“I want you,” he reiterated.
His chosen stood. Her legs were twisted, facing the wrong way. Her feet were hoofed, and when she smiled, he saw a mouthful of bloodstained fangs. Disaster slammed against his skull, bang, bang, desperate to leave him, to touch her, to pound inside her.
Mine. She’s mine!
And just how would the bastard react when—hypothetically—Kane nailed her? Murder Kane, the same way he’d once murdered his own people? Probably. Because if he managed to end Kane’s life, he could remain here, a place he’d once fought to escape but now realized he missed. Sure, if that happened, Disaster would be crazed from the loss of his human host, but the demon would be free to screw whoever he desired, all by himself.
Talk about a messed-up sitch.
Demon Girl limped to the throne, and the wanton gleam in her eyes suggested she intended to climb Kane like a carnival pony the second she reached him, while everyone watched.
Bang, bang. Disaster was on board with that.
Kane shook his head and extended a hand, palm up, to stop her progress. “Nope, sorry. Don’t come any closer.”
A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth as she obeyed.
“Privacy,” he said. Bang, bang. Harder, faster. “I want to…take you in a tent.” He wasn’t sure what verbiage these demons would understand.
“Massster?” Her forked tongue swiped over too-thin lips.
“I will not take you out here.” Or anywhere. Bang, bang. Damn it. His demon needed to settle the hell down. “So, build me a tent.” Bang. “All of you.” Bang. And hell, maybe, with his present run of good luck, he wouldn’t have to wait for its completion. Maybe the females would be so distracted during the building of the tent, he could stomp out of the cavern while yelling, whistling, whatever, and they wouldn’t notice.
“Tent?” she asked, still so clearly confused.
“Yes. I want one. Build the tent now, and you can have babies later.” With someone else.
Bang! Bang!
Most of the minions rushed away to gather the necessary supplies, shoving each other out of the way, but a few stragglers remained behind, staring at him. And by a few, he meant a little over one hundred. He sighed. So, there’d be no stomping, yelling or whistling his way out.
He wished he were more like Paris. Wished he could plow through them—in bed and out—and be stronger for it while remaining emotionally distanced and unconcerned with the consequences.
Of course, then he’d also be a drug addict obsessed with finding the woman who’d tried to kill him, but at the moment, drugs and obsession seemed like a nice change of pace. And damn. When Kane got home, he was gonna be teased mercilessly about his precious seed, his needy harem girls, and his refusal to fertilize their petunia patches.
Bring it, boys. At least he’d be home.
Home… The word echoed through his mind, a wave of foreboding slamming through him.
Something was about to happen, he realized with a twist of sickness. Something terrible was about to happen. A disaster…a tragedy of the worst sort…inside the fortress in Buda, where all the Lords and their significant others lived. His fortress. His demon knew it, sensed it, and in turn, so did Kane.
He was on his feet and running for the exit, not slowing even when multiple females latched on to him and held on for the ride.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VIOLA TRAILED AFTER the gorgeous warrior named Maddox as he carried his very pregnant wife, Ashlyn, up the stairs, past naked portraits of his friends holding rainbow-colored ribbons and stuffed teddy bears. This was the fourth time one of the Budapest residents had foisted her off on someone else, and she couldn’t understand why no one wanted to spend more time with her.
From Lucien to Anya, whom she’d met in Tartarus centuries ago. They’d been cell-block-B mates. Anya had always been jealous of her, of course. Who hadn’t—and wasn’t? Earlier today the minor goddess had pretended not to recognize her, but Viola had taken the lie for what it was. A plea to hear all about Viola’s magnificent life.
An hour later, Anya had handed her off to Reyes and his Danika. Viola was still puzzling over Anya’s parting words to the couple. “Here you go. Take her. And you’re welcome. You won’t need to stab yourself to please your demon for at least a year, Reyes.”
Just how was Viola supposed to have pleased an anguish-happy fiend like Reyes? He was possessed by the demon of Pain, yet she was perfectly…perfect, a joy to look upon and listen to, a veritable fount of shiny, priceless pearls of wisdom, with a keen sense of fashion and a knack for home decorating.
Speaking of those little life skills, she’d already decided to put them to good use. From now on she would be dressing everyone here, as well as redesigning their mansion’s interior and exterior. And she wasn’t even going to charge them—more than a few hundred thou.
Her eyes filled with tears as her hand fluttered to her heart. She was such a giver.
At one time, centuries ago, she’d done something not so giving and sent herself catapulting into a shame spiral, but she couldn’t recall what that something was. She never did. Her demon stored negative memories away, hiding them from her. Anything to continue her love affair with herself. As if she would ever end it.
Anyway. An hour into their conversation, Reyes had handed her off to Aeron’s angel, Olivia. And fifteen minutes after that, Olivia had sweetly suggested that Viola shouldn’t deny Maddox the pleasure of her company. Five glorious (for him) minutes later, Maddox had stomped away, muttering something about finding his wife and Viola could join him if she insisted. So, here they were, headed to the couple’s bedroom.
“I’m sure I could whip up some kind of mechanical chair that would cart your wife around,” Viola told the warrior. He was shirtless, and the crimson butterfly tattoo stretching across his shoulder blades—the mark of his demon—seemed to be scowling at her. “I’m handy with tools, as you probably guessed, and your back is probably strained from her massive weight.”
Ashlyn smothered a laugh with one hand, but she failed to smother Maddox’s snarl with the other.
“She is light as a feather,” he snarled. “I enjoy carrying her. I also enjoy having her all to myself.”
“Okay, but it’s your back’s funeral. In a few years, you’ll probably need a brace.” Oh, yes. His tattoo was indeed scowling at her. A gnarled, skeletal face had formed between the wings, fangs extending from a tiny mouth. The edges of the wings sharpened into daggerlike points, curling toward her.
Cool, but in no way comparable to hers. The front of her butterfly stretched along her chest, stomach and legs. The back of her butterfly stretched along her shoulders, thighs and calves. A total body tat that glimmered with the radiance of crushed pink diamonds.
Ashlyn’s honey-colored eyes found her over Maddox’s muscled shoulder. “He’s not trying to get rid of you—”
“Yes, I am,” Maddox said.
“—he’s just cranky,” the human finished.
Viola’s brow wrinkled as she attempted to figure out how the poor, addled pregnant woman could have come up with such a preposterous idea. Get rid of her? Please. Men, women and children, mortals and immortals, fought to keep her by their sides. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me,” she said. Wasn’t that what humans said to one another to prove they weren’t offended by stupid ideas? “I’m sure he’s simply overwhelmed by my magnificence.”
Maddox was the one to scowl this time, tossing the dark expression at her before stopping in front of a closed door. But then Ashlyn giggled and his gaze shot to her face. His entire body softened, melting like an ice cube in the summer heat.