The Darkest Warrior (Lords of the Underworld 14)

"Better?" he asked.

"Did you kill them?" she demanded in her broken voice, ignoring his question.

He settled next to her chair and peered out at the water, giving her a moment to adjust to his presence, doing his best to convince her--and Indifference--that he wasn't aware of her every move. "I merely put them down for a nap. But I can slit their throats, no problem. Just say the word."

Her wish, his command.

"N-no. Please. No." She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Upset by the thought of a few murders? Adorable. "Very well, then." See how accommodating I can be, female? I'm perfect for you.

As she studied him more intently, taking his measure, her panic receded. Excellent. He stole a quick glance at her face to judge how long it might take to get her from calm to intrigued--the way he'd left her during their last visit--and frowned.

She wasn't just calmed. She was grateful. Poor lass. How low were her standards for male decency?

Not that Puck cared. Of course he didn't care.

"Why are you here? Truly?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

He needed an excuse, something believable yet interesting, perhaps even steeped in truth rather than lies. "I told you I am the keeper of Indifference, and that you can help me. You can help me feel." Or rather, feel without consequence. Once Puck had claimed the Connacht crown, killed Sin and united the realms, he would risk using the shears on Indifference.

"I promise you," she said, utterly earnest, "I can't make you feel anything."

You already have. More than anyone else ever had.

As necessary for my goals as she is dangerous... One day, he might be better served to kill her.

This! This was the danger of the ice.

Unaware of his thoughts, she shifted to be closer to him, reminding him of a kitten seeking more warmth. How he longed to reach out, comb his fingers through her hair, trace his knuckles along her jawbone and bask in her softness.

Bask? Me? Resist her allure. "You can. You will," he said, dismayed by the huskiness of his tone. He should have no problem remaining detached.

Time to lie. "I was told your situation is so sad, I'll come to care. And I so want to care..."

The fairer sex liked bad boys--or rather, projects--who melted for only one special woman. Don't you see, lass? You are the only one with the power to save me...

"Who told you this?" she asked. Her gaze took on a faraway cast, as if her mind had wandered even as she next spoke. "And why would you want to care? Take it from me. Caring for someone else is highly overrated." She fretted her bottom lip. "Do you care...about anything?"

He pretended to mull over his thoughts, and sighed. "Not even a little." Though she appeared lost in her thoughts again, he added, "The Oracles in my home-realm are the ones who told me about you. And I want to care because it is my right." More truth, harder tone, the words escaping unbidden. Caring without punishment was a right for everyone, human and immortal alike.

If she heard the last part of his speech, she gave no notice. "Do you ever feel?" she asked, something akin to envy pulsing from her, and confusing him.

"Only very rarely, and then..." He pursed his lips. There was no good reason to tell her about the weakness the demon inflicted upon him, and every reason to keep the info secret. Knowledge was power, and Puck would never willingly grant someone else power over him.

"Lucky," she muttered. She was envious of him. What a strange creature.

But then, she didn't know the price of an apathetic existence. How she would lose loved ones and friends, hearth and home. How her favorite foods would become tasteless. How living would equate to surviving. How beloved hobbies would no longer spark joy. How sex would leave her empty and hollow.

"Lucky? Lass, I could set you on fire. As you screamed in agony, I could watch you burn, only interested in the warmth of the flames on a chilly night."

"Okay," she said, her calm acceptance of his unintentional admission surprising him, "maybe lucky was too strong a word." Once, twice, she stole a glance at him through the thick fan of her lashes. "Are you going to set me on fire?"

"No." In an effort to tease her as heroes often teased their heroines, he added, "I left my matches at home."

Success! The hint of a smile curled the corners of her Cupid's bow mouth, as if she found him adorable.

Desire heated his blood and hardened every muscle in his body, earning a snarl from Indifference. Puck's hands curled into fists.

For his plan to work, he had to stop responding to her every word and action, and fast.

A cool, salty breeze tumbled across the sands, and Gillian shivered. Still feverish?

Want nothing, need--

Screw it. Then. That exact moment. Puck became indifferent to the demon, to punishment, to any consequence he might have to face. Trembling with the need to care for his future wife, he removed his shirt and draped the material over her dainty shoulders. As she curled into the garment's warmth, a shocking jolt of satisfaction nearly unmanned him. He savored it, his mind robbed of any defense.

Satisfaction...how he'd missed it. Not just sexually, but in a job well done. A war well fought. Give me more. I need more.

SNARL.

Puck stiffened. Perhaps he should leave, take time to regroup and return when he'd successfully rearranged his priorities. Yes, yes. That was exactly what he should do. As he made to stand, however, Gillian's gaze dropped to his chest and lingered, and Puck wanted to roar with pleasure. Without conscious thought, he found himself switching gears...and settling more firmly in place. Perhaps he'd stay a bit longer.

"Thank you," she muttered.

For the shirt? "You're welcome." Anything for you, lass. Trust me...

Guilt pricked him--I want her trust, but do not deserve it. Still, he ruthlessly slashed the emotion to ribbons.

"So, uh, how did you go invisible?" she asked. "When you fought the guards, I mean."

"I didn't. I moved too quickly for you--or them--to track."

"That's nice."

Merely nice? "My skills are legendary." Bragging now? Hoping to impress her?

She licked her lips, as if gearing up for an argument. "To acquire such skill, you must have lived a long time. You probably know all kinds of facts about, say, a supernatural disease...like morte ad vitam."

Ah. She'd overheard the term and now searched for answers. To tell or not to tell?

"What is morte ad vitam?" she asked when he remained silent.

He stroked his jaw, thic

k stubble greeting him. "Is that what's wrong with you, then?"

"Yes. Every doctor agrees." She gulped. "What does it mean?"

Tell, he decided. "You were given a potion. Your body is trying to evolve, trying to become immortal, but it isn't strong enough. Now there's only one possible chance for survival." He paused for dramatic effect. "You must marry...bond with an immortal and link your soul to his."

Hope lit her eyes. Blink. The hope was gone.

"But even that isn't a guarantee," he continued. "You could drain his strength and kill him. Or worse, make him human."

First she displayed shock. Then horror, acceptance and fear. Finally disgust. His confusion returned, redoubled. Why disgust? Didn't females dream of wedding a strong man who would offer lifelong security?

The fear he understood and expected, even as a part of him resented it. She recoiled at the thought of endangering William's life.

Lucky William, to have a woman so concerned with his well-being that she would do anything, even die, to save him.

Die...to save another man... For a moment, Puck saw red. Literally. My wife will be loyal to me, and no other!

Indifference roared with displeasure.

Inhale, exhale. Proceed with caution. So close to crossing the finish line. Inhale. Good, that was good. Exhale. The crimson haze faded from Puck's gaze.

"Well, that sucks," Gillian muttered, oblivious to the turmoil she'd caused. Gaze faraway again, she began to babble. "I had no idea...thought immortals were created fully formed or born from other immortals."

"Immortals are born in more ways than one."

She blinked rapidly, attention returning to him. "How much time do I have before..."

"Considering your current condition, I'd say another week, maybe two." At most.

"Bummer." Her nose scrunched up, creating adorable little crinkles on the sides. "I'll never get to do the things on my bucket list. If I had a bucket list, I mean."

"Perhaps you should make one. I can help." His first suggestion: bond to a beast.

Her head canted to the side, her whiskey eyes once again admiring. "Why would you want to help me with that, of all things?"

Somehow, her scrutiny made him feel less like a monster and more like a man, as if she didn't see what he was, but what he could be.