The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(42)

Back to that, were they? Damn, tell one little lie and it would haunt you forever. "Why haven't you killed me, then? And don't give me that bullshit about letting me enjoy the last days of my life. You don't let other souls enjoy the last of their days."

A heavy pause. His expression darkened. "Perhaps I have spared you because you know something, something that can help me find the artifacts and thereby the box. Tell me."

"If I knew something, I would have gotten to them already, dumbass."

"Then you are no good to me." He pulled back slightly and raised his fist as if he meant to strike her.

Over the last week, she'd watched him do this many times. Knew he wasn't going to hit her but reach inside her with a ghostly hand and rip out her spirit, leaving her body a helpless shell.

She should kick herself for taunting him. I just wanted time with him, she inwardly whined. Really, it was all she could think about anymore. All that propelled her out of bed. Well, that and his kisses.

"I don't know where the artifacts are," she said quickly, "but I can teach you more about the temple. How's that?"

He nodded, as if he'd merely been waiting for her to say those words. "Go on."

Had he just manipulated her? Sneaky devil. And yet, knowing he'd done so only caused her arousal to intensify. Hardly anyone bested her anymore.

She kneaded his shoulders, scratching them a little. He didn't tell her to stop. His breathing became more erratic, shallow. Her gaze dipped, his bare chest entrancing her as his body heat enveloped her. I could stay like this forever.

"Anya," he moaned. As her fingers worked him, his eyes closed in surrender.

"What were we talking about?" she asked.

"The...temple," he said, and the words were pained. "Yes, the temple."

"I'll tell you a secret about myself and all the gods who have passed through its halls," she whispered.

"I am listening. Do not stop."

She deepened the touch, allowing her fingers to inch down his back. Toward his ass. "Most of our powers are dependent on a little something called action and reaction. People act, and we are free to react. To help. Or hurt, for that matter. It's why I couldn't help Maddox and Ashlyn until they'd done something to untie my hands, so to speak."

Lucien's eyelids cracked open. Pleasure was banked in the depths of brown and blue. "Must be a closely guarded secret, because I did not know." He paused. "Maddox and Ashlyn each had to sacrifice something to ensure your aid."

"Yes." She beamed up at him. "Now you're thinking like a god."

"So to learn what I wish to know, I, too, must offer a sacrifice." He nodded, then reached behind him to grab one of her hands. He pulled it forward and laid it on her chest, but he didn't pull back, didn't break the connection. No, he traced each of her fingers.

Warm tingles rushed through her blood.

He was hard. She could feel his massive erection probing between her legs. He wasn't the first man to lie on top of her, but he was certainly the biggest. The sexiest. And the most fascinating. Because of her curse, he was also the first man she'd ever really wanted there.

Finally, Themis's words made sense.

Anya had been running home, crying again after an encounter with an overly-handsie young god, and had run into the goddess. Themis had taken one look at her and nearly fallen to the ground in shock. Too preoccupied to determine why, Anya had hurried away. The next day, Themis had arrived on her doorstep.

"You seduced my husband," she'd heard the goddess of Justice shout to her mother.

Dysnomia had raised her chin and squared her shoulders. But she hadn't uttered a word in her own defense.

"Your daughter is the image of my husband. She is his offspring. Do you deny it?"

"No, I do not deny it."

Anya had been shocked to her core. She'd always wondered who her father was, and to learn the powerful prison guard Tartarus had sired her both delighted - no longer would she be called minor - and angered her. Why had he ignored her all these years?

"You knew he was mated," Themis cried, "yet you lay with him, anyway. For that, for bearing his bastard child, you will be punished. Justice will be mine."

Horror blanketed Dysnomia's pretty face, but she said, "I am who I was born to be."

"That does not excuse you. From this day forward, you will sicken every time you welcome a man into your body, and you will be unable to rise from bed for days. Never again will you steal a man's affections unscathed. So I have said, so it shall be done."

Whimpering, her mother fell to her knees.

"And you," Themis said, eyes narrowing on a trembling Anya, who peeked around the corner.

"No!" Dysnomia shouted, trying to rise. "Leave her alone. She is innocent."

The goddess continued mercilessly. "Innocent? I think not. She is your daughter - that is crime enough. You will one day desire a man, Anarchy, and he will desire you, as well. Nothing will matter except being together. You will not care who he is, what he is or who he belongs to. You'll take him. Just like your mother, you'll take him."

"And you'll die alone because you're mean and hateful," Anya spat at her, unable to imagine herself feeling that way about any of the leering gods, much less welcoming another woman's leftovers.