The Darkest Assassin (Lords of the Underworld 14.6)

She was just so different from Alana, who lied to anyone and everyone to get what she wanted, no matter who she hurt in the process. Fox told the truth, no matter how upsetting, and dealt with the consequences, hurting only herself. Alana expected to dominate her lovers. Despite her own strength, Fox had willingly surrendered to Bjorn, allowing him to set the pace. Alana often played victim, blaming others for her problems, all so unfair this and so unfair that. When she messed up, Fox admitted it, even to her own detriment, and he admired her for it. Bjorn would rather save a loyal villain than a disloyal hero. He would rather work with a truthful enemy than a deceptive ally.

He had no doubt the ferocious beauty would go to the mat for her man, putting her life in jeopardy to protect the one she loved, remaining loyal until the end. Alana only cared about herself.

Bjorn stiffened. Do I want to be Fox’s man…long-term?

“What thoughts tumble through your mind, hmm?” she asked, yanking him back to the present.

Only that you are everything I never knew I needed. Maybe, with Fox, he would experience true satisfaction.

She smiled slowly, the corners of her mouth curling up. Not with amusement, but wicked delight. “Look at you fighting yourself.”

He balled his hands into fists. Had he mentioned her perceptiveness?

“You won’t hurt me today if I refrain from attacking,” she continued. “I won’t go back to the dungeon willingly. So, how do we proceed from here? You gonna try to A, force me back in the dungeon, B, make out with me, or C, let me go? Make a decision. Just know that option A will get you battered, because I won’t go down without a fight…and I’ll probably behead you during my escape. I’ll give you three seconds to decide, then I make the decision myself. Three…two…”

Chapter Ten

“You chose option A? Seriously?” Fox shouted as Bjorn walked away from her cell. Somehow, the bastard managed to carry her to the dungeon without harming her.

“I have a meeting with the Sent Ones,” he called, never looking back. “I’ll return shortly, and we’ll finish what we started.”

“At least put a TV in here. And buy me an access pass to my favorite reality TV shows!”

Silence. She launched into a swift pace. Wearing a T-shirt, and only a T-shirt, she felt shockingly vulnerable. No, Bjorn and his mind-bending hotness made her shockingly vulnerable.

She should have killed him during their first meet-cute, but nooo, she let herself get captured, imprisoned, and whipped instead. Then she kissed him. Like a fool! Then, like a greater fool, she offered him three options to decide her fate, willingly ceding control to him.

Like the greatest fool of all, she’d pulled her punches during the ensuing grapple. Now, she occupied the same cell as before—with a few changes to the decor—Bjorn long gone. On his way out, he grumbled about needing to meet with the Sent Ones before he and Fox could finish what they’d started.

With a sigh, she settled atop the mattress. Yep, a mattress rather than a cot. He’d exchanged a dirty sheet for plush bedding. He’d also provided a small, round table piled high with an all-you-can-eat buffet of snacks and beverages. Chips, cookies, a carafe of wine, a block of cheese, fruit juice, candy bars, and bread.

Why be nice to her at all? And why the hell had she pulled her punches? At no point in the past had she ever hesitated to make a kill in order to self-preserve. Actually, she’d killed anyone who’d ever even uttered a threat. So why hesitate here and now, with him, with her appointed executioner? What made him so special?

Her hormones screamed, Hell-loo! He apologized for the whipping with words and action, and he isn’t even the one responsible. He’s a good guy, and one with a working moral compass. That is why he’s special. The fact that she’d never apologized for what she’d done to the ten…

I suck. And what had Bjorn meant, finish what they’d started? The fight about what to do with her, or the make-out session?

Shivers tumbled down her spine. I know which option has my vote. Focus up. How should she proceed from here?

She still didn’t want to harm Bjorn. But she did want…need another kiss. Bjorn had revved her engine, then left her aching. She yearned to have his big, strong hands back on her breasts, kneading. Longed for him to pinch her nipples. Craved his mouth on her—every inch. Would he take her hard and fast or tender and slow? What did he like in bed?

The demon stretched inside her mind, getting comfortable. What if this was his plan all along? Rev you up and leave you desperate for more, giving you false hope about a possible relationship. Just another form of punishment.

A lump grew in her throat. What if Distrust was…right?

Now, her stomach flip-flopped, suddenly queasy. She had a weapon available in her arsenal, something she hadn’t utilized yet. Not fully, anyway. That weapon? Bjorn’s attraction to her.

Whatever Bjorn’s intentions with the kiss and vow to leave her unharmed today, he wanted her. What if she made him fall in love with her? Anticipation sparked. Excitement, too. If she somehow won him over, he would prevent other Sent Ones from coming after her. Since they were the only species able to negate her portal-opening ability, stopping their attacks would be big. Huge!

How did they negate her portal-opening ability?

Distrust laughed, gleeful. You are so good at sex, you can make a two-pump chump fall in love with you? More laughter. Good luck with that. Guaranteed, he likes to ditch a bitch as soon as he nuts. And if you think you’ll get any pleasure out of the deal, you’re even stupider than I thought.

Unleashing our inner frat boy, demon? Go flame yourself.

If the fiend had called anyone but Bjorn a two-pump chump unconcerned about a “bitch’s” pleasure or emotional wellbeing, she would have agreed. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t believe such a thing of Bjorn. The male had too much honor…unlike the douchebags on her favorite reality shows.

The baby-fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she frowned. Next, the temperature dropped a couple thousand degrees, dark shadows spilling down the walls like ink on paper. Growing, spreading, covering more ground, getting closer and closer to Fox’s cell.

Her muscles went taut as realization struck. Alana had returned. Great! Just great. This should be fun.

A gust of smoke blew through the dungeon, only to part, revealing Alana. She strolled toward Fox, glaring. She wore another dress made of sheer scarves, displaying more skin than it concealed. She’d plaited her hair, then wound the multitude of braids into a crown. Rage iced her irises.

The woman had come for a reckoning, hadn’t she?

Fox comprehended there were two ways to play this. Prove Alana could not intimidate her, or pretend to be afraid, putting Alana at ease, thereby making her cocky enough to relax her guard.

“Who are you? What is your name?” the spouse demanded.

Afraid, Fox decided then. With the right incentive, she might be able to convince Alana to set her free…

Here goes nothing. Fox wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped back, as if she feared what Alana might do. “I—I’m Fox. No one.”

Alana must have craved a high, because she basically snorted Fox’s fear like a drug. “I felt Bjorn’s arousal and thought I’d do my wifely duty and put him out of his misery. I just left his bedroom. He wasn’t there. Want to guess what was? Your scent in his bed. If you’d like to live, you will tell me why.”

Fox balled her hands, fury rampaging through her. Put him out of his misery? Hardly. The bitch had planned to force Bjorn to sleep with her, no doubt about it.

Be scared, remember? Right. Schooling her features, she croaked, “I had been whipped…was dying. He put me in the bed to help me heal. I woke up and…I…I kissed him, but he pushed me away.” Truth. Would it push her over the edge?

Rage flared in Alana’s abyss-like eyes. “You dared to kiss my man? Bjorn the One True Dread is mine, and I do not share.”

If only Fox could cry on command. “It was a mistake. L-l

et me out of this cell, and he’ll never see me again. I promise!”

“I have a better idea.” A tendril of black smoke wafted from Alana’s nostrils. “I kill you, and he never sees you again.”

Fox recalled Bjorn’s warning about Alana. The woman could possess a body and drain it of energy.

Unable to open portals, Fox would be at a disadvantage once again. Plus, she’d never actually fought a Shadow, had only ever heard rumors about them. They were broken into two factions. The Lux—light—and the Sine Lumine—without light. The latter exhibited the worst traits of her three most-hated species: vampires, demons, and phantoms. Living dead who hungered for life? Check. Hive-minded and parasitic? Check. Able to become intangible and tangible, walking with spirits and the embodied? Checkmate. And Alana was their sovereign.

Fox shuddered. Doesn’t matter. I’m armed with my wits. I’ve got this. Sticking with her pretense, she rasped, “P-please, don’t hurt me. I don’t…I can’t…” Ugh. Am I overselling?

With a smug grin, Alana extended her arms at her sides. Dark shadows seeped from her pores, swiftly engulfing her in a cloud, attempting to bypass the cell’s bars, only to bounce back.

Alana cursed and tried to slip through the bars again. An-n-nd she failed again.