The Darkest Promise

He’s embarrassed of you. Misery cast a dark shadow over her thoughts and wrapped her in sorrow.

The tears she’d so often caused in others welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back.

His spine rigid and his stride long, Lazarus moved ahead to claim the lead. Cameo and the others followed him through the rose garden, past the statues she’d admired earlier and into the palace. The children stopped playing, stopped laughing.

Her misery was already spreading, affecting those around her. The knowledge only added to her sorrows.

Viola threw open her arms and shouted, “I’m here at last. Drink me in.”

Lazarus escorted her and the children to a spacious room. “Rest,” he said. “Food will be brought to you.”

He shut the door before the trio could protest. As two guards raced from the shadows to stand sentry at the door, he strode down the hall, turned a corner and stopped at Cameo’s door.

Tension radiated from him and thickened the air, air sweet with his scent and sultry with his delicious heat. Breathing became more difficult, as if she were trying to inhale molasses.

“Invite me in,” he rasped.

The change in him devastated her senses. She licked suddenly dry lips. “Why? Minutes ago, you couldn’t stand my touch.”

“Untrue. We were in public, and you were about to touch a...wound.”

He’s not embarrassed of me. “I’m sorry, Lazarus. I didn’t know.”

He took a step toward her, invading her personal space. “I want a night with you, sunshine. From sundown to sunrise, I want to make you scream with pleasure.”

The blatant sexuality of his claim nearly knocked her off her feet. He’d meant what he said and would do as he’d promised; she had zero doubts about that. His dark eyes sizzled with lust and challenge.

Must decline. But why?

His dislike. Her memory loss.

Um, surely she had more than two reasons?

Only need one. “No,” she croaked.

Without missing a beat, Lazarus took her by the hips, swung her around and pressed her against the door. “Have dinner with me, then. Give me a chance to sway you.”

Misery hissed.

Cameo chewed on her bottom lip. “Why do you want me?” Why not go for Viola, the surer thing?

“Desire is a beast more insidious than your demon.”

In other words, he didn’t want to want her. And she couldn’t blame him!

She should lock herself in her room, end the madness. Problem was, she would only buy herself an hour, maybe two. He was a warrior, and walking away from him would incite him to battle. He would only come after her with greater fervor.

What harm could food, conversation and a little innocent flirting do? He would never breach her resolve. She, too, was a warrior. Yes?

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll have dinner with you.”

8 (#uef6602c5-8df6-5939-8ee9-9d411bca3f6e)

“Step five: Plan an attack. Trash it and plan another. Trash that one, and act without planning. If you surprise yourself, you’ll surprise your enemy.”

—How to Achieve Victory

Subtitle: Except with Lovers and Their Family

Cameo’s heart thundered against her ribs as Lazarus led her into the bedroom. She stopped short, dumbfounded.

Damn him. He’d planned ahead.

Servants were lighting candles here, there, everywhere. A small, round table had been brought into the room and covered with dishes. The scent of sweetmeats and candied treats teased her, and her mouth watered.

Misery had curtailed her appetite for years, and yet her stomach rumbled, a sign of hunger she wasn’t used to feeling. Usually, when she spent time away from her friends, she had to set an alert on her phone to let her know mealtime arrived.

Never breach my resolve? I’m an idiot.

“You are not an—” Lazarus began.

Erecting a mental shield, she pressed a finger against his lips. “If you respond to my thoughts one more time, I’ll insist on eating alone.”

He nipped at her fingertip, his straight white teeth sinking into her tender flesh. She barely noticed the sting...but gasped as he licked the same spot, her cells buzzing. Languid heat consumed her.

“Out,” he barked, never looking away from her.

The servants dashed from the room. The males wore T-shirts and jeans while the females wore cashmere sweaters and lightweight pants. I call foul! Lazarus only dressed his pretties scantily while everyone else got to wear whatever the hell they wanted?

“You are no longer in charge of my wardrobe,” Cameo informed him. “Sexable women aren’t your personal Barbie dolls. Some of us prefer to wear something other than sequined bandages.”

“A simple thank you would suffice. And I like the word sexable. You offering?”

“What! No!” Right?

Right.

With a smirk, Lazarus snaked an arm around her waist and led her to the table. He pulled out her chair, ever the gentleman. “Please, have a seat on the quitter bench.”

Muscles contracted at both corners of her mouth as if...as if... Nope. The sensation eased, and disappointment flared. Sighing, she sat down.

He eased into the chair across from hers, light and shadows flickering over his rugged features. Taking turns caressing him? Lucky lights. Lucky shadows.

He smiled as he filled her plate with flaky crab meat in a butter cream sauce, mixed vegetables steamed to perfection, and a casserole that smelled suspiciously like...

“Doritos?” she asked.

“At the Harpy Games, you ate a bag of the cheese-flavored chips while cheering for your friend, so I had a special dish prepared.” He hiked a shoulder in a casual shrug. “One of the newly deceased members of my staff had a recipe.” His dark eyes twinkled at her. “Are you impressed?”