The Darkest Pleasure by Gena Showalter Page A

and executing those who deserved his particular brandof punishment. Rapists, molesters. Murderers. Like me. Some, though, did not deserve what he did to them. Like the women.
    He frowned. The thought was out of place in the chaos of his mind, a notion he would have considered before the gods tasked him with the beautiful death of the Ford women.
    Suddenly rocks crumbled, falling from the far cavern wall and disrupting his brooding. Aeron’s attention whipped to it, eyelids slitting. There was a narrow hole in the center, a pair of glowing red eyes—demon eyes like Aeron’s—pulsing through it.
    Aeron growled a warning. He was chained and weaponless, but he was not helpless. He had teeth. He would eat his foe, if necessary.
    More rocks fell, widening the hole. Then a bald, scaled head pushed through. Those bright red eyes looked right and left before landing on Aeron. Sharp, glistening fangs appeared in a feral smile.
    “I sssmelled you, brother.” The creature spoke with a lisp, forked tongue flickering. It sounded happy rather than menacing.
    “I am not your brother.”
    Thin lips slithered into a pout. “But you Wrath.”
    Aeron’s claws elongated to razor points. “Yes, I am.” You know him? he asked his demon.
    No.
    There was a third tumble of rocks as scaled shoulders emerged, followed by a short scaly body.
    “Come any closer and you will die.”
    “No, I won’t. Me never die.” The creature planted hoofed feet on the ground and stood. It was so short it couldn’t have reached any higher than Aeron’s navel. A tremble passed through its small body, scattering dust from its dull green scales.
    “How can you be so sure?”
    “We friendsss.”
    “I have no friends. Who are you? What are you doing here?”
    “Massster used to call me Legion before he called me Ssstupid Idiot.” It moved one step closer, humming with giddiness. Grinning, fangs making another appearance. “Want to play?”
    Legion. Interesting. “One of a thousand what?”
    “Minionsss.” Another step.
    Servants of hell, Wrath supplied with disgust. Useless, disposable, unworthy. Eat him.
    Aeron drew his knees up to his chest, preparing to attack. “Stop.” Now why had he said that? He wanted the thing to approach. Wanted to feast on it.
    It obeyed, the pout returning to its lips. “But we friendsss now. Friendsss get to sssometimesss ssstand next to each other. I ssseen them do it.”
    He didn’t bother reiterating that they weren’t friends. “Why are you here, Legion?” Questions first, dinner second.
    Anticipation brightened those crimson eyes. “Me want to play. Will you play with me? Pleassse, pleassse, pleassse.”
    “Play what?” Saliva dipped from the corner of Aeron’s mouth, and he licked at it. The more he considered the option of eating his foe, the more he liked the thought of having the demon for a snack. Aeron had enough slack in his chains that he’d been able to catch and sustain himself on rats. The demon would make a tasty change. Mustard would have been nice, though. Fucking Reyes. “What game?”
    “Catch the demon! Massster stopped playing with me. Kick me out of home.” It looked down and punted a pebble with its hoof. “Me did a bad, bad thing and don’t get to play with him no more.”
    “What bad thing?” He asked the question before he could stop himself.
    Those fangs emerged, chewing away at that thin bottom lip. “Ate Massster’sss hand. Want to play?”
    And perhaps lose one of his hands? He thought about it, shrugged. “We can play.” Turnabout was only fair.
    “Goody!” Claws clapped together in excitement, though the fiend remained a good distance away. “Can we change rule?”
    There were rules? “What rule is that?”
    “Winner never can beat me with ssstonesss.”
    “Agreed.” Aeron would just bite him with teeth.
    Laughing eerily, Legion leapt into the air. He bounded from one side of the cave to the other, a mere blur to Aeron’s eyes. Twice he whizzed past,