“I apologize for offending you. Be assured, it won’t happen again. Oh, and by the way. You’re a pussy.”
–Neeka, the Unwanted
A SHARP RAP at the door. Cameo stalked across the hotel room to welcome the delivery boy inside. The two-story suite was the best of the best, complete with luxuries that would make anyone joyous. Anyone but her. She saw only a means to an end. A way to get to Lazarus.
I’m coming for you...
There were two benefits a hotel such as this one provided for its wealthier guests. One, she could get anything she wanted or needed simply by picking up the phone, and two, privacy was a given. Even the maids couldn’t enter without her express permission.
She scanned the immediate area as she turned the knob—all weapons were hidden.
She waved the male inside. He wheeled the tray into the small kitchen and she began to hope the encounter would end without any exchange of words.
She should have known better. Good things rarely happened to her.
“Are you having a nice day, ma’am?”
Ma’am. That’s what I’ve become?
She could have nodded. She could have ignored him or pretended to be deaf. Three things she’d done in the past. Not exactly feeing charitable, she said, “Yes.”
That was it. One word. Tears began to pour from his eyes as if he’d sprung a leak.
Humans! Breakable little flowers, all of them. Besides the deaf human she’d once loved—the human who’d betrayed her to Hunters, nearly ending her life—the only beings who’d been able to spend any length of time with her were the demon-possessed immortals she lived with. But even with them, she had to limit what she said.
So many words were trapped inside her!
One day, those words would reach the tipping point and spew out—and the world would probably end as misery spread, suicides and homicides abounding.
The man wiped his eyes with a look of surprise. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what’s come over me.”
If ever he learned the truth, he would either die of a heart attack, or he’d crap his pants.
No time to bury the body, no desire to launder his clothing.
She escorted him to the door without saying a word. As he raced down the hall, embarrassed by his tears, she sealed herself inside the suite, only then relaxing enough to smell the creamy pasta and steamed vegetables. As a possible last meal it would be...adequate. But then, no food had ever tasted like anything more than powder to her. Except for chocolate, of course. That, she enjoyed, but she limited her intake because she needed something to look forward to and the more she indulged, the easier it would be for Misery to ruin it.
Except...this time, even the thought of chocolate caused warmth to spill through her. She tingled, she ached...with the ghost of a memory? Had Lazarus drizzled chocolate sauce over her entire body and licked her clean?
A girl could dream.
Excitement for the future filled her—and agonized Misery. The demon, in turn, did what he always did when she experienced anything other than sadness, reminding her of the biggest obstacle in her way.
No one could stand her for long. Why would Lazarus be any different?
Because he’s mine?
Her friends had overcome centuries of evil when they’d met their women. Without the box, without her freedom, going to Lazarus was the best—the only—way to succeed and find what the others had: someone to love.
Maybe. Was he even mate material?
Not knowing agonized her.
And, having no idea what she would face during her quest to find him, she had to keep her strength up; she ate every crumb, even as the food settled like lead balls in her stomach. When she finished, she entered the bedroom where she’d stored the three artifacts and Danika’s painting.
She took a minute to send a group text to her friends, telling them where she’d ended up. They needed to know where to find the artifacts when she was gone.
Don’t try to stop me. I have to do this. I’ll return if I can, but if I can’t, know that I’m doing my best to live the life I’ve always wanted.
The guys would give her an hour, maybe two, before they burst into the room. They worried for her safety far too much to wait much longer. They always had, even in the heavens.
Within seconds, everyone had texted her back with either curses or entreaties to be careful. Torin, the best friend she’d ever had, texted step-by-step instructions about what she’d done last time. He also cautioned her.
The artifacts stopped working for Keys. They might not work for you. If they do... I wish you the best, Cam, I really do. But please remain on guard. There are whispers that Lazarus lives by stealing the lives of others. If he takes yours, nothing will save him from us. Nothing.
Whispers weren’t always true. For another moment of happiness? Worth the risk.
Even if she would only forget again.
Torin added: I love you, Cam. Come back to us. And maybe bring Viola with you. Or not. Yeah, probably not.
Viola. The keeper of Narcissism. She’d been a prisoner of Tartarus when the extra demons in the box had been handed out. She was annoying, irritating and, through no fault of her own, completely self-absorbed. She was also trapped in the Rod, as Cameo had been. As Lazarus still was.
She replied: I love you, too. I’ll find her. And if all goes according to plan, I WILL return...with a smile. AND Viola. Prepare yourself.
She knew him, knew he would laugh when he read it.
Another text came in, this one from Baden: I watched him. Lazarus is more a monster than I’ve ever been. This will not end well for you, Cameo. He will destroy you.
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, not going to him would be worse. She would always wonder what she could have had.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, she replied. And now, she was done communicating.
Time for action.
She tossed the phone on the desk. Trembling now, she climbed into the Cage of Compulsion. The Cloak of Invisibility, Paring Rod and painting were already inside, waiting for her. With Torin’s instructions rolling through her mind, she placed the Cloak over her head and peered at the painting. The canvas depicted an office like any other. Except for the box—Pandora’s box, made from the bones of the goddess of Oppression, able to enslave anything—resting on a bookshelf.
Cameo reached for the Rod, the final step, hoping, dreading. The moment she made contact, her entire world went black.
* * *
My honeymoon. Yay for me.
Gillian wrapped her arms around her middle as she huddled before a crackling fire. Heat radiated from the flames, but it did her no good. The realm’s frigid temperature had formed a wall behind her, turning her backside into an icicle.
As soon as William had left, Puck had taken her hand and led her out of the sand castle at a pace that had allowed her to finally see her surroundings—pretty, mystical and fantastical—and through a “portal” to this other realm. Ice hell. He’d done it despite her wish to return to her friends!
He didn’t want to live with William, which she now understood. But he didn’t need to live with her, either. Not that he’d listened. Not that he ever listened.
Even though she’d asked him to stay with her, he’d taken off an eternity ago to procure lunch, which had already come and gone.
Now the dinner hour was upon her and there was still no sign of him. Darkness reigned. Silence, too. The only noise was the crackle of the logs as they burned...and her thunderous heartbeat. At this point, she kind of hoped Puck didn’t return. Not until morning, at least.
This was their first night as man and wife. Would he change his mind and make a pass at her? Demand sex with her?
No, surely not. He knew her stance on the matter. Had said he respected her wishes.
Then again, he was a guy and guys tended to get stupid when they got hard.
Just...grin and bear it. She’d done it before. She could do it again.
Big hands roving over her small body...
She gagged.
I’m immortal now. I have to live with those memories forever.
I’m an idiot!
I’ve never even been on a date and now I’m married? Stupid idiot! She should have died while she’d had the chance.
A strange sound registered—the clomp of hooves? She stiffened. Next the scent of peat smoke and lavender drifted to her.
Puck had returned, after all.
He stepped into the firelight, his features as indifferent as always. And yet, he made her pulse quicken. There was something about him...
Their new connection, probably. And his inhuman beauty.
He looked as if he was wearing eyeliner. His lashes were long and black and curled at the ends, giving him soulful eyes despite his lack of expression. What would he look like if ever he cared about something? Anything? About...her?
“Lunch and dinner.” He dropped two dead rabbits in front of her. “Clean and cook them while I bathe.”
Excuse me? He’d been gone for hours, and that was all he had to say to her? “I’m not cleaning them.” Or eating them.
He frowned at her. “You aren’t hungry?”
“I’m starved, but—”
He cut her off, saying, “Then clean, cook and eat them. Problem solved.”
Was this how things were going to be between them? He gave orders and expected absolute compliance? “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to touch a dead animal. I don’t want to eat an animal. I’m a vegetarian.”
He shrugged, completely apathetic. “You’ll do what I command. Nothing else is acceptable.” He walked away then, disappearing in the shadows.
Grimacing, she toed the animal carcasses out of her way, her stomach weeping even as her anger spiked. She was Puck’s greatest investment! He’d married her for a reason and that reason hadn’t changed. He needed her. So, he could freaking take care of her.
Should probably try to take care of...myself?
Definitely. And she would. Of course she would. Later. After he’d fed her a proper meal.
Oh, wow. She sounded every one of her eighteen years. How embarrassing—for her!
But she had passed hungry and now hangry, so what the hell.
She jumped to her feet and stalked after him, knowing he’d gone into the very cave he’d forbidden her from entering during his absence because “you never know what’s nesting inside.”
Drip, drip. The warm, damp air was fragrant with—she sniffed. Orchid oil? A dreamy scent she followed until she reached a bubbling hot spring. A whimper of longing escaped her. She could have stayed in here the entire time rather than freezing out there. Obviously, nothing was nesting.
Puck stood in the middle of the water that reached his waist, his back to her, his long hair plastered to his skin; through the strands she could see a crimson butterfly tattooed from the base of his neck to the curve of his ass. The gossamer wings looked as if they would actually lift and flutter.
And...she frowned. In many—many—places, Puck’s flesh was raised. With scars? A lump grew in her throat. Poor baby. What had happened to him? For scars to have formed on an immortal, the injuries had to have occurred during his childhood, before his body had developed the ability to regenerate, or had to have been so horrific, so fierce, even his ability to regenerate couldn’t heal him fully.
Poor baby? Who am I?
Stay strong. She stomped her foot, saying, “You are my...my husband. You will feed me. It’s your duty.”
Ugh. That was staying strong? Acting like a child?
Slowly he turned to face her. Droplets of water trickled down his cheeks, falling onto the wide bulk of his shoulders. “I may not care about much of anything, lass, but I live by certain rules. I have to.” Just then, he was an Egyptian prince with an Irish accent, and he was more confident, more commanding, than she’d ever been in her entire life. “My rules are the only reason I’ve survived my affliction—the only reason the people around me have survived.”
She licked her lips, his gaze following the motion of her tongue.
“The one you need to memorize?” he continued—did he sound a smidge less confident? “You will work or you will starve.”
A standard she would normally support. “I told you. I’m a vegetarian. I don’t mind working for my food, as long as it’s food I can eat.”
“You can eat what I provided, you simply prefer not to. What you don’t yet understand is this. You don’t have to like the tasks I give you, lass, but you must do them.”
“I would rather starve to death.”
He shook his head. “That will never be an option for you.”
“But—”
“You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll suffer.”
William would never threaten her this way. He wouldn’t force the issue, ever. He would provide for her—fruits, nuts, even twigs if that was all he could find—no questions asked. She’d gone from the ultimate pampered life—and a man who valued her—to this, a laborious life with a man who couldn’t care less about her.
Biggest. Mistake. Ever.
“You would hurt me?” she asked through chattering teeth.
His answer was a succinct, “Yes.”
She backed away from the hot spring. “I’ll hate you.”
“And as you’ve probably figured out, I won’t be bothered by it.”
Fear gave way to anger and incredulity, and she balled her fists. He couldn’t...he wouldn’t...
Actually, he could and he would. “I want to go home.”
“I’m your home.”
“I want to go to my old home.”
“No. You’ll go to mine.”
And find herself surrounded by others of his kind? “We don’t have to live together.”
“We do.”
Argh! He never backed down. About anything!
Clearly, she’d handled the situation the wrong way. Besides, this was a poor start to their marriage. She remembered her mom and biological dad. They’d loved each other. They’d complemented each other and sweetly touched each other. They’d worked together and the rare times they’d fought, they’d compromised.
“Fine. I’ll gather twigs and search for berries and—”
“Twigs are for fire and there are no berries in this realm.”
Her brow furrowed. “What did the rabbits eat, then?”
“They aren’t rabbits, lass.”
Won’t ask. Probably best not to know. Find a new way to reach him. “Your situation has changed. Shouldn’t you change your rules, too?”
Puck thought for a moment. He waved his fingers at her and though she had no desire to close the distance, she did just that. He patted the stone ledge, and she sat, her legs crossed. With slow, careful movements, he removed her boots and socks. She flinched at first contact and couldn’t bring herself to relax, not until he dipped her bare feet into the hot, bubbling water.
Her eyes closed as the suds caressed her skin and massaged sore, tired muscles. She couldn’t not enjoy it.
“Why do you not eat meat?” he asked. “Meat makes you strong.”
Why not tell him the truth? “When I was younger, my stepbrothers would whisper to me at the dinner table. If we had hamburgers, they would ask how long I thought the cow had screamed before it died? If we had chicken, they would ask if I imagined its chicks crying for their momma?” She shuddered.
He stroked his chin. “You are far more damaged than I realized.”
Most people probably would have taken offense, but she knew what she was and knew he spoke true. She was damaged. “I know,” she said and sighed. “Maybe we could...bargain? If you’ll find me something to eat—besides animals!—I’ll do my best to make you feel an emotion.”
Compromise, the only way to build a bridge between them.
He pursed his lips. “You’ll do your best anyway.”
She flicked water at him. “Is that something you can force me to do?”
“No.” The word lashed like a whip.
Well, well. Look at me. Already making him angry. “Then this deal is the only way to guarantee my cooperation. And then, after I make you feel, you’ll take me home—to the home of my choosing.” She remembered what William had once said about him and his desire for vengeance. “And you won’t hurt Torin. Ever.”
Motion clipped, he spread her legs and moved between them. Again, she tensed. The position was suggestive. Too suggestive. Far too suggestive. She placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but he merely flattened his own atop hers and held firm.
“How will you make me feel emotion?” he asked.
Can’t think like this. “I—I’ll tell you jokes and sad stories.”
He gave a single shake of his head. “Others have tried the same and failed.”
“Had those others ever made you feel anything previously?”
“No.” A grudging admission.
“Then I already have an advantage.”
His gaze dropped to her legs. “What if I want to feel something other than happy or sad?”
Her mouth dried in an instant. “I don’t... I can’t...”
“How else will you do it?” he asked. To distract her?
Really, really can’t think right now. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” As will I.
“If you fail, will you try what I suggest?”
Those suggestions would be sexual, wouldn’t they? The look in his eye...
Just have to make sure I don’t fail. “Yes,” she croaked. “I will.”
“Very well.” He nodded, releasing her and moving to the other side of the spring. “I won’t force you to eat meat. And you...when we reach my homeland, you will make me feel something...one way or another.”