The Darkest King (Lords of the Underworld 15)

“I don’t,” she admitted. She needed to pick a bed and set traps, ensuring no one approached her while she slept. If she slept.

If there’d been a narrator for her life, they would have said: “She won’t.”

Lots of scrambling ensued. Some people beat at the walls, searching for a hidden doorway. Others attempted to create one.

She selected a bottom bunk and plopped onto the mattress, her thoughts whirling. What if she used William for more than a mystical Uber to Lucifer? He said he’d grant any boon if she decoded the book, so, why not make him hunt and kill the immortals on her list, all those poachers and collectors? That’d mean no more running. No more hiding. Not for her, and not for the other unicorns.

For the short term, William could be an incredible ally.

Excitement skyrocketed, only to crash. She’d have to trust him with the names—men and women he could then portal straight to her door, encouraging an ambush.

Despite everything, she kinda sorta wanted to trust him. In this, and only this. However, wanting to do something didn’t always mean you should.

So. Should she?

And what about the approach of mating season? Shivers of dread and eagerness trekked down her spine. When extreme lust set in, and it would, her trust issues would cease to matter. She would crave sex, sex and more sex. With anyone nearby. What if she used her boon to request William’s services?

She’d never experienced mating season with a lover, not even Blaze. They hadn’t wanted to risk a pregnancy, so she’d chained herself...while Blaze slept with another.

William could maybe, possibly use magic to prevent a pregnancy.

Was he in bed with another woman right this second?

A ripping sound yanked her from her musings, and Sunny blinked into focus. Her claws were bared and buried in the bedsheet, the linen shredded in spots. Well, no help for it now. The damage was done.

She let her thoughts return to William. She’d meant what she’d said. She would help him with his book and tormenting him. Unicorn torture involved little things guaranteed to make him as uncomfortable as possible. Like baking his least favorite food and guilting him into eating it. Or shrinking his favorite sweater in the wash. To start. The punishments grew increasingly hard-core.

But. She had two weeks. She’d need to get to the hard-core punishments sooner rather than later. How else would William learn not to mess with a unicorn?

As long as he kept her locked up, he would get no relief.

Her lips curved into a grin. This is going to be fun—for me! If he set her free, then and only then would she stop the punishments. If he refused to let her go at the end of their two weeks, as promised, the punishments would stop. Because she would kill him dead.

Sunny shuddered, the grin fading. At least she knew just what to do to make him miserable...

7

“I once gave Death a near-William experience.”

He’d done it. William had successfully imprisoned every codebreaker on his list, plus a few extras to use as leverage. He’d interrogated everyone but Sunny, and every single codebreaker had told him, “You should talk to Sunny Lane. She can do things no one else can.” Which meant...

She’s the one.

Had she decoded the page of his book and lied about it? Did it matter? If she was his codebreaker, she was also his lifemate, and she had to die in two weeks. If she failed to break the curse. Exactly as planned.

It’s her or it’s me. Choose.

Me.

Yet, lust for her continued to blaze in his veins. Only lust. He kept replaying the moments he’d held her in his arms. The lush softness of her breasts, with their hardened peaks. How he’d almost fallen to his knees like a lovesick fool.

Damn it, he’d never reacted to a woman this quickly or this intensely, obsessing about her, and possessive of her. Not even Gillian. He’d wanted her, but he hadn’t needed her. He hadn’t craved her while they were apart.

I don’t need Sunny, either, damn it. He pounded a fist into his desk, a crack spreading from one side to the other. But, just as swiftly as the crack appeared, it vanished, repaired by magic.

When Sunny admitted she’d thought about another man as William patted her down, he’d wanted to shove a dagger in the bastard’s gut. He’d even warned other men away from a woman like some human with low self-esteem and zero confidence. A first. He’d told them, Touch her, and I will eat the marrow from your bones.

Would she touch them?

Wham, wham. He punched the desk twice more. The woman teased and tormented William the way he’d teased and tormented so many of his lovers, driving him half-mad.

Face it, Panty Melter. Sunny is the one.

With a groan, he flopped back in his seat. He might have found his lifemate, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around a long-term relationship. Would he ever be able to relinquish his dreams of kingship and variety to settle down with one woman, playing house and raising brats? What if he missed out on something better?

His heart raced. He fought to breathe, just as he’d done as a child, the walls seeming to close in around him.

“You look constipated. Thinking about your Sunshine?”

Green stood in the doorway of his office, his voice wrenching William from the first stirring of panic. He sucked in a much-needed breath. Then again. And again. Finally, his heart rate slowed.

“I’m thinking about lifemates,” he replied, choosing to be somewhat vague. “And her name is Sunny. Sunday.”

His son shuddered. “Lifemates? How sensitive of you. Are you on your period or something?”

William deadpanned, “Yes, but I’m out of tampons. Have an extra in your purse?”

Green snickered at him. “Sorry, but the only thing I’m packing are these guns.” He flexed his biceps.

William rolled his eyes. His attention snagged on a framed photograph of a beautiful brunette. He traced a finger over her sweet face. At the age of fifteen, Gillian had run away from home to escape years of sexual abuse. But she’d fared no better on the streets. Physically, mentally and emotionally battered, she’d been desperate for a protector.

At sixteen, she’d moved in with the Lords. Back then, she’d been a quiet little mouse with shattered eyes. One look at her and William had relived his own abuse; he’d longed to give Gillian a better life. And, over the next two years, he had, teasing smiles and laughter out of her. Some nights, they’d played video games till dawn. Mostly, he’d safeguarded her present and future, building an investment portfolio to ensure she’d never need anyone for anything.

As her eighteenth birthday had neared, William had truly believed he loved her romantically, that they would be together for a time and leave their pasts behind. At the same time, he’d continued to sleep with other women, anyone who caught his fancy, never really committing to Gillian. Soon, she’d decided to commit to another male, a beastly king possessed by the demon of Indifference. Puck of Amaranthia adored her and desired no others. A circumstance William had once lamented but now celebrated.

Trut

h was, he’d seen himself in her. He’d wanted to love her, just as he’d once wanted someone to love him.

“Wonderful. You’re lost in your head again.” Again, Green snickered at him. “You might want to pep up. Grandpa is here to see you.”

Grandpa? William laughed. “I’m confident Hades prefers Pop Pop. He’ll rage if you call him anything else.” He cast his gaze over the spacious office. Nothing out of place. Excellent. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of William wearing a whipped cream bikini, holding a sparkler in one hand and a banana in the other. A real classy piece, and a gift from Anya, the minor goddess of Anarchy as well as his oldest friend. In fact, she was engaged to Lucien, the keeper of Death and a coleader of the Lords.

Bookshelves graced every wall, displaying part of his collection of skulls—men, women and creatures he’d killed. Or, in Claw’s case, the skull of a man who’d been killed on his behalf. He kept Gillian’s entire family in his bedroom: the stepfather, both stepbrothers and even the mother, who’d accused her of lying about the abuse. His crowning glory, however? Lilith’s. Satisfaction stirred deep in his chest every time he glimpsed it.

He told his son, “Send him in.”

“Why don’t I send myself in?” Hades strode past Green, his lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Also, the first one to call me Pop Pop gets a boot to the short and curlies.”

William barked a laugh. Damn, he loved this complicated, mysterious man. Hades had raised him with an iron fist, tolerating zero disrespect. He’d helped William shed his “Scum” identity, snuff out and destroy his greatest weaknesses, and ensured he had the skill to survive anywhere, anytime, no matter the hardships. In the king’s care, William had flourished; he’d been safe, content and adored, a tri-miracle few experienced in their lifetime.

“Careful,” Green said to Hades. “Daddy Dearest is in a mood. He’s contemplating lifemates.”

Hades stiffened, no doubt assuming the mate in question was Gillian. He’d never liked the girl, not for William. And now I understand why.

“I’ll risk it,” the king responded, his tone dry. Smoothing the lines of his pin-striped suit, he eased into the seat across from the desk.