The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(40)

"Go away, Anya," he repeated.

Grrr! She materialized. Rather than slap him, though, she sat on a boulder beside him. He was shirtless again, his skin slightly burned, cut up and bruised.

He didn't face her. "I said go away."

"Like I'm going to obey you. You aren't my daddy. Unless you want to be. 'Cause I've been a bad, naughty girl and I need a spanking."

A pained groan escaped him. "Anya. Please." Sweat trickled over his spine, illuminating a few of the scars scattered there.

She reached out to caress them, but froze when one of the warriors called out.

"Lucien. Your woman..." The speaker was Paris, she realized. His voice was strained, even more so than before. Not getting any out here, was he? Poor man. Without sex, Paris weakened. If he could have brought a woman with him to fulfill his needs, all would have been well in his world. But he couldn't sleep with the same woman twice. Promiscuity, the lecherous demon, wouldn't let him.

Anya knew the trials of a sex-curse and sympathized. While hers was the opposite of his, preventing her from ever going all the way, both curses dictated their actions and jacked with their free will. It sucked rotten eggs.

Nothing can bind me but that curse, she thought darkly. She'd been bespelled before she'd acquired the ability to escape confinement, so the curse had already been a part of her. There was no escaping it.

Her gaze returned to Lucien and her shoulders sagged. No, much as she might wish otherwise, there was no escaping it.

"Just stay where you are," Lucien shouted to Paris. "She is my responsibility."

His responsibility? She didn't know whether to be delighted or insulted. "Why not let your friends come over here and play with us?"

He glanced at her through slitted eyelids, a fast look/look-away motion. Still, the moment his gaze hit her, moisture flooded between her legs. Her stomach tingled and her skin ached for him. He was pure sex appeal, all sweaty and dirty and manly. Yum.

"What are you wearing?" he croaked.

"A maid's uniform. You know, to help you dust."

He cursed under his breath. "Just as before, my friends are beyond the stone," he told her, "and they will remain there, working. They do not need a distraction."

How many times would he tell her she was a distraction? She eyed the crumbling stone cupped in his palms and frowned. Maybe, if she proved useful, he'd see her as something more. "I remember this place in its prime. Before it was moved down to earth, we were taught here, the other deities and I. How to control our powers, how to act properly, blah, blah, blah."

Lucien couldn't hide the interest that colored his face. "I was never allowed inside," he admitted. "We went only where Zeus did, and he didn't choose to spend time here."

Eck. To be bound to that temperamental shithead would have been torture. "A pity the place is so damaged now. You might have liked it."

"What did it look like?" he asked, dropping the chunks and sifting through another handful. Each pebble he found he held up to the light, turned to study every side for markings then discarded over his shoulder.

"Towering statues circled the entire temple. Ivy rode some of the walls, and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies glistened from the floors. I'm sure old glory-seeking Cronus will spruce everything up when he and his brethren of *s take over."

Lucien snorted. Even though she hated herself for it, she rejoiced in the sound. His amusement was like an aphrodisiac to her, and she had caused it.

"What else?"

"Let's see." She tapped her chin with a nail painted ice-blue. "Every doorway was flanked by two white columns. Pillars of strength, they were called."

"And how many rooms were there?"

She allowed her mind to return to the days she'd spent here. While she'd loved the beauty of the temple, she'd hated the beings inside it. How many times had the goddesses-in-training complained to the teacher, "Why does she get to study here? She's not one of us. She only causes trouble." How many times had the young gods jeered, "I don't know why she bothers to wear a robe. Everyone knows she spends more time out of it."

She pushed aside the remembered hurts. "There was the main altar room, of course, which you're now crouching in. There was a meeting hall where worshippers washed and gathered before sacrificing. Then the interior chamber and the priests' lodgings."

He nodded as though he was soaking in her every word. "Tell me more about this altar room."

Happy to oblige, she said, "If we traveled back in time, there'd be a white marble table in front of you. And there would be murals on the walls. Gods, those were cool. I need to redo one of my apartments and have the images painted - "

"Murals? What did the murals depict?" Lucien asked, cutting her off. He stood and pinned her with a hard stare, urgency radiating from him.

Wow. If she'd known she only needed to talk about boring temples to elicit his full attention, she would have done it days ago.

"Well?" he insisted.

She shrugged, pretending a casualness she suddenly didn't feel. "Godly feats of strength, victories. Even a few defeats."

His eyes glinted. "And was the box here, Anya?"

"No. I'm sorry." She hated to disappoint him.