Dark Beginnings: The Darkest Fire / The Darkest Prison / The Darkest Angel

“What of the demons?” he asked, cutting her off. He would not have her lamenting her supposed mistakes. She had made none.

“I suppose the gods will attempt to gather them, bemoaning me as a failure forevermore.”

He shook his head. “You are not a failure, love. You did everything within your power to stop them. Most would never even have entered the gates.” His head tilted to the side as he studied her more intently. She was as lovely as ever, like a dream of her former self. Glittery, translucent, fragile. Still she possessed those golden curls. Still she looked at him with those bright eyes.

Before her, his life had been a wasteland. A single moment without her would have been…well, hell.

“Thank you, my sweet Geryon. But even if the wall is repaired, even if the demons are somehow captured, I fear the gods will be unable to contain those demons here.” She sighed. “They have now tasted freedom. They will always fight to escape.”

“The gods will find a way,” he assured her. “They always do.” He reached out to hug her to him, but his hand misted through her and he frowned, some of his happiness draining. Touching her was a necessity; he would not be able to live without her warmth, her softness.

Better he do without her touch and her warmth, though, than without her.

“You understand now,” she said in that sad tone. “We can never be together again. Not truly.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do.” Tears filled her eyes. “After everything you have suffered, you deserve more. So much more.”

“I only want you.”

She continued as if he had not spoken. “I will leave you and wander the earth alone.” She gave a firm shake of her head. Those tears splashed onto her cheeks. “I know gods and goddesses are allowed to choose where they wish to reside in the afterlife, but I have no desire to return to heaven or stay in Hell.”

As she spoke, an idea sprang into his mind. A wild idea he did not discard, but rather embraced.

Are you really going to do this?

He looked at her again, their gazes colliding and thought, Yes. I really am going to do this. “When I bonded to you, Kadence, it was forever and another eternity. I will not give you up now.”

“But you will never again be able to touch me. You will never—”

“I will. I promise.” And with that, he sank his own poisoned claws into his chest, felt the toxin burn him, blistering, scorching. He screamed at the anguish, black winking over his eyes.

He was…dying…

When the pain eased, the blackness faded. He was nothing. A void.

No, not true. There was a light. A bright light. He ran toward it, huffing and puffing for mile after mile, almost…there…

His eyelids fluttered open and he saw that his body was gone, a pile of ash, his spirit floating beside Kadence. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open.

So many times over the centuries, he’d considered taking just such an action. Anything to end the monotony of his exis tence. But he had clung to life, for Kadence. To see her, to imagine caressing her and hope for the chance.

Now, that chance was a reality.

“You are…Geryon…you are just the same.”

He looked down at himself. There were his claws, his fur, his hooves. “Are you disappointed?”

“No. I am overjoyed! I love you just as you are and do not want you to ever change. But you should not have given up your life for me,” she sputtered through tears—and a grin she could not hide.

“I, too, am now free,” he said. “Truly free. To be with you. And I would die all over again for just such an outcome.” He jerked her into his arms, grinning, too, because he could feel her again. She was not as warm, there was a coldness to them both now, but he was holding her. He could deal. “You are my everything, sweetheart. I am lost without you.”

“I love you so much,” she said, raining little kisses all over his face. “But whatever will we do now?”

“Live. Finally, we will live.”

And they did.

WHEN THE GODS REALIZED that the wall between earth and Hell had been breeched and a horde of Demon Lords let loose upon earth, they sent an immortal army to repair the damage—but no one could catch the fiends. And even if they could, the gods knew that locking them back inside Hell would merely invite another rebellion.

Something had to be done.

Though the stone barrier had fallen, the goddess of Oppression’s body was still bound to the wall of Hell. And so the gods rebuilt the wall and then created a box-sized prison from Kadence’s bones, confident that the powers she had tapped into hours before her death still resided deep in the marrow.

They were proven right.

Once opened, the box drew the demons from their hiding places, holding them captive as even Hell had been unable to do.

Of course, the gods were pleased with their handiwork and gave the box to Pandora, the strongest female warrior of her time, to guard. But that is a story for another time.

THE DARKEST PRISON

PROLOGUE

REYES, ONCE AN IMMORTAL warrior for the gods, now possessed by the demon of Pain and living in Budapest, entered his bedroom. He was drenched in sweat and panting from the force of his workout. Because he could not experience pleasure without physical suffering, the burn in his muscles had excited him. Was exciting him.

As always, his gaze sought out his woman, and he palmed the blade they preferred to use during their loveplay. She was sitting at the edge of their big bed, lovely features drawn tight as she studied the canvas in front of her. A canvas she’d propped on an easel and lowered so that she had a direct view. Blond hair fell to her shoulders in wild disarray, as if she’d tangled her fingers through the thick mass multiple times, and she was chewing on her bottom lip.

Sex could wait, he decided then. She was troubled, and he would be unable to think of anything else until he’d solved this dilemma for her. Whatever it was. He sheathed the blade.

“Something wrong, angel?”

Her eyes lifted and landed on him, worry in their emerald depths. She offered him a small smile. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, why don’t I help you figure it out?” Anything that bothered her, he would dispatch. No hesitation. For her happiness, he would do anything, kill anyone.

“I would like that, thank you.”

“Shall I shower before I join you?”

“No. I like you just how you are.”

Darling woman. But he didn’t like the thought of dirtying her pretty clothes. He quickly grabbed a towel from the bathroom and rubbed himself dry. Only then did he settle behind his woman, his legs encasing hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. Breathing deeply of her wild storm scent, he rested his chin in the hollow of her neck and followed the direction of her gaze.

What he saw surprised him.

It shouldn’t have. Her paintings were always vivid. As the All-Seeing Eye, an oracle of the gods and one of their most cherished aides, she could peer into heaven and Hell. And did, every night, though she had no control over what she witnessed. Past, present, future, it didn’t matter. Every morning, she painted what she’d seen.