Читать книгу The Darkest Seduction - Gena Showalter - Страница 20

FANGS IN HIS ARMS. Claws in his legs. Horns jabbing into his stomach. At least, Paris seriously hoped that it was horns jabbing into his stomach. For a while, some of the gargoyles had ground on him like dogs in heat as their friends attempted to chain him down. Won’t gag. He would have allowed the restraints—if he hadn’t seen Sienna. She was here. Alive. Unfettered.

She’d looked at him, had met his gaze, and sadness had wafted from her. Sadness and regret, and even horror. The horn-rimmed glasses she’d once worn were gone, her eyesight probably perfect in the afterlife, but her features were the same. Big hazel eyes, plump red lips. A flow of mahogany waves, now to her waist.

His woman. His mine. One by one his friends had fallen in love, and he’d been so jealous. Now, here was the woman who’d fascinated him as no other. He’d thought, Must reach her … must wipe away the horror …

Sex had thought, Must have her.

Now his demon retreated into the back of his mind, the coward, as Paris fought his way free of the gargoyles to run after her. In an instant, his captors swarmed him, their fervor intensified. He tossed one, then another, then another still, slamming the rigid stone bodies into walls. They recovered instantly and returned to him. More clawing, more jabbing.

They slowed him, but they didn’t stop him. He was weak and growing weaker, because he hadn’t had sex all day. Didn’t think he’d had sex yesterday, either. He’d already forgotten. Whatever. Sienna was here, and with one glance, he’d gotten hard for her.

He could have her again. No question about that now.

He just had to reach her.

As the darkness rose up inside him, clouding his mind with thoughts of destruction and death, he offered no more resistance, allowing it to drive him deeper and deeper into the place where only demolishing the obstacles in his path mattered. These gargoyles wanted to keep him from his woman. They did not deserve to live.

One step, two, three, the things clawing at his thighs, his calves, hanging on to his ankles, he eked his way into the ballroom. All the while he punched at heads, kicked and stabbed at middles. Stone cracked. Pieces scattered on the floor.

“Sienna! Where—”

She flew around the far corner, her dark hair tangled behind her, her hazel eyes wild and bright. In a blink, the world slowed down and he noticed details he’d missed before. Her lips were more swollen than usual, with droplets of blood dried at the corners. A bruise colored her cheek, a blue-black testament of the pain she had been forced to endure. One of her obsidian wings was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken.

She’d been hurt. Someone had hurt her.

Red mixed with the black, both swimming so thickly in his brain they compromised his line of vision. Shimmers of rage sparked a thousand must-kill-must-protect fires, each one warring with the others. In his veins, his blood was molten, turning jerky movements into fluid, lethal arcs.

With a roar, he tossed away two other gargoyles. He grabbed another by the neck and punched, punched, punched, creating a hole in the creature’s cheek, the rest of the stone chipping away bit by bit. Still the creature fought Paris’s hold, teeth chomping at his fist.

“Let them chain you,” Sienna shouted. “Please, just let them chain you.”

She wanted him bound? Hated him as much as he’d feared? No matter. Her command and plea were discarded, his determination unwavering. Must kill … Punch, punch. Enemy must die. Punch, punch, punch. Stab. Obstacles must be eliminated. Punch, stab. Debris flew in every direction. The gargoyles forgot about their desire for pleasure, or whatever they’d felt while writhing on him, and went on full attack, no longer going easy on him.

Sienna reached him, smelling of wildflowers and … ambrosia? He inhaled deeply. Oh, yeah. Ambrosia’s sweet, sweet perfume permeated his skin, overshadowed everything else, including the need to kill, but oh, he now wanted to imbibe. Had to imbibe. His mouth watered, even as he wondered why she would smell of the immortal drug he had forced himself to stop using not too long ago, when he was hurt during a fight he would have won if he’d been clearheaded. His injuries had almost caused him to miss his appointment with a goddess to purchase his crystal blades, and he’d decided then and there to stop using. Thankfully, he had gone through the worst of the withdrawal already; he couldn’t afford to go through it again. He would stop caring about anything but his next fix.

Want her. As close as she now was, Sex perked up, pouring strength straight into Paris’s system and changing the direction of his own thoughts. Must touch her … must have her …

For once, they were in agreement.

“You have to let them chain you.” When she attempted to jerk two of the gargoyles away from him, they turned on her, some biting, some clawing, some head-butting her. Her knees collapsed under their weight.

Another roar ripped from his throat. She had tried to save him? The very idea was foreign to him. Ignoring the beasts still attempting to subdue him, he concentrated on the ones climbing on top of her. He grabbed one and threw. Grabbed another, threw.

“Run!” he commanded her.

The beasts returned to him in a snap. He tried to knock them away, clearing a path for her, but she didn’t run. She lay panting, her limbs unmoving, not even trying to shield herself.

Her watery gaze pleaded with him. “Please, Paris. Be still. Don’t fight.”

Heated breath caught in his throat, and though every instinct he possessed screamed to continue fighting, continue hurting anything and everything in his way, he planted his heels on the floor, sheathed his blades and lowered his arms. She had tried to save him; he would trust her.

He would surrender.

For a moment, the beasts took full advantage, converging on him like flies to honey. Steady. Like Sienna, he remained unmoving. Shockingly, the fighting frenzy soon eased. The gargoyles latched on to his arms and once again began dragging him to the prison where they’d already locked William.

Sienna lumbered to her feet and followed, never allowing eye contact to break. A good thing. If she had, he would have erupted all over again. Can’t lose even that much.

“They’ll leave you alone after they chain you.” Her voice trembled, pain in the undercurrents. “They simply have to complete their task, and then you’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

Want her …

Despite his injuries, he hardened a second time, his demon’s scent wafting from him, a rich chocolate mingled with the most expensive champagne. If he’d needed more proof that he could have this woman again, here it was. He could have her as many times as he wanted her, however many times she would allow him. He was awed. He was vindicated.

He was undone.

Finally, he was with the woman he craved above all others.

The beasts not holding his limbs leapt back on top of him, grinding, rubbing against him in that disgusting way. Harder this time, and much more determined. Even their need to complete their duty and chain him couldn’t override his demon’s allure, he supposed. He tuned them out, kept his focus on Sienna.

She was here—he would never tire of the thought—and she was breathtakingly lovely, the essence of all that was feminine. Even dirt-smudged and blood-caked as she was, he’d never seen a more exquisite female. His mind had not built her up during their separation. On the contrary, his mind had not done her justice. Those hazel eyes glittered with swirls of emerald and copper, hints of summer and winter combined, framed by spiky jet lashes. Her lips were bee-stung and utterly wicked. The kind women paid to have and men paid to use.

Her hair wasn’t too dark or too light, but the perfect shade of russet streaked with shimmers of the purest gold. The locks were longer than before, with waves as mesmerizing as those in an ocean.

Her freckles had lightened, but they were as decadent as ever, a treasure map for his tongue. The rest of her skin, cream and rose petals, glowed as if she had swallowed the sun. Her body, so slender, so elegant, was as graceful as a ballerina’s. Her breasts were small, but they would fit amazingly well in his big hands as he tongued her nipples. Her legs were long and would wrap around his waist, holding him tight.

Mine, he thought. Mine.

Take her. Sex had abandoned the I wants and I needs, and was now all about the commands. As if Paris would argue. One question plagued him, though. Would being with her a second time actually strengthen him?

Around the corner, William waited—and he was grinning, his electric-blues calling Paris all kinds of stupid. He had broken free of his chains, as Paris should have done to avoid the beating, and waved as Paris passed him. The beasts paid him no heed, still clinging to Paris and proving Sienna’s claim. He relaxed. So close to holding her, to touching her as he’d dreamed.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to her …

She might push him away; she might not. Either way, at long last he would find out.