Читать книгу Dark Beginnings: The Darkest Fire / The Darkest Prison / The Darkest Angel - Gena Showalter - Страница 7

DO NOT SPEAK. DO NOT DO THIS. Geryon gulped. “I am sorry, goddess.” No. Say no more. Ask for that kiss, at the very least. “As I told you, I cannot help you.” No, no, no.

How he hated himself just then.

Her delicate shoulders sagged in disappointment, and his self-hatred grew. “But…why? You want to keep the demons in Hell just as much as I do. Right?”

“Right.” Geryon didn’t want to tell her his reasons for refusing her, was still ashamed after all this time. Tell her, however, he would. Perhaps then she would return to the old ways and pretend he did not exist. As it was, his craving for her was deepening, intensifying, his body hardening. Readying.

She’s not for you.

How many times would he need the reminder before this conversation ended?

“I sold my soul,” he admitted. He had been one of the first humans to walk the earth. Despite his massive build and bumbling ways, he’d been content with his lot and enraptured by his mate, even though she’d been chosen by his family and, like all the other females of his acquaintance, had not desired him in return.

A year into their marriage, she had grown sick, and he had despaired. Though she had found no joy with him, she had belonged to him, and ensuring her safety and well-being had been his duty. So he had cried out to the gods for assistance.

They had ignored him, and his despair became unbearable.

That was when Lucifer appeared before him. So cunning, that one was.

To save his mate—and perhaps finally win her heart—Geryon had willingly given himself to the dark prince. And found himself transformed from man to beast. Horns had sprouted atop his head, and his hands had become clubs, his nails claws. Dark, carmine fur had covered the skin on his legs, while hooves replaced his feet.

In seconds, he’d been more animal than human.

His wife had healed, as his contract with Lucifer stated, but she had not softened toward Geryon. No, his selfless act had meant nothing to her and she had left him for another man. A man she had apparently been seeing all along.

What a fool he’d been. A cuckold. All for nothing.

“What thoughts fill your head, Guardian? Never have you appeared so…broken.”

The goddess. His hands fisted, claws digging deep into his palms, as he refocused on her. There had been compassion in her tone. Compassion he must ignore. Unemotional, that’s how he had to be. Always. Otherwise, he would not survive his time here.

“My actions are no longer mine to command. No matter how I wish otherwise, I cannot help you. Now please. Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

“I am doing my duty now. Are you?”

He flushed.

She sighed. “Forgive my waspishness. I am frazzled.” The goddess studied him, her head tilting to the side. He shifted uncomfortably, such scrutiny unnerving given his sickening appearance. To his surprise, revulsion did not darken her lovely gaze as she said, “Your soul belongs to the dark prince?”

“Yes.”

“And if your soul was returned to you, you would aid me?”

“Yes,” he repeated, the word a croak. Would she still offer him a boon for that aid?

“Very well. I will see what I can do.”

His eyes widened in horror. Approach Lucifer? “No, you must—”

She disappeared before he could stop her.

Inner Corridors of Hell

“LUCIFER, HEAR ME WELL. I demand to speak with you. You will appear before me. This day, in this room. Alone. I will remain exactly as I am.” Kadence, goddess of Oppression, knew to state her wants precisely or the demon prince would “interpret” them however he wished. “And you will be clothed.”

Were she simply to demand an audience, he might whisk her to his bed, her arms and legs tied, her clothing gone, a legion of fiends surrounding her.

Several minutes ticked by and there was no response to her summons. But then, she’d known there wouldn’t be. He enjoyed making her wait. Made him feel powerful. Keep busy. Act as if you do not care.

Kadence eyed her surroundings, as if studying them was exactly what she’d come to do. Rather than stone and mortar, the walls of Lucifer’s palace were comprised of flames. Crackling, orange-gold. Deadly.

His throne was comprised of bone, ash and more of those flames. Off to the side was a bloodstained altar. A lifeless body still lay across it—minus a head. The head would reattach all too soon, however, so that the torturing could begin anew. That was the way of it here.

No soul would escape. Even in death.

She hated everything about this place. Plumes of black smoke wafted from the blazes, curling around her like fingers of the damned. So badly she wanted to wave her hand in front of her nose, but she did not. She wouldn’t show weakness—even with so small an action.

Did she dare, she knew she would find herself drowning in the noxious fumes. Lucifer loved nothing more than exploiting vulnerabilities.

Kadence had learned that lesson well. The first time she had visited, she’d come to inform both Hades and Lucifer that she had been appointed their warden. As one who embodied the essence of subjugation and conquest, there was no one better to ensure that demons and dead alike remained here.

Or so the gods had thought, which was why they’d chosen her for this task.

She had not agreed, but refusing them would have invited punishment. Many times since accepting, however, she’d thought perhaps punishment would have been better. Having stones thrown at her, bloody carcasses left on her doorstep in warning…they hardly compared to spending her days sleeping in a nearby cave—not a true sleep but a watchful one, her mind’s eye drifting over the different demon camps. Could hardly compare to spending her nights surveying a wall of rock.

As the Guardian watched.

That, however, was not such a hardship.

For many years, his attention had unnerved her, for he was unlike anyone she had ever met: half man, half beast, all…edge. But then she’d come to find comfort in his detached gaze. He protected her from demons and souls who slipped through the gate, attacking everyone in their path. No matter the harm to himself.

She could do no less for him.

I sold my soul, he’d said. For what? she wondered. What had he received in return? Did he consider the trade a good one? She’d wanted to ask him, but had recalled how uncomfortable he had been with her questions about the wall. He would not have welcomed a discussion about something so personal.

And that was probably for the best. Only her job mattered right now. How could she not have known demon High Lords were determined to escape forever?

Had Lucifer somehow blocked her visions of this realm? He was the only one strong enough to do so. If so, what did he hope to gain? Were she to ask, he would merely lie, that much she knew.

She’d never felt more helpless.

No, that wasn’t true. During her first visit, Lucifer had sensed her trepidation—and he’d since used every opportunity to nurture it. A fire-coated touch here, a wicked taunt there. Every time she had come here to report an infraction, she had wilted under his attentions.

That had disappointed the gods. They would have called her home, she was sure, had they not already bound her to the wall, an act that had been meant to help with her duties, not hinder them. But not even the gods had known just how deeply the bond would go. Rather than simply sensing when the wall needed fortification, she’d realized it was her reason for living.

Her blood now sang with its essence.

The first time one of the demons had scratched it, she’d felt the sting and had gasped, shocked. Now, it no longer shocked her, though she still felt every contact. When a soul brushed it, her skin felt tickled. When the inferno licked at it, she felt burned. So why had she not sensed these latest ministrations?

Oh, she’d felt her body draining of strength, little by little, pains shooting through her seemingly for no reason, but her visions had been calm. Well, as calm as such visions could be, considering what she was forced to witness on a daily basis.

Now, at least, she knew why she’d hurt. Bound as she was to this dark underworld, that crack in the outer wall was literally killing her.

You are losing focus. Concentrate! Distraction could cost her. Dearly. And the outcome of this meeting was more important than any that had come before it.

From outside the palace she could hear the crazed laughter of the demons, the moans of the tortured and the sizzle of flesh pouring from bone. And the smell…it was a hell all its own.

It was difficult, remaining stoic amidst such vileness. Especially now. The High Lords must have been working on the wall for weeks. Because if her side was cracked, she shuddered to think of the damage on Hell’s side. At the very least, she should have seen the demons approach. But again, her visions had remained calm.

Enough of this. Clearly, she could not concentrate.

“Lucifer,” she called again. “You heard my demands. Now heed them. Or I will leave and you will miss this opportunity to bargain.”

The pound of footsteps suddenly echoed and the flames several feet in front of her parted. Finally. In strolled Lucifer, as carefree as a summer day.

“Yes, I did hear them,” he said in the silkiest of voices. He even grinned, the expression pure wickedness. “You mentioned a bargain? What can I do for you, my darling?”