The Darkest Prison
Page 4

His lips left hers, but before she could moan her disappointment, he was kissing and licking his way down her neck.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes. Like that.”
“More?” His nose nuzzled the golden slave collar as if it were a trinket rather than a device that could kill her. For once, she even liked the collar.
“Yes.” More. At the moment, that was the only word she was capable of. Unless…did he think to make her beg?
Fury suddenly blended with desire. Well, she would show him. She would beg for nothing. Not even this. Especially this. Not for him.
“Then more you shall have,” he said, shocking her. He tugged the fabric of her robe down, revealing her breasts. Air hissed through his teeth. “So lovely. So perfect.” His tongue flicked out and circled the nipple he’d pinched just a short while ago. “So mine.”
Her head fell back, and her nails scratched at his back. So good. The heat…the wetness…the—“Yes!” The suction. He was sucking at her so forcefully, her stomach muscles were quivering. “Atlas,” she groaned. “Don’t stop.” A command, not a plea.
“I won’t. I can’t.” He straightened, his narrowed gaze suddenly pinning her in place far more effectively than his body. “I want you. All of you.”
She struggled to regain her breath. Her senses. “You mean sex?” Yes, yes, yes. Here, now.
A clipped nod was the only answer she received. She opened her mouth to reply, but somehow found the strength to stop herself. She drank in the sight of him—a sight that delighted her almost as much as it angered her. Angered? Why? His nostrils were flared, his lips pulled tight. He looked as if he barely had himself under control.
Did he want her that badly? she wondered. Or was he merely that good an actor?
Yes, she mused darkly. He was that good an actor. And that was where the anger sprang from. He’d looked at her like that once before, the last time they’d had sex. That look had been the catalyst to her decision to free him, despite the consequences to herself. Consequences that could have resulted in a death sentence. But, she’d thought, he truly loves me with the same intensity that I love him. She’d thought anything worth the risk of freeing him. Of possibly being with him for eternity.
How they would have managed that, she hadn’t known. But she’d wanted to try. He had not.
Thank the gods she’d encountered one of the members of his skank parade mere minutes after escorting him from the building and into the clouds outside, where he would have been able to flash. He’d still had his collar on—she hadn’t wanted to remove it until they’d bypassed every single guard. That way, everyone who saw them walking together would have assumed she was simply moving a prisoner.
But outside, they’d been seen. No one could flash out of or into the prison itself, so everyone had to walk through the front door. Aergia, the goddess of laziness, of all things, had decided to come to work early, surprise, surprise—just to be with Atlas again. She’d stopped Nike to question where he was being taken.
I’m taunting him with what he can never have again, Nike had claimed.
The goddess had frowned. Well, take him to my office when you’re done.
Why?
The frown became a slow, sensual smile. So I can dish my brand of…punishment to him.
Dread had sparked inside her. And how do you punish him?
How do you think? But don’t worry. I’ll leave him begging for more. I always do.
Atlas had tried to run then, mowing right over them both, but with his collar still in place, he hadn’t gotten far. Nike had locked him back up and, suspicious, questioned all the female guards. Nearly every single one of them had had a go at him. And he’d told them all the same thing: You are beautiful. I want to spend my life with you. All I need is my freedom, and I will be your slave for eternity.
So, have sex with him again? “Hell, no.”
“You want me,” he snapped. His grip tightened on her, his fingers digging deep, bruising. “I know you do.”
Just like that, she knew what this little make-out session was about. He planned to sleep with her, make her fall in love with him all over again, and then dump her. He’d grind up her pride, spit it out and stomp all over it. All to punish her, she was sure, for daring to tattoo him as she had. Marking her with his name clearly wasn’t enough.
“Wanting you dead and wanting your body aren’t the same things.” With a sugar-sweet grin, she patted his cheek. “And I can promise you that while I do want the first, I was only teasing you about the second.” Now who was playing who? “So…if we’re done here…?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. His arms fell away from her, and he stepped back. She nearly collapsed, but managed to shift her legs and absorb her own weight.
“We’re done,” he said, his tone clipped. “We are definitely done.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Atlas had to empty a cell of its seven occupants and place those gods and goddesses within other, already cramped cells to make a place for Nike. The time and effort was worth it, though. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of her with that bastard, Erebos, doing the same things to him that she’d once done to Atlas.
Not. Going. To. Happen.And maybe, perhaps, there was a slight chance it had nothing to do with punishing her and everything to do with the pleasure he’d earlier denied. In her arms, he’d come alive. That had happened last time, too, but he’d written it off as prisoner insanity. Now, he couldn’t write it off. He wasn’t a prisoner; he was a warden. He’d come alive, and he needed more. Of her, only her. Yet she claimed she’d merely been playing him.
He wanted that to be a lie more than he wanted to take his next breath. Which he didn’t understand. She was doomed to spend eternity hidden away, which meant they could not have any kind of life together. Not even if he freed her. He would then be locked away or put to death.
For a week, Atlas lamented his plight and pondered what to do. All the while, he stayed away from Nike’s new cell. That didn’t stop him from thinking about her, however. What was she doing? Did she think of him? Did she dream of him and that shattering kiss?
He did. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the passion glowing from her face. A face that was exquisite. From barely passable, to pretty, to exquisite, all in a week’s time. He shook his head in wonder. But she deserved the praise. Her lashes were long and as rich as black velvet. Velvet that framed sensual chocolate eyes. Her cheeks were smooth, perfect for caressing, and her lush, red lips were sweeter than ambrosia. And all that strength…his shaft filled and lengthened just remembering it. She’d gripped and scratched him with savage abandon. He still bore the marks.
They definitely weren’t done. Not even close. He had to experience that again.
Finally, he could stand the separation no longer. Thankfully, his shift was over. A shift that had consisted of walking the prison halls, watching the prisoners inside their cells and ensuring everyone remained calm.
That should have bored him. After all, he was a warrior. But bore him it didn’t. And that should have irritated him. After all, he’d spent countless centuries in this place and had sworn never to return once he’d escaped. But again, irritation was not what he felt. He’d wanted this job to be close to Nike. To have his vengeance, he’d once told himself. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Today, and all week really, he’d walked the halls invigorated, knowing all he had to do to catch sight of her was turn a corner.
He hadn’t allowed himself to do so. Until now. Finally, he would see her.
The moment she came into view, his blood heated, blistering. His breath followed suit, flaming his lungs to ash. She sat atop her cot, arms gripping the rail, knees drawn up while she leaned slightly forward. Her hair was finger-combed to perfection, and her eyes were narrowed, shielding her irises and the emotion banked there, but at least he could see the shadows her lashes cast over her cheeks. Shadows he might trace with a fingertip.
Oh, yes. She was exquisite.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Her voice was smooth as silk. Just beneath that silk, however, he thought he caught a tendril of fury.
Was she mad that he’d come? Or mad that he’d stayed away so long?
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
She shrugged. “Too bad for you that whores never commit.”
He knew he was the whore that she spoke of, and popped his jaw. But he deserved that, he supposed. “I did what I had to do to escape, Nike. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel—” No. Oh, no. He would not go down that road. He hadn’t wanted to feel anything for her, but he had. That hadn’t stopped him from using her, so she’d never like what he had to say about the matter. “I’m sure you’d do anything to escape, as well.”
Her expression darkened, but she did not refute his words. “So, did you come to free me?”
“Hardly.”
“Then why are you here? We have nothing more to say to each other.”
Because you’re all I think about anymore. He never should have marked her.
This might have been avoided. Or not. He might have slept with others all those years ago because he’d been desperate to flee this place, but it had been her face he’d imagined when he’d done so.
Without looking away from her, he leaned back against the bar behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s plenty to say. About the kiss.”
She yawned, patting her beautiful mouth. A mouth he wanted all over his body. “I’d rather sleep.”
So. She still wanted him to think she had been unaffected. Part of him believed it. An insecure part of him that had never really known how to deal with her, his equal in every way. Yes, even strength, though he often liked to deny it. The other part of him, the masculine part, knew she had liked everything he’d done. She’d shouted his name, for gods’ sake, and he hadn’t even made her climax.
“You’re saying you don’t want me?” he asked as silkily as she had.