The Darkest Lie

Why the disgust? Why the warning? She was a beautiful, intelligent, brave female, damn it, and the bastard should be proud to call her daughter. Gideon’s hands fisted, even as he told himself he wasn’t angry. He was relieved that Cronus wasn’t his father-in-law. Possible father-in-law, he hastily added.

Sabin’s wife was Galen’s daughter, and Gideon had seen the problems that little family connection had caused. No, thanks.

“Her father was mortal, and her mother is a whore,” Cronus continued, the disgust far from waning. “That’s who’s in your vehicle? Seems I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately, Lies. I knew you had the girl in your dungeon, but had not realized you had taken her out. Without my permission. I should punish you.”

Again, truth. Careful.

She’s not mine, his demon suddenly piped up. A warning to the king. One Cronus couldn’t hear, thankfully.

Not now. Don’t push. “No apologies, Great One.” That he wasn’t bombarded with pain for the “great one” comment shocked him. Cronus had to know he meant the words as an insult. “As I wasn’t saying, she didn’t tell me that we’re wed. Something I remember. I didn’t want to trick her into thinking I was softening toward her so that she would tell me more. And I didn’t plan to return her to the dungeon once I had those answers.”

“Wed? You and Scarlet?” Cronus frowned, head tilting to the side as he pondered. “Everyone knew she was interested in you the first moment she saw you, but there was no hint that the two of you were seeing each other. Much less willing to wed each other.”

She’d always been interested in him? Suddenly he wanted to puff out his chest and bang on it like a damned gorilla. She liked the look of him, and always had. Despite her purported adoration of blonds. Thank the gods.

Surely he could sneak past her rage and ignite that interest again. Somehow, some way. “Do you know of anyone who didn’t have the power to erase thoughts of her from my mind?”

A pause, almost oppressive in its intensity. Cronus licked his lips, suddenly uneasy. Then uttered a hesitant, “No.”

Gideon’s demon purred. A lie. Cronus had just told a lie. He did know someone who possessed that kind of power. Who? “Why—”

“No more questions.” The command was snapped, his tone aggravated now. “Just…be careful with her. She’s feral. Otherwise, I would have taken over her care myself.”

You will not touch her, he wanted to scream, even as his demon gave another purr. Another lie. What had the king lied about this time, though? That she was feral, or that he would have taken over her “care”? Or both?

Didn’t matter if she was feral. She was Gideon’s wife, for gods’ sake. Maybe. But either way, he was going to bed her. If that didn’t return his memory of her, nothing would. At least, that made sense to him. And what if, afterward, she was willing to help him and his friends in their ongoing war with the Hunters?

Yes, of course. If she would help, he wouldn’t have to return her to the dungeon, even though he’d told Cronus he would. The king wanted to win the war, didn’t he? Scarlet could destroy the enemy while they slept, eradicating the need for bombings, stabbings and gunfights.

That would be total win-win. No downside. Well, except for one, but it was minor, so it hardly bore mentioning. Thought you never lied to yourself. Gideon bit his tongue until he tasted copper. Fine. The downside was huge. Devastating. He would never be able to trust Scarlet because his demon couldn’t read her. And after what he’d done to her, she would never want to help him.

Therefore, she had to return to the dungeon no matter how much she softened toward him.

“I grow tired of your wandering mind,” Cronus said on a sigh.

So did Gideon. The results sucked. “Don’t have one last thing.” Hopefully the god realized he had something else to discuss after this. “In prison, did anyone not…hurt her?” The last was croaked from him.

Something hard shuttered over the king’s eyes, not just erasing their color but shutting down his expression and blocking all hint of his emotions. “We’re done here. You have things to do. I have things to do. So…”

Clearly, he wouldn’t discuss Scarlet anymore. Damn him. Though everything inside Gideon screeched in protest—including Lies—he quickly switched the subject before he was sent away. “There wasn’t something else I needed to know. Olivia didn’t mention that you have Sienna.” Sienna was Paris’s woman. A woman who had died in the man’s arms. A woman he still craved, apparently.

Gideon felt like he was always the last one to know these things. Paris certainly hadn’t told him. But Olivia loved sharing the details of her life, as well as the details of everyone else’s, and Gideon adored spending time with her. She had mentioned that Cronus had taken Sienna’s spirit, kept the girl near him, and then, when Wrath was split from Aeron’s body, the god had placed the demon inside the girl.

The pain she must be in right now…the utter mental agony. That demon was probably urging her to do all kinds of despicable things. Things she would do; she wouldn’t be able to help herself. Things that would haunt her for the rest of eternity.

“I have her,” Cronus admitted reluctantly.

Truth. Lies hissed.

Tread carefully, he reminded himself. “May I not look upon her?” And report to Paris.

“No.” No hesitation. “You may not. And now, we truly are done. I have shown too much leniency already, and look what it’s gotten me.” Cronus waved his hand through the air, and the next thing Gideon knew, he was back at the wheel of the Escalade, Scarlet cuffed to his wrist.

The change was so jarring, he accidentally jerked the wheel. The car swerved to one side, tires squealing. Another car was approaching from the other lane, headlights bright. Another quick swerve, and the car missed his. Barely.

Scarlet gasped. “What the hell are you doing? Our conversation wouldn’t be over just because I went flying through the windshield, you know.”

His demon gave a contented sigh. Not mine.

Gideon evened out, but didn’t mention what had just happened in the heavens. As much as she disliked Cronus—why?—he couldn’t be sure of her reaction. However, every woman liked receiving gifts, and now seemed the perfect time for a distraction.

Don’t mess this up. “So, uh, I would hate if you reached into my pocket.”

There was a suspended beat of silence. Then a dry, “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t have a present for you.”

Interest lit her dark eyes, but she remained still. Even suspicious. “The present wouldn’t happen to be a hard cock, would it? Because if it is, I would have to return it. Minus a few inches.”

His lips twitched as he fought his amusement. And yes, his cock hardened. He only had to be near her for an erection to happen. Or hell, think of her. He liked her dirty sense of humor. “Yes, it is, but you won’t find that, too.”

Now her lips twitched. That had happened before, yet he’d never seen her smile.

Truly smile. And he wanted to, desperately. She would glow. He knew she would, could see her beautiful, smiling face inside his mind, lush red lips curved at the corners, teeth straight and white. Her eyelids would dip a little, but the wicked glint in her irises still would be visible.

He sucked in a breath. Was that a memory? A memory of her smiling over at him? Happy with him? Well-loved?

“Fine,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t hide the trembling in her hand as she reached into his pocket, careful to avoid the very thick length of him. Another gasp left her as her fingers clasped the too-hot metal. She even jerked.

Gideon had to press his mouth into a tight line to cut off his moan of pleasure. Her touch…She was so close to Mini Me, she had only to angle her wrist to reach it. And he wanted her to reach it as desperately as he’d wanted to see her smile. But all too soon, and without angling her wrist, she removed her hand and studied the amulet.

“What is it?” Was that disappointment in her tone?

“Not a match to mine, that’s for sure.”

Her gaze moved to him as he flicked his own amulet out from under his shirt.

“Oh.” The disappointment, if that’s what it had been, disappeared. “Wh–why do you want us to have matching necklaces?”

Now he couldn’t tell if she was happy, upset or wistful. Or maybe she was simply a combination of all three. Like, the gift made her happy because it meant he’d been thinking of her. Like, the gift upset her because he was giving it to her now, when he didn’t remember her. Like, the gift made her wistful because he seemed hopeful of a future together.

“Well?” she prompted gruffly.

He forced a shrug, because he couldn’t answer. Not without hurting his cause. To admit—in his way—that he hadn’t bought it for her would hurt her. To admit that it wasn’t a symbol of what they’d once shared and could maybe share again would, what? Hurt her.

“When did you get it?”

Again, he shrugged.