27
“A man cannot be led by two opposing forces, for truth cannot coexist with a lie. Love cannot coexist with hate.”
—Memoir of a Maddened King
—Memoir of a Besotted Fool
Plagued by urgency and fear, Lazarus lifted his upper body and stretched out his arms, his muscles screaming in protest. In the last hour, the crystals had spread and thickened, slowing his reflexes considerably. His fingers found the dagger in his boot. With one hand, he grabbed hold of the vine that was wrapped around his ankle. With the other, he used the dagger to saw.
At last the vine broke. Bracing for impact, he tumbled toward a bank of moss—only to be caught by another vine and hang upside down a second time. He unleashed a stream of obscenities. Still the dark cloud approached, headed directly for Cameo.
As graceful as a swan, she unfolded a piece of gray cloth until it formed a hooded cape. When she placed the cape over her shoulders and lifted the hood, she vanished. Not even Lazarus could see her. Good, that was good. The cloud couldn’t see her, either.
“Run,” he told her. “Run, and I’ll find you.” Always.
But he knew she wouldn’t obey. She was Cameo, stubborn to an extreme. When the cloud reached the spot he’d last seen her, it screeched. Lazarus cringed, the high-pitched sound nearly bursting his eardrums.
Ignoring his own pain, he pulled up and sawed at the new vine.
The cloud thundered and flashed bolts of lightning, all the while shuddering. What was Cameo doing?
Yet another vine snatched the dagger from Lazarus’s grip and aimed a sharpened tip at his heart. He cursed his distraction.
Just before impact, a tar-covered vine batted at the blade, saving Lazarus from injury. He shook his head, confused. The tar-covered vine coiled around the one holding his ankle and squeezed. He was released. He toppled, expecting to crash-land. The tar-covered vine caught him, easing him to the ground.
It’s...aiding me? Why?
Think about it later. Ready for battle, he popped to his feet. Cameo materialized, the Cloak of Invisibility in a pool at her feet. She stood underneath the cloud, her arm extended high, her hand hidden by the gloom. No, not hidden. The cloud thinned, revealing her hand and the pipe she held.
Pride overwhelmed him. My woman. So strong. So capable.
When every speck of darkness vanished, she lowered her arm. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and her cheeks glowed with rosy health. Brittle leaves tangled in her hair.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The Cloak of Invisibility protected me from the mist as I snuck under the cloud, inserted the pipe into the center, and commanded the thing—whatever it was—to die. And it did! It had to. The pipe is from the Cage of Compulsion. It was a gift, so we own it, and anything inside it has to do whatever we command.”
Her excitement...
Beneath his fly, his shaft hardened. With her, it proved inevitable. “You are a true warrior.” Even though she was upset with him, she had done everything in her power to ensure his safety.
No one had ever acted so selflessly on his behalf. No one had ever placed him first. Not even his parents. Their hatred for each other had trumped their love for him.
Desperate to touch her, to assure himself of her safety, he closed the distance between them. “You endangered yourself to save me. Can you really fault me for doing the same for you?” He reached for her.
“It’s not the same.” Avoiding contact, she bent to sheathe the pipe in one of the bags.
His heart shriveled, but he pressed on. “Why?”
“The outcome of my action is life.” She folded the cloak and hid it in her pocket. “The outcome of yours is death.”
“You speak as if I’m wasting what time I have left. The truth is, time with you is not wasted but cherished.”
Scowling, she tossed a bag at him. “Shut up. Just...shut up.”
He crouched beside her. He was getting to her, cracking her internal armor. He had to keep pushing, couldn’t allow her to refortify her defenses against him. With her, he had no defenses of his own. Because he loved—
He sucked in a breath. He did. He loved her. Not because of what she was to him. Because of who she was. Period. She was a wealth of contradictions. Kind but fierce. Caring but stubborn. Witty but morose. Protective but easily provoked. Compassionate but violent.
Despite the demon, she was the light in Lazarus’s darkness. She was smart and she was...everything. Before her, he’d known rage. Somehow, she had filled him with joy.
“Cameo,” he croaked.
“No.” She stood. “That isn’t what I want. I want you to live. Free of the crystals. Free from danger.”
He stood as well, hope shining like a brilliant beacon inside him. She loved him, too. To put herself at risk as she had? To make the sacrifices she’d made for him? To give herself to him so unconditionally? She must. “I don’t want to live without you.” He followed the gruff admission by removing the apple from his neck and placing it around hers, the leather and chain mail touching her skin, rather than the bone.
She raised her chin.
“It’s yours,” he said. “I trust you not to harm yourself. I trust you to make the call—remove the covering and touch it, open it, hide it or destroy it. Whatever you want. I give it to you, free of obligation or expectation.” His knuckles brushed her nipple as he ensured the pendant hung between her beautiful breasts, drawing another hiss from her. “I give you my love, my time, my everything.”
* * *
He’s shattering what remains of my resistance.
Cameo reeled, Lazarus’s declaration ringing in her ears. He loved her? She shook her head and backed away from him. “You’ll give me everything...except a future with you. A family.”
He moved with her, saying, “You are my family.”
She turned away. Looking at him hurt. She wrapped her fingers around the apple. Even with a covering, she felt the heat radiating from the bones. Felt the power.
Misery screeched and scrambled to the back of her mind. Subdued? Precious silence reigned...and yet still she experienced a deluge of sadness.
Lazarus knew her, knew who and what she was, and he wanted to help her, not destroy her. He loved her, despite her many flaws. And she lo—
Nope. Not going there. If she gave in to either him or her emotion, she would curse him to an eternity encased in crystal. So she had to let him go. No ifs, ands or buts. What’s more, she had to force him to leave her. And thanks to the mirror, she knew there was a way to do so...
Dread slithered down her spine.
Lazarus stiffened and said, “We need shelter. Another cloud approaches.” He gathered the packs and pushed through a thick shield of foliage.
She followed, passing a tree of some sort. Maybe. It was nine feet tall and oozed a thick black substance. Tar? The substance covered two vines—two vines that could pass for arms. Butterflies flew above it, creating a colorful canopy.
Doom and gloom...
“This thing...whatever it is, it helped me,” Lazarus said. “I don’t trust it, though. I don’t trust anything in this realm.”
They traveled for over an hour, successfully avoiding other traps, sneaky vines and biting insects. The new death cloud continued to trail them, but never caught up.
Lazarus rejected two caves before settling on a third that was smaller than the others. So small, in fact, they both had to crawl inside. Deep into the bowels of the earth, however, the cavern opened up, allowing them to stand. The enclosure had only one entrance and, as such, only one exit—the one they’d crawled through.
He dropped the packs and dug inside. With a snarl, he extracted the stuffed leopard he’d discarded earlier. “I’ll be right back.”
“Right back” turned out to be fifteen minutes, no toy in sight.
“What’d you do with the leopard?” she asked.
“Tossed it into a puddle.” At her side once again, he offered her a canteen. As she quenched her thirst, he opened the caviar and crackers. They ate in silence.
Was he upset with her? He’d offered her love, and she’d spurned him.
Had to. Won’t be his downfall.
But...she could have one more night with him. Just one more. And what better night? If she waited until they found Hera, the crystals could overtake him, or he could uses his masculine wiles to convince her to ignore his doom in favor of her temporary happiness. How close he’d come already.
“Do you love me, Cameo?”
The question came out of nowhere. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d read her mind. Maybe he’d asked to begin working those masculine wiles she had no defense against.
There was no denying the truth any longer. She loved him with every fiber of her being. He pleasured her spirit, mind and body. His irreverence amused her. His stubborn determination kept him by her side during the worst of her depression. His care of her made up for every second of sorrow she’d ever endured.
Somehow, he’d become her anchor in the storms of life. He’d become the sun, always chasing her darkness away. He’d filled an empty vessel with hope. He’d fought for her when she couldn’t—wouldn’t—fight for herself.
She would not put her wants before his needs.
“I’m not going to talk about this,” she said.
In the morning, she would do what she needed to do, no matter how bad it hurt. She would let Misery take her memory. Lazarus would kill Hera, as he’d always wanted. That way, Cameo wouldn’t try to kill the goddess on her own or save her.
That way, Cameo died, too. Better to go with a known outcome this go-round, too, than try to change the future and possibly make things worse. For herself, and for Lazarus.
She hated the thought of leaving him to deal with guilt, probably shame, on his own. But better he live with guilt and shame than die once again.
I’ll gladly give my life for his.
Without her, the crystals would stop growing inside Lazarus. He would have the strength to live forever.
Sadness rose like a midnight tide, attempting to drown her, but she quickly built a dam around her heart. It would hold. For now. He came first.
Cameo used the toothpaste and wet wipes to clean up. Lazarus did the same, tension arching between them. Outside, a storm erupted, the faint scent of rain filling the cavern. Thunder boomed and through cracks in the earth, lightning flashed.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” she said. Warmth spilled through her. “I just want you.”
Pulsing with vitality and masculine aggression, he framed her face with his big hands. His titillating scent consumed her senses. The essence of seduction.
His gaze locked on hers, his pupils expanding and overtaking his irises. “You want me as your man? You want endless kisses? Sweat-slicked skin? Heated whispers? Wandering hands? Moans of pleasure? Grinding bodies? Intertwined limbs? The rest of my days?”
She shivered, and oh, how she ached. But then, his ability to paint such a deliciously carnal picture...to make her want what she couldn’t have...was as well-honed as her daggers. “I want here and now.”
His grip tightened. “Do you love me?” he demanded again.
Refusing to answer had done her no good. “I do. I love you.” Later he would find that admission had done him no good.
“Prove it, then. Give me everything.”
Lightning shot through the cracks and illuminated the small space with bright gold flashes. The air charged, electrified, sensitizing her nerve endings.
With a moan of surrender, Cameo smashed her lips into his. Finesse was beyond her. She thrust her tongue against his, offering love...passion...tonight. Only tonight. The feel of his muscled strength was a high like no other.
A high she would never experience again.
He pressed her to the ground, heat to searing heat, and she rolled on top of him. Her hair created a dark curtain that hid them from the rest of the world. His hardness contrasted perfectly with her softness. Her nipples puckered and ached, and she quaked with longing.
She felt his love for her, a rushing river winding through them both. Her love for him sprouted like a tree planted beside the water, growing taller, wider, greater.
Desperate for skin-to-skin contact, she tore at his shirt until the material gave way. Bronzed skin. Magnificent tattoos on display. Savage hunger frothed inside her as she licked and nipped his collar...the center of his chest. She took the time to pay proper homage to his nipples.
He cupped her nape, offering himself in supplication. A masculine buffet of sensual delights, he was hers for the taking. And take she did, lost in her addiction for him.
Yes, I’m addicted. Obsessed, even. Blissfully so.
With the rising of the sun, everything would end.
The thought filled her with sadness.
No, no. Not here, not now. She checked the shield around her thoughts. It held, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Tonight she made memories to last a lifetime. Tonight she enjoyed the gift she’d been given: a marvelous male who saw her as a treasure rather than an anchor. Tonight she pretended she had a tomorrow.
“You are worth every hardship I’ve ever endured,” he rasped. “You are my prize.”
See! A treasure. “And you are mine.”
“I love being claimed by you.” He rolled on top of her, taking the reins of their lovemaking and claiming control.
She ceded to his power, no part of her body off-limits to him. The muscled weight she so admired pinned her in place, a welcome cage.
“Where do you want to love your man?” he asked. “A beach hideaway? In front of a fireplace?”
Role-playing to help her forget the direness of their circumstances? “No illusions. Nothing false between us ever again. I want you here. Now. As you are—as we are.”
He smiled down at her, tender and sweet, and she swore she could have an orgasm simply by looking at him. Beautiful man.
He nuzzled her cheek with his own before his mouth descended, devouring hers as if she were a meal, the last meal...until he was no longer kissing her but making a promise to her: never letting you go.
With deft movements, he stripped her of her top and bra, and tossed both garments aside. Then he cupped and kneaded her breasts. She arched against him, loving the friction...heat...fire. Mmm. He’s burning me from the inside out.
“You’re mine, and we’re in this together.” His fingers linked with hers and squeezed before stretching her arms over her head, pinning her more effectively, leaving her vulnerable to him. “Tell me.”
“You’re mine,” she echoed, “and we’re in this together.” Until morning...