From New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter comes the long-awaited story of Torin, the most dangerous Lord of the Underworld yet...
Fierce immortal warrior. Host to the demon of Disease. Torin's every touch causes sickness and death--and a worldwide plague. Carnal pleasure is utterly forbidden, and though he has always overcome temptation with an iron will, his control is about to shatter.
She is Keeleycael. The Red Queen. When the powerful beauty with shocking vulnerabilities escapes from a centuries-long imprisonment, the desire that simmers between her and Torin is scorching. His touch could mean her end, but resisting her is the hardest battle he's ever fought--and the only battle he fears he can't win.
Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author
Gena Showalter "Showalter's signature blend of sizzling attraction, breathtaking worlds, and lethal stakes rocks me every time!"
--Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author "With compelling stories and memorable characters, Gena Showalter never fails to dazzle."
--Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author "For fans of expertly written, gritty paranormal romance that is laced with hope, Showalter has just the book for you."
--RT Book Reviews on Burning Dawn "The Lords of the Underworld series...keeps getting more satisfying. Sometimes with a long-running series, characters or storylines can run their course, but not with Showalter's talent. The chemistry has never been hotter and both the characters and the world they live in are beautifully detailed."
--RT Book Reviews on The Darkest Craving "Showalter does her magic with an intricately developed world, complex and intensive character arcs and dark, compelling paranormal themes. She releases that literary punch to the gut with excruciatingly detailed scenes that haunt the senses long after reading the pages."
--USA TODAY on Wicked Nights "Gena Showalter knows how to keep readers glued to the pages and smiling the whole time."
-- Lara Adrian, New York Times bestselling author "Another sizzling page-turner...Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spell-binding story!"
--Kresley Cole, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Playing with Fire
Also available from
GENA SHOWALTER
and Harlequin HQN
Burning Dawn
After Dark
(duology featuring
"The Darkest Angel")
The Darkest Craving
Beauty Awakened
After Moonrise
(duology with P.C. Cast)
Wicked Nights
The Darkest Seduction
The Darkest Surrender
The Darkest Secret
The Darkest Lie
The Darkest Passion
Into the Dark
The Darkest Whisper
The Darkest Pleasure
The Darkest Kiss
The Darkest Night
The Vampire's Bride
The Nymph King
Jewel of Atlantis
Heart of the Dragon
Twice as Hot
Playing with Fire
Catch a Mate
Animal Instincts
The Pleasure Slave
The Stone Prince
From Harlequin Nonfiction
Dating the Undead
(with Jill Monroe)
From Harlequin TEEN
The Queen of Zombie Hearts
Through the Zombie Glass
Alice in Zombieland
Twisted
Unraveled
Intertwined
And look for Gena's all-new contemporary romance series--The Original Heartbreakers
All For You (anthology featuring "The One You Want")
The Closer You Come
The Hotter You Burn
The Harder You Fall
coming soon!
GENA
SHOWALTER
The Darkest Touch
Dear Reader,
Have you ever wanted something you couldn't have--and shouldn't crave? Welcome to Torin's world. For him, every day is a study in denial. He desires contact with another person more than air to breathe, food to eat or water to drink, but it's forbidden. Well, not exactly forbidden, but definitely disastrous. One second of skin-to-skin contact with him means certain death.
But finally, the gloves are coming off.
He's never wanted anyone the way he wants Keeley. Spoiler alert: he will cave to temptation, and he will touch her.
Does she sicken? Or is she the only female on the planet immune to his demon?
These are the two questions I have been asked most. Two questions I have refused to answer. I still refuse. What I will admit? I rewrote this book three times in search of the perfect heroine for him. The end result was everything I'd dreamed and more. But more important, Keeley was everything Torin needed--even if he didn't know it.
Here's to love, laughter and happily-ever-afters!
I wish you all the best, Gena Showalter
Over the years I have been unbelievably blessed.
I have met some amazing people and made incredible, lifelong friendships. I'm looking at you, Kresley Cole.
You are gorgeous, brilliant, witty and talented,
and you inspire me in so many ways. THANK YOU!
I'm also looking at you, Jill Monroe.
You've been around for all the highs and lows,
cheering me on, offering comfort. You never hesitated to
say yes when I called and said, "Let's get away for a few days." Even better--you never hesitated when I somehow managed to book us a honeymoon suite. Twice.
To my amazing editor Emily Ohanjanians.
You aren't afraid to tell me when something doesn't work and then guide me toward something better, and I'm so grateful! Remember my first attempt at writing this book?
Well, I'm superglad no one else will have the chance LOL.
And to Naomi Lahn, my contest winner.
You are a delight, and your support is beyond appreciated!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
The One You Want
The Closer You Come
Lords of the Underworld Glossary of Characters and Terms
Excerpt
"What's my sign? Cancer."
--Torin, Lord of the Underworld
CHAPTER ONE
"DON'T DIE. Don't you dare die." Frantic, Torin dug through a backpack crammed with clothing, weapons and medical supplies. He'd packed it days ago, blindly filling it with everything he'd thought he might need. There was no mouth guard. Fine. He'd proceed without one.
He hurried to his companion's motionless form, stra
ddled her waist. Her precious life slipped away with every second that passed. CPR was a last resort, but suddenly her only hope, and because they were locked inside a dungeon, no one else inside their cell, the responsibility belonged to him alone. The guy who'd rarely ever come this close to another person.
Just call me Wonder Doc.
He flattened his gloved hands over Mari's delicate chest--still, too still. But rather than proceed as he should have, he found himself pausing to savor the rare and extraordinary connection with the opposite sex. So soft. So luscious.
What the hell am I doing? Jaw clenched, he pushed.
Crack.
Too hard. He'd just broken her sternum and probably several of her ribs.
Guilt pierced straight through his heart, and if the organ hadn't already been shredded beyond repair, it might have hurt. Sweat trickled down his temples as he pressed against Mari's chest more gently. Nothing else broke. Good. Okay. He pressed again and again, gradually increasing his speed. But how fast was too fast? What helped? What damaged?
"Come on, Mari." She was human, but strong. Fragile, but resilient. "Stay with me. You can survive this, I know you can."
Her head lolled to the side, her glassy eyes staring out at nothing.
"No. No!" He checked her for a pulse, waited...but never felt even the weakest of beats.
As he returned his hands to her chest to start over, his gaze locked on her blood-splattered lips; his mind willed them to part, a cough to escape. It would mean the sickness still plagued her, but sick was better than dead any day of the week.
"Mari, please." He heard the desperation in his voice, didn't care. I can't be the one to kill someone so sweet.
Torin pushed harder, heard another crack.
Hell. He wasn't some pansy crier, but damn if tears didn't scald the backs of his eyes.
He'd come to think of this girl as a friend, and despite the numerous centuries he'd lived, he didn't have many of those. He always protected the ones he had.
Until her.
If not for him, she never would have sickened in the first place.
Again he felt for a pulse. Still no beat.
Cursing, he set back to work. Five minutes...ten...twenty. He was Mari's life support, the only thing standing between her and death; he would do this however long proved necessary.
Pull through, Mari. You have to pull through.
"Fight this!" But as another eternity elapsed without any change in her, he finally admitted his efforts weren't doing any good. She was already gone.
Already dead.
And there was nothing he could do to bring her back.
With a roar, Torin wrenched away and paced the cell like the caged animal he was. His arms shook. His back and thighs ached. But what was physical pain compared to mental? Emotional? This was his fault. He'd known what would happen if ever he touched the girl, and he'd lured her closer anyway.
Monster! With another roar, he punched the wall, enjoying the unrelenting throb of pain as skin split and bones fractured. He punched again and again, cracks appearing in the stone, dust pluming around him.
If he had just stopped to question why a girl like Mari would be so starved for companionship she would agree to be with him she would still be alive.
He pressed his forehead against the battered wall. I'm keeper of the demon of Disease. When will I accept the fact that I'm meant to fly solo?
To be forever denied what I crave most.
"Mari, darling," a slightly accented voice rang out. Female...delicious--even soaked in panic and pain as it was. "The bond is broken. Why is it broken?"
The blood in Torin's veins turned into fuel, igniting as if a blazing match had just been thrown inside him. He became increasingly aware of his own heartbeat, speeding up, the need to stalk to the cell's door and rip away every metal bar consuming him; anything to erase the distance between him and the speaker.
An extreme reaction. He knew that. Just as he knew such excruciating awareness of another person was unusual for him. It was also uncontrollable and unstoppable, his entire world centering around this one woman.
And this wasn't the first time it had happened. Anytime she'd spoken, no matter the words she'd uttered, the huskiness of her tone had always carried a promise of absolute pleasure. As if there were nothing she wanted more than to kiss, lick and suck on him.
Masculine instincts he'd spent countless years denying shouted, Come, little moth. Come closer to my flame.
Or I'll come to you....
He strode to the bars and, like a thousand times before, willed the shadows between their cells to part. But it did no good. Her appearance remained a mystery.
Somehow his sick obsession with her only intensified...and he thought that, for just five minutes of that kissing, licking and sucking, he would have happily risked a worldwide plague.
Hate myself. Someone should string him up by the collarbone and cane him. Again.
"Mari!" his obsession said. "Please."
Disease whipped into a frenzy, banging against Torin's skull, suddenly desperate to escape.
Escape her? Another unusual reaction. Usually the demon adored such close proximity with a potential victim.
How the fiend had laughed at Mari....
Hate him, too.
"Mari can't talk right now," Torin said. Or ever.
The admission...like pouring salt over my wounds.
Bars rattled. "What did you do to her?"
Nothing...everything.
"Tell me!" the female shouted.
"I shook her hand." The words exploded from him, bitter and cutting. "That's it." But he'd done far more than that, hadn't he.
He'd put a lot of time and effort into charming her. Feeding her. Talking and laughing with her. Eventually she'd felt comfortable enough to remove one of his gloves and intertwine their fingers. On purpose.
Nothing bad will happen, she had said. Or maybe her gaze had said it. The details were hazed by the fog of his eagerness. You'll see.
He'd believed her. Because he'd wanted to believe her more than he'd wanted to take his next breath. He'd held on to her so tightly, a thirsty man who'd just discovered the last glass of water in a world burning to ash, nearly brought to his knees by the force of his physical response. Sensation after sensation had overwhelmed him. Feminine softness so near his masculine hardness. A floral scent in his nose. The ends of her silky hair tickling his wrist. Her warmth blending with his own. Her breath intersecting with his.
I experienced an instant connection, immediate bliss, and very nearly creamed my damn jeans. From a handshake.
She'd died from it.
With him, it never mattered if the touch was accidental or intentional, or if the victim was human or animal, young or old, male or female...good or evil; any living creature sickened soon after contact with him. Even immortals like himself. Difference was, immortals sometimes survived, becoming carriers of whatever illness they'd contracted from him, capable of spreading it to others. As a human, Mari had never even stood a chance.
"Tell me the truth," his obsession demanded. "Every detail."
He didn't know her name or if she was human or immortal. He only knew Mari had made a deal with the devil to save her.
The two women had been imprisoned here for centuries--wherever "here" was--for no real crime Torin could perceive. Cronus, the prison's owner, had never really needed a reason to ruin someone's life.
He'd certainly helped ruin Torin's.
He had owed Torin a favor, and Torin, being Torin, had chosen to overlook the male's shady reputation and ask for a woman who wouldn't sicken at his touch. Cronus, being Cronus, hadn't bothered to search for a suitable candidate and had simply recruited one of his prisoners--sweet, innocent Mari.
"Cronus made a deal with the girl," Torin said.
"I know that." His obsession huffed and puffed, a veritable big, bad wolf. "Mari was cursed to flash to your bedroom one hour a day for nearly a month, all in the hopes of
convincing you to touch her."
"Yes," he croaked. And in return, Cronus had promised to set her dearest friend free--the woman currently grilling Torin for answers.
No big surprise Cronus had lied.
At least he got his in the end.
Torin had wanted to haul ass to a hospital the moment he'd realized Mari was sick, but that stupid curse had bound her to this prison with invisible chains. She'd had to return. Left with no other option, Torin had held on to her as she'd moved from one location to another in a blink, traveling with her. He'd tended her to the best of his ability.
But his best hadn't been good enough. Would never be good enough.
"I don't care about the whys," the female said. "Only the outcome. What is Mari doing right now?"
Decomposing.
Can't say it, just...can't. Silent, he removed his gloves and used his hands as a shovel, throwing scoop after scoop of dirt over his shoulder. Not the first makeshift grave I've dug, but I hereby vow it will be my last. No more impromptu friendships. No more hopes and dreams for what could never be. I'm done.
"Ignoring me?" she asked. "Do you have any idea the being you provoke?"
Torin never paused in his task. He would bury Mari. He would find a way out of this hellhole. He would continue the job he'd abandoned when he'd chosen to come with the girl. The search and rescue of Cameo and Viola, who'd gone missing several weeks ago--friends who comprehended his need for distance.
"I am Keeleycael, the Red Queen, and I will be more than happy to take a coat hanger and fish out all of your internal organs...through your mouth."
Disease went still and quiet.
That, too, was a first.
The Red Queen. The title was somehow familiar to Torin. From a children's storybook, yes, but there was more to it than that. He'd heard it...where? An image flashed through his mind. A dilapidated bar in the skies. Yes, of course. While working for Zeus, the king of the Greeks, he'd tracked many fugitive immortals there. The words the Red Queen had been whispered behind the trembling hands of fearful men and women, right along with insane and cruel.
He'd always enjoyed pitting his skills against the strongest and vilest of predators, and such a visceral reaction to the supposed Red Queen had intrigued him. But when he'd asked the whisperers who she was and what she could do, they had gone quiet.
Maybe this prisoner was the one they'd spoken of, maybe she wasn't. Hardly mattered anymore. He wouldn't be fighting her.
"Keeleycael," he said. "That's quite a mouthful. How about I call you Keeley instead?"
"An honor reserved solely for my friends. Do so at your own peril."
"Thanks. I will."
A soft snarl from her. "You may call me Your Majesty. I'll call you My Next Victim."
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