The Darkest Lie

CHAPTER SIX

SWEET GODS ABOVE, Gideon thought, dazed. This woman—his woman—tasted like perfectly ripe berries, felt like caged lightning against him, and the sounds she made as his tongue rolled and thrust against hers, those little catches of breath, were like heroin mixed with ambrosia. Addictive, mind-fuzzing, overwhelming.

He had her pressed into the ground, his legs between hers, his erection resting against the apex of her thighs. He wanted to knead her breasts. Gods, did he want to knead her breasts. But that would be too much too fast. For her, at least. So he did the only other thing he could. He captured her wrists and pinned them over her head, effectively pinning his own movements, as well.

Mistake. That, of course, arched her lower back and closed all hint of distance between their chests, muscle to soft, luscious breasts. Her nipples were hard, so wonderfully hard, and they created the most delicious friction against his chest, catapulting him to a new level of awareness.

A dangerous level where her enjoyment and happiness were more important than his own.

He didn't release her, though. It was too late for that. He had to have more. So if he couldn't roll those nipples between his fingers, if he couldn't tongue them, he'd have to settle for continuing to rub himself against them. As an added bonus, every little movement rammed his shaft into her core, causing them both to shiver and groan.

Kissing usually did nothing for him. Maybe because he could never ask for what he wanted; he had to lie and demand the opposite. He had to ask for sweet, innocent. He had to ask for gentle, tender. Yet, with Scarlet, he didn't have to ask for anything. She simply gave him hard and wet. Deep and intense. She bit at him, sucked on his tongue, scraped at his teeth. And he couldn't get enough.

He kissed her forever. He kissed her while the insects sang and the moon fought for its place in the sky. He kissed her until he lost his breath. Kissed her until she was writhing against him, her legs wrapped around him, squeezing him, her teeth nipping at him as she silently begged for more.

And yet, through it all, she seemed distanced. As if she weren't truly there with him. As if she held a part of herself back. Hell. No.

Distance, he wouldn't tolerate. He might not want to push her too far, but by the time this kiss ended, she would think of no other man but him. She would be happy she was wed to him. She would dream of him, crave him more than any other.

Was this what it had been like between them, all those centuries ago? Consuming need dipped in fervent heat then twined with unquenchable aches?

He released one of her hands, and she immediately tunneled her fingers through his hair, nails digging into his scalp. Enough to make him bleed. Yes, yes. More. Maybe he could push her a little further. But to do so, he'd have to sacrifice the kiss. With their mouths pressed together like this, he couldn't think properly.

Moaning, Gideon wrenched himself away from her lips. She had her eyes sealed shut, as if she were in pain. Those lips were swollen and red, moist. Unable to help himself, he licked that moisture away before hiking her dress up to her neck, baring her panties, her stomach and lastly her breasts. He hadn't given her a bra. Too much had he liked the idea of her sitting next to him, a thin piece of cotton all that rested between his skin and her nipples.

Her breasts were perfectly sized, a little less than a handful, and those nipples were as red as her lips. His mouth watered as he lowered his head. And dear gods, sucking one of those little berries into his mouth was a religious experience. The moment his tongue made contact, his entire body felt as though it went up in flames from the inside out. His blood turned his organs to ash. His ashed organs liquefied his bones, and those liquid bones scorched his skin, leaving blisters.

She must have experienced the same melting sensation, because a scream of pleasure exploded from her. An honest-to-gods, I'm-losing-my-mind scream of pleasure. He loved it, reveled in it. Except a thousand other screams followed hers. And those weren't forged by pleasure. Those reeked of fear and pain.

"Gideon," she rasped.

Once again, he raised his head. Her eyes were still sealed shut, only now her mouth was pulled tight in an agonized line. Thick black shadows were seeping from her ears, her mouth, and swirling around her head.

Her demon, he realized.

Since Gideon had gained control of his body and his actions all those centuries ago, Lies had been like a ghostly companion. There, but hardly noticeable. Well, until recently. Before Scarlet, the demon had rarely spoken to him outright or asserted its presence physically. Rather, his demon had mostly led him through compulsions.

This wasn't a compulsion for her. This was an all-out manifestation. And he had no fucking clue what to do.

"How can I make this worse, devil?" He tried to pull away from her, to ease her in any way he could, even if that meant no longer making out with her. But her eyelids at last popped open, her irises glowing bright red, and she grabbed his shirt, jerking him back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The words were a harsh growl, and all those discordant screams layered the undertone, a tide of malevolence. "Hear us well. If you dare stop, we will punish you."

Us. We. Her demon was that involved? That much a part of her? O-kay. Not his first three-way, but certainly his strangest. There was no time to marvel, however.

Scarlet dragged a finger down the center of his shirt, ripping the cotton, exposing his chest. She flattened her palm against his pierced nipple and licked her lips. "More," she moaned, arching into him.

Her cleft brushed his shaft, and the rest of the blood left his brain. The moist tip of his cock even pushed past the waist of his pants. The fact that the shadows were still drifting from her, the fact that those screams were still echoing between them, failed to faze him. His desire for her was simply too great. He, too, had to have more.

Not sex, he told himself. Not yet. He still thought it would be pushing her too hard and too fast. And he wouldn't have her crying foul later, claiming he'd taken advantage of her and using that as an excuse to distance herself further.

"You're just sitting there. Hurry!"

Complaints about his performance already when she was clearly passion-drunk. He'd like to say that was a first, but couldn't. Many women had complained about his get in as fast as you can, get and give an orgasm and leave mentality. "Gideon! Obey."

"Sure, sure. Don't show me what you want first." He didn't leap into action, of course, but watched as Scarlet began kneading her own breasts, exactly as he'd yearned to do. Strands of her silky black hair fell down her shoulders and curled around her fingers, as if tickling her.

Her eyelids closed to half-mast, and her teeth chewed at her bottom lip as she reached down with one hand, past her pretty blue panties and into the wet heat of her. Gods, she was sexy. Her stomach hollowed into the most sensual navel he'd ever seen, and her thighs stretched into the hottest legs.

"That good enough for you? I showed you, damn it, now keep up your end of the bargain."

Finally, he moved. He reached out and fisted her dress, lifting the material the rest of the way over her head and then tossing it aside. "Press your knees closer together," he croaked out.

At first, she obeyed and closed her legs to him. When he applied pressure to her knees, urging them farther apart, she realized what she'd done and dropped them open. Spreading herself, eager for him. Her hips arched forward, back, beseeching him to do something, anything.

For a moment, he luxuriated in the image of her. He'd seen her like this before. He knew it, to his very soul he knew it. For this image didn't seem new, but somehow a part of him. Deep inside, hidden but there. Yet, when he tugged those panties aside, pushed her fingers from the place he wanted to be and lowered his head, when he traced his tongue up the slick heat of her, the taste of her was new. He had absolutely no memory of it.

And what a shame. Nothing had ever tasted as sweet, as heady. She filled his mouth, invaded each of his senses, branded his every cell.

"Gideon. Please. Please, please, please." Scarlet. "More. Now!" Her demon. Funny that he could tell the difference between them already.

But he needed no more urging. He lay on his belly, his face right between her legs, and did everything his fevered brain had been imagining since he'd discovered her in his dungeon. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled, he tongued her in the sweetest possible way, sinking deep, savoring every drop of her.

When that wasn't enough, his fingers joined the play. First one, then two. Three stretched her, and he was afraid he was hurting her, so he took his time, letting her become used to him. And when she did, she rode those fingers with complete abandon, arching into him, tugging on his hair, clawing at his scalp. Again, he loved it. Couldn't get enough. Wanted it to last forever.

Wanted to do more. Do everything. Things he'd only ever dreamed of doing to others but hadn't been able to do because of his demon. Wicked things, things most women would probably shy away from. Hell, things most men would probably shy away from. But he was a warrior who had seen and done things most people couldn't comprehend. He'd lived for a long, long time and normal had grown yawn-inducing.

Perhaps Scarlet would have let him do everything he wished. Perhaps she even would have enjoyed it. She'd lived a long time, too. But with her past, having spent so many centuries as a slave, she might have hated it. Either way, now wasn't the time, he reminded himself.

This was about getting each other off while reassuring her that he wouldn't do more until she was ready. Mentally as well as physically. That she could trust him. With her body. Her secrets.

A lie? Suddenly, he didn't know anymore.

"Gideon, Gideon. Yes, like that. Don't stop. What you're doing...gods, I love it."

More decadent words had never been spoken. She was getting close, her body tensing, readying for completion.

Not without me, he thought. Though he wanted her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him, maybe even cupping and pulling at his testicles, he fisted himself. As he began licking her once again, he worked his shaft up and down, his grip strong, the glide sure and wet from her. Gods, yes. That was good.

He sank his tongue deep, just as he had done with his fingers, and just like that, she erupted. Her inner walls clamped down on him, holding him captive. Her knees squeezed his temples, hard, and he thought his skull might crack. He didn't care. He'd done that to her; he'd given her that pleasure. He'd pushed her over the edge of control.

Pride and possessiveness poured through him as he tasted the sweetness of her orgasm. His strokes on his cock increased in speed, in intensity, and he shot up, over her, keeping himself from crushing her with one hand flattened beside her shoulder. Her eyes were still at half-mast, and she was panting. Sweat glistened on her brow, and there was a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her swollen mouth. Her nipples were still hard, even though an air of absolute satisfaction radiated from her.

Mine, he thought, and then he, too, was hurtling over the edge, jetting hot seed onto her stomach. Perhaps he should have angled away from her, but he wouldn't have been able to turn away if a sword had been poised at his throat. His gaze was too busy drinking her in, and yeah, he liked the thought of his seed on her. Like a brand. It was only fair, after all. Her essence was inside him, swimming through him.

Now he collapsed on her, crushing her, unable to help himself, the last drop having emptied him out completely. He had no energy left. He couldn't quite catch his breath, and the only thing his mind wanted to do was to relive what had just happened. The sights, the sounds, the taste, the feel.

It was probably the same for her, her mind caught up in what had happened, her heart softening toward him. He could ask her anything now, and she'd tell him the truth; he was sure of it.

"Get off me, you big lug," Scarlet said, shoving him aside.

Wait. What?

Surprised by her vehemence, he rolled to his back, looking up at her as she stood. The shadows were no longer pulsing around her, and the screams of pain had died. She kept her back to him as she marched to the bubbling spring. It was too dark to see the nuances of her tattoos.

Next time, I'll kiss those tattoos. But oh, he could see the contours of her ass, and damn. Three words: Per. Fec. Tion. Firm, made for cupping. Why didn't I cup her?

He'd concentrated on her fun zone, and lost focus on everything else. Next time, he thought again.

Without a word, she entered the water and sank to her shoulders. That's when she finally faced him, though her gaze never quite touched him.

"You've got a, uh, slow recovery time," he told her. He sat up and scrubbed a hand through his tangled hair.

"Well, there wasn't much to recover from," she replied tartly.

His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in affront. The little brat had really gone there, not so subtly telling him the experience hadn't been good for her. She was lying. Of course. And he didn't need his demon to tell him that. (Which the bastard did not.) She'd enjoyed the hell out of herself. She'd writhed and screamed. She'd begged for more, damn it.

Scowling, he jumped to a stand—and pretended he'd tripped when his knees almost gave out. Apparently, he hadn't recovered. Motions stiff, jerky, he removed the tattered remains of his shirt and shoved his pants to his ankles.

Shit, he thought, seeing himself. His anger drained. He was still wearing his boots. What kind of lover wore his boots when tasting a woman for the first time?

He kicked those off, nearly falling on his face again, and stepped out of his jeans. He removed his weapons, too, all ten thousand of them, it seemed, strapped over every inch of him. Naked, unabashed, he strode to the spring and settled in beside her. Steam rose, the mist like glitter as it danced in the air. The hot water caressed his tired muscles.

"What are you doing? You weren't invited." Scarlet swam to the other side, putting as much distance between them as she could. Yet nothing could have separated their gazes. They were now locked together in a heated clash of wills. At least her eyes were black now, rather than red.

"I could have done a lot less to you, you know," he grumbled. "Where's my no thanks?"

"Your no thanks is right here." She flipped him off with absolute relish. "And yes, I know you could have done a lot more to me." Her hand fell back into the water, and her head tilted to the side, her study of him intensifying. "Why didn't you?" Soft, whispered.

A loaded question, and far worse than "Do I look fat in these pants?" There was no way to answer without damning himself. You weren't ready would be met with How do you know what I'm ready for; you don't even know me. Or the lie I didn't want to do more, which was what he'd have to give her, would be met with Neither did I or a thousand questions about whether or not he now remembered her.

Time to change the subject. "Why don't you stay there?" As he spoke, he crooked a finger at her.

Stubborn, she shook her head. But she said, "I will, thank you."

A muscle ticked below his eye. He wanted to hold her, damn it. Wanted to wrap his arms around her and snuggle her close. He wanted to, well, bask in her. Because that would thaw her out. Of course.

"You didn't know what I meant, Scar."

"Look," she said, strength weaving itself into her tone. Her butterfly necklace sparkled as a ray of amber moonlight fought its way past the canopy of leaves above them. "What happened, happened. We can't undo it, but we can take steps to ensure it doesn't happen again."

He could only gape at her. Why the hell would they want to do that?

"We just don't need to go down that road again," she continued, as if she were reading his mind. "It didn't end well the first time and it would only end worse the second."

"You can know that for sure." He straightened, meaning to close the distance himself and shake her. She was too determined, too sure of herself.

She kicked out a foot, flattening it against his chest, and stopped him. "Stay where you are." The red reappeared in her eyes, matching the glimmering ruby in her necklace.

So. The demon wasn't too far from the surface now, after all. But Nightmares had seemed to like him, and had certainly wanted him. Did that mean Scarlet was battling her body's—and her demon's—needs, even now?

Pensive, Gideon settled back against the rocks. But when Scarlet tried to remove her foot, he grabbed her by the ankle and held on.

"Let me go. Oh, gods. Don't let go. Don't you dare let go."

He'd pressed his thumb into her arch, massaging. If he couldn't shake her without a fight, he'd settle for disarming her. Her head fell back against the rocky wall behind her, and the harder he worked, the more she gasped.

"I'm not trying here," he told her. Damn, but he'd never tried so hard. "To remember, to make amends, to make something work."

While continuing to gasp in pleasure, she said, "You don't want me. Not really. You want answers."

He couldn't deny it. He did want answers. But with every second that passed, he wanted her more. "To part is to die," he said, and because it was a lie—though he almost wished it wasn't—he wasn't struck with pain and weakness.

"Stupid words that mean nothing."

He felt that way, yeah, a little bit, but her memories were intact. She shouldn't. He tried not to let his irritation and frustration show. "Give me nothing." Something. "Just a little nothing." Anything.

A long moment passed in silence. He continued to rub her foot, and she continued to enjoy, but she didn't speak. He thought she meant to ignore him. But then, finally, she sighed, so many emotions tangled in that heavy exhalation.

"Once, you were delivering a prisoner to Tartarus. An immortal who had tried to kill Zeus in order to claim the heavenly throne for himself. Before you could get him locked inside one of the cells, you noticed that I was fighting a goddess." Her brow furrowed. "I can't remember who it was, only that she was tall and blond."

That could be any one of thousands. "Please, don't go on."

"She was...winning." The furrow deepened, and Scarlet frowned. "That doesn't feel right. I mean, in my mind I can see her holding me down and scratching me, but the image feels...wrong. I'm not making any sense." She waved a hand through the air, droplets of water dripping off and splashing. "Anyway, you noticed us and released the prisoner to rush to me. While you pulled the goddess off me and helped me to my feet, the new prisoner tried to escape. You ran after him, and all the gods and goddesses inside my cell tried to escape, as well. I held them back while you captured the male because I didn't want you to get into trouble."

Wow. She could have run herself, but she hadn't. For him, she'd stayed. The knowledge was...humbling. If she spoke true, that is. Why the fucking hell couldn't Lies tell with her? "And what didn't the gods and goddesses do in retaliation?" They wouldn't have let that kind of betrayal go. She'd stopped them from gaining their freedom; they would have punished her. Severely.

She shrugged, deceptively cavalier. "I told you one thing, as you asked. That's all you get."

Damn it. The story had only whetted his appetite for more. "Seems like you haven't endured a lot of pain to be with me. Why would you not do that?"

"None of your business." Once again, she didn't pretend to misunderstand what he was saying and his respect and admiration for her grew. Along with his frustration.

"Don't tell me, and I won't give you a boon. Anything you don't want." Without a doubt, she'd ask for liberation. He'd give it to her, because damn, he just couldn't lie to her anymore, and then he would catch her again. Lock her away as planned.

It was necessary, he reminded himself. She was dangerous, could destroy him and everyone he loved. He'd remind himself of those facts until the word necessary was simply a part of him, as vital as breathing.

Her interest perked. "A boon to be named later?"

"No."

She tugged her foot from his clasp and gave him the other one. He tried not to smile as he set to work, massaging this arch in turn. So quietly demanding. So adorable.

Necessary.

"All right, yes," she said. "I'll tell you." She licked her lips, averted her gaze and peered up at the heavens. "Just...give me a minute."

"A minute" turned out to be eleven. Not that he was counting every damn second.

The suspense was killing him, though he suspected what she was going to say. I risked punishment because I loved you. Part of him wanted to hear the words, even if that made him a sadist. The other part of him really wanted to hear the words. Even if that made him a masochist. She didn't feel that way now, and it wouldn't end well for her if she did. A thought that left him hollow and sick.

Fucking necessary.

"Are you sure you want to know?" she finally asked, hesitant yet hopeful. "The knowledge will change you, and not for the better."

Couldn't be "I love you," then. Her expression was so troubled, he'd never seen its like. Dread coursed through him and his fingers stopped moving. He sat up straighter, his gaze trying to burrow into her soul. "No. Don't tell me. Don't tell me now."

She gulped. "Gideon. We...you and I...we had...a son. We had a son, and his name was Steel."