Gena Showalter - [Lords of the Underworld 13] (36 page)

Lords of the Underworld Glossary of Characters and Terms

Aeron
—Lord of the Underworld; former keeper of Wrath

All-key
—a spiritual relic capable of freeing the possessor from any lock

All-Seeing Eye
—human with the power to see into heaven and hell, past and future; Danika Ford

Amun
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Secrets

Anya
—(minor) goddess of Anarchy; beloved of Lucien

Ashlyn
—human female with supernatural ability; wife of Maddox

Atropos
—a Moirai

Baden
—former Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Distrust (deceased)

Bianka Skyhawk
—Harpy; sister of Kaia, Gwen and Taliyah; consort of Lysander

Black
—one of the four shadow warriors; famine

Cage of Compulsion
—artifact with the power to enslave anyone trapped inside

Cameo
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Misery

Cloak of Invisibility
—artifact with the power to shield its wearer from prying eyes

Cronus
—former ruler of the Titans

Danika Ford
—human female; girlfriend of Reyes; known as the All-Seeing Eye

Deity
—former king of the Sent Ones (deceased)

Ever
—daughter of Maddox and Ashlyn

Fae
—race of immortals that descends from Titans

Flashing
—transporting oneself with just a thought

Galen
—former second-in-command of the Hunters; keeper of Hope and Jealousy

Gideon
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Lies

Gilly
—human female

Glorika Aisling
—mother of Josephina

Gorgon
—immortal creature able to turn any living being into stone

Greeks
—former rulers of Olympus before Titans

Green
—one of four shadow warriors; death

Gwen Skyhawk
—Harpy; sister of Kaia, Bianka and Taliyah; wife and consort of Sabin

Haidee
—former Hunter; Amun’s wife

Hunters
—mortal enemies of the Lords of the Underworld

Josephina Aisling
—half human, half Fae; aka Tinker Bell, Tinker Hell, Tink, Tinky Dink

Juliette
—a Harpy

Kaia Skyhawk
—part Harpy, part Phoenix; aka the Wing Shredder; sister of Gwen, Taliyah and Bianka; consort of Strider

Kane
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Disaster

Klotho
—a Moirai

Lachesis
—a Moirai

Lazarus
—an immortal warrior; only son of Typhon and an unnamed gorgon

Legion
—demon minion in a human body; adopted daughter of Aeron and Olivia

Leopold
—only Fae prince

Lords of the Underworld
—exiled immortal warriors now hosting the demons once locked inside Pandora’s box

Lucien
—coleader of the Lords of the Underworld; keeper of Death

Lysander
—elite Sent One

Maddox
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Violence

Malcolm
—a Sent One; member of Zacharel’s army

Marigold
—a female from the past

Moirai
—three immortal witches who weave destiny; aka “The Three Fates,” “hobags”

Neeka
—deaf Harpy; prisoner of the Phoenix

Never-ending
—a portal into hell

Olivia
—an angel; beloved of Aeron

Olympus
—former city of the gods; now known as Titania

Opulens
—the Fae upper class

Pandora’s Box
—made of the bones from the goddess of Oppression; once housed demon high lords, now missing

Paring Rod
—artifact with ability to rend soul from body

Paris
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Promiscuity

Penelope
—queen of the Fae

Petra
—female Phoenix

Phoenix
—fire-thriving immortals descended from Greeks

Princess Fluffykans
—Viola’s pet Tasmanian devil

Realm of Blood and Shadows
—location of the Lords of the Underworld’s current fortress

Red
—one of four shadow warriors; war

Reyes
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Pain

Sabin
—coleader of the Lords of the Underworld; keeper of Doubt

Scarlet
—keeper of Nightmares; wife of Gideon

Sent Ones
—winged warriors that fight evil

Séduire
—the realm of the Fae

Sienna Blackstone
—ruler of the Titans; beloved of Paris

Strider
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Defeat

Synda
—Fae princess; keeper of Irresponsibility

Taliyah Skyhawk
—Harpy; sister of Bianka, Gwen and Kaia

Tartarus
—an underground holding cell for immortals

Tiberius
—king of the Fae

Titania
—the city of the gods; formerly known as Olympus

Titans
—rulers of Titania; children of fallen angels and humans

Torin
—Lord of the Underworld; keeper of Disease

Typhon
—an immortal creature with the head of a dragon and the body of a snake

Urban
—son of Maddox and Ashlyn

Viola
—minor goddess; keeper of Narcissism

White
—one of four shadow warriors; conquest

William the Ever Randy
—immortal warrior of questionable origins; aka the Panty Melter

Zacharel
—elite Sent One; leader of the Army of Disgrace

Zeus
—king of the Greeks

Keep reading for an excerpt from
The Darkest Seduction
by Gena Showalter!

If you loved
The Darkest Craving,
don’t miss these other pulse-pounding
Lords of the Underworld
titles by
New York Times
bestselling author Gena Showalter. Available now!

“The Darkest Fire” (prequel novella)
The Darkest Night
The Darkest Kiss
The Darkest Pleasure
“The Darkest Prison” (novella)
The Darkest Whisper
Heart of Darkness
(includes “The Darkest Angel” novella)
The Darkest Passion
The Darkest Lie
The Darkest Secret
The Darkest Surrender
The Darkest Seduction

Looking for more scintillating paranormal romance? Download the spin-off series to Lords of the Underworld now!

Angels of the Dark:
Wicked Nights
Beauty Awakened

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CHAPTER
ONE

P
ARIS
TOSSED
BACK
THREE
fingers of Glenlivet and
signaled the bartender. He wanted an entire hand and by right or might, he’d
have it. Except soon after the single malt was poured, he realized an entire
hand wasn’t going to cut it, either. Fury and frustration were living
entities inside him, frothing and bubbling despite his recent
fighting.

“Leave the bottle,” he said when
the bartender made a move to help someone else. Hell, suddenly Paris doubted
every drop of alcohol in a ten-mile radius would do the trick, but hey.
Desperate times.

“Sure, sure. Anything you say.”
Shirtless Boy Wonder released the bottle and beat feet.

What? He looked
that
dangerous? Please.
He’d washed off the blood, hadn’t he? Wait.
Hadn’t he?
He looked down. Shit. He
hadn’t. Crimson streaked him from head to toe.

Whatever. He wasn’t in a human
bar, so no “authorities” would have a beef with him. He was in Olympus,
though the heavenly kingdom had recently been renamed Titania. Once only
gods and goddesses had been allowed here, but when Cronus reclaimed the
realm, he’d changed things, allowing vampires, fallen angels and other
creatures of the dark to come and play. A nice little screw you to the
previous king, Zeus.

Call the bartender back,
Promiscuity said.
I
want him.

Promiscuity—the demon trapped
inside him, driving him. Irritating him.
Remember when I wanted fidelity? Monogamy?
Paris replied in his mind.
Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?

A familiar growl sounded in his
head.

Whaa, whaa, pout, pout.
He downed the second alcoholic offering and quickly
chased it with a third. Both scorched so good he enjoyed a fourth. The
potent alcohol razed his chest, burned holes in his abdomen, and flooded his
veins. Nice.

And yet, his emotions remained
as dark as ever, the edges of that bone-deep fury and frustration
unsmoothed. His inability to save a not-so-innocent woman he should
hate—
did
hate, at least a little—but also hungered for, body and soul, drove him, a
constant whip against his flank.

“If I asked you to leave, would
you?” a monotone voice said from beside him. A voice accompanied by a blast
of arctic air.

He didn’t have to look to know
that Zacharel, warrior angel extraordinaire and infamous demon-assassin, had
just joined him. They’d met not long ago, when the feathered axman had come
to Buda to off Paris’s friend Amun. Had old Zach actually succeeded, two
crystal blades would have been drilling into his spine at that very
moment.

I want him,
the demon said.

Screw you.

Finally. We’re on the same
page.

Really hate you right now.

Once upon a time, the demon had
spoken to Paris with annoying frequency. Then the stupid sex fiend had
stopped, merely urging Paris to bed this person or that person, no matter
their gender or Paris’s own feelings toward them. Now, the talking had
started up again and it was worse than before, because he wanted everyone,
especially
the ones Paris felt no desire for.

“Well?” the angel
prompted.

“Leave, when I had to beg Lucien
to bring me here and I know he won’t be so accommodating next time? No, but
I’d damn sure want to know why you gave a crap about my
location.”

“I do not care about your
location.”

True story. Zacharel didn’t care
about anything, a fact you learned real fast in your dealings with him.
“That’s my point, so get lost.”

As Paris nursed a fifth whiskey,
he studied the smoke-stained mirror in front of him, covertly panning the
area behind him. Bejeweled chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The walls were
rose-colored marble, veined with glittering ebony, the floor a sparkling
stretch of crushed diamonds.

Throughout the room, men and
women talked and laughed. From minor gods and goddesses to fallen angels
trying to work their way back into their saintly fold.
Good luck with that in a bar. Morons.
Anyway. There was probably a demon or two sprinkled
among the masses, but Paris couldn’t tell for sure.

Demons were as sneaky as they
were evil. They could skulk around in their own scales, proudly showcasing
their horns, claws, wings and tails—and getting decapitated by warrior
angels like Zach. Or they could possess someone else’s body and skulk around
in
their
skin.

Paris had thousands of years of
experience with the latter.

“I will leave, as you so
succinctly suggested,” Zacharel said, “
after
you answer another question for
me.”

“All right.” Something else
Paris knew from experience: angels were freakishly stubborn. Better to hear
the guy out, otherwise he’d find himself with a new shadow. He turned,
facing the dark-haired stunner with eyes the color of jade, and sucked in a
breath. Never ceased to amaze him, how magnetic these celestial beings were.
No matter their gender—or how mind-numbingly dull their personalities—they
drew and held your attention, every damn time. For some reason, Zacharel did
so with more intensity than most.

But the magnetism wasn’t what
caught Paris’s attention this time. Majestic wings arced over the angel’s
broad shoulders, a turbulent fall of winter clouds with streams of gold
winding and curling throughout, snowflakes raining from the tips like
glitter in a globe.

“You’re snowing.”
Captain Obvious, that’s me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can answer you, or I can ask
my question and leave.” Dressed in the long white robe that was customary
for his kind, Zacharel should have looked innocent and prissy. Instead, he
looked like the Grim Reaper’s evil twin: emotionless, as frigid as the snow
he shed and ready to kill. “Your choice.”

No thought necessary.
“Ask.”

“Do you wish to die?” Zacharel
said it as simply as he’d said everything else, mist crystallizing in front
of his mouth, creating a dreamlike haze and reminding Paris of the breath of
life. Or death.

Definitely ready to kill, Paris
mused. “What do you think?” he asked, because honestly? He didn’t know the
answer anymore.

For centuries he’d fought to
live, but now, now he constantly threw himself into the fire and waited to
be burned.
Liked
being burned. What kind of sick prick had he
become?

Unflinching, the angel held his
gaze. “I think you want one particular woman more than you want anyone—or
anything—else. Even death…even life.”

Paris pressed his tongue to the
roof of his mouth. One woman in particular: the not-so-innocent
one.

Her name was Sienna Blackstone.
Once a Hunter and always his enemy, for Hunters were an irritating army of
humans who hoped to rid the world of Pandora’s demons. Then fleetingly,
she’d been his lover. Then dead, gone.
Then
she’d been brought back from the grave,
her soul merged with the demon of Wrath. Now, she was out there. Somewhere.
And she was suffering. Cronus had enslaved her, thinking to use her demon to
punish his adversaries, and now that he’d lost control of her, he thought to
torture her into submission.

Paris might dislike the things
Sienna had done to him, and yeah, as he’d already admitted, part of him
might even hate the woman herself, but even she did not deserve the cruel,
vicious—eternal—punishment being meted out.

I will find her, and I
will
save
her.
From Cronus…from himself. Right
now, Paris simply couldn’t get past the fact that she was suffering. Once
that part of the equation was dealt with, he would stop thinking about her.
He had to stop thinking about her.

“So I want her,” he ended up
saying to the angel. Sienna was not up for discussion. “BFD.”

“I will pretend I know what that
means.” Zacharel shook his wings, more of that pure, glistening snow raining
down. “As for you, I think that, despite your own desires, your demon wants
anything with a pulse.”

“Sometimes even a pulse isn’t a
requirement,” he muttered, and damn if that wasn’t the truth. Sex, as he’d
taken to calling his dark companion, wanted anyone and everyone—but only
ever once. With the exception of Sienna, Sex would not allow Paris to harden
for the same person twice.

Why could he have Sienna again?
No damn clue. “But again, so?”

“I think, even though you crave
this particular woman, you slept with your friend Strider’s future wife. He
is the demon of Defeat, and your actions made his courtship of the Harpy
very difficult.”

“Hey. You’re entering dangerous
territory here.” Not that Paris had anything to apologize for.

The one-nighter had happened
weeks before Strider and Kaia hooked up. Or had even thought about hooking
up. Therefore, Paris had done nothing wrong. Technically. And yet, he now
knew what Kaia looked like naked, and Strider knew that he knew, and that
meant all three of them knew Sex tossed out naked images of the girl every
time they were together. A consequence Paris loathed, but couldn’t
stop.

Zacharel’s dark head tilted to
the side in a reflective pose, all the more mysterious because of the mist
that continued to form with his every exhalation. “I meant only to point out
that you have clearly moved on to other conquests and that you are hardly
discriminating in your choices, which makes me wonder why you still pursue
your Sienna.”

Because Sienna had been Paris’s
one and only shot at monogamy. Because he’d inadvertently brought about her
death. Because he’d felt like he lost
everything
when she died.

“You’re annoying,” he snapped.
“And I’m done talking to you.”

Still the angel persisted. “I
think you feel guilty about every heart you break, every dream of
happily-ever-after you crush, and every bit of self-loathing you encourage
when your partners realize how effortlessly you overcame their reservations.
I also think you are overindulged and pathetic, and that you have no
business crying about your problems.”

“Hey! I’ve never cried.” Paris
slammed his glass on the counter with so much force the bar split down the
center and the cup shattered. Blood welled from the slices in his palm, but
the sting was minimal. “And you know what? I think you are seconds away from
finding pieces of your body scattered in all the corners of this
bar.”

Then, while he’s down, we can have
him!

Zip it, Sex.

“Uh, here you go,” the bartender
said, Johnny-on-the-spot with a clean rag he thrust in Paris’s direction.
His arm shook. He was still afraid of Paris.

I want—

I said zip it!
“Thanks, man.” Paris fisted the material, applying
pressure to the slivers of torn tissue before anyone could scent him and the
oh-so-special pheromones his demon excreted.

One whiff of the intoxicating
aroma, and everyone around him would become unforgivably aroused, uncaring
about where they were or who they were with. Mostly their hunger would be
for
Paris,
and though that would have been an especially craptastic outcome tonight
considering he was operating under a time crunch, he would have enjoyed
rebuffing the males with his fists.

Except…the pheromones never
enveloped him. He frowned. Sex wanted everyone he’d spotted tonight. Why not
take advantage of his ability and force the patrons to want him
back?

Paris returned his focus to
Zacharel, wondering if the angel was somehow responsible.

Those eyes of the rarest jade
narrowed to tiny slits. “I think you hope to save your Sienna, and that is a
good thing. I think you mean to keep her, and that is not. No matter how
intensely you crave her, no matter that she might be your only chance at
forever, your demon will eventually ruin her, for humans were never meant to
battle demons, and at heart, she is still a human.”

“What about her own demon?” he
snapped.

“If one is bad, two is surely
worse.”

“Enough!” If they continued on
this path, his fury and frustration would rise up and consume him. He would
lose sight of tonight’s goal. “I’m not going to keep her.” He would. He
so
would if
given a chance, and if she would have him, of course, but hell, she wouldn’t
have him.

“Good. Because this particular
woman would not like the man you have become.”

Snorting, Paris shoved his free
hand through his hair. “She didn’t like who I was.” And now, after he’d
irrevocably stepped over the line between right and wrong?
Please.

He’d known his actions were
reprehensible, and he’d stepped over anyway. He’d killed, callously.
Seduced, methodically. Lied, cheated and betrayed. All of which he would do
again and again.