The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

“I’m certainly your everyone.” Her lips lifted in another smile, sleepy yet sharp at the edges. “Be a dear and fetch me the essentials. Soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. A negligee. Make sure to get the best of everything. I deserve nothing less. Well?” she prompted when he remained in place. “The longer I’m forced to wait, the longer I stay in the shower.”

Growling, he flashed to his room at the Downfall and hurriedly gathered an array of items from his bathroom. With a huff, he returned to Viola and dropped the bundle inside the stall.

Another squeal of delight left her as she looked everything over. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then she frowned and pouted. “What about my negligee? I specifically remember requesting one because your leathers got noticeably tighter the second I did.”

He pursed his lips. The gratitude surprised him and perhaps even softened him. The taunting prodded his nerve endings. “You may consider the toiletries a token of my goodwill only as long as you answer my queries.”

“Sure. Ask away. I have nothing to hide.” She pumped shampoo into her palm. “I’m happy to discuss the world’s favorite topic—me.”

How could she act so natural while naked with a fully clothed male? Not charmed by her confidence. More and more annoyed. Her boldness kept him off-kilter. “Who are your parents?”

“Yikes. You dove straight into the deep end, huh?” She lathered her hair, every move a sensual dance. “How about this? I’ll tell you their identities when you earn my trust or provide a candlelit dinner for two. Whichever comes first. Which isn’t a refusal to answer, so no storming over to spank me. Not as punishment, anyway…”

He gnashed his teeth. The things she said to him! “Why keep the identity of your parents a secret?” And it was a secret. Most of the records he’d found were noticeably doctored. “Are you ashamed of your sires?”

She rinsed off and sighed. “Perhaps I am. My married mother slept with a husband, but he wasn’t hers. I was the result. To conceal her actions, she hid me for over two decades. Her disloyalty to those she was supposed to love and cherish disgusts me to this day.”

“In this, we are agreed. There is no viler trait than disloyalty.” Disregard the ache in your chest. “Is she living or dead?”

Viola flinched ever so slightly. “She is dead.”

I don’t care if the past upsets her. This doesn’t matter. Nothing changed her crimes against his family. “She disgusted you, but still you loved her.” A statement, not a question.

“Well, surprise, surprise. You just ensured I don’t like talking about myself,” she muttered. As she massaged conditioner into those glorious tresses, arching her spine and thrusting up her breasts, she wrenched a sharper growl from deep in his chest. “When you requested conversation, I thought you planned to ask me about my turn-ons.”

He jerked and tried to hide the action with a cough. What did turn her on? “Tell me where you’ve secreted the key, and we don’t have to talk of anything at all.”

In lieu of a response, she smeared soap over her torso, taking extra care in select places, daring him to try and stop her. Or comment. The scent of roses blended with the fragrance of sandalwood. Her perfume melded with his, becoming theirs.

He wiped a hand over his face. “How many immortals have you bespelled and abandoned?” A topic sure to douse the fire spreading through his veins.

“Hundreds,” she replied with a breezy tone. She canted her head, thoughtful. “Times three.”

“Did you bathe for any of them?” The query shoved its way through his clenched teeth.

“They wished! They never passed my test, so they never made it past first base. They weren’t worthy.”

McCadden hadn’t bedded the goddess? Why did every cell in Brochan’s body suddenly heat? “There’s no greater male than my brother. He is worthy of anyone. More than worthy.”

“If that’s true, why did he—?” She pressed her lips together, going quiet. “I bestowed a single kiss upon him. Prize enough for his sacrifice.”

He scoffed. “My brother gave up his immortality for a lone meeting of lips?”

“I’m that good.” She rinsed her hair.

A soap bubble sluiced over peaks and planes, catching his attention, and he swallowed a groan. How he remained in place without flashing to her, he might never know. “Tell me about your test.”

She moved to the bench and eased down, every inch the Victorian lady clad in ruffles and lace. Water sprayed over her outstretched legs. “I’d rather hear about you. What kind of male are you? I mean, I know you were a decorated demon assassin in the sky realms and a major irritation in whatever world we currently occupy, but little else.”

She’d investigated his past? Pretend your chest isn’t puffing up. “I was a decorated assassin, yes. I liked my job. I love my brother more.”