5
“Step two: Threaten...and follow through.”
—How to Achieve Victory
Subtitle: Except with Lovers
Cameo remained seated on the bed as an unfamiliar female bustled about in the bathroom. Rejection still rattled inside her brain like a barbed metal ball.
I don’t hate you. But I don’t like you, either.
Lazarus had told her what had transpired between them, but instead of setting her free of Misery’s shackles, he’d wrapped a new chain around her neck. The man had kissed and touched her...had given her pleasure. To her knowledge, he was the first. Also, he had no issues with Misery. And yet he couldn’t get rid of Cameo fast enough.
Destined to be alone with me. Misery’s poison dripped from every word, searing hidden corners of her mind.
Fate would not be so cruel. Fate—
Could be far crueler. Her shoulders rolled in, her head bowing. A small flame of hope snuffed out, and a drop of wax seemed to splash onto her heart, burning a hole in the center. No matter how horrid her life, things could always get worse.
At least her wounds had stopped stinging when Lazarus applied salve. Torn flesh had even woven together. He was right; no love buttons for Cameo.
Of course, when he applied the salve, her pride had started stinging. His touch had been impersonal and rough, his expression twisted with repugnance.
A sniffle wafted from the bathroom. Cameo stiffened. Never fails. Not a single word had left her mouth, and yet Misery had managed to infect the other woman.
Poor servant girl, the demon said, his voice soft and sad. Your presence is torture for her.
Wah, wah, wah. Cameo would not accept guilt for this. She wouldn’t! She wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s feelings.
Aren’t you? You brought me into this realm...
Fine. She wasn’t responsible for anyone else’s reaction to their feelings. But...
Maybe she should go. There was no reason to await Lazarus’s return. She could find Viola without his help, thanks.
No, she needed to stay. Her clothes were hanging on by a thread and a prayer, and the dirt caking her shirt itched.
A new plan formed. Bath, change into clean clothes. Won’t let the door hit me on the way out.
Most important, she would stay away from Lazarus.
He knew so much about Cameo while she knew so little about him, and the imbalance chafed.
What kind of ruler was he? Harsh? Or fair? How did he treat his people? Like chattel? Or prizes? Did he currently have a girlfriend? Or maybe girlfriends?
Her nails dug into the mattress. Did he enjoy monogamy or have a fear of commitment?
The pale-haired servant appeared in front of her. “The water is ready, miss. If you wish to bathe...please, this way.”
First, Cameo gathered a handful of objects she could use as weapons.
Weapons were a girl’s best friend.
She selected a fire poker, and plucked the diamond tails—or rather, the perfect daggers—from the hand-carved sky serpents. For her troubles, she awarded herself both sets of ruby eyes.
Ready for anything, she entered a spacious bathroom that was bigger than her bedroom at home. The walls of the shower stall were made of glistening crystals. Pillars braced the entrance of a large alcove, where a small, winding staircase led to a bubbling hot spring. Steam curled from the water’s surface, fragrant with the scents of rose, bergamot and neroli—
Cameo blinked with surprise. Rose, bergamot and neroli. The essential oils used in her favorite soap. Coincidence?
Had to be. No way Lazarus had noticed her preferred scents. Really no way he had purposely re-created the mix.
I don’t hate you. But I don’t like you, either.
Her nails scraped the fire poker as she continued her study of the bathroom. Find your exits long before it’s time to leave. A crystal chandelier hung above the hot spring. Grab, swing, drop. In a second crystal stall, she found a 24 karat gold toilet and bidet.
Blondie attempted to remove Cameo’s shirt. With a snarl, Cameo leaped out of reach. No offense, but enough was enough. Until she wanted to be stabbed in the back or decapitated, she would not allow a stranger to stand behind her.
Take me unawares once, my bad. Take me unawares twice, you die.
Correction. Take me unawares once, you die.
Cameo motioned for Blondie to leave. Unfortunately the servant missed the action, remaining in place, her head bowed.
Rather than speak, Cameo gave Blondie a gentle push...she stumbled but quickly dug in her heels.
Had Lazarus ordered her to spy? Fear of his wrath must be great.
Fine. Whatever. Keeping Blondie within sight, Cameo stripped. A miraculous feat, considering she retained her hold on the weapons. After walking up the stairs backward, she entered the welcoming water and placed the weapons around the rim of the tub.
With a sigh akin to contentment, she eased onto a waiting bench, where multiple jets massaged sore muscles.
Blondie sniffled again, ruining the moment.
Misery kicked against Cameo’s skull, a flash of memory consuming her mind.
“Maybe I’ll kill you and gift her with your head,” Cameo had said. She sat in the thick of a forest, glaring up at the warrior.
She’d threatened him? Why? Damn it. Did the demon hope to taint her feelings for Lazarus?
And what had she meant? Gift her. Her who?
Juliette, Misery said. The Harpy who once enslaved him.
The demon loved to parse out the details he’d stolen from her, giving just enough info to send her imagination into a tailspin.
“Maybe I’ll cut out your tongue and do the world a favor,” Lazarus had replied. He sat at her side, a tower of menace and strength, sexy beyond imagining.
Whoa. He had dared to threaten Cameo?
Obviously. At least she’d gritted her teeth in irritation instead of fear and said, “Maybe I’ll gut you just for giggles.”
“Maybe I’ll stab the life out of you and do myself a favor.”
Oh, yes. He’d dared. But he’d been amused rather than enraged.
Cameo had jumped to her feet and motioned him closer. “You want to do this, warrior? Because I’m ready. Anytime. Anyplace.”
His big body had unfolded as he’d stood, the movement graceful, his strength on display...and fascinating. “You don’t want to take me on, little girl. You’ll lose.”
Little girl? She would hack him into a thousand pieces.
“I think differently,” she’d said, surprising her present self. Stop baiting him and start attacking! Maybe take him on the worst date of his life...to a karaoke bar. “On both counts.”
She hadn’t attacked. She’d pressed her chest against his and reveled in his hardness.
Well. Attraction had clearly addled her brain. Despite everything, she’d wanted his strong arms wrapped around her, his warm breath on her nape.
“Do your worst, then,” he had said. “But have no doubts, I’ll then do mine.”
The memory began to dwindle. Nooo! Cameo scrambled to keep the playback front and center. She had to know more! What was his worst? What had followed his newest threat? Had they apologized to each other? Or had they split up?
Her mind blanked. With a frustrated shriek, she slammed her fist into the rim of the tub.
Blondie heaved a great sob.
Fighting the crush of defeat, Cameo slunk deeper into the water. Not knowing the minute details of her life killed her. Especially because the tricky demon only ever unveiled bits and pieces of her past, and always completely out of context, forcing her to speculate about why, what and how.
Cameo washed from head to toe, and wondered about Lazarus. He claimed she’d writhed in his arms and begged for more. If anyone could rock her world, it was that male. Beauty and strength wrapped in smoldering sensuality, sprinkled with ferocity.
Finished, she gathered her weapons and descended the stairs. Blondie rushed over to dry her, but she snatched the towel to dry herself. The material wasn’t cotton or silk, but something a thousand times softer.
Blondie gathered clean clothing, and Cameo dressed without complaint while cringing inside. A diamond-encrusted bra and blink-and-you’ll-miss-them bottoms? Really?
Brow arched, she pointed to the gossamer cloth.
“Shorts,” Blondie said and hid a chuckle behind her hand.
Silly me for not knowing. Call her old-fashioned, but Cameo believed her shorts should be longer than her butt crack.
Whatever. She secured the weapons and headed for the door. Blondie raced in front of her to motion to the vanity. Wanted to brush and style her hair, did she? Deep down, Cameo wanted to say yes, despite the foolishness of the act. She wanted Lazarus to take one look at her and basically shit himself. Don’t like me? Fine. But you’ll wish I liked you!
Problem: Blondie would have to stand at Cameo’s back to—
Oh, who cared? What kind of warrior couldn’t protect herself from a single person?
Cameo placed a dagger on the vanity—in plain sight—and eased onto the chair.
Blondie trembled as she lifted a brush. One minute bled into another, zero attacks launched, and Cameo began to relax...until the mirror in front of her moved.
With a yelp, she jumped to her feet. Blondie stumbled back, confused.
Cameo pointed to the liquefied glass, and waves rippled over the surface.
“The mirror once belonged to the goddess of Many Futures,” Blondie said softly. “Its power fuels legends...and nightmares.”
Siobhan, the goddess of Many Futures. The youngest of the Erinyes, or Furies.
As a Greek, she’d fallen under the leadership of Zeus. Rumors claimed the goddess had been cursed soon after her sixteenth birthday, forced to spend the rest of her days trapped inside a glass prison.
Cameo had encountered the teenage girl only once before her curse. Siobhan had been a beauty with hair as white as snow and skin as dark as night. She’d looked Cameo up and down, and said, “Must you always frown? Laughter is the best medicine. Unless you have diarrhea.”
A wave of trepidation swept through Cameo as she returned to the chair—from the demon, or from her own sense of self-preservation, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she refrained from peering into the glass a second time.
Glass prison...mirror...if the goddess were trapped inside...
I don’t want to know what fresh misery awaits me.
Over the next half hour, Cameo’s hair was brushed, dried and fashioned in a complicated half braid she would never be able to replicate. Her face was sprinkled with something sparkly.
“This is stardust,” Blondie said. “It is very expensive.”
Who, exactly, had Lazarus spent his big bucks on? A favorite mistress? Was Cameo receiving her leftovers?
A tendril of jealousy surprised her. She had no future with the man, so there was no need to waste emotion on him.
“A witch sells the dust in town,” Blondie continued. Babbling to distract herself from the sadness Cameo exuded? “She’s a crazy one. Does nothing but compliment herself. And she has a devil for a pet. The creature—”
Cameo grabbed the edge of the vanity. Nothing but compliment herself...devil for a pet... No help for it, she had to speak. “Do you know where I can find Viola, keeper of Narcissism, and Princess Fluffikans?”
Blondie burst into tears.
Cameo jumped up and took the woman by the shoulders, shaking her. “Concentrate. Look past the despondency and tell me what I want to know.”
An-n-nd Blondie hunched over, sobbing and dry-heaving. When she calmed, she rattled off coordinates beyond the forest.
“Is there another part to this outfit?” she asked, not waiting for an answer but rushing to the dresser.
Blondie burst into a fresh round of sobs.
“Go.” Exasperated, Cameo waved toward the door. “Leave me.”
The woman didn’t have to be told twice. She beat feet, gone in a blink.
Story of my life. Always better off alone.
She searched through every drawer, at last finding a wraparound skirt that tied at the waist. If someone mistook her for a lady of the evening, well, someone would die.
She exited the room, stunned to find Blondie hadn’t locked her in. Not that a locked door would have mattered. Cameo could pick any lock anytime. A skill she’d honed as a better-safe-than-sorry measure against Hunters.
The reason Blondie hadn’t felt the need to engage the lock became very clear a second later. Two armed males stood sentry in the hallway.
Both males gazed up at the ceiling, as if afraid to look at her.
“Milady—” the tallest said.
“Cameo,” she corrected without thought. Titles had never been her bag.
Both males flinched. One teared up. She gnashed her back teeth.
“If you won’t return to your room,” Crier began.
“I won’t,” she interjected.
Fat teardrops slid down his cheek. “Then I will be your shadow.”
The tall one sprinted away, as if he couldn’t bear her presence a minute more.
Misery cackled with glee, and a familiar wrath boiled inside Cameo. Hate the demon!
“What if I don’t want a shadow?” she demanded.
Crier gulped. “The king’s orders.”
What, did Lazarus think she would steal the silver? Run away? And did he really think a single guard could stop her if she decided to go?
Why not make use of him?
“I’m to protect you with my life,” he added.
Oh. Well. “Take me to the exit. Also, I need a map of the forest. I’m visiting my friend. The woman with the pet Tasmanian devil.” Cameo wasn’t looking forward to seeing Fluffy again. The rat-like beast was the size of a small dog, had sharp teeth, spiked black fur and a hair-trigger temper. He emitted a noxious odor when he was stressed.
The guard tried to hide a second flinch. What sweet progress, she thought drily.
“I know of whom you speak. Horrid pair. Are you sure—never mind. There’s no need to respond. I’ll take you to her abode.” He strode in front of her, careful not to brush against her, and led her downstairs and out the back door.
The backyard took her breath away. Moonlight blended with multiple rows of torchlight, illuminating the rainbow-colored river winding through a spectacular rose garden.
Between the bushes were life-size statues, both male and female, each depicting different degrees of terror and regret. Some of the statues were missing limbs. Others were posed in defensive positions.
The artist had done a remarkable job, ensuring every creation captured the full range of human expression. From the crinkle at the corner of an eye to the shadow of every individual lash. The statues even had fingerprints, and on one of the females, Cameo noticed a chip.
Never, in all her days, had she seen such detailed work. Had Lazarus inherited the garden from the former king? Or had he collected the pieces for his own enjoyment?
When she noticed countless butterflies swooping down to land on one of the statues, she froze. Her heart sped up, slamming against her ribs.
I get it. Danger is coming. Leave me alone!
“So many,” the guard said, his awe unmistakable. “So beautiful.”
In an effort to distract herself, she said, “A group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope.” A group of men is called a migraine.
He cringed, making her feel worse. She rushed ahead to escape the area—again she froze. This time, her stomach churned.
Up ahead, two pikes waved proudly in the wind. Atop each pike rested a severed head. Not stone, but flesh. Rotting flesh.
Lazarus’s doing?
Of course! Who else would have dared?
What had the victims done to earn such a gruesome punishment?
Although, Lazarus could have done a lot worse. She and her demon-possessed brothers by circumstance had done worse.
Their motto: the enemy who fears you is less likely to attack you.
What would Lazarus do to her if she inadvertently harmed someone in his kingdom?
She wanted to ask the guard about his king’s motives, but remained silent. Whether she intended it or not, the question was an admission Lazarus hadn’t trusted her with his reasons. Also, the question disrespected Lazarus, reducing his choices to fodder for gossip.
Over the centuries she’d learned a warrior’s pride needed care and tending. Males spooked easily, so it was always best to handle one in private.
Not that she would be seeing Lazarus again.
“If you want to reach the witch by nightfall, we had best continue on,” Crier said, and motored forward.
She followed, soon reaching a gaggle of females who were pruning the rosebushes and wearing the same bra and butt-crack shorts as Cameo. When they spotted the guard, they accidentally on purpose dropped their tools and bent over to retrieve the items, revealing a hidden slit in the center.
Well. The Bend-over Babes certainly gave new meaning to the term come and get it. Were they here in porno land for Lazarus’s personal enjoyment? Did he sample their pleasures regularly?
The guard couldn’t hide his new pant-tent.
“Chop, chop. Night is coming,” Cameo said, and his tent instantly collapsed. “Free lesson of the day. Distractions can get you killed.”
He leaped into action, desperate to escape her. They cleared the garden a mile or so later, only then slowing. They reached a golden wall. He opened the only gate, stepped through and unsheathed his sword.
Sensing a threat, Cameo palmed the diamond daggers.
Too late. An arrow sliced through the guard’s temple.
Her first thought: see! Distraction kills. Her second: stupid butterflies!
As he crumpled onto the twig-laden ground, she ducked.
A war cry sounded. A tribe of Amazon warriors stepped from behind the trees—their narrowed gazes locked on Cameo.