The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(110)

"I so wanted to hate you," Ginger said on a sigh.

His lips twitched. Her tart tongue amused him, reminding him of Danika.

Would everything remind him of Danika? he wondered then. He didn't mind the reminders, he loved them, but many more and he might break down, give in to the misery of being without his woman.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Tinka asked, suddenly beside him.

"Ask Mallory," was all he said, unwilling to cease his search to explain. He would not give up. If necessary, his last breath would be expended finding Danika.

"Look for anything involving Cronus, King of the Titans, and set it aside for Reyes to study. And before you ask, Cronus is tall, with thick silver hair and a beard, and always wears a white toga."

One of the portraits caught his eye, a colorful depiction of angels and demons, life and death, blood and smiles. Like Ginger, he was amazed by what she had seen in her young life. Amazed even more that she had thrived despite her burden, emerging as the determined yet gentle warrioress he knew.

A few more flips, and he found four paintings of Cronus. His heart rate sped up. In some, the god paced the corridors of a prison cell, flames licking the walls, smoke filling the air. In others, he fought his way free, killing with expert precision, using his scythe, which stretched and stretched and stretched miles past its usual length to take the heads of his enemies.

Why had Cronus not carried the scythe when he'd visited Reyes? Afraid he would use it and regret it? If that were the case - which Reyes seriously doubted - it would mean Cronus needed him alive. Perhaps the king had traded it for something. Danika's life? Anya had once mentioned that even the gods were bound by the laws of give-and-take, sow-and-reap.

Reyes frowned, pushing the thoughts from his mind. For now. They weren't as important as saving his woman. He moved to another stack of canvases, the first of Cronus cornering a group of trembling gods and backing them into the very cell he himself had occupied. Gods Reyes had once guarded. Seeing them now, he felt a pang of forgotten loyalty. Cronus's expression was one of cold determination. It was obvious he wanted to kill them, but wanted them to suffer the same fate he had even more.

For hours more, Reyes pored over the artwork. The women supplied him with water and snacks but remained silent, as if sensing his need to focus. Finally, he had examined every single canvas.

He hadn't found the one he wanted - had Danika destroyed it? Hidden it elsewhere? - but he had learned some valuable information and began ticking each fact off in his mind.

Cronus hated confinement. Would do anything to avoid it.

He preferred revenge over absolute safety, for never again could the Greek gods challenge him for the heavenly throne if Cronus had killed them. Instead, he'd locked them away, taking Anya's greatest treasure to ensure they stayed where they belonged.

His scythe could elongate as surely as Reyes's nails.

All of that, on top of the first painting Reyes had seen...his mouth fell open as the answer finally, blessedly shifted into place. He jumped to his feet, having trouble catching his breath. Grinning for the first time in days.

"What?" the women asked in unison.

"I know what I have to do." Close, he was so close. All he had to do now was find a way into heaven.

"I MISS YOU SO MUCH, angel."

A long while passed, but there was no response.

Reyes lay on top of his bed. He had been there for hours, perhaps an entire day. He'd lost track of time. Over and over, he'd attempted to connect with Danika on the mental plane. She was up there, in heaven. She was a portal, and she'd propelled him there twice. It was reasonable to think she could do so again. The problem was that this time there could be no penetration to pave the way. Reyes could only hope their joinings had forged an emotional and spiritual bond strong enough to substitute for a physical coupling.

"I'm lost without you."

We're lost, the demon piped up.

"We're lost without you. Your family wants you back as desperately as I do. I've come to love them, for they helped shape you into the woman you are. One with such strength and courage."

Still nothing.

"Do you carry our child, Danika? If not, I want nothing more than to give you my baby, watch your belly grow."

Clearly, impending motherhood wasn't the key, either. He swallowed. "Danika," he growled. "Talk to me. Now. I'm angry, Danika." Not with you, never you. But he continued darkly, "Soon I'll be forced to cut myself. I'll bleed. And you won't be here to patch me up and make me feel better. I - "

Reyes?

Reyes blinked open his eyes. That had been Danika's voice, whispering through his mind. It had worked. It had really worked! Sweat beaded all over his skin, relief and joy spearing him. Pain lit up inside his mind like a demonic Christmas tree. "Danika? Talk to me again."

Oh, my God. Is that you? Really you? I've dreamed of you and prayed for you and begged for you.

"I'm here, I'm here." Tears burned in his eyes, scalding his irises. "I need you to pull me to you, angel."

How? The word rushed from her, as desperate as he felt.

"Picture me in your mind. Picture your hands reaching for me, wrapping around me. You can do it. I know you can." This has to work. Please let this work. "You're a portal. You can - "

Something cold pushed inside him. Ice crystallized in his veins, but he didn't move. Pain was grasping for her, but couldn't seem to latch on. "I can feel you."