The Darkest Pleasure (Lords of the Underworld #3)(49)

This isn't you. You hate this, hate what you are, what you've become.

Once - an eternity ago? - he'd watched mortals, fascinated by the contrasts between their lives and his own. He often wished for death, yet he would most likely exist forever. They died a little more every day, yet they embraced vitality as he never had. They were weak; he was strong. Yet they were not afraid to laugh and love.

Love - as if they didn't realize that everything could be taken away in a heartbeat of time.

Why? he'd always wondered. He had long craved an answer, though none had ever come. And here he was, enjoying the recollection of torturing one mortal and plotting the upcoming death of another.

Even Wrath found the concept confusing and wrong.

Aeron hadn't forgotten that he and his demon had fought these dark urges to slaughter. At first. But the gods had won, and they'd eventually succumbed. Death now flowed through his veins, thicker than blood, and had become - with an irony not lost on Aeron - his only reason for living.

"Would you like it if I begged?" Reyes asked him tightly.

Would he? Aeron smiled, feeling the first true spark of amusement he'd known in weeks. He thought perhaps he would. Proud, headstrong Reyes bowed to no one. To have him do so here and now would surely be empowering.

"The Darkest Pleasure"

"I would, I would," Legion clapped, the sound booming in Aeron's ear.

Reyes didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees. "Please." The word was nothing more than a rumble. "Tell me where they are."

As Legion cackled, Aeron lost his smile, realizing then it was not empowering to have his friend on his knees but shaming. "You love her?"

"No." Violent shake of his head. "I cannot."

Liar! He must. Why else would he debase himself this way, something he'd never done for another? Not even for a Lord.

Aeron and Reyes had been there the day their friend Baden was decapitated by Hunters. They'd watched in horror as the warrior was attacked from behind, stabbed repeatedly, throat slit. They'd run toward him, screaming, enraged, desperate, battle-hungry. But they had not begged the Hunters to stop. They had not begged for Baden's life. They had simply attacked.

Would pleading have saved the keeper of Distrust?

Probably not, he thought, but why hadn't they tried? They had loved Baden like a brother and his death had destroyed the small pieces of humanity they'd managed to save from their demons.

"What are you thinking about?" Reyes asked, still on his knees.

"The worst night of my life," he admitted.

"The opening of the box, then."

"No. Baden." Guilt had been branded inside him that terrible night. Guilt that he'd failed to protect a friend. Guilt that he had punished only a few of the men responsible before walking away from the Hunter-Lord war, hoping to find a sliver of peace in an eternity of chaos and death when he did not deserve it.

I've never loved anyone enough to fight, to war, or to beg.

"He was a good friend," Reyes said. "He would have hated to see us like this."

"He would have looked at us with disappointment in those yellow eyes of his. We would have ignored him because he'd want us to kiss and make up, and then he would have stabbed us to get our attention."

"Being ignored wasn't something he could tolerate."

"No."

They peered at each other in silence. Reyes didn't move, but remained on his knees. He would stay there until Aeron told him what he wanted to know, of that Aeron was now sure.

But if he told Reyes where the women were, and Reyes managed to hide them from him, Aeron would always be this way. He would never return to normal, would never again know anything except bloodlust.

"Please." Another rumble.

Legion slithered over his shoulder and down his chest like a snake, then propped his chin on Aeron's upraised knee. "Thisss not much fun. Why can't we play? Why can't we drink?"

"Soon," Aeron said. Then, to Reyes, he said, "Tell the girl to step up to the bars."

At last Reyes popped to his feet. He shook his head, dark hair swinging, panic flaring over his features. "No. She - "

"Is here. I'm here."

At the sound of that determined, feminine voice, Aeron angled his head. Reyes jumped in front of her, remaining in the cell while she stayed out of it, but blocking his view nonetheless. Aeron scowled. "Move. I will not hurt her." Not right now.

The warrior seemed to debate with himself for a long while, rooted in place. Finally he stepped stiffly to the side, allowing Aeron a peek at the girl. She stood at the bars as ordered, clutching them, knuckles white.

Wrath exploded into a frenzy of activity, pacing the prison of Aeron's mind, drooling with anticipation. Act.

"No," he replied through gritted teeth.

Act! She is here, she is ours.

"No!"

Legion petted his temples, and the screaming faded to a mere whisper.

"Excuse me?" Danika said, looking from him to the little demon.

Reyes stepped in front of her again, body tense, waiting.

Delicate fingers settled over Reyes's shoulder and gently pushed him aside. The warrior could have resisted, could have held his ground this time - and his taut features proclaimed that he wanted to - but he didn't. He inched to the side.