The Darkest Seduction

CHAPTER NINE

CRONUS FLASHED TO HIS private bedchamber in his favorite secret palace, gripping a puny, wretched Hunter by the scruff of his neck. The moment the wall murals appeared at his sides, a large bed crafted from the darkest ebony materializing in front of him, he shoved the Hunter to his knees, maintaining that hard grip. A thick crimson carpet kept the action from fracturing the human’s kneecaps, the only mercy the man would receive this day.

Atop the bed, chains rattled. The naked female bound to the posts spotted him and struggled to free herself. Of course, she failed. The chains were not just reinforced steel; they were mystically enhanced. And really, she only had herself to blame for her confinement. Cronus never would have captured her if she hadn’t come here with the intention of seducing and chaining him.

Had he not been in possession of the All-Key, she would have succeeded. Now, nothing could restrain him.

Grinning, he studied her. Dark hair tangled around bruised shoulders, evidence she had struggled long before his arrival. Skin usually the color of flawless cream was now amusingly sallow. When eyes a mix of crystal and crimson flashed absolute hatred at him, his grin widened.

“I will massacre you for this,” she snarled. Before he had time to respond, she calmed, returned his grin with a wicked, wanton one of her own, and purred, “But only after I play with you a bit.”

“Now, now, darling.” Cronus tsked under his tongue. If any female were capable of harming him, it was this one, but he would never admit it. “Is that any way to greet your husband of countless centuries?”

Rhea, queen of the Titans, eyed him as if he were an animal—and she wanted to wear his pelt as a victory coat. “A better way to greet you would be with a sword swinging at your neck.”

He waved his hand through the air as if he hadn’t a care, the action so patronizing it was sure to reignite the fuse of her temper. “Careful, my dearest. You’re in danger of protesting too much.”

“Argh!” With her demon, Strife, flashing ruby-colored scales and gnarled bone under the surface of her skin, she intensified her struggles. “You will pay for this.”

“So you’ve said innumerable times. Alas.” He let out a mocking sigh, barely audible over her raspy panting. “How you humiliate yourself, my heart of hearts, but do go on. My favorite part comes when you realize nothing you do, nothing you say, will aid you, and you sag in defeat.”

Despite his taunt, she did indeed continue to fight. And as his own wrists and ankles throbbed in protest, he lost his amusement. He was connected to this horrid creature. Connected in a way he could not escape.

When someone injured her, he was injured also. No matter where he was or what he was doing. Likewise, when she experienced pleasure, so did he. Yes, he always knew when she bedded another man. But then, she always knew when he bedded another woman.

Perhaps that was why they despised each other so passionately, and why they had chosen opposite sides of the war that raged between immortals and their human enemy. Cronus had aligned himself with the Lords of the Underworld, and Rhea the Hunters.

“Death is too kind for you!” she spat just before sagging against the mattress as he’d predicted, perspiration dotting every inch of her body and making her glow.

He enjoyed seeing her this way. Helpless, naked and utterly unable to protect or cover herself. She had lush breasts with lovely tawny tips. A soft belly, and even softer thighs. And once upon a time, he truly had loved her. He would have given her anything, would have given everything, to make her happy. Actually, he had given everything.

Though he’d known better, he had shared his throne with her. Had even shared his godly abilities. He’d hungered for her so absolutely, he hadn’t wished to exist if she could not be by his side, ruling with equal power.

As the centuries passed, however, she began to change. From sultry to grasping, from kind to cruel, her thirst for power surpassing his own. Ultimately, she betrayed him in an attempt to usurp him. She was the reason he’d been incarcerated inside Tartarus. She was the reason the Titans had fallen to the Greeks. At least the ones she’d aided in rising up against him had betrayed her in kind.

Now, nothing would save her from his eternal wrath.

“It’s that time again, my pet,” he said, all hint of his softer emotions gone.

During one of their many altercations in prison, after he had killed her lover and she had killed his, they had vowed to never again harm those closest to the other, and a vow given was unbreakable. Therefore, Cronus could not touch her precious Galen or any of Galen’s top advisers—though Cronus had finally found the bastard’s lair, as well as his first in command, the new keeper of Distrust, Fox. In turn, Rhea could not touch any of his Lords.

They could, however, harm the minor foot soldiers. As he would soon prove.

“Your choice, Rhea. I beat you, or I kill one of your Hunters.”

The human kneeling at Cronus’s side jerked at the threat, mewling sounds seeping from his bloody lips, but he never spoke a word. Just a guess, but that could be because Cronus had already cut out his tongue.

Cronus wanted Rhea to choose her punishment, and he didn’t care that he would, essentially, be punishing himself. Causing her to suffer overrode all other concerns. “Which is it to be?” Every day he offered her the same choice, and every day she gave the same answer.

“You think I care about a fragile, useless human?” She lifted her chin, her narrowed gaze remaining on Cronus, completely lacking in fear or mercy. “Kill him.”

A whimper escaped the Hunter.

No, her answer had not changed. Cronus could have beaten her anyway, and perhaps one day he would. For the time being, he liked giving her what she asked for. Liked thinking she would be haunted by her selfishness for decades to come.

“Very well.” Cronus stretched out his free arm, summoned a sword from nothing but air, and struck. The Hunter’s head fell to the floor with a thump. His body quickly followed.

The scent of copper coated the air.

Rhea’s thunderous expression remained the same, untouched by remorse. “Do you feel better now, my stallion? Do you feel like a big, strong male?”

Bitch. He would not allow her to gain the upper hand. “Do you care nothing for your ever-dwindling army? The very men fighting for your cause.”

One bare shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “I feel the same for my army as you feel for yours, I’m sure. Nothing.”

No, he did not care for his Lords, but he respected their strength and determination. Or rather, he had. Lately the warriors were too busy falling in love, too concerned with their own petty squabbles, and now too busy rescuing Kane, the keeper of Disaster, to heed Cronus’s orders. Still, they were a buffer between Cronus and eternal death, so he needed them.

He frowned at the thought of all that had transpired to bring him to this moment. Long ago, the first All-Seeing Eye under his command—a being capable of seeing into heaven, hell, past and future—had prophesied that a man filled with hope would fly to him on wings of white and behead him. At the time, Galen had not yet been created. Therefore, Cronus had assumed an angel assassin would come for him, which was why he’d pitted himself against the Deity’s Elite soldiers. War had broken out—among angels and gods, Greeks and Titans—and even those on earth had suffered.

Weakened from the ceaseless fighting, Cronus found himself defeated by Zeus and thrown into Tartarus. Soon afterward Zeus created the Lords, Galen among them, to serve as his personal army, ready to defend him should the Titans rise up from their moldering prison. But in a fit of foolish pique, those same warriors opened Pandora’s box, unleashing the demons from within and raining down more havoc on a world still reeling from the heavenly war. When Zeus meted out their punishment, decreeing that each would house a demon inside himself, Galen was paired with the demon of Hope, wings of white sprouting from his back. Then, upon Cronus’s escape from the immortal prison, the newest All-Seeing Eye had painted the same future that had earlier been foretold, this time showing Galen’s victory over him.

What the first Eye had told him—and the newest did not yet know—was that there was a way for him to save himself. A woman with wings of midnight, who had lived among his enemy but craved a life with his allies, was to be his salvation.

That woman was Sienna. Everything about her fit the Eye’s description, from her appearance to her circumstances.

Therefore, she had to do as the Eye had said she must do. Reign by Galen’s side, despite her desire to aid the Lords. Only she could keep Galen’s attention, though she didn’t yet know how or why and Cronus wouldn’t tell her. Only she could hold her own against Rhea, if ever his wife got free. Only she could stop the Lords from attacking Galen, for killing the keeper of Hope would not stop the prophecy from coming to pass. His demon would be given to someone else, and that someone else would then become the white-winged slayer of the Titan king.

“I will escape, you know,” Rhea said, and she sounded confident.

Whether that confidence stemmed from her abilities or his capitulation, he wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. He rubbed a thumb over one brow, another dismissive gesture. “No, I do not know. I’ve never seen so weak a goddess.”

Only he could unlock her chains, and he planned never to do so. Among her most recent crimes, she had convinced her sister to become his mistress and spy on him. Another reason for Cronus’s insistence that Sienna do the same to Galen.

“One day…” she gritted out.

He moved to the side of the bed, away from the dead body and closer to his hated wife. “You will ruin me. You will imprison me. You will… What other threats have you issued, hmm?”

“I will peel away your skin, spit on your bones and dance in a pool of your blood.”

“Sounds like a truly spectacular evening. Until then, I think I’ll have a bit of fun.” With a single wave of his hand, he summoned one of the countless females currently residing in his harem. A redhead with deeply tanned skin and roses in her cheeks appeared beside him. Unlike some of the others he owned, she truly enjoyed attending to his needs.

Today she wore a transparent drape of silk and lace, jewels that had once belonged to Rhea and a smile brighter than any sun. Seeing the Titan queen so helpless on the bed, and knowing she herself was a favorite of his, she puffed with pride, flipped her hair over one shoulder, and waved smugly.

Rhea hissed.

And that’s why I chose her, he thought with an inward grin.

Recognizing the diamonds curling around the girl’s neck, Rhea released a spew of curses.

“Majesty,” the girl said with a curtsy, talking over the queen to prove how little she mattered. The fragrance of citrus wafted from her. “What can I do for you?”

“You can show the woman on the bed how much your man pleases you.” He waved her in front of him, where he bent her over, her face right in front of Rhea’s.

“Does she not please you?” the girl asked.

The queen gave another hiss and tried to bite her.

“Enough of that.” His gaze on his wife, he lowered the zipper to his leather pants. He despised wearing such constrictive clothing, but Rhea found this type of garment attractive, and his need for vengeance far surpassed any desire for comfort. “You know what you must say to stop this from happening,” he told his wife. Rhea must only concede defeat, vowing to forever obey him.

“I’ll die first.”

“Very well.”

He took the servant, and the pleasure was intense—and he would never admit it was so satisfying only because he kept his eyes on his wife. She, however, closed her eyes to block his image. No matter. She felt every sensation along with him, and that was enough. For now.

When he finished, he righted his clothing with hands trembling from the force of his release—which was humiliating; a king should recover swiftly—and sent the grinning servant away.

“Bastard,” Rhea said on a panting breath. “I hate you. With all of my being, I hate you.”

“As I hate you.”

A smile of genuine amusement suddenly curled the corners of her mouth. “You know, Cronus, darling. You did not enjoy your whore half as much as I enjoyed mine.”

The words were carefully calculated, a stinging blow to his masculine pride. But he was careful to keep his own expression equally amused. “You know, darling,” he said. “You might have enjoyed your men, but you only ever had them once before I found and killed them. I, on the other hand, am already looking forward to having the redhead again tomorrow.”