THE DARKEST ANGEL by Gena Showalter

wouldn’t be fair to the world.”
    “Stop talking and fight,” Paris commanded. A fist connected with Lysander’s jaw, tossing him to the side and out of Bianka’s reach. He maintained his grip on the sword and even when it dipped into the oil, it didn’t lose a single flame. In fact, the oil heated.
    Great. Now he was hot-tubbing, as the humans would say.
    “What’d you do that for, you big dummy?” Bianka didn’t wait for Paris’s reply but launched herself at him. Rather than scratch him or pull his hair, she punched him. Over and over again. “He wasn’t going to hurt you.”
    Paris took the beating without retaliating.
    That saved his life.
    Lysander grabbed the Harpy around the waist and hefted her into the hard line of his body. Soaked as they both were, he had a difficult time maintaining his grip. She was panting, arms flailing for the demon-possessed warrior, but she didn’t try to pull away.
    “I’ll teach you to defy me, you rotten piece of crap,” she growled.
    Paris rolled his eyes.
    “Send him away,” Lysander commanded.
    “Not until after I—”
    He splayed his fingers, spanning much of her waist. He both rejoiced and cursed that he couldn’t feel the texture of Bianka’s skin through the oil. “I want to be alone with you.”
    “You—what?”
    “Alone. With you.”
    With no hesitation, she said, “Go home, Paris. Your work here is done. Thanks for trying to rescue me. That’s the only reason you’re still alive. Oh, and don’t forget to tell my sisters I’m fine.”
    The sputtering Lord disappeared.
    Lysander released her, and she spun around to face him. She was now grinning.
    “So you want to be alone with me, do you?”
    He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Was that fun for you?”
    “Yes.”
    And she wasn’t ashamed to admit it, he realized. Captivating baggage. “Return the cloud to me and I will take you home.”
    “Wait. What?” Her grin slowly faded. “I thought you wanted to be alone with me.”
    “I do. So that we can conclude our business.”
    Disappointment, regret, anger and relief played over her features. One step, two, she closed the distance between them. “Well, I’m not giving you the cloud. That would be stupid.”
    “You have my word that once you return it to me, I will take you home. I know you hear the truth in my claim.”
    “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged a little. “So we really would be rid of each other. That’s great, then.”
    Did she still not believe him? Or... No, surely not. “Do you want to stay here?”
    “Of course not!” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and her eyes closed for a moment, an expression of pleasure consuming her features. “Mmm, cherries.”
    Blood...heating...
    Her lashes lifted and her gaze locked on him. Determination replaced all the other emotions, yet her voice dipped sexily. “But I know something that tastes even better.”
    So did he. Her. A tremor slid the length of his spine. “Do not do this, Bianka. You will fail.” He hoped.
    “One kiss,” she beseeched, “and the cloud is yours.”
    His eyes narrowed. Hot, so hot. “You cannot be trusted to keep your word.”
    “That’s true. But I want out of this hellhole, so I’ll keep it this time. Promise.”
    Hold your ground. But that was hard to do while his heart was pounding like a hammer against a nail. “If you wanted out, you would not insist on being kissed.”
    Her gaze narrowed, as well. “It’s not like I’m asking for something you haven’t already given me.”
    “Why do you want it?” He regretted the question immediately. He was prolonging the conversation rather than putting an end to it.
    Her chin lifted. “It’s a goodbye kiss, moron, but never mind. The cloud is yours. I’ll go home and kiss Paris hello. That’ll be more fun, anyway.”
    There would be no kissing Paris! Lysander had his tongue sliding into her mouth before he could convince himself otherwise. His arms even wound around her waist, pulling her