12
“Fear isn’t your friend and it won’t keep you safe. Fear is the first stage of self-destruction.”
—Living on Your Own Terms, Damn It
—Eternal Truths for Every Man
Lazarus had made several tactical errors, each of them critical.
Oh, he’d done everything he’d set out to do. He’d hidden the females under a pile of steel. He’d forced the griffin to focus solely on him while opening his mind to the beast’s thoughts—erratic, dark, vile—in order to predict every move against him. But he’d underestimated Cameo’s resolve, and his own growing weakness. He’d thought the fight would end swiftly, so he hadn’t given her the gifts currently burning a hole in his pocket. He’d expected her to stay down and safeguard the weaker Viola.
Instead, Cameo attacked the griffin, moving too quickly for Lazarus and his crystalized veins to block her.
She soared past the griffin and slashed at his ankles. The second she hit the ground, she rolled and stood.
Thump. The beast’s foot detached. A high-pitched squawk nearly busted Lazarus’s eardrums. At the same time, rage consumed him; through his connection with the beast, he felt the white-hot burn of the emotion in every cell.
To the griffin, Cameo had just been marked for a bloody death.
As Lazarus shouted, “No,” leaping at her with every intention of sheltering her body with his, the griffin flared his wings. One wing swiped at Lazarus and nearly tore him in two. The other swiped at Cameo. She jumped out of the way and—yes! She reached the safety zone. Or she would have, if other blades hadn’t unfolded from the tip of the wing, drawn to her as if she were a magnet.
Lazarus watched in horror, helpless, as the blades cut through her midsection.
Her eyes widened, and she grunted with shock and pain. Trembling, she dropped her weapons and clutched at the gaping wounds.
Blood and organs spilled to the floor as her knees collapsed.
No. No!
The griffin loved the sight and smell of her injury. He clicked his teeth together and inhaled deeply.
That. Very. Second. The tether to Lazarus’s control snapped, his own rage overtaking him. He became the stuff of nightmares.
For the first time in his life or death, fangs sprouted from his gums, more lethal than any sword. Claws grew from his fingertips, sharper than any weapon. His veins burned as if molten lava rushed through them, even where the crystals had grown.
A thousand times as a child, he’d witnessed this transformation overtake his father, making him strong. Invincible. In all his years with Juliette, he’d prayed for this to happen.
Lazarus was every inch the Monster’s son.
As he raced forward, the griffin chomped at Cameo’s neck. She shouldn’t have the strength to move, but by some miracle she managed to roll over, the creature’s teeth sinking into her shoulder. Her back bowed, and she screamed.
Lazarus grabbed hold of matted fur, his claws slicing all the way to bone. He swung himself around—a move he’d watched Cameo execute against his sky serpents when he’d first invaded her mind and witnessed her memories of the battle—and dropped down in front of her, at the same time using his momentum to snap the griffin’s spine in two.
Hurt...more.
The creature’s head hung at an odd angle. However, the lack of muscle control didn’t stop him from flinging his weight at Lazarus.
Expecting the action, Lazarus blocked, buried sharp claws in the griffin’s chest and tossed him across the cavern.
Lazarus flashed, greeting the griffin when he landed by punching fangs into his vulnerable neck. He shook his head and ripped out the bastard’s regrown trachea, black oil spraying from the wound.
More!
Lazarus used his claws to slice those metal wings into ribbons...to cut through scales as easily as butter.
A flicker of rational thought. Careful, need the heart.
He flung the dead, withered organ aside. Then he railed, overcome by madness once again. There went the face. The shoulders. The entire chest cavity, what remained of the organs ripped into so many pieces they were unrecognizable.
At first, the griffin fought, desperate to fend off Lazarus’s relentless brutality. As black oil continued to spray, the source of his afterlife drained, along with his strength. Bones snapped and shattered, until the griffin couldn’t move.
“I’m keeping this!” Viola called. “And this. And this. This, this and this. Oh! Cameo, did you see this? We’ve hit the mother lode of metals. Am I weeping? I think I’m weeping. I can build armor...the home of my dreams. I can protect myself and my Fluffikans from everyone.”
Panting, Lazarus scanned the cavern until he found Cameo. She’d managed to stuff her internal organs back inside her torso, her flesh in the process of weaving back together.
A cool tide of relief swept over him. She would heal. And now she would forever know the truth. He could defend her from any danger.
Despite my weakness, I am stronger than ever.
The realization bolstered him. Did this mean... Could he dare to keep her?
“Over here, Lazarus,” Viola called. “Come help me. It’s the least you can do since I’m letting you borrow my ring, right? You kind of owe me one. A big one. And this small one. Oh! And this one. And by kind of I mean definitely.”
“My ring.” Lazarus pushed to his feet.
He couldn’t go to Cameo like this, not while she was in such a fragile state. He breathed in and out with purpose, focusing on a single thought in an effort to calm himself. He would be kissing his woman at some point today. Would finish what they’d started...
His veins sizzled as rage bowed to arousal. He grew rock hard, his erection straining against his leathers, throbbing, desperate for the clasp of her hand, her mouth. Her beautiful red mouth, with lips so plump and soft. Her hot, wet inner walls. How tightly she had squeezed his finger.
The woman had been made for him. She came to life within the circle of his arms. He and he alone could bring her to climax.
He just had to prove it to her.
The red waned from his vision. The bitter taste of griffin dulled, and his fangs and claws retracted.
I’ll give her pleasure every day, every hour, every—
Between one heartbeat and the next, his weakness returned. His veins constricted, the rivers of crystal spreading.
His hands balled into fists.
No, he couldn’t keep Cameo.
“Lazarus?” Her raspy voice beseeched him.
He picked up the kris and closed in on her. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor. He thrust his arms under her and gently lifted her, cradling her against his chest.
Going to part soon. Must enjoy her while I can.
With a sigh, she relaxed against him. “Did you know you have griffin meat under your fingernails?”
He scoffed at her. “You mean the must have accessory of the spirit realms?”
She snorted, then she sniffled. “I’m sorry. I meant to help, not hinder. I thought you were doomed, and I didn’t want...I’m sorry.”
Doomed? He probed her thoughts.
She stiffened, only to release another sigh. “Fine. Do your thing.” The shield fell, her mind opening up to him, filling him with satisfaction and possessiveness.
A clip of her life played inside his head. Earlier, a butterfly had flown through camp and landed on Lazarus. She’d panicked. Over the centuries, butterflies had become a sign of impending catastrophe to her.
Made sense in a warped way, he supposed. Upon her demon-possession—an action forced upon her—a butterfly had been branded into her flesh.
Lazarus had seen the mark on her fellow warriors, but never on her. Had to be hidden under her clothes...
Will trace my tongue over every inch of that brand.
“Butterflies are drawn to me,” he told her. “Always have been. They’ve aided me, never doomed me.”
Her brow furrowed. “But why are they drawn to you?”
“Must be female.”
She barked out a laugh. Then her eyes widened with surprise.
He wanted to pound his chest with pride. I amused her. Now to soothe her fears. “Butterflies are signs of impending success, sunshine. If one leaves her chrysalis too easily, her wings are weakened. She must struggle to exit or she will never have the strength to fly. But because she flies, she brings her strength to you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
In a rare show of affection, she petted his chest. The simple action nearly drove him to his knees.
He’d wanted her for so long, and now he had her. In his arms. In his realm. Take her!
Not here, not now.
He carried her to Viola, who was so weighed down by pieces of metal she couldn’t straighten her spine. “You’ll never be able to walk through a portal.”
“Then I’ll run. And I’ll create a portal right here, thank you very much.” She waved her hand, the ring she’d given him then taken back then ceded to him once more on her finger yet again. When a rift failed to form, she sputtered. “It’s not working.”
He eased Cameo to her feet and removed the ring from Viola’s finger, saying, “We should return to the spot we entered. The seams holding the realm together are more malleable there.”
“Carry me?” the goddess asked, batting her lashes.
“I will not—”
Cameo gazed up at him with beseeching eyes—sparkling eyes? “She’s letting you borrow her most favorite ring. Shouldn’t you help her?”
A grinning Viola placed a hand over her heart. “The pearls of wisdom you’re dropping right now are lovely, Cameo, my dear. Though not as lovely as my new titanium. Look!” She petted a sheet of metal.
He should stand firm and at least pretend to have defenses against his warrior woman. “The ring is mine forever.” A weapon he could use in his favor. “But I will carry the goddess because you oh, so sweetly asked. I will only expect one boon in return.”
Cameo smiled, a quick up and down quirk of her mouth, but a smile was a smile, and his chest puffed with pride a second time. He was addicted to her amusement and wanted more. Wanted a full-blown smile next time. Or an unstoppable laugh.
“Let me guess,” she said. “I have to spend the night with you?”
He traced the line of her jaw, luxuriating in the feel of her silken skin. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Don’t be ridiculous, sunshine. I would never leave room for interpretation. I would demand you spend the night with me...naked and eager for my touch.”
As he lifted his head to peer into her eyes—no longer sparkling but burning—lovely color darkened her cheeks.
“If I say no?” she asked, her tone ragged.
“The goddess walks.”
Little panting breaths left her. Such a telling reaction pleased him. Her desire for him had grown, his ability to bypass the demon’s sorrow getting easier. She wanted to spend the night with him.
“I—” she began.
Dust rained from the rafters. A thousand roars suddenly echoed through the cavern, silencing her.
“Uh-oh. More automatons,” Viola said.
A lot more. Their thoughts slammed into Lazarus’s awareness all at once, a terrible blast of hate, malice and rage. They had sensed the forever-death of their kinsman and hungered for revenge.
“Hurry!” Cameo grabbed his hand and stumbled forward. “We’re in no condition to fight another battle.”
“I can fight anyone, anytime and emerge victorious.” But even as he snapped the rebuke, determined to mask his own weakened condition, he knew another battle would put his woman at greater risk, and that he wouldn’t allow.
She comes first.
Today. Only today.
She’d chosen to fight for him. Had willingly placed herself in danger on his behalf. Not because he’d commanded it, or because she would be rewarded. Her only objective had been his protection.
Loyalty wasn’t a gift he’d ever received. Until now. Until her.
Juliette, who had claimed to love him, had never put his needs before her own. His men fought beside him because they feared his wrath, not for any other reason.
Astonishment blazed through him. Would she choose him over her brothers-by-circumstance? Would she trust him to keep her safe...trust him to take care of Pandora’s box?
I want her to choose me. Always, only me.
The two sides of him—self-protective versus possessive—engaged in a violent tug-of-war. Be with her for a day...be with her forever...a week...forever.
How could he ever give her up?
Focus!
He kissed her knuckles before pulling from her grip. He picked up the griffin heart. More roars sounded. More dust rained. The griffins drew closer.
Lazarus twined his free hand with Cameo’s and raced from the cavern. Once they cleared the mountain, Viola picked up speed and claimed the lead, encumbered by the metals but no longer affected by their bulky weight. Her will to survive on her own terms must be stronger than any physical limitations she incurred.
The goddess wasn’t the weak link he’d considered her.
“Faster,” he commanded, pulling ahead of Viola. In the jungle, the slowest gazelle got eaten.
Despite Cameo’s injury, she ran with innate elegance.
As they raced around burnt trees and maneuvered around sharp, gnarled limbs, Viola decided to belt out a song she couldn’t remember. “‘Running something something something. Holding something something. Trying something something something.’”
He expected her to spread her arms wide and twirl. As deceived by Narcissism as she was, she must believe no one and nothing would ever attempt to harm her—must consider herself too valuable to harm.
One day, someone would prove her wrong, and she would suffer greatly for it.
By the time their group reached the mound of boulders where they’d first arrived, sweat drenched him. His lungs burned.
Behind them, a dark cloud of smoke moved through the skyline, heading straight toward them.
Lazarus waved his hand while rubbing his thumb over the ring, creating friction, exactly as Viola had done earlier. Having read her mind, he knew to picture the realm he wished to enter.
Electric pulses cut through the landscape, creating a rift. Dust motes shimmered, dancing in a sudden burst of wind through the portal. He tugged Cameo through, and the goddess followed. The portal closed behind them.
Relief abounded. They’d done it. They’d escaped.
They stopped to take a breather.
“Wow,” Viola said. “That was—”
Another portal opened, the griffins zooming through.
“Damn it,” Cameo grated.
Well, hell. Lazarus tightened his hold on her, sprinted forward and whistled. A second later, the hiss of his sky serpents drifted across the land. A few seconds after that, the horde found him, hovering overhead, awaiting his command.
“Attack!” he shouted.
“Can your pets win?” Cameo asked between panting breaths. “They’re outnumbered three to one.”
“They can. They will. Poor griffins.”