The darkest seduction - Showalter Gena (книги онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗

“You liked?” she replied when she found her voice.

“Woman, you nearly killed me. I should be manning back up, putting us back on track, but I’m completely blissed out.”

So was she. Each time together was better than the last. “I hope we do that a thousand times today.”

“I hope that’s an accurate guesstimate and not hyperbole.”

“If anything, I underestimated. You’re very good with my wings.”

She felt the warm stroke of a chuckle against her skin. “I’m not too rough?”

“You’re perfect.” A kiss at the cord that bound his shoulder to his neck, a scrape of her teeth. “Ever been with a winged woman before?”

“Uh…I…” He hesitated, even as his skin prickled with heat beneath her mouth.

His shame had returned, and once again she experienced sympathy for all he’d endured. “I’ll take that as a yes. Was she an angel, like your friend?” He needed to purge the memories and the feelings that accompanied them.

“Uh…”

“Another yes. A demon, too?”

Only the slightest pause. “Yeah.” He ducked his head in the opposite direction, as bashful as a schoolboy.

Adorable. Just adorable. As strong as he was, as fierce as he was, he cared about her opinion. “Paris, it’s okay. I know you have a past, and I wasn’t pressing for details to embarrass you or to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know there’s nothing you could have done to disgust me.”

Slowly he relaxed and turned toward her. Those dark shadows swirled in his irises, but as she watched, they thinned and misted away. Zacharel had said those shadows were another demon, an evil inside of Paris that he could never get rid of. She wasn’t sure why he’d welcomed that evil, or “birthed” it, and she didn’t care. To her, he was Paris, only Paris, and she would never again make the mistake of hating someone for a perceived malevolence.

“Thank you,” he said again, tightening his hold on her.

“Listen, you. If I can’t put myself down, you can’t thank me for my stunning common sense.”

One of his hands slid to her face, cupped her jaw. She’d meant to make him smile, but his expression had never been fiercer. “It’s a deal.”

Emotion clogged her throat, and she forced a cough. “How about I tell you something embarrassing about me, so that we’re even?”

A rough, ragged, “Please.”

“When I was little, I played beauty shop with my younger sister. I was the stylist and put her gorgeous honey-blond hair in a ponytail—then I hacked off the entire thing. She was the makeup artist, and painted my face with permanent markers. Our parents were horrified.” A bombardment of nostalgia had her choking back a sudden sob.

Enna, Tommy from class says I have too many freckles, and that they make me ugly.Tears rolled down cheeks still baby-round.

Well, Tommy from class is stupid. You don’t have half as many as me, and I’m the prettiest girl in the world. You said so.

A girlish giggle. And I never lie!

I miss you so much, Skye,she thought now. I’ll find you. I’ll save you.

Paris’s thumb caressed the rise of her cheek. “I lost you there for a moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was just saying your story isn’t embarrassing. It’s cute. By the way, I think your wings are hot, and I’m curious to know why I never wanted to lick them when Aeron had them.”

She placed her hand over his and forced herself to smile. Soon she would lose him, so she had to enjoy him while she had the chance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you get stabbed again. Like, real soon. I loved kissing you all better.”

Finally, a surprised laugh barked from him. He pulled her down until her body covered his. “Baby, I’d willingly stab myself for that kind of kissing. But thankfully there’s no need. I already have another owie and it needs your special doctoring skills.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

BY THE TIME THEY WERE DRESSED and stepping out of their private cave into the big, bad realm where Zacharel the Chastity Belt waited, Paris had regained every bit of his strength and then some. His muscles were jacked with adrenaline, his bones fortified with steel. His steps were heavier from his increased weight, surer with his superior balance.

All because of Sienna.

“I used my energy escorting the fallen…someplace else. We’ll have to walk to the doorway,” Zacharel said to Sienna. His cheeks werea little gaunt, his bronzed skin now lacking any shine. “That is what you still prefer, yes? Before, you told me you would rather walk with Paris than fly with me, anyway, and though you will soon discover why that is unwise, it is the best I can offer at the moment.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, ever polite.

“If you’re going to hang with us, make yourself useful.” Paris took the lead, urged Sienna to follow him and forced the angel to take up the rear. “Guard her with your life.”

A gust of wind danced around the angel, and only the angel, more chilling with every second that passed. “I plan to do so. No matter the threat against her.”

An easy tone, but his expression implied Paris himself was a threat, and Zach would take him down if necessary.

Good to know.

During the trek to find Sienna, hardly any creatures had been out and about, and there’d been a small measure of light, a crimson glow from the moon. Now, there were a lot of those hungry, oozing shadows slithering in every direction, and the only light came from the occasional fiend—like the ones who’d followed Sienna, with every intention of harming her. They were staked to poles and burning alive.

Paris reached back and hooked her fingers around the waist of his pants. “Don’t let go of me unless you have to fight.” I don’t want her to have to fight.

“I won’t.” Confident, unafraid.

That’s my girl.Their little train crept through the wilderness, and, like now, some sort of campground. Tents stretched on either side of him. Sex kept his big mouth closed, and this time Paris knew beyond any doubt that the demon was sleeping off the pleasure rather than hiding.

A hiss. A snap of teeth.

Enemy.

Paris searched through the darkness, found the source just up ahead at the top of the closest tent, and leapt into action. He went low, sliding on his knees, running his blade along the trunks of the same vinelike creatures he’d encountered on the climb down that cliff. He was back on his feet a second later, watching as the remains slithered along the sides of the fabric.

No time to relax. Three more rained down. He kept his pimp hand moving, arcing, slicing, and from the grunting he heard behind him, he knew Sienna and Zacharel were doing the same.

A quick look to check on his woman—she had her gaze on his back, swiping at anything that made a play for him—proved she had no wounds, hadn’t been hurt. One of the vines snapped in her direction, dripping fangs protruding from a pair of razored leaves. She was too busy protecting him to protect herself.

Paris swiped out his arm, and got a hunk of skin and muscle torn away. He sucked back a howl of pain. Okay, so now he knew what dribbled from those teeth. Acid.

“Fly her out of here,” he commanded Zacharel, even as he spun, hands crisscrossing and chopping, pieces of vine flung away. He’d rather lose her that way than another, more permanent way.

“Told you. I expended the rest of my energy removing the fallen.”

From the beginning, Paris had known he should off the punked-out bastard, but noooo.He’d sympathized with the guy’s plight. Lesson learned, though. Show a softer side, and boom, you’d be punished later.

“I’m not leaving you,” Sienna said while grabbing on to a stalk and hacking off the head with the crystal blade he’d given her. She was fast, but not fast enough, and soon they would be all over her. “Must have dropped the gun in the water. Sorry.”