Читать книгу Dark Beginnings: The Darkest Fire / The Darkest Prison / The Darkest Angel - Gena Showalter - Страница 9

THE GODDESS GAVE A STARTLED gasp and flicked him the briefest of glances. “You’ll help me? Even knowing you are no longer bound to the prince? That you could leave?”

His chest constricted at that glimpse of starlight eyes and lush red lips. “Yes. Even knowing.” If she spoke true and he was free, he had no place to go. Too many centuries had passed, and his home was now gone. His family, dead. Without a doubt, he would cause riots with his appearance. Besides, he might crave the very freedom the goddess promised but he still feared trusting her. She might not intend malice, but Lucifer certainly would.

With the prince, there was always a catch. Free today did not necessarily mean free tomorrow. And since his soul had not been returned to him…

No, he dare not hope.

“Thank you. I didn’t expect—I—Why did you sell your soul?” she asked softly, tracing the crack again.

A change of subject. One he was not prepared for.

“What would you have me do?” he asked rather than answer. He did not wish to admit the reason for his folly and the subsequent humiliation.

Her arm dropped to her side, and she faced him fully. As his gaze drank her in, her expression softened. “I am Kadence,” she said, as though he had asked for her name rather than instruction.

Kadence. How he loved the way the syllables rolled through his mind, smooth as velvet—gods, how long since he’d touched a material so fine?—and sweet as wine. How long since he’d tasted such a drink?

“I am Geryon.” Once, he’d had a different name. Upon arriving here, however, Lucifer had given him his current moniker. Monster was the literal translation, but in truth it meant Guardian of the Damned, which was what he was and all he would ever be. Soul or not.

Some legends, a demon had once jeered at him, proclaimed him to be a three-headed centaur. Some, a vicious dog. Some, the leavings of a warrior named Hercules. Anything was better than the truth, however, so he did not mind the stories.

“I am yours to command,” he said, adding, “Kadence.” Tasted even better on his tongue.

Breath caught in her throat; he heard the hitch of it. “You say my name like a prayer.” There was no astonishment in her tone. Only…uncertainty?

Had he done so? “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Her cheeks flushed prettily. Then she clapped her hands and brought the conversation back to what should have been their primary concern. “Our first order of business is to patch those cracks.”

He nodded but said, “I fear the wall is already compromised.” Outer damage was fixable. But not inner. In walls or in immortals, he thought, thinking of the inner scars he must bare. “Patching will merely strengthen it for a time.” But might not prevent an eventual fall, he did not add.

What they would do then, he did not know. Chaos would reign. Souls and demons would be able to leave at will.

Something more would have to be done. But again, he did not know what.

“Yes. Knowing demons as I have come to, they will return and inflict more damage.” Once more she lifted her gaze to him, kernels of fear swirling where there should only be satisfaction. A crime. “Geryon,” she began, only to press her lush lips together.

What was left of his heart skidded to an abrupt stop. She was just so lovely, her gentleness and goodness setting her apart from everything he represented. He wanted to duck his head, hide his ugliness from her. “Yes?”

“I—I—”

Why so uncomfortable? “You may speak freely with me, goddess.” Whatever she needed, he would provide.

“Kadence. Please.”

“Kadence,” he said again, and savored. So good…

“I—What boon would you ask of me?”

That was not what she’d meant to ask, he knew it, and could only gape at her, trying not to panic. He had hoped to discuss this after. “A…a kiss.” He waited for her screech of horror. Her denial.

Instead, she merely opened her mouth in a wide O.

“You may close your eyes and imagine you are with someone else,” he rushed out. “Or refuse me. I would understand.” Stop talking. You’re only making things worse.

“I would not refuse,” she said softly, huskily.

“I—I—” Now he was the one to stutter. She would not refuse?

She licked her lips. “Shall I give you a kiss now?”

Now? Suddenly he had trouble breathing. Standing. His knees were shaking, his limbs as heavy as boulders. Dark spots winked over his vision. Now? he wondered again, wildly this time.

He was not ready. He would make a fool of himself, and she would leave him. No longer want his help. Or worse, she would cast him pitying, disgusted glances the entire time they worked.

“After,” he managed to croak.

Was that…disappointment clouding her expression? Surely not.

“Very well,” she said. No emotion. “After. But Geryon, I must warn you. There is a chance we will not survive.”

“What do you mean?”

“After we have repaired the wall, we must hunt and kill the demons who would destroy it. Are you sure you wish to wait?”

Hunt and destroy the demons. Of course. The answer was so clear, he was embarrassed that he had not thought of it. By killing the High Lords, they would be committing a crime, and they would be punished. Perhaps be put to death.

“So…your kiss?” she prompted softly.

Had he not known better, he would almost think her…eager.

But he did know better. Agreeing to Lucifer’s bargain had been difficult. Or so he’d thought at the time. This was a thousand times more so. “After,” he repeated. He would earn that kiss, and hopefully, she would not ever think back on it and consider him unworthy.

She nodded, and once again looked away from him. “Then let us begin our work.”