To Curse the Darkness (28 page)

Damian's frown turned confused. “What's that?”

“The promise you just made me. I'm sure what you
meant
to say was that you'd never desert me
again
.”

Damian sighed. Shaking his head in aggravation, he moved to straddle Conrad's lap. He caged Conrad's face between his palms and scowled at him. “On second thought, if you're going to continue to be so very tiresome—continually bringing up things best left in the past—I might leave you again after all! As early as tonight, perhaps. What think you of that?”

Conrad chuckled. “For one thing, I think you're far too smart to entertain so ridiculous an idea.”

“Ridiculous, is it? Perhaps you'd be so kind as to explain why you term it thus?”

“With pleasure.” Conrad tightened one hand on Damian's hip. His other hand cupped his neck. “The reason is simple. I am not yet so set in my ways that I cannot learn from my mistakes—nor so old that I've managed to forget the worst of them. I lost you once and suffered the consequences. Trust me when I say that I will
never
let you get away again.”

Then he kissed him. It was not a demanding or possessive kiss, but soft and sweet and gentle. When he pulled away, it was only far enough for their gazes to meet. “Never again, Damian. I told you this once already, although perhaps you do not remember. In any case, it bears repeating, I think. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure you never again wish to leave me.”

“I see.” Damian practically purred. “Well, I suppose I cannot fault your reasoning after all. The idea does seem ridiculous when you phrase it like that.”

“More to your liking then?” Conrad asked, smiling because he already knew the answer.

“
Sí.
It is
perfecto
.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Domus Hera Noctis (the Dungeons of The Night Queen)

Early Tenth Century

Quintano had succeeded in vanquishing a score of opponents before the guards finally succeeded in manhandling him back into his cell. At the last, they shoved him so hard that he lost his footing and stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he slammed headfirst into the far wall. He whirled around instantly and hurled himself at the door, intending to once again fight his way free from his cage. But his clumsiness had cost him critical time. The door clanged shut, leaving him trapped once again, howling in impotent rage.

Why had they insisted on dragging him out of the arena? There was yet some fight left in him. He was tired, yes, but not so tired he wanted to stop fighting. Flavia's blood still flowed within him, and there were plenty of monsters left for him to kill—plenty of opportunities for him to die, as well, and put an end to his misery. But he had been thwarted on both those counts.

Unable to settle down, he paced angrily across the cell until the sound of something crunching underfoot caused him to stop short. A shimmer of gold on the floor caught his eye. He bent and picked it up. It was crushed and bent, but not to the point where he failed to recognize it. It was one of the ear baubles the girl had been wearing. It must have fallen out when they dragged her body away.

Quintano's shoulders sagged as he recalled her face, the elegant curve of her neck, the soft ringlets of her hair. They would have gleamed so brightly in the sunlight…

A wave of weariness washed over him. He crossed to his pallet and sat, still clutching the bit of metal in his hand. It was foolish to feel regret. He'd done all he could for the girl. He'd made the best of a bad situation, and given her a better ending than any he was likely to see. And yet…sorrow and regret filled his heart, mixed with a touch of envy. At least, for Flavia, the struggle was over now.

His, it seemed, was everlasting.

He raised his head at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. Hope sprang to life once more. Perhaps the guards had reconsidered, and he was being allowed back in the ring? Hope died when the door was pulled open and another girl—ragged and pale, and even younger looking than the last one—was thrust into his cell.

Quintano groaned inwardly.
And so it begins again
. He eyed his newest victim sadly, already knowing he was helpless to save her. The child pulled uselessly at the door, whimpering in fright, trying desperately to squeeze through the narrow spaces between the bars.

“Stop that,” he murmured in what he hoped were soothing tones. “You'll never fit through there. You'll only hurt yourself.” He should know. He'd tried it often enough himself in the beginning.

At the sound of his voice, the girl shrieked softly. Sobbing, she redoubled her efforts to escape. “Let me out. Oh, please, please let me out.”

“Calm yourself, child,” Quintano said, trying again. “Here, why don't you tell me your name?” But the girl didn't even appear to have heard him. Still sobbing, she scrabbled with the lock, fingers clawing at the unrelenting metal. Her nails would be shredded in no time.

Quintano shook his head. He wanted to turn away from her struggles, to close his eyes—perhaps to sleep and thus, for a while, forget his own troubles as well. He understood the urge that drove her, the desire to stay alive, to survive no matter what. He'd once been the same way. But while he had been given a chance of sorts, her efforts were futile and doomed to failure. She would not have been placed in his cell were there any hope for her. Even if he refused to kill her, even if a miracle occurred and she somehow managed to kill him in his sleep, there was still no chance she'd be allowed to live—no chance at all.

He would have liked the opportunity to explain that to her, to beg her forgiveness for the fact that, very shortly, he would have to take her life. He wanted to give her the same promise he'd given Flavia: to do everything in his power to avenge her death, and to give her suffering some small measure of meaning. He would have liked, at the very least, to have given her a somewhat peaceful death. Considering how upset the girl was already, he doubted anything he said would even get through to her. It was a certainty he would not be able to ease her mind to any extent as he had with Flavia.

This child, whose name he probably would never know, was going to die here. That was a given—an unalterable fact. There was nothing either one of them could do to prevent it. All he could offer her was a swift death and, afterward, a small modicum of justice.

He could attempt to wait until she'd exhausted herself, then sit her down and talk to her. But it could take hours to reach that point—hours during which the beast would continue to grow in strength. Already it was impatiently demanding her blood. And if it took too long for the child to calm down? No. He could not bear to think of it.

No good would come of waiting. The risk of his losing control was too great. It was best to get this over with as soon as possible, for both their sakes. At least then, perhaps, he'd be allowed to return to the arena. He climbed reluctantly to his feet.

“Stop, I say.” He moved slowly toward her, not wishing to cause her any more alarm. “You're only hurting yourself. Let me help you instead.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes widening as he drew near. A shudder of fear wracked her body and pierced his heart anew. “Stay away from me, please,” she begged, but alas, that was the one thing he could not do.

“There's nothing to be afraid of,” he promised softly. “It is not my intention to cause you any more pain. Indeed, I wish only to end your suffering. Will you not allow me to do what I can to aid you? Just close your eyes for an instant, and it will all be over. You have my word on it.”

About the Author

Originally a Jersey girl, P.G. Forte now resides on the extreme left coast where she writes rule-bending, genre-blending romance and paranormal stories.

A lover of all things Internet-related, P.G. can also be found on Twitter: www.twitter.com/pgforte, Facebook:
www.facebook.com/AuthorPGForte
and Tsu:
www.tsu.co/pgforte
.

To learn more, please visit her website at
www.pgforte.com
. Send an e-mail to [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as P.G. Forte at
groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
.

Look for these titles by P.G. Forte

Now Available:

Children of Night

In the Dark

Old Sins, Long Shadows

Now Comes the Night

Ashes of the Day

Fallen Embers

If you loved this book, then you're sure to love these Samhain favorites as well!

The gods play…and mortals pay.

Latter-Day Olympians
, Book 1

Tori Karacis's family line may trace back to a drunken liaison between the god Pan and one of the immortal gorgons. Or…maybe it's just coincidence that her glance can, literally, stop men in their tracks. While her fear of heights kept her out of the family aerobatic troupe, her extreme nosiness fits right in with her uncle's P.I. business.

Except he's disappeared on an Odyssean journey to find himself. Muddling through on her own, she's reduced to hunting (not stalking, because that would just be weird) brass-bra'd Hollywood agent Circe Holland to deliver a message…only to witness her murder by what looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Suddenly, all of her family's tall tales seem believable, especially when Apollo—
the
Apollo, who's now hiding out among humans as an adult film star—appears in her office, looking to hire her. She knows the drill: canoodling with gods never works out well for humans, but she's irresistibly drawn to him. Maybe it's her genes. Maybe not.

Given her conflicted feelings for one hot and hardened cop, it's a toss-up which will kill her quickest. The danger at her door…or her love life.

Warning: Contains pot-boiling passion between a heroine who may—or may not—be a descendant of Medusa, and a hot god and a hunky cop with the…equipment…to handle her, even on her worst bad-hair day. Beware of killer kisses, trickster gods and bearded grandmothers Who Know Everything.

There's no leverage like seduction…until love takes a bite of his plans.

Deep
, Book 1

As the Indiana Jones of historical erotica, there is no document existing—or just rumored to exist—Adin Tredeger can't unearth. Why he would risk the biggest coup of his career to join the mile-high club is beyond him. But the disarming, dark-eyed man who somehow enters Adin's locked airplane washroom has him completely nude and coming apart. All without a whimper of protest.

From that moment, Adin and Donte Fedelta engage in an international battle of wit and cunning. The prize—a priceless, 500-year-old journal with illustrations so erotic it could make the Marquis de Sade blush.

Yet Donte's desire for the journal goes far beyond simple possession. The undead nobleman wrote it. And he's not above using every trick in his otherworldly arsenal—including seduction—to get it back.

Chemistry draws them together even as fortune tugs them apart. But when a third party joins the chase, they must unite to fight an enemy with a deadly goal—to erase Donte from history.

Warning: This product contains one cocky college professor, one centuries-old vampire who is out to show him who's at the top of the food chain, and red wine. Because it goes so well with humble pie.

eBooks are
not
transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

To Curse the Darkness

Copyright © 2015 by P.G. Forte

ISBN: 978-1-61923-135-1

Edited by Tera Cuskaden

Cover by Kanaxa

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: December 2015

www.samhainpublishing.com