The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

“You fell from the skies to remain with McCadden? Wow. You value loyalty as much as I do,” she said, sounding dazed. “Color me curious. Are you worthy of all this?” She twirled a fingertip around her navel, and he swallowed. “Let’s find out. Once you’ve fallen in love with me, I’ll give my test to you.”

The sight of this woman… Concentrate. “What does the female who condemns innocent immortals to demise consider worthy, exactly, if not forcing a man to sign his own death warrant?”

“Trust me,” she purred, “you’ll find out soon.”

Do not close the distance and put your hands on her.

Do not.

Do…

No! He was panting, every breath as sharp as a razor. “Finish your shower.” A towel. She needed one. Yes. He flashed to the Downfall and back, terrycloth in hand. She hadn’t changed positions. “You’ve used enough water for today.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Soaked, flushed and utterly wicked, she leaned against the wall and lifted a leg into the spray. “Except… Permission to linger a bit more, sir. My thoughts are only getting dirtier. They could use a good scrubbing.”

“Do not try my patience, goddess. I’ve treated you kindly so far.” Far kinder than she deserved, going against his basest instincts. “That can change at any moment.”

“What am I supposed to wear? Someone forgot to fetch me that negligee. Or am I supposed to walk around naked?”

Growling again, he returned to his room at the Downfall, where he gathered a handful of garments from his closet. He returned to the same spot and—stopped breathing. In anticipation of his arrival, Viola had switched locations. Now, she stood only a whisper away. So close he detected the golden flecks in her whiskey eyes.

His heart thudded. “Goddess?”

“I have a question for you,” she intoned, peering up at him. Her cherry-red lips were parted, a moan of delight seeming poised for release. “How badly do you want me, beast?”

Chapter Five

Caught up in her own game? Check. Viola kept forgetting Brochan bore a terrible grudge against her. But maybe he kept forgetting too? The longer she’d showered and chatted with him, doing her best to feign nonchalance, the more intently he’d surveyed her. He struck her as a man at the end of a year-long fast, who’d just discovered the last morsel of food in existence. How could she not crave more of that?

She wasn’t the only one. Narcissism loved every second. With each longing glance, Brochan flooded her with satisfaction and incomparable power. Was there anything better?

Why had she ever run from Brochan, anyway? Here, now, as the Forsaken radiated great waves of heat, she wished to sidle closer to him. For her mission, of course. Only her mission.

Will enjoy entrancing this volatile male, then punishing him for daring to threaten Fluffy.

Unless Viola did, in fact, make him fall in love with her. Should she? Added bonus: She would be punishing him so much worse. Lust burned brightly for but a moment. Love lasted forever.

Change a man’s endgame, and you forever altered the course of his life. The moment she won Brochan’s heart, his vendetta reached its end. Love conquered all, and that was an inescapable truth. She’d seen it time and time again. The moment the Forsaken loved her, he would long only to protect and pleasure her. Harm Fluffy? Never again. He might even offer Viola the same loyalty he granted McCadden.

Loyalty was her kryptonite, and Brochan’s exhibition of it was oh, so enticing.

As amazing and wonderful and perfect and glorious and magnificent and exquisite and brilliant and delightful as she was, she deserved such loyalty. Yet, no suitor had ever demonstrated devotion equal to hers.

Before Viola accepted a gift of immortality from a male, she presented him with the opportunity of a lifetime: Betray , and I’ll stay with you forever. No one had ever responded correctly.

Brochan dropped the bundle of clothing at her feet. Even as he heaved his breaths while repeatedly fisting and opening his hands, he reminded her of a statue. Cold. Hard. Intractable. “Remove yourself from me, goddess.” The hoarse command lacked substance.

“Happy to,” she told him with a silky undertone. She brushed the tip of her nose against his. “After you answer my question.” In case he’d forgotten it, she said, “How badly do you want me? If you’d rather not get into the nitty-gritty details, a simple more than anything will do.”

“Understand me now. I will never take you,” he vowed, his gaze like flint on hers. Except, his pupils were expanding, overtaking those pale irises.

He wants me bad. Who could blame him? She was naked, damp…and hungry.

“Now, now, Brochan. That isn’t an acceptable answer. It’s a lie.” She wound her arms around his shoulders and toyed with the ends of his dark hair. “Besides, think back. I never offered you the use of my body. I merely inquired about your overwhelming feelings on the matter.”