The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(27)

"Oh, what? What?" The clapping became happily frantic. "Me want to play. What'sss it called? Me win thisss time, I jussst know it!"

"It's called break-the-chains."

PARIS LAY SPRAWLED beside the human woman on the rented bed. He'd been inside this room countless times before. A king-size mattress, white walls with classic paintings hanging strategically. A black desk, golden lamp. Number fourteen of the Boutique Hotel Zara. Only he'd been with a different woman each time.

He didn't know his companion's name, he mused, and he didn't care to know. She was a tourist, and he'd never see her again.

He never saw his bedmates again.

Usually he left immediately after the sex was finished. Lingering promoted feelings, and since he couldn't screw the same woman twice, feelings were nothing but a nuisance.

Tonight, however, he'd stayed. Now the woman was snoring softly at his side. His mind was restless, his body tense, but he didn't want to go home. Maddox had Ashlyn, Lucien had Anya and now Reyes had Danika. Seeing them together reminded Paris of the woman he wanted - the woman he had killed.

Sienna.

Adorably plain Sienna with her freckled skin, thick glasses and dark curly hair. Thin, too thin, with barely any curves, barely any breasts. Yet she'd snared him from the first. He'd desired her, romanced her as best as he was able and seduced her. And she'd quickly betrayed him. Had planned to betray him from the beginning.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

She'd been a Hunter, his worst enemy, and she'd used his arousal against him, distracting him and drugging him, then leaving him for her coworkers to find. They had locked him up, chained him. Studied him. He'd almost died and they'd had to throw Sienna into the lion's den, so to speak, to keep him alive.

Promiscuity couldn't survive without sex. The longer Paris went without it, the weaker he became. Those Hunters hadn't wanted him dead. How, then, could they have studied his abilities? How, then, could they have used him to lure his friends into Hunter territory? More than that, to kill him was to unleash his demon onto the world, crazed and blood-hungry, insane without its host.

Hunters didn't want that. Oh, they wanted the demons sucked out, but not until they found Pandora's box. As yet, no one was close to finding it. Not even the Lords.

So they'd sent Sienna into his cell. She had ridden him hard, just right, just the way he liked, and he'd regained his strength - more than usual, in fact. For the first time since his bonding with Promiscuity, he'd gotten hard for the same woman twice.

Paris had decided to keep her. Punish her, yes, but keep her for the rest of her life all the same. Because for the briefest of moments, he'd thought he'd found a woman who could save him. He'd no longer cared that she was a Hunter and that she thought the world would be a better place without him and his friends in it. He'd only cared about finally, blessedly having the same woman over and over again. Savoring her, learning her. Maybe even loving her.

He'd foolishly assumed they were meant to be together, that the gods had at last decided to relieve his inner torment. He was tired of searching for a new woman every day, tired of making love without really loving, not remembering who he kissed and touched, never really discovering what they liked or didn't like because there were so many faces, bodies, preferences and requests swimming in his memories.

So he'd escaped that Hunter prison with Sienna at his side. Like an untrained soldier, he'd allowed her to be shot. Not once, not twice, but three times.

She'd died in his arms.

Should have protected her. Weeks had since passed, but Paris couldn't scrub her face from his mind. Could no longer get hard unless he thought of her.

She wanted me. She hadn't wanted to want him, but want him she had. She'd been dripping wet as she slid down his swollen shaft. Despite everything, ecstasy had glazed her eyes. Over and over she had moaned his name. His name. Not another man's.

Despite their differences, they could have been happy together.

"But no. I allowed her own people to snuff her out." He laughed bitterly. "Some warrior I am. My fault, all my fault."

"What's that?" his companion asked, her voice sleep-rich. She rolled toward him, hand flattening on his chest.

Shit. He hadn't meant to wake her. Didn't want to talk with her.

Paris threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, dislodging her.

"Hmm," she said. "I like the view."

Motions clipped, he gathered his clothing from the floor. There were blades strapped on his arms and legs, and he didn't bother trying to hide them. They had turned the woman on.

She purred his name.

He ignored her and dressed.

"Come back to bed," she beseeched. "I want you again. I need you."

Similar words had been said to him a thousand times, would probably be said a thousand more by a thousand others. The thought made him cringe. "I need to go."

She huffed in disappointment. "Please stay. I need to start my day right, and having you inside me is oh, so right."

At the moment, he couldn't even remember what she looked like - and he'd been looking at her just seconds before. She wasn't Sienna, that much he knew. His cock was as limp as a wilted flower and would stay that way.

"Perhaps another time." It was a lie, but it was the kindest thing he could say.