The Darkest King (Lords of the Underworld 15)

“Allow me to prove it. I’ll guard the book on your behalf. My armies are double the size of yours, my magic’s stronger. I’ll ensure the code cannot be used against you.”

Once again, unease pricked his nape. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll keep it. I could use a laugh.” Magic could do many amazing, impossible things, but crafting true love wasn’t one of them. And there was no way he would lose his hands by sunrise. Someone would have the skill to sneak up on him and knock him out. Good luck.

Lucifer portaled to his own Hell territory, while William portaled to his principality. He holed up in his bedroom and set traps for anyone foolish enough to enter.

As one hour bled into another, he fought to remain awake. Eventually he drifted off...

He awoke to indescribably pain and blood, so much blood. It wet his sheets, his body—and still spurted from his wrists.

His hands were missing, his traps undisturbed.

Abject fear joined the deluge of agony. The second part of Lilith’s curse had come true. Why wouldn’t the first?

Shit. Shit! What was he going to do?

1

“Forget a cloak of invisibility. I prefer to wear a cloak of hot as hell-ness.”

—William the Ever Randy

Third level of the heavens

The Downfall, a nightclub for immortals

Present day

William stalked through the overcrowded nightclub, shoving an assortment of vampires, shifters and Fae out of his path. Bodies slammed together, protests rising then dying as the patrons glimpsed his expression—homicidal rage.

“Make a move against me,” he grated. “Dare you.”

The crowd thinned in seconds, ninety percent of the immortals racing away, their footsteps shaking the building.

Over the centuries, both enemies and friends had likened William to a grenade without a pin. He could blow at any moment and torch the entire world.

Two females remained at the bar, peering at him with interest. “I heard he moved back to Hell to war with Lucifer,” one whispered to the other, his sensitive ears picking up every word.

“Poor Lucifer,” the other said, sounding gleeful rather than pitying. “I heard the Ever Randy is even more powerful in Hell.”

Well. The beauties weren’t wrong. William did war with Lucifer, just as Lilith predicted, and he did grow more powerful in Hell, his supernatural abilities turning sinister.

The first female smiled and blew him a kiss before telling the other, “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

“Ask him,” the other suggested. “Go on, Helen. Do it!”

“No way, Wendy. You heard his voice, right? He’s like a siren, able to seduce with a single word. Unfortunately for him, I’ve decided to save myself for Strider Lord. He’ll get tired of Kaia any day. Maybe. Probably.”

William heaved a sigh. His presence here served one purpose: obtaining freedom from Lilith’s curse. Finally!

Yesterday, a powerful seer delivered astounding news. Soon, he would find the answer to his every problem: the only person in existence with the necessary skills to decipher his magic codebook, breaking Lilith’s curse at long last. He or she had signed up to attend a conference for cryptanalysts. Location: Manhattan.

Was the codebreaker human or immortal? Young or old? Fragile or strong?

Doesn’t matter. I will find who I’m looking for or die trying.

A female vampire stepped inside his path. A beautiful brunette in a crop top and micro-miniskirt, the club’s uniform. She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. “You’re driving away our customers and therefore our tips.” All sensual grace and coy charm, she traced a fingertip between his pectorals. “I’m real close to having the bouncers throw you out.”

They could try. Anyone foolish enough to put hands on him died horribly, always. A necessity. If you failed to punish those who harmed you, others would think they could harm you, too.

He cast his gaze throughout the club, easily picking out the bouncers: a mix of Berserkers and Phoenix warriors. He heaved another sigh. As much as he’d enjoy making them beg for mercy he didn’t have, he had precious little time.

“I’ll pay you double what you make in a week,” he told her, his wealth incalculable. “Just get rid of the stragglers.”

“And I’m getting rid of the stragglers,” she sang, pumping her fist toward the ceiling. “Everyone out. Now! Go, go, go, before I start cutting off appendages.” She unveiled a wicked smile. “Or maybe I’ll tell Bjorn you guys made me cry.”

In the mad dash to leave, chairs were overturned. Ah, retreat. Good call. Bjorn the Last True Dread was one of three owners of the Downfall, half Sent One—or winged demon assassin with more firepower than angels—and half Dread. One of the most violent species ever to walk the Earth. He possessed a temper as dark and legendary as William’s own, but only erupted when “the weaker sex” cried.

Hi. The 1950s called, and they’d like their misogyny back. Women, the weaker sex? William snorted. Three females had impacted his past and present and one would affect his future in ways no male ever had. One had told him that he never should have been birthed, and he’d carried the stigma of it ever since. Another had cursed him, affecting every relationship he’d ever had. A third had offered hope in a hopeless situation, something even Hades, his idol, hadn’t done. The last would try to kill him if ever he fell in love with her.

William inhaled a deep breath, shook his head to dislodge the hated musings and motored on. Different scents layered the air: candle wax, hormones, clashing perfumes and sweat. The moment he spotted the final patron—the reason for his visit—boiling rage became a simmer of annoyance.

Keeleycael, aka the Red Queen, was powerful beyond imagining, and annoying as hell. As old as time, and as far into the future as she could see, memories tended to tangle up in her mind. Sometimes she struggled to distinguish present, past and future. More often, she lacked focus, unable to complete a task as simple as dressing. Like today. Her clothes were inside out and backward, a sock clinging to her jeans. Around her neck, a necklace made of candy.

“William! Willy! Will!” she called, waving. A vision of loveliness with pale pink hair, golden skin and green eyes, she occupied a table in back. “I know I saw you yesterday, but I’ve missed you terribly. Or maybe I saw you ten...twenty years ago? Or maybe I’m thinking of fifteen years from now?”

Wonderful. The crazy had already started. He quickened his pace. Once upon a time, this mad hatter had been Hades’s fiancée and William’s almost stepmother. Though the couple had split, he’d never stopped caring about her. Recently, she’d ended up wedding a demon-possessed male named Torin, one of William’s closest friends.

As soon as he reached her, he kicked out a chair and plopped down. “Hello, Keeley.”

She smiled a sweet smile in welcome, rousing a wave of affection inside him. “So nice of you to join me for this meeting we never planned.”

Careful. No conversation had ever been so important to him. He needed her lucid; the wrong question might push her over the edge. “Do you know the name of my decoder?”

“Why? Because everything Lilith promised you has come true? An ongoing war with Lucifer—check. A miserable past and present, devoid of genuine, romantic companionship—check. A bleak future—checkmate.”

“Yes,” he said, his teeth gritted. With the curse hanging over his head, he refused to spend more than a night or two with a woman, something he’d like to change.

Not because he hoped to settle down. He didn’t. After everything he’d suffered, he deserved a happily-ever-after with as many women as he desired.

Had his views on monogamy changed? Yes. For others. His friends had mates, and they were perfect examples of love and loyalty. But, William still preferred variety. A single partner would never fully meet his needs.

To him, women wer

e like spices. Some days you wanted sweet, some days you wanted spicy. Or salty. No reason to stick with the same flavor.

“Well,” he prompted. “Do you know the name or not?”

“I do,” she exclaimed. “Duh. Why else would I invite you to this name-and-gender-reveal party?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Surprise,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “The codebreaker is a girl...and your lifemate.”

What? Shock and horror inundated him, a thousand problems forming at once, with only one solution.

“I know you assumed you’d found your mate not too long ago,” she continued, “but you were wrong.”

His chest tightened, squeezing his lungs. He’d met a (once) human female named Gillian Shaw, who’d suffered a childhood more tragic than his own. Not wanting to activate the curse, he’d ruthlessly combated any softer emotions for her, constantly playing the “what if” game with himself.

What if he committed to her, and Gillian did, in fact, try to kill him?

What if he harmed her irrevocably while guarding himself against her attack?

What if he inadvertently killed her? Could he ever forgive himself?