The Darkest Touch

She’d tried relationships, but only once out of love. With a deaf human her enemies had later killed. Twice, out of mutual respect and admiration. With possessed immortal warriors just like her. Countless times, out of desperation. With anyone who showed her the slightest bit of interest and seemed capable of disregarding her flaws.

“I’ve been satisfied in bed,” she said, “and so has my man.”

“Man, singular. Interesting.”

How is he running so many circles around me? “I’ve been with others.”

“Yes, but you mentioned nothing about achieving satisfaction with them.”

And she couldn’t, without lying.

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“Did I hit a nerve, sunshine?”

Only the rawest one she possessed.

She missed Alexander, her human, every day of her life. Despite what he’d done to her at the end of their relationship.

He’d been cast out of his home at the age of eight, when he’d gotten sick and lost his hearing. Somehow, though, he’d survived the slums of ancient Greece to become a well-respected blacksmith, growing into a handsome, strong and honorable man.

He’d been her one shot at happiness.

Can’t think about him. It would only make her demon stronger, feeding his need for misery.

“Just...shut up,” she said. But she knew Lazarus wouldn’t. He never did. He would press and prod until she erupted, and then he would sit back and laugh as she struggled to get control of her emotions. He loved to laugh. And she wanted so badly to join him. It looked fun. But she was in no mood to be his entertainment. “What of you and your wife, huh? Did you pleasure her?”

He sucked in a breath. “Don’t call her that.”

Finally. She’d hit a nerve, too. “Why not? That’s what Juliette is, right?”

“She’s an enemy. You’ll learn the difference when next I find her.”

Juliette was a Harpy, and Harpies mated for life. The girl had taken one look at Lazarus and decided he was the one for her. Her consort; she had gone to great lengths to keep him at her side, somehow enslaving the powerful warrior. To escape, Lazarus had allowed Cameo’s friend Strider, the keeper of Defeat, to behead him, and the Paring Rod to suck his spirit and body inside...where the two parts had somehow been able to reunite and heal.

She didn’t understand it, but there it was.

Why did I have to stumble upon him and not Viola?

Stupid Rod.

“My friends will find me, you know.” Torin had watched her vanish. He was looking for her, she knew he was, and he would never give up. He loved her.

As a friend. Maybe...as a girlfriend.

Torin was one of the only two immortals Cameo had messed around with. Working around the no-touching thing had been difficult, but they’d done it, pleasuring themselves in front of each other. It had been fun, exciting...at first. But they’d both held a part of themselves back, preventing them from moving to another, deeper level. At the time, she hadn’t known why. Looking back, she could clearly see fear was the culprit.

He’d expected her to grow tired of their arrangement, desire something better and leave him.

She’d expected him to develop a distaste for her voice, desire something better and leave her.

“At this point in our journey, I’m your only friend,” Lazarus said, a bead of anger in his voice. “You won’t survive without me.”

“Actually, I might know true happiness for the first time in my life without you.”

He flattened his hands over his heart. “Ouch. It’s like you’ve stabbed me with one of those daggers you’re always bragging about.”

I wish.

“But just to be clear,” he added, “you’re telling me you’ve never known true happiness, even when your man was giving you all that amazing pleasure?”

Could she hide nothing from him? “Why are you so interested in my sex life?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, sunshine. I haven’t reached a firm conclusion yet, but I’m considering giving you a go.”

Incredulous, she stopped to stare up at him. “Giving me a go?”

His dark eyes sparkled with merriment. “Yes, and you’re welcome. But like I said, don’t get your hopes up. I’m currently leaning toward the no box.”

She pressed her tongue into the roof of her mouth. “Let me save you the trouble of taxing your poor abused brain with the pros and cons. You are, apparently, the last man on earth and I still don’t want you. I would rather mate with a porcupine.”

“So you’re into pain? Got it.”

Gah! She left him in the dust.

He hurried after her, calling, “Any other delightful surprises I should know about? Because this little revelation has put you closer to the yes box.”

She flipped him off without looking at him.

“An affinity for pain and she likes to give the cold-shoulder treatment. It’s like I’ve won the lottery,” he said. “I won’t ever have to worry about a clinger situation. All I’ll have to do is prick your temper and you’ll leave on your own.”

Anger filled her and—

She stopped, utterly shocked. That’s right. Anger filled her. Filled her. Leaving no room for sadness.

It was the law of displacement in action. If you were full of one thing, there was no room for anything else. Had that been his plan all along?

No, no. Of course not. He would have had to care about her feelings.