take before he did stomp over to her? Before he did shake her? And not for answers, but for an apology.
Once, she’d known the answer to those questions. He would never touch her in anger. But he wasn’t the same tender man she’d fallen in love with. A man who had shown her that first taste of kindness. He couldn’t be. She and all the other prisoners had heard stories about the Lords of the Underworld and their exploits. The innocents they’d killed, the cities they’d destroyed.
Besides, she knew what her own demon had done to her upon their pairing. The darkness, the terror, the absolute loss of control. She’d been consumed, no longer human in any way. And that had lasted for centuries, she’d been told, though there were gaps in her memory, the time seeming to have passed in a matter of days. Still. She was no longer the same person, either.
“I was Pitt for a while,” she said. “Then Gosling. Then Jackman. Then Reynolds. I always go back to Reynolds. He’s my fave. That blond hair, those muscles…” She shivered. “Let’s see, who else? Oh. I’ve been Bana, Pine, Efron and DiCaprio, as well. DiCaprio is another fave. And another blond, for that matter. Maybe I have a thing for blonds.”
Hopefully the barb cut its mark. Gideon had black hair underneath all that blue.
“Oh, and I’m not into girls,” she continued, “but Jessica Biel could change my mind. Have you seen her lips? So yes, I’ve even been Scarlet Biel.”
Gideon did that jaw-popping thing again. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the anger had returned full force, burning away the last vestiges of amusement. “So very few pieces of candy,” he remarked.
Apparently, she could push him pretty far. How had she thought him merely angry before? That was suppressed rage she was hearing in his voice…as well as deep thrums of arousal.
The latter was a sound she’d once known well and never thought to hear again.
Do not smile. “I like variety, what can I say? Maybe one day it’ll even be my mission to bag and tag each and every one of them.”
Steam practically curled from his nostrils. Yep, rage. He straightened, stepped forward, stopped himself, and retreated back into the doorway. “We aren’t done with that topic for now,” he snapped. He turned as if to leave.
“Wait.” She wasn’t ready to end the exchange. Not yet. “What about you?” she asked, shifting the focus off herself. Careful. “Any girlfriends I should know about? Or better yet, another wife? If so, I’ll have to have you incarcerated for polygamy.” There. No way he could guess at her desperation. At her clawing need to know.
Slowly he spun back around. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth, the word barely scraping its way free. Meaning no, he had none. “I have a girlfriend, and I’m married to someone else.”
Scarlet released a searing breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Gideon was single. A male whore who tapped any ass he could get his hands on, yes, but he was still unattached. She began shaking. Not in relief, she was sure, but in disappointment that she wouldn’t get to murder someone he loved right in front of him.
So…we’re done here.
She now had the info she’d wanted; she could ditch him. Except, she threw her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Without knocking him down and running away. Idiot. “I’m taking a shower and you’re getting me food. Don’t even think about arguing or I swear to the gods I’ll fill your next dreams with countless spiders.” At least, she thought she would.
For some reason, Nightmares didn’t like to torment him. She’d had to beg to get the demon to do so the first and only time, and the stupid beast had protested and whined every single moment. That had never happenedbefore. Her demon was an equal opportunity tormentor.
Why did Nightmares like him? Him, of all people. Her demon didn’t even know him, since she’d become possessed after Gideon had abandoned her. But her demon had endured her constant complaints about him, so she would have placed good money on Nightmares wishing Gideon was dead, just so Scarlet’s complaining would stop.
“Well?” she demanded. “Why are you just standing there? Get moving.”
Gideon’s lips did that adorable twitching thing again. Trying not to grin? Odd man. Anyone else would have stomped away in irritation. Or threatened to stab her for such a haughty, commanding tone.
“Whatever you desire, my sweet.”
Which meant he’d be doing nothing. She’d figured. He’d always been stubborn and had never taken orders well, and that was something she used to like about him. Still. She couldn’t leave him feeling satisfied with the conversation.
Satisfaction belonged only to her.
Which meant it was time to throw him for another loop.
As she strolled to the bathroom, stripping along the way, she said over her shoulder, “Oh, and, Gid. I’ve been lying to you all along. We were never married.”
DAMN IT, damn it, damn it! Gideon still couldn’t detect when Scarlet lied, and that was really starting to annoy him. For some reason, every word out of her lovely lips still caressed his ears, and worse, that audible stroke was spreading to his entire body. How?
Fact: truth usually made his demon hiss. Fact: lies usually made the demon purr. With Scarlet Pattinson—he nearly punched a hole in the wall of the hotel room as Strider had done at the fortress as his annoyance escalated—it picked up only on her raspy voice, too lost in pleasure to care about truth or lie.
He was going to have to stop that. Otherwise, he might never get his answers.
Leave her, Lies demanded.
Go get her? Hardly. I like my balls where they are, thanks. The kind of woman who would punch you for trying to kiss her awake would knee your testicles into your throat for peeking at her naked curves while she washed.
Naked…curves…Hello, hard-on.
The bathroom door clicked shut, blocking every last inch of her from his sight. Bad, uh, good thing, too. She’d been down to her bra and panties. Black, both of them. With lace. The bra had clasped in the front, just asking to be separated. That testicle ascension might be worth it, he thought, already striding forward.
His mouth watered, a lick of flame dancing over his body, heating his blood to scalding. Somehow, he stopped himself before hitting the door. Show some restraint, for gods’ sake. It was just, holy hell, she was beautiful. Like a portrait come to life, all pale, rose-dusted skin and a fall of silky black hair. All dangerous curves and lean muscle, two things that didn’t normally go well together. On her, however, they did. And exquisitely so.
Exquisite. The perfect word for her back and its tattooed canvas. Around her waist were the words TO PART IS TO DIE, and around the words were flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. Flowers of every color, shape and type, and he wanted to trace each of them with his tongue. Below the blooms, on her thighs, was a butterfly tattoo laced with all the jewel tones of a rainbow, glitter-bright and caught midflight, as if heading into those flowers.
Ex-qui-site.
That wasn’t what had caught the bulk of his
