The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

“Hold tight,” he commanded, wrapping his strong arms around her. Flaring his wings and flinging water droplets in every direction, he shot into the air.

Wind combed through her hair as she clung to him. “Where are we going?” she asked, nervous but excited. She’d never flown in the shelter of anyone’s arms before.

The most wonderful heat enveloped her, infused with Brochan’s heady male scent. His strength charged her up as surely as the wolf’s admiration.

“An oasis sprang up the day after you used the faucet.” He rolled through a fluffy white cloud, soared over a barren hill, and began his descent.

She almost huffed with disappointment. Over so soon?

When he landed, he set her on her feet. But he didn’t release her, and she didn’t step back. His gaze searched hers as he traced his hands up the ridges of her spine before massaging her nape.

Deep yearning seeped from him. Fury, too. All that barely banked ferocity rippled through his wings, and she battled a strange urge to comfort him. To hold him and never let go.

The urge to kiss him bombarded her next, and Viola jumped back at last, least she give in.

Kiss her captor before he groveled for forgiveness? No. Besides, they needed to nail down some of the finer details of their relationship. For six days, he’d kept her isolated, on edge and miserable. He continued to threaten her pet and blame her for his brother’s condition. He hadn’t earned a kiss yet.

She turned on her heel. The cut direct. And she wouldn’t feel bad about it! Not even when she later replayed the flash of hurt she’d briefly spied in his expression.

As promised, an oasis stretched before her. Miles and miles of lush, emerald foliage teeming with pink and yellow blooms stole her breath. Butterflies the size of her fist perched here and there. A jungle worthy of a goddess.

Viola skipped forward to smell a flower. A warrior wouldn’t reward a despised enemy with such a prize. But he might bring a female he hoped to bed…

Brochan followed, staying close to her heels. “This isn’t a candlelit dinner, I know,” he told her begrudgingly. Reluctantly. “I hope it’s better.”

Much. “Is this our first date?” she gasped, pressing a hand over her thumping heart.

He scrubbed his too-harsh features. “This is a temporary truce.”

* * * *

“Are you sure it isn’t a date?” Viola asked, batting her lashes at him. “I mean, if it looks like a date and acts like a date…”

Brochan ground his teeth. “A date comes with hope for a future together.” And you do not have a future with your mate?

She’s not my mate.

“And passion,” she quipped.

He closed his eyes for a moment, searching for calm. Just get this done.

With great reluctance and an undeniable sliver of eagerness, he slid an arm around her waist, urging her forward. As they walked side by side, unease prickled the back of his neck. She was a powerful goddess of the Afterlife, and she wielded a unique set of skills. Abilities to kill the unkillable. Dangerous talents she could use against Brochan once she finished off Midian and Joseph.

For McCadden, however, Brochan would risk anything.

Soft foliage seemed to lean into her and away from him. He looked up. Anywhere but at his companion. A tier of small suns dominated one side of a lavender sky, beaming streaks of gold.

“How did you find this place?” she asked.

A safe topic. He breathed easier. “As a Sent One, I hunted a rogue horde of Wrath’s minions here.” Lowborn demons who served a higher-ranked master. “This was once a thriving fae realm. But the citizens listened to the evil whispers of the demons and caved to their wicked influence, soon destroying their world and each other. By the time I slaughtered the final minions, only this wasteland remained.”

“Ah. I know those evil whispers well.”

He supposed she did. “Why were you chosen to host Narcissism?”

A moment passed in silence before she sighed. “I’d already unlocked a door and hung a flashing neon sign that read Demons Drink for Free!”

He understood her reference. A single mind was vaster than any galaxy, filled with countless doors, pathways and portals, each one leading to untold delights…or horrors. But no demon could enter a mind without permission from its owner, whether that permission came wittingly or unwittingly. Permission came through thoughts and emotions, for thoughts and emotions kept the doors, pathways and portals sealed, or held them wide open.

“Which emotion did the demon attach to?” he asked.

“Insecurity. What else?”

That, he couldn’t comprehend. “You? Insecure?”

Another moment passed in silence. “By the way,” she said, “the oasis didn’t pop up because of the faucet.”

Though he was disappointed, he allowed the subject change without comment. “Why did it pop up, then?”

She traced her fingertips over a leaf. “The world is thanking me for visiting, bringing beauty, peace and love. As well as the harshest discipline if ever my wishes are disobeyed. And I accept,” she called, spreading her arms.