The Darkest Warrior (Lords of the Underworld 14)

Quick question. No wrong answer. If you were a queen--like ME--and someone did something to hurt you in order to save you, would you forgive him or kill him?

Keeley the Red Queen was a Curator tasked with the world's safekeeping, drawing strength from nature. She called her mind a corkboard because she'd lived so long and had so many memories stuck in her brain. Not just of the past, but also the future. Or a future she'd once seen but had forgotten. Now she was remembering, her marriage to Torin helping her achieve mental clarity.

For some reason, she'd decided to take Gillian under her wing and train her to be royalty with lessons posing as a "quick question."

Gillian responded: Those are my only options? Kill him or forgive him? Fine. I'll play along. But before I can render a verdict, I'll need more info. What did this person do to hurt me?

Keeley: Who knows? I wasn't there.

I still need more info.

Keeley: Wrong answer. You must forgive me. I mean him. HIM. Otherwise bitterness will grow like a weed and choke out any joy. Now, then. I hope you enjoyed this lesson in surviving the wonderful world of immortality from Professor Queen KeeKee.

Forgive YOU??? What did you do, K? Or what are you going to do? Tell me!

Keeley: I love you, my sweet little nonhuman you!

Nonhuman? Sometimes there was no understanding the Red Queen.

With a huff, Gillian pocketed her phone and caught sight of her reflection--those eyes. She remembered why she was in William's apartment, and fear annihilated her amusement.

The cons of doing this tonight: (1) she might keep vomiting, (2) if she failed, she might not gather the courage to try again, and (3) doing nothing could mean losing William's friendship.

The pros: (1) she had chosen him of her own free will, (2) she had planned the encounter, and (3) she would control everything that happened. No matter what, sex with him would be different. Different meant better.

And what if memories of William overshadowed memories of her stepfather? What if William helped rid her of all the guilt, shame and self-loathing that had burrowed inside her heart and taken root?

She wouldn't be a shell of herself any longer. She would regain confidence. The hate inside her would drain. Never again would she feel crushed by life.

Her phone buzzed. A quick screen check had her groaning. Torin.

Where are you?

Torin--another immortal friend--had recently gotten hitched to Keeley. He was a good guy, with a love for sarcasm.

Gillian texted back: Out. Why?

Torin: Why else? Because I like making sure your smart-mouth is safe.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Or you promised William you'd check on me while he's out.

Torin: That, too. Now back to business. Out where?

No way she'd lie. "Lie" was the only language her stephorrors spoke. But no way Gillian would tell Torin the full truth, either.

She typed: I'm in my apartment, Dad. Thanks for asking.

She had an apartment of her own right next door to William's. Technically, her apartment belonged to him, too, since he paid for both, but what belonged to him belonged to her--he'd said so! Twice!

Torin: Like I can't track your exact location, sweetheart. Go home. Whatever you're planning, it's a bad idea. Horrible. Terrible. The worst!

What! He knew? Trembling worse than before, she turned off her phone. This was a great idea. Maybe the best she'd ever had.

Breathe. Just breathe. Everything would be fine. William had experience. A lot of experience. His friends didn't call him William the Ever Randy and Free Willy for nothing. He would make sure Gillian enjoyed herself to the best of her ability. Right?

Dang it. Where was he? What was he doing?

She remembered the first time they'd met.

Desperate to escape her stephorrors, she'd stolen money and bought a bus ticket from New York to LA. There, she'd gotten a job at the only place willing to hire her. A trashy diner where men like her stephorrors had regularly tried to order a "happy ending meal."

Then Danika Ford had come along, a street-smart scrapper who had the supernatural ability to see into heaven and hell. Danika had been on the run from a group of demon-possessed immortals known as the Lords of the Underworld, each one more terrifying than the last. There was Paris, host to the demon of Promiscuity. Sabin, host to Doubt. Amun, Secrets. Aeron, Wrath. Reyes, Pain. Cameo, Misery. Strider, Defeat. Kane, Disaster. Torin, Disease. Maddox, Violence. Lucien, Death. Gideon, Lies.

Against all odds, Danika had fallen in love with Mr. Pain. The happy couple invited Gillian to move to Budapest with them, and because she'd been dealing with a creepy super, spending every night pressed against her front door, a baseball bat at the ready, she'd thought, Why the heck not? Her stephorrors would never be able to find her overseas.

Except, the second she'd arrived, she'd felt as if she'd gone from bad to worse. She'd been too afraid of her new roommates to sleep, and had camped out in the entertainment room--a central location with multiple exits.

One day, William plopped onto the couch and said, "Tell me you're skilled at video games. Everyone else sucks, and I need a challenge."

For months, they'd played video games at all hours of the day, and she'd felt like a kid for the first time in forever. She went from hating all men to loving one as an unlikely friendship bloomed. He quickly became the most important, treasured and wonderful thing in her life. The person she counted on above all others.

Hinges squeaked as the front door opened and closed.

William had returned!

Heart thudding against her ribs, she raced into the bedroom. Footsteps echoed from the foyer. Though her legs felt like jelly, air wheezed between her teeth, and she teetered in high heels, she struck a pose, placing one hand on a bedpost and the other on her hip.

William strode into the bedroom--holding another woman's hand.

Humiliation flash-froze Gillian's blood, tremors nearly toppling her. The woman was breathtakingly lovely, as dark as Gillian was fair, and probably immortal to boot.

When William spotted Gillian, he stopped short. As his gaze roved over her and narrowed, she had to fight the urge to look down, and hide her eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice cold and hard and terrifyingly calm. The kind of tone she suspected murderers used. "I gave you the spare key for emergencies, poppet. Not...this."

"I didn't agree to a three-way, Will." The other woman smiled brightly. "But I'm totally into it. Let's do this!"

Someone kill me. Please.

William pointed at Gillian and barked, "Don't you dare move." Then he dragged the beauty out of the bedroom, despite her sputtering protests.

Gillian pressed her hands over her galloping heart. Should she run?

No. Absolutely not. Girls ran away, and women fought for what they wanted.

A loud slam echoed. Footsteps sounded again. By the time William

reappeared in the doorway, alone, Gillian had given up trying to stand and plopped onto the edge of the bed.

Silent, he strode to his closet. When he emerged, he draped a pink silk robe over her shoulders and forced her arms through the holes.

Definitely wasn't his robe. Did it belong to one of his many women?

Vulnerable to the max, Gillian watched him through the thick shield of her lashes. He was so beautiful, with jet-black hair, bronzed skin and eyes the color of a morning sky. He was the tallest man she knew, as well as the strongest.

"What's this about, poppet?" He remained in front of her, his muscular arms crossed. At least he didn't sound murdery anymore. "Why here? Why now?"

"Because...just because!"

"Not good enough."

"Because..." Just do it. Tell him. "Because guys need sex, and there's no better way to keep one interested. And also because I want you." Maybe. Surely. "Do you want me, too?"

He traced his tongue over his teeth. "You aren't ready for the truth."

"I am ready." She jumped up to clutch the collar of his shirt. "Please."

"Your family took something precious from you," he said, prying her fingers loose, his grip firm without bruising. "I won't do the same."

"You won't. By being with me, you'll help me forget." Begging now? A new stain of humiliation spread over her cheeks. "We're destined mates. Aren't we?"

The look he gave her...so gentle, so tender it devastated her. "I don't want a destined mate. I'm cursed, remember."

Yes. The moment he fell in love, a switch would supposedly flip in his ladylove, and she would do everything in her power to murder him.

He owned a book with a detailed depiction of the curse, and possibly a key to breaking it. Problem was, those deets were written in some kind of code, with strange symbols and odd riddles. So far, no one had been able to decipher anything. But they would.

"You have the book. You have hope." We have a future.

"I'll take no chances with my heart, emotionally or physically." Gaze locked with hers, he toyed with a lock of her hair. "One day, though, we will be together." One day soon. Four days, in fact. Then I'll make sure you're ready.

Realization: he planned to sleep with her, just like he'd slept with so many others. When their relationship fizzled out--and he clearly expected it to fizzle out--they would, what? Return to their friendship as if nothing had happened?

At least I'll have him in my life.