals, places or things, she lost them. Princess Fluffikans was the sole exception, and only because a piece of her heart beat inside his chest. Literally! Loving him was the equivalent of loving herself.

Ever, the grubby little urchin, anchored her hands on her hips. “We’re more important than anything. Momma always says so.”

Narcissism kicked against Viola’s skull, a sure sign she approached the danger zone. Measures had to be taken immediately.

She bent to Ever’s level and braced her palms on her knees. “I’m not comfortable speaking for all mothers everywhere, but I’m absolutely certain all mothers everywhere have to tell their kids they’re important. It’s a law. But—and this might be hard for you to accept—those mothers are lying. Until you’re able to protect Auntie Vie from her legion of admirers, you are merely a nuisance.”

Urban tilted his head to the side, as calm as a summer morning and as serious as a heart attack. “I can burn you to death.”

“Wrong. All you can do is set me on fire.” She wagged a finger in his face. “Unfortunately for you, all I’d do is thank you for helping me warm up on a chilly day.”

“You aren’t impervious to my flames. No one is.”

She patted the top of his head. “Look who’s using his big boy words.”

He snapped his teeth at her, his ferocity a rival to his father’s.

“Careful,” she told him. “Break my finger, and you buy it.”

“What does that even mean?” Ever stomped her foot, the ice in her veins rising to the surface of her skin. “You speak nonsense.”

Why do you even try to relate to inferior beings? Narcissism offered the thought with a hum of displeasure.

Even closer to the danger zone... “You know what’s nonsense? This conversation,” Viola said. “Now. Are you two going to go destroy something or not?”

The little girl tossed her arms up, exasperated. “Of course we are.”

Urban peered at Viola with...affection? “You enjoy destruction?”

And another one falls for my awesome awesomeness.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Viola gently chucked him under the chin.

“No,” he replied. “I like you.”

“Of course you do. You and everyone else I’ve ever met. Probably people I’ve never met, too.”

“You can’t like her.” Ever scowled at her brother. “You don’t like anyone but me, and sometimes Momma and Daddy.”

“Well, now I like her.” He faced Viola and said, “You will like me, too.”

“No, thanks, kid.” She didn’t just lose the people, animals, places and things she liked; she witnessed their destruction. Narcissism insisted she cater to him and no other, and punished anyone he deemed competition. So. To save the boy’s life, she added breezily, “You’re an infant. I’m into men.”