Triumph should have detonated. A glitter bomb of satisfaction. She had won this round. Just as she would win every round. But she merely experienced her own anticipation…
“Why wait?” she asked. “I’m ready for my devotion now.”
“You will answer my questions first.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How long have you owned the key?”
Careful. “As long as I can remember.”
“Have you ever permitted others to use it?”
A pang of sadness sliced her insides to ribbons. “Far too often,” she admitted. The men she’d cared for had enjoyed her greatly…for a short period of time.
Why did the people in her life leave her? How did they not recognize her incredible worth?
“How did you get the key?” Brochan asked.
“My mother and father gave it to me.” Another honest but misleading response. “Look. I get why you want McCadden in a timeless land. But why do the other Forsaken wish to return?”
“For my kind, it’s a need. An uncontrollable pull.” He scoured a hand through his hair, tension tightening his expression. “Why did you choose McCadden?”
Not a subject she enjoyed. “I told you why,” she replied softly, gently. “But you called me a liar.”
“Because he was soon to die? No.” A clipped shake of his head. “You can do many things, goddess, but you cannot predict when another will pass. You are powerful, but you aren’t an oracle.”
“And thank goodness for that! Oracles are the absolute worst, always dishing out puzzles with only half the pieces, inciting self-fulfilled prophecies of doom. But as a goddess of the Afterlife, I’m attuned to…say it with me. The Afterlife. I read auras.”
She moved to another bloom and peeked at her winged warrior through the thick shield of her lashes. No signs of softening yet.
Trying again. “I choose men who are either soon to die or those I might be able to fall in love with. Bonus points if one is both, and I’m able to save him from the jaws of death.” To be a real family? To belong to someone else. Someone who understood her and her challenges—she had all the best ones! “I do want a male of my own, Brochan. Very much.” Did she have a fated one?
No reaction from her companion.
Motoring on. “I win hearts with flirtations and smiles, then test loyalties. When the males fail—and they always fail—I accept their immortality as payment for my time.”
He stretched his fingers, then curled them in once again. “Your time is more valuable than theirs?”
“Yes. No. My reasons made sense once.” She offered him a sad smile, the fight evaporating from her. This man had put her through the wringer lately. She longed for peace. “I wasn’t raised around people. I spent my childhood locked inside a home, hidden. Soon after I broke free, I was imprisoned in Tartarus for the most treacherous of reasons—and not my own. I learned to count on myself long before Narcissism entered the picture.” The admissions tumbled from her lips, and she couldn’t stop them. What is this male doing to me? She hurried to change the subject before he responded to her uncharacteristic openness. “Tell me about your former lovers. The two who turned from your kisses.”
Though his cheeks reddened, he kept his gaze on her, expression curious and…she wasn’t sure. The emotion bothered her, whatever it was.
He drew his wings closer. “At eighteen, I let a council of Sent Ones select a wife for me. A mother for McCadden.”
He’d married? Jealousy sparked, and she bit her cheek. “Go on.”
“I didn’t know it at the time, but Samantha esteemed another. Eventually, she divorced me to wed him. Rebecca left me for reasons unknown.” A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Perhaps she merely wished to escape my hideous face.”
Ouch. Okay. Viola had thrown the insult to hurt him. Because yes, he had hurt her. Retaliation was supposed to make her feel better, not worse.
She forged ahead, the prize worth the effort. “I happen to like your face.” Truth. “And I have the best taste in the history of taste. Ask anyone.”
He pursed his lips, far from mollified. “I’m the only person available to admire you. Of course you like my face right now.”
As she peered over at her captor…her partner…the male she desired, with his harsh features, rough demeanor, and dignity of a merciless king, Viola came to a startling decision. She wanted more than her own enjoyment—she wanted his. And not only to prove a point.
“Why are you peering at me like that?” he demanded, growing as stiff as a board.
“Like what?” Strolling toward him, she rasped, “Like I want to show you how handsome you are?”
Chapter Eight
Brochan watched, enthralled, as his goddess crossed the distance between them, a vision in her silvery gown. Her eyes were hooded, her red lips parted. Long, blond hair swayed with her every movement. Each step separated the slits in her damp skirt, revealing more of her perfect legs.
With the foliage and flowers behind her, her whiskey eyes glittering, she might as well have stepped from a dream.
He groused, “I’m not going to harm you, Viola. You don’t have to pretend to desire me.”
“I thought we covered this already.” She stopped in front of him. The rain had rendered the fabric of her dress transparent. “I’m not pretending.”
Muscles clenched on bone, his body aching. Pure temptation…
Look away! “You didn’t want me before this.” Pouting and complaining rather than stating a simple fact? Very well. “When we kissed, you got lost in your head.” Exactly as Samantha and Rebecca used to do when he touched them.
“Why wouldn’t I get lost in my head? I was making out with the guy determined to kill me. I had qualms.”
Ohhh. Air deflated from his lungs, shock tossing him into a tailspin. And he’d already been spinning, thunderstruck by the childhood memories she’d shared. The suffering she’d endured. The pain he’d detected had nearly rent him in two, a need to defend her rising. To protect and comfort.
Defend, protect and comfort McCadden’s would-be killer? No. But give her an hour of devotion each day? That he could—should—do. There was no better method to keep her docile.
“Brochan?”
What would she request now? “Yes, Viola?”
“My demonstration of your handsomeness requires repositioning for both of us. Sit.” Cupping his shoulders, she urged him to the ground.
He offered no resistance as she eased upon his lap. A slight weight, and yet he felt her in every cell of his body. His heart raced. “What do you hope to accomplish with this, goddess?”
“Many things.”
“List the top five.” His hands sought her of their own accord, one landing on each side of her waist. The sight of his claws resting against her delicate form struck him as obscene. Heat blistered his cheeks as he pried his fingers free, one by one.
“Only the top five? How you limit me.” Just before he eliminated contact completely, she clasped his wrists, holding him in place, and offered her softest smile. “Perhaps there is a reason that supersedes all others. Perhaps I seek…satisfaction.”