New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter returns with her most explosive Lords of the Underworld tale to date, about a fierce warrior on the brink of sanity who will stop at nothing to claim the exquisite human with the power to soothe the beast inside him...

Driven to his death by the demon of Distrust, Baden spent centuries in purgatory. Now he’s back, but at what cost? Bound to the king of the underworld, an even darker force, he’s unable to withstand the touch of another...and he’s quickly devolving into a heartless assassin with an uncontrollable temper. Things only get worse when a mission goes awry and he finds himself saddled with a bride—just not his own.

Famed dog trainer Katarina Joelle is forced to marry a monster to protect her loved ones. When she’s taken hostage by the ruthless, beautiful Baden immediately after the ceremony, she’s plunged into a war between two evils—with a protector more dangerous than the monsters he hunts. They are meant to be enemies, but neither can resist the passion burning between them...and all too soon the biggest threat is to her heart.

But as Baden slips deeper into the abyss, she’ll have to teach him to love...or lose him forever.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author

“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

“[O]ne of the premier authors of paranormal romance. Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spellbinding story!”

—Kresley Cole, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Showalter makes romance sizzle on every page!”

—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

“The Showalter name on a book means guaranteed entertainment.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Gena Showalter is a romantic genius.”

—San Francisco Book Review

“Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

—Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

GENA SHOWALTER is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of the spellbinding Lords of the Underworld series, two young-adult series—Everlife and the White Rabbit Chronicles—and the highly addictive Original Heartbreakers series. She’s hard at work on her next novel, a tale featuring an alpha male with a dark side and the strong woman who brings him to his knees. You can learn more about Gena, her menagerie of rescue dogs and all her upcoming books at genashowalter.com or facebook.com/genashowalterfans.

The Darkest Torment
Gena Showalter

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader,

When I sat down to write the next Lords of the Underworld tale, I had some hard choices to make. Did I tell Cameo’s story, the Lord readers most wanted, even though I hadn’t set up the final threads for her plot? Did I tell William’s story, a non-Lord but also a reader favorite, even though I hadn’t set up his plotline at all? Or did I tell Baden’s story, the character readers knew the least about? In the end, I had to go with the story I was most excited to tell, and the moment, the very second, Baden’s dilemma and heroine came to me, I gasped. I shivered. I paced with anticipation, scenes already rolling through my head. Writing his book became a need, an undeniable passion, and it’s my hope that passion shines through every word. Because you get more than a story when you read The Darkest Torment. You get a little piece of my heart.

Love,

Gena Showalter

To Julie Kagawa. You are a treasure! Thank you for the phone call, conversation and dog training tips. (All mistakes are my own and purposely done to fit the confines of my story—that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.)

To Beth Kendrick. Pecan pie rocks my world—and so do you! I would love to vacation in your brain!

To Kady Cross and Amy Lukavics. Amazing women, fabulous tour buddies and forever cherished friends. I am so blessed to have met you!

To Allison Carroll. Editor extraordinaire. You go above and beyond, and your input has been invaluable. Thank you!

To the beautiful, talented authors I’m privileged to call my friends (the ones above and the ones below) with hearts of gold:

Jill Monroe, Roxanne St. Claire, Kresley Cole, JR Ward, Karen Marie Moning, Nalini Singh, Jeaniene Frost, P.C. and Kristin Cast, Deidre Knight, Kelli Ireland, Kristen Painter, and Lily Everett.

To Anne Victory and her Pippin!

And to my own Biscuit. You were a treasure, a gift from God, and I didn’t deserve you. You loved me madly. I was your favorite person on earth. You’re in heaven now, and when we’re together again, I’m going to adore you for the rest of eternity!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

About the Author

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

The Darkest Torment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Lords of the Underworld: Insider’s Guide

Dear Reader

Who’s Dating Whom?

The Darkest Day

The Authors Want To Know

Recruit or Kill?

Maddox

Lucien

Reyes

Paris

Aeron

Torin

Sabin

Gideon

Cameo

Amun

Strider

Kane

Galen

Baden

Pandora

OTHER DEMON-POSSESSED WARRIORS OF NOTE (non-mates)

Top Ten Hellhound Rules for Humans

The Who's Who to Whom

Extract

Copyright

The Darkest Torment

“There’s a time and place for killing.

Never and nowhere.”

—Baden, the Gentleman of Mount Olympus,

pre-beheading

“There’s a time and place for killing.

Always and anywhere.”

—Baden, fearsome Lord of the Underworld,

post-resurrection

1

“Benefits to having me as your ally? You have me as your ally. Enough said.”

—Hades, one of the nine kings of the underworld

GUILT COULD NOT change the past. Worry could not change the future. And yet, both followed Baden with relentless determination. One brandished a barbed whip, the other a serrated blade, and though he had no visible wounds, he bled buckets every—damned—day.

The constant stream of pain provoked the beast. Upon his return from the dead, the creature moved into his mind. His new companion was far worse than any demon. And he should know! The fiend resented the physical cage...was starved for prey.

Kill someone. Kill everyone!

It was the beast’s war cry. A command Baden heard whenever someone approached him. Or looked at him. Or simply breathed. The urge to obey always followed...

I will not kill, he vowed. He was not the beast, but separate.

Easily said. Harder to enforce. He prowled from one corner of his bedroom to the other and yanked at the collar of his shirt, ripping the soft cotton in an effort to assuage the constant discomfort. His too-sensitive skin needed continuous soothing. Another perk of returning from the dead.

The butterfly he’d tattooed on his chest hadn’t helped the pain, quickly becoming an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he couldn’t regret getting the image. The jagged wings and horned antennae resembled the mark of the demon he’d carried before his death; now, the mark represented rebirth, a reminder that he lived once again. That he had friends—brothers and a sister by circumstance who loved him. That he wasn’t an outsider, even if he felt like one.

He drained the beer he held and tossed the bottle against the wall. The glass shattered. He was different now, it was an undeniable truth, and he no longer fit within the family dynamic. He blamed the guilt. Four thousand years ago, he’d allowed the enemy to behead him—suicide by proxy—leaving his friends to continue the war with the Hunters while mourning him. Unconscionable!

But he also blamed the worry he’d been coddling like a precious newborn. The beast hated everyone he adored—the men and women Baden owed a blood debt—and it...he...would stop at nothing to destroy them.

If ever that urge to lash out overshadowed Baden’s desire to right the wrongs he’d committed...

I will right my wrongs.

The dead can’t collect their debts. Killlll.

No. No! He beat his fists into his temples, the metal bands around his biceps pinching. He pulled at hanks of his hair. Sweat rolled between the knotted muscles in his back and chest, catching in the waist of his pants. He would rather die—again—than harm his friends.

Upon his resurrection, all twelve warriors had welcomed him with open arms. No, not twelve. Thirteen now. Galen, the keeper of Jealousy and False Hope—the one who’d orchestrated Baden’s death—had moved in a few weeks before. Everyone believed the prick had changed his evil ways.

Please. Shit sprinkled with sugar was still shit.

Baden would love to hack Galen into tiny pieces. Five minutes and a blade, that was all he required. But his friends had issued a strict hacking moratorium.

Baden, no matter his own desires, would obey their rules. Not once had they ever castigated him for his terrible mistakes. Not once had they demanded answers. They’d given him food, weapons and a private room in their massive home. A fortress hidden in the mountains of Budapest.

A knock sounded at the door, earning a growl from the beast. Enemy! Kill!

Calm. Steady. An enemy wouldn’t take the time to knock. “Go away.” His broken voice made it sound like every word had swum upstream in a river of glass shards.

“Sorry, my man, but I’m here to stay.” Bang, bang, bang. “Let me in.”

Hello, William the Ever Randy. Youngest son of Hades obsessed with fine wine, finer women and the finest hair care. He was a savage, stubborn bastard, his best and worst trait the same: He had no concept of mercy.

The beast stopped snarling and started purring like a tamed house cat. A surprising reaction, but also...not. Hades was the one who’d given Baden his new life. The king’s family basically had a Get Out of Torture Free card now. Except the eldest son, Lucifer; his crimes were simply too great.

“Now isn’t a good time,” Baden said, fearing the beast would forget the card.

“Don’t care. Open up.”

He purposely inhaled deeply...exhaled sharply. As a spirit made tangible, he had no need to breathe, but the once-familiar action pandered to his calm.

“Come on,” William said. “Where’s the brave piece of shit who stole and opened Pandora’s box? He’s the one I’m here to see.”

Brave? Sometimes. Piece of shit? Always. He and his friends ended up freeing the demons trapped inside the box. Zeus, king of the Greek gods, then punished them with a lifelong curse.

And so your body shall become the vessel of your own destruction.

Baden was possessed by Distrust.

Tainted and unworthy, the warriors were discharged from the royal army and booted to earth. As predicted, the demons soon destroyed them. Him most of all. More and more, his ability to trust eroded. He spent weeks...months plotting ways to murder those he should only succor.

One day, he reached the end of his tolerance. Them or me was the last thought to sweep through his mind as a human swung a sword at his head. He’d picked them—his family. But they hadn’t emerged unscathed. Grief had haunted them. And so had Distrust!

The moment Baden’s head fell from his body, the demon emerged, emancipated from his control. No longer was he able to check the worst of the fiend’s impulses. Invisible chains then dragged his spirit into a prison realm created for anyone tainted by the box, his only link to the land of the living a wall of smoke that revealed real-time happenings.

He had a front row seat to his friends’ spiral into a pit of agony and despair, unable to do anything but lament. The rest of his time was spent warring with Pandora, the realm’s only other occupant—a woman who detested him with every fiber of her being.

Then, only a few months ago, Cronus and Rhea, the former king and queen of the Titans, appeared in the realm. They were Zeus’s biggest rivals, and Baden’s number-one targets. How many times had the pair hurt his friends?

He’d taken great pleasure in his escape with Pandora, leaving the other two behind.

Bang, bang, bang. “Yo! Baden! The wait is ridiculous. I’m pretty sure I’m going gray.”

He jolted, pissed he’d gotten lost in his head.

“Fine. I guess we do this the hard way,” William called. “In three seconds, I kick in your door.”

Calm. No hacking. Baden yanked so hard the handle came off in his hand. Oops. “What do you want?”

Unlike the tornado he was, the black-haired, blue-eyed warrior leaned one shoulder against the frame, as gentle as a summer rain. He looked Baden up and down and grimaced. “Dressing for the job we want, not the job we have, I see.”

Strong male. Too strong. Threat.

As feared, the Get Out of Torture Free card burned to ash. No hacking! But...punching wasn’t hacking. It was pure bliss. Bone against bone. The intoxicating scent of blood would hit his senses, and the musical howl of someone else’s agony would fill his ears.

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Who am I?

“Go away,” he repeated.

William scanned the room. “Drinking all by your lonesome? Tsk-tsk. Is your heart missing the demon?”

A few times, he’d thought he...might. The arrival of his new companion had set him straight.

Now Distrust had a new host. A woman. Her name was—his brow furrowed. He couldn’t remember.

Whoever she was, she had supported Galen for centuries, helping him commit the most heinous of deeds. A few months ago, the foolish female had willingly accepted Distrust. In other words, she had willingly accepted unceasing paranoia. Who did that?

William sighed. “No need to respond. I can see the answer on your face. Don’t you know looking back pulls you back? Fine, fine. I’ll help you focus on the future. No need to beg.” He drew back his fist—and punched Baden in the nose. “You’re welcome.”

He recoiled from the impact, his nose snapped out of place. Though Baden produced no blood, his body simply a husk for his spirit, the taste of old pennies coated his tongue. Delicious. Practically dessert.

The beast raged, hungry for more.

Glaring at William, he righted the cartilage in his nose.

“Oh, no. I’ve provoked you. Whatever shall I do?” A grinning William rolled up his shirtsleeves. “I know. How about I give you more.”

Looking for a fight? He’s found it.

The beast...exploded. Every muscle in Baden’s body pumped full of adrenaline while his bones filled with molten lava. Somehow, he doubled in size, the top of his head brushing the ceiling.

“I heard Distrust caused your hair to catch fire,” William said. “Pity he’s not here. Flames would make your coming defeat more interesting.”

Defeat? I’ll introduce him.

With a roar, Baden swung. Contact! Addictive... He swung again and again, his fist a jackhammer, brutal and unrelenting. William took the blows like a champ, miraculously remaining on his feet.

I like this man...kind of. Hurting him hurts me.

A glimmer of rational thought. Baden dropped his arm to his side and gripped his camo pants. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“Why?” William’s teeth were smeared with crimson. “Did you soil your panties while you were giving me those love taps?”

Humor. He wasn’t in the mood. “Walk away. Before you have to crawl.”

Already the beast pawed at Baden’s gray matter, ravenous for round two.

“Don’t be silly.” William waved his fingers. “Hit me again. Only this time, try to do some real damage.”

The warrior didn’t understand...wouldn’t understand until too late. “Go! I’m losing control.”

“Then we’re making progress.” William jabbed Baden’s shoulder. “Hit me.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Hit.” Jab. “Me.” Jab.

The beast snarled, and Baden...

Baden detonated like a bomb, whaling on William, who made no effort to block or dodge the barrage of blows.

“Fight back!” Baden shouted.

“Since you suggested it...” William threw a punch of his own, a crack so powerful Baden reeled backward and slammed into the dresser.

Books and decorations the female residents had given him rattled before toppling to the floor. Everything made of glass shattered at his feet. William stalked forward and, without a pause in his step, bent down to swipe up one of the books. He struck, pummeling Baden’s throat into his spine.

Pain. His body bowed as the warrior slammed the book into his side. Once. Twice. More pain. His kidney was puréed.

Opponent...even stronger than expected...cannot be allowed to live.

Before William could deliver another blow, Baden jerked up a knee. The book flew across the room. He punched William in the jaw. As the warrior stumbled, Baden picked up a shard of glass.

By the time he straightened, William had recovered. That fast. The warrior crushed a vase into the side of his head, new shards raining.

Different voices suddenly penetrated his awareness.

“Is that Baden? Duuude! That can’t be Baden. He’s three times his usual size!”

“He’s going to make a retainer out of Willy’s teeth!”

“I call dibs! On Baden, not the retainer. If my man ever kicks it, I get to hook up with Hulk-smash first!”

In the back of his mind, he knew his friends and their mates had heard the commotion and come running, intending to break up the fight. To help him. The beast didn’t care.

Kill...kill them all...they’re too strong, too much of a risk.

Evil like the beast had no friends, only enemies.

The group is dangerous to the rest of the world, but not to me. Never to me. These people would die for me.

Die...yes, they must die...

William kicked the door closed, blocking the others from Baden’s view. “You focus on me, Red. Understood? I’m the biggest threat, so do us both a favor, take your arthritis medication and hit me.”

Yes. Biggest threat. Hit. Rage gave him added strength as he unleashed a new stream of punches. William blocked the first few, but couldn’t dodge the others. Baden failed to dodge his retaliation.

The brutal fight propelled them around the room, bouncing off walls and furniture as if they were animals in the wild, vying for position of King of the Jungle.

Pick up another piece of glass. Cut through the warrior’s ribs.

Yes. The perfect finish. But as Baden swooped down, William flashed behind him—moving to a new location with only a thought—and punched him. He twisted as he stumbled, capturing the male’s hand when he attempted to deliver another strike.

Baden purposely dropped, sinking to the floor, taking William with him. Midway down, he wound his legs around the bastard’s neck, applying enough pressure to choke a rhino. The moment they crash-landed, Baden tossed William over his head.

Thud. His opponent smashed face-first into the pile of glass shards. He grinned and drew himself up to straddle Willy’s back.

Punch. Punch. William’s skull cracked—and cracked Baden’s knuckles. Before he could deliver his next blow, the low-down-dirty-sneak flashed again—but it was too late to halt his fist. Punch. A wood panel on the floor splintered. Pain vibrated up his arm and pooled in his shoulder.

William laughed with delight and, as if the sound opened a magical portal to calm, the beast quieted.

“There.” Willy ruffled Baden’s hair. “You feel better now.” A kind statement rather than a smug question.

He performed a danger-check, just to be sure, and nodded. “I do.” Even his throat had healed.

“Now we can have a conversation without you eyeing my trachea like it’s a gummy worm.”

“Conversation can wait.” He stood, grimacing as he noted the condition of his room. Holes in the wall, broken glass on the floor, furniture overturned and missing pieces. “I’ve got some cleaning to do.”

“You’d choose a broom over information?”

“Depends on the information being offered.”

“If I said the serpentine wreaths and their side effects...?”

“I’d turn your pretty face to pulp.” Baden loved the wreaths, but he also hated them. They were a gift from Hades, ancient and mystical, and they were responsible for his corporeal form.

Hades and Keeley—the mate of Baden’s friend Torin—had come to him in what he’d thought was a dream. Through some kind of supernatural power, they’d removed the bands Lucifer, his jailer at the time, had forced on him and replaced them with bands that belonged to Hades.

As long as you wear my wreaths, Hades had said, you will be seen...touched.

The friendly gesture of an ally he supported in the war of the underworlds? He’d thought so in the beginning. Now he wondered... The trick of an underhanded foe?

Soon after Baden had donned the gift, William had looked at him with pity and said, “Have you seen Pet Sematary? Sometimes dead is better.”

William wasn’t wrong.

By that point, Baden had already begun to change. Not physically—maybe physically—but definitely mentally. Once even-tempered, he struggled for control, and he despised anyone who might be stronger than him. As proved. Memories plagued him, but they weren’t his own. They couldn’t be. He’d never been a child, had been created fully formed, an immortal soldier tasked with protecting Zeus, and yet he clearly remembered being around ten years old, running through an ambrosia field set aflame, thick smoke choking him.

A pack of hellhounds tracked him, fed on him and dragged him into a cold, dank dungeon, where he’d suffered, alone and starved, for centuries.

With the first memory, a horrifying truth had struck Baden. The wreaths weren’t just an object, but a being. The beast. Not a demon, but worse. An immortal who’d once lived and now expected to continue living through Baden. A monster who always teetered on the brink of rage, violence and distrust.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Baden.

“Well.” William pretended to be offended. “Try to do a man a favor.”

Concentrate! “Yesterday you said you knew nothing about the wreaths.”

A hike of his broad shoulders. “That was yesterday.”

“And today you know...what, exactly?”

“Only everything.”

He waited for the warrior to say more. “Do you require another beating? Tell me!”

“Beating is too strong a word for what transpired. I’d go with massage.” William buffed his nails. “Just so you know, the wreaths’ side effects are numerous and horrifying.”

“I figured the horrifying part out on my own, thanks.” Removing the wreaths wasn’t an option. They were fused to him, and he would have to amputate his arms with a meat cleaver.

Before his death, his arms would have grown back. Now? He wasn’t sure and wasn’t willing to experiment. Well, not on himself. His hands were his first line of defense.

“Give me specifics,” he demanded.

“For starters, if you want to keep your new temper tantrums at bay, you’ll need sex and a lot of it.”

The pronouncement was a joke. Had to be.

Baden arched a brow. “You offering, oh great and randy one?”

William snorted. “As if you could handle me.”

To be honest, he couldn’t handle anyone. When he wasn’t fighting, he avoided any kind of contact, the sensitivity of his skin too great. Every brush of flesh against flesh was excruciating, like a dagger being raked across exposed nerve endings.

“You’re going to leave Budapest today,” William said. “You’ll go...somewhere else. You’ll collect a harem of immortal women, and you’ll spend the next decade or two concerned only with pleasure.”

Leave his friends? After they’d only just been reunited? No. He was here to help them, to guard their backs the way he’d longed to do for centuries. “I’m going to pass.”

“And I’m going to insist. You can’t beat the darkness.”

“I am the darkness.”

The warrior canted his head in agreement. “Here’s the rub. Maddox and Ashlyn have children. Both Gideon and Kane have a pregnant wife. Not to mention the other females living in the house. And what about the traumatized Legion? The vulnerable Gillian?” His voice roughened with her name. “You go after any of the females the way you went after me, and your brothers-by-choice will gut you. No matter how much they love you. I will gut you.”

“I would never—”

“Oh, princess. You so would.”

A new rage sparked. He slammed a fist through the wall and cursed, proving William right. The beast took advantage of him at every opportunity. “All right. I’ll leave.” The words pained him, but he even added, “Today.”

“Your IQ just jacked to the next level.” William beamed at him. “Any idea where you’ll go?”

“No.” He had very little experience with the modern world.

A sigh. “I’ll probably regret this later,” the warrior said, stroking two fingers over his jaw, “but what the hell. We only live twice, right?”

Baden waved a hand, a silent command to carry on.

“For the bargain price of a favor to be named later, I’ll give you one of my homes and even set up a carnal buffet for you. And don’t worry. By the time I’m done, even a man with your lack of game will be able to score a ten.”

* * *

As the rapid beat of rock music blasted from surround-sound speakers, a pair of double Ds hit Baden in the face. He hissed in pain, not that—whatever her name—noticed as she gyrated on his lap.

She reached out to cup his nape, clearly intending to draw him closer.

Every man needs to motorboat at least once in his life, William had told her earlier. Make sure Red gets his chance.

Baden batted her hand away as gently as possible.

She grinned at him, though there wasn’t a single hint of amusement in her eyes. “Performance anxiety, sugar? I know the perfect cure.” She hopped off and spun, shoving her ass in his face.

“Twerking is the best, isn’t it?” William said now.

Baden turned to glare at him. They were the only males in the room, and the prick was certainly living up to his original playboy reputation as he stuffed a hundred-dollar bill in the G-string of his own stripper. A blonde bumping and grinding on him with absolute abandon.

“Even though you should be paying me, I’m feeling generous.” William gave her another hundred. “Don’t think I failed to notice your orgasm. The first or the second.”

She was too busy having a third to respond.

“This isn’t helping me,” Baden snapped.

William leaned forward to lick the blonde’s collarbone. A practiced move he seemed to perform by rote. “Don’t doubt my pimposity just yet. This is only the appetizer.”

Pimposity?

“Listen to him.” Miss Twerk faced Baden, brushing her fingertip along the curve of his jaw. “You’re supposed to eat me up.”

The pain! He endured it a few seconds more, but only to clasp her by the hips and set her away from him once and for all. “No touching. Ever.”

His unintentionally harsh tone made her tremble.

“Go.” Disgusted with himself as much as the circumstances, he motioned to the door. “Now.”

As she raced from the room, he settled more comfortably on the couch and closed his eyes. He needed sex—supposedly—but he couldn’t bring himself to have it. What kind of future awaited him? One dark rage constantly bleeding into another? Like before...

Another memory he’d never lived played through his mind.

He stood outside the dungeon he’d occupied for a torturous eternity, a sea of bodies and body parts all around him. Blood soaked his hands...hands tipped by sharp claws, bits of flesh and other things.

Footsteps thumped in a nearby hallway. A survivor?

Not for long.

Grinning with anticipation, he climbed through the debris and—

The music cut off abruptly, drawing Baden back to the present. He opened his eyes in time to see the last stripper exit the room.

William tsk-tsked at him before flashing away...and returning with two glasses and a bottle of ambrosia-laced whiskey.

Ambrosia, the drug of choice for immortals.

The warrior filled the cups to the brim. “Here. Lubricate your brain.”

The sweet scent wafted to Baden, causing his stomach to churn. For a moment he was a child again, trapped in the burning field, running...running...his heart galloping like a horse at a race.

Not me. The beast.

Trembling, he drained the cup. A tide of warmth spread through him quickly, calming him despite the adverse association, grounding him deeper in the here and now.

“There. Isn’t that better?” William reclined at his end of the white couch, the only piece of furniture in a room of white.

White walls, white floor tiles. White dais with a trio of mirrors in back. Baden’s reflection—the only real source of color—glared at him in challenge. He’d become a soldier he no longer recognized, with shaggy red waves in desperate need of a trim. Dark eyes once filled with welcome only offered silent threats. A mouth that used to quirk up in amusement only ever curved down in anger. Laugh lines had been replaced by scowl lines.

No, not better. “I’m ready to leave.”

“Too bad. I won’t remember how to flash you somewhere else until you’ve gotten laid. And as soon as you appear less murdery, you will get laid. The girls will love you.” William drained the contents of his glass in a single gulp. “Just do me a solid and inform your face this is supposed to be a good time.”

“Skin-to-skin contact is painful.”

The beast snarled at him for daring to voice such a damning vulnerability, even to one of Hades’s children.

William frowned at him. “If you think the wreaths are responsible—”

“I don’t.”

“—think again. They’re not. So grin and bear it or you won’t live through your transition.”

Transition? “Appearing less murdery, as you say, is the true challenge. I’ve forgotten how to smile.”

“Are you whining?” William set his cup aside and traced a fingertip down his cheeks, mimicking tears. “Your new life sucks. So what? Do you think you’re the only one with problems?”

“Certainly not.” His friends were currently hunting for Pandora’s box, determined to find it before someone—anyone—else. It could kill them in an instant. Just boom...gone...dead, their demons removed. Normally a good thing. But evil so entrenched had to be cleansed first and replaced by its opposite. Like with Haidee, Hate for Love. Otherwise rot set in. Which was why the Lords were also hunting for the Morning Star—a supernatural being still trapped inside the box, capable of granting any wish. Capable of freeing the demons without killing the warriors.

Lucifer had mounted a search for the Morning Star, as well, though he had no plans to spare the Lords. He was at war with Hades and determined to win whatever the cost. He’d made no secret of his desire to eliminate his father’s allies: William, Baden and all the others. And as the master of Harbingers—messengers of death—he might just be powerful enough to succeed.

“That’s right,” William said. “You’re not. In fact, my life makes yours look like a picnic hosted by naked forest nymphs.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Under-exaggerating, perhaps. In a matter of days, Gillian will celebrate her eighteenth birthday.”

“So?” Baden wanted the guy to say the words aloud—to admit to a vulnerability of his own. Tit for tat. “She’ll be an adult. Old enough to handle you.” He couldn’t help but add, “Or any other man she wants.”

“Me,” William snapped. He’d never been able to mask the intensity of his emotions for the girl. “Old enough to handle me. Only me. But I can’t have her.”

When the guy said no more, Baden prodded him. “Because you’re cursed?”

A pause. A stiff nod. “The woman who wins me will kill me.”

Wins. As if he were the prize. The same can’t be said about me. “Well, boohoo for you.” Survival first, matters of the heart second—if at all. “You’ve been warned. You can be proactive.”

What. The. Hell. Had he just suggested William kill sweet, innocent Gilly before she had the opportunity to kill him?

His hands fisted. He needed to put a tighter leash on the beast. So. He would pick a girl, have sex with as little bodily contact as possible, and maybe, for a little while, his head would clear. He would be able to think, to figure out a way to remove the wreaths, and the beast, keep all his body parts and remain tangible.

“Enough conversation.” He forced the corners of his mouth to lift. “I’m less murdery. See?”

“Wow. Just when I think you can’t look any worse, you go and prove me wrong.” Even still, William clapped his hands. “Ladies.”

Hinges creaked as the door opened. A new crop of scantily-clad females sauntered into the room—a brunette, blonde, redhead and ebony-skinned beauty. Smiles abounded as they lined up across the dais.

The mirror suddenly made sense. Baden had a perfect view of the front and the trunk. His long-denied body stirred at last, even as a new heaping of self-disgust assailed him.

“Prostitutes.” He should have known.

The blonde blew him a kiss.

“They prefer the term freelance pleasure specialists. They are immortal. A Phoenix, siren, nymph and pretty little kitty shifter, to be precise.” William draped a muscled arm over the top of the couch. “Which one do you want to jones for your scones? Your wish is her command.”

“I have no interest in feigned passion.”

“Hate to break it to you, Red, but feigned passion is all you’re going to get.” The warrior offered him a sorry-not-sorry smile. “Right now, you have only two things in your favor. You’re rich, thanks to investments Torin made over the centuries, and you’re a dead ringer for Jamie Fraser.”

“Who?”

“The male these females are going to pretend you are,” William said. “Because you, my dear man, are lacking in charm and sophistication, which means your fat wallet and chiseled features are all you have to get you to the finish line.”

“I’m not lacking in charm.” Sometimes he was. Maybe. Probably always.

William ignored him. “Ladies, tell Baden how pretty his wallet and face are.”

“So pretty.”

“The prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“More beautiful than pretty.”

“I’ll ride your wallet and your face!”

Baden glared at William while stroking the hilt of the dagger hidden in a sheath at his waist.

William sighed. “If Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger spawned a love child, I’m certain that nightmare of a kid would look at me just—like—that.”

More men he hadn’t met. Which annoyed him greatly! He had no need for reminders that the world had ticked along just fine without him.

“My brilliant sense of humor is lost on you. Noted. Ladies,” William said, reclaiming the bottle of whiskey, “tell Baden what carnal delights you’re prepared to offer him.”

One by one, they breathlessly described different scenarios. The shy virgin. The naughty librarian. The punishing dominant. The girlfriend experience.

When Baden had lived in Mount Olympus, he’d dated his fair share of women, but he’d never loved one. He’d wanted an equal, not a weakling merely using him for protection, placing his power before her sentiment. He was tempted to try out the girlfriend experience.

“Well?” William prompted.

“I will accept none of the scenarios offered.” Give me truth, or give me nothing. He met each beauty’s gaze. For the chance to tame the beast and return to his friends... “Who will bend over and simply take it?”

Perhaps he was lacking in charm.

William shook his head and muttered, “You should be embarrassed.”

Meanwhile, two feminine hands shot into the air.

“Me! Pick me!” The brunette. The punishing dominant.

The blonde elbowed her in the stomach. “I’m the one you want.” The naughty librarian.

“How are we friends?” William asked him.

“We aren’t.” Baden had twelve friends. Only twelve. The men and woman who’d suffered demon possession right alongside him. The warriors who’d bled with him and for him—the heroes he’d only disappointed since his return. They wanted him to be the man he used to be, not the bastard he’d become.

An-n-nd there was another log on the fire of his guilt.

“Tears. Sadness.” William placed a hand on his chest, as if he’d been stabbed. “Now. Choose your girl. I’m going to do you a solid and take the other three.”

“What type of immortal are you?” Baden asked the two contenders.

“Phoenix,” the brunette said, her pride evident.

“Nymph,” the blonde said, her voice smoky.

“You.” He pointed to the blonde. “I choose you.” Nymphs needed sex more than they needed oxygen. At least she’d get something other than cash for her trouble.

The brunette wilted with displeasure, surprising him.

“I’ll make it up to you, petal,” William told her with a wink. “With him, you’d have to work for every cent. With me, you can simply enjoy. I don’t want to overhype my skill, but I invented the female orgasm.”

Whatever. Baden stood and, without initiating contact, led the blonde to the exit. He opened the door and motioned her through. The faint scent of white oleander accompanied her. He followed her into a narrow hallway, maintaining a safe distance.

“Pick a room,” she said with what might have been...anticipation? “Any room.”

He selected the first one on the right, entering before her in case someone waited inside, intending to attack. No assailant jumped out, but he did find a camera hidden in a clock on the mantel above the hearth. William’s doing? Why?

After disabling it, he conducted a more generalized search. The room had a king-size canopy bed with black silk sheets, a nightstand full of condoms and lubricants, and a recliner next to a bear-shifter rug.

The blonde traced a fingertip between her breasts. “What do you want me to do, gorgeous?”

The beast protested. Loudly. He didn’t like her, and didn’t want Baden distracted and vulnerable while in the presence of another—especially in an effort to quiet him.

Still Baden said, “Strip and bend over the edge of the bed, facedown.”

“Ohhhh.” She grinned. “Are you going to spank me for being naughty?”

The beast cursed him, then the girl. You will leave. You will leave now.

No threat. Just an order. Something about his tone...

A tone Baden had only ever heard from kings. Who are you?

With barely a pause, the beast replied, I am Destruction.

2

“Your hardest times often lead to your greatest moments. So get hard.”

—William the Ever Randy

BADEN REELED. THE BEAST...Destruction...a demon.?

A king, he added.

The pride in the creature’s voice was unmistakable.

Nailed it. A king of what?

Right now? You. Leave the girl or kill her. Your choice.

There was one other option. Baden narrowed his focus on his chosen bedmate. “I won’t be spanking you, only fucking you. Strip, and bend over the bed facedown,” he repeated. “Please, and thank you.”

Destruction hissed.

“For you, gorgeous, I’ll do anything.” She unhooked her bra and shimmied out of the matching underwear. Both garments floated to the floor. As she moved, the ring she wore glinted, the multicolored stone catching in the light.

Bang, bang, bang. The beast kicked Baden’s chest with so much force, the impact mimicked a heartbeat. Can you not see the danger right in front of you?

The girl had no concept of his inner turmoil and slowly pivoted, revealing her backside. She bent over the mattress, as requested, and spread her legs to present him with a view he’d missed all these centuries.

“Just so you know, I can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.” She looked over her shoulder, her smile returning. “Show me your worst.”

She wouldn’t survive his worst.

Destruction banged harder, hissed louder. Kill her before she kills us.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth.

“No?” she asked, incredulous. She gave her ass a firm slap, leaving a red palm print. “You’re going to walk away from this?”

Jaw clenched, he replied, “I will have you.” And I will silence the beast.

Relief bathed her features as he moved behind her. As he fought the impulses of his companion, sweat poured from him. Soon his clothes were sticking to his too-sensitive skin.

Destruction grew even more frenzied. She’s the enemy. See! Know!

All I see is a one-way ticket to paradise. It was time to nut up or shut up. No matter how agonizing. Risk...reward. Baden left his dampened shirt in place and merely unzipped his pants.

She continued to watch him over her shoulder, unabashed. “You really are beautiful, you know.”

“Only on the outside.”

“Even better.”

He wished he had experience with modern women. Did they actually like assholes?

In four thousand years, the only other female he’d interacted with was Pandora, and she’d constantly tried to kill him. Now she was out in the wild, tangible because she, too, wore a pair of serpentine wreaths. She’d staked out the fortress and managed to sneak past security to ambush him. Twice! In both instances, they’d nearly killed each other.

Was she dealing with her own version of Destruction?

Fool! Already you’re distracted. Without me you’ll become a walking target.

Hell, no. A lie from a desperate creature. Baden withdrew a condom from his pocket, not trusting the ones in the drawer. As he ripped the foil packet with his teeth, a strange red glow bathed the room. He palmed a dagger, looking around, Destruction suddenly—strangely—calm.

The girl twisted to brace her weight on her elbows and face him fully. She gaped at him. “Your arms.”

He glanced down and frowned. The wreaths were no longer black but crimson, and the brighter they glowed the more they singed his skin, little black rivers branching from underneath them, reminding him of the cracks in the foundation of his life—and his sanity.

What the hell was going on? He zipped up his pants, intending to find William.

His companion released a heavy sigh. “No wonder he wants you dead.” With no other warning, she swung her fist at him.

Instincts honed on the bloodiest of battlefields spurred him into motion even before his mind processed what was happening. He caught her wrist before contact and twisted her arm behind her back, effectively pinning her down.

Now kill her, Destruction said. Make her a cautionary tale for all who think to harm us.

He would...not. “You said he wants me dead.” The words were snarled. “Who is he?” William?

“Let me go!” She kicked at him to no avail. “It was nothing personal, okay? Not on my part. I only wanted the money.” She beat her free hand into the mattress. “I should have stuck to the plan and waited until you were weak from orgasm.”

He wrenched her arm higher, and she shrieked in misery. The ring caught his attention. The stone had been discarded, revealing the needle underneath. She’d intended to poison him?

Cautionary tale...

Enemies had to die. Always.

“William!” he bellowed, though he needn’t have bothered.

The bedroom door burst open. William stomped inside, his narrowed gaze landing on the blonde. “Mistake, nymph. I would have been good to you.” Blood drenched him. “Now you’ll only experience my worst.”

Tremors of fear rocked her.

“She said he wants me dead,” Baden informed the warrior.

A muscle ticked below his eye. “He. Lucifer. And don’t you dare refer to the male as my brother. I’ll never claim him.”

Baden should have guessed. Lucifer was power-hungry. Greedy. An unrepentant rapist. A killer of innocents. The father of lies. There was no line he wouldn’t cross. No foul deed he wouldn’t commit against men, women and even children.

William motioned to Baden’s glowing bands with a tilt of his chin. “Prepare yourself. Soon you’re going to face—”

Baden was yanked through an invisible black hole...only to crash-land on the other side. He oriented his mind as a massive ballroom came into view. Tendrils of smoke wafted from multiple bonfires, hazing the air as they curled toward a domed ceiling made entirely of flame. There were only two exits. The one in back, manned by giants, and the one in front, manned by even bigger giants.

A grandiose throne made from bronzed human skulls consumed the center of a long dais, and on that throne sat Hades himself. He was a large man, similar in size to Baden, with inky hair and eyes so black they had no beginning or end. He wore a pin-striped suit and Italian loafers, the elegance at odds with the stars tattooed on each of his knuckles.

Urbane and yet uncivilized, Hades spread his arms. “Welcome to my humble abode. Love it before you hate it.”

Baden ignored the nonsensical greeting. He’d interacted with the king only once before, when the male gifted him with the wreaths and freed him from Lucifer’s prison. “Why am I here?” The glow faded from the bands, the metal cooling, becoming dull and dark once again. Better question: “How am I here?”

Hades smiled slowly, smugly. “Thanks to the wreaths, I’m your master, and you are my slave. I called, you came.”

Baden fought the urge to attack. “You lie.” He was slave to no one, not even the king. The beast, however...might be. Realization stabbed him, and suddenly only one question mattered. “Who is Destruction?”

The king was an expert strategist and donned a blank mask. “Perhaps a man I cursed. Perhaps a being I created.” His fingers formed a steeple in front of his mouth. “The only thing you need to know? He will always choose me over you.”

The beast offered no response, a fact as annoying as it was baffling.

“I will fight his compulsion to obey you,” Baden vowed.

Hades winced with something akin to pity. “When I summon you again, you will come. When I give an order, you will obey. Let’s have a good old-fashioned demonstration, shall we?” He lifted his chin, the picture of a male who’d never known uncertainty. “Kneel.”

Baden’s knees slammed into the floor with so much force the entire room rattled. Though he struggled with all his considerable might, he failed to rise.

Horror joined his rage. Bound to the will of another...

“As you can see, my will is your delight.” Hades waved a hand through the air. “You may stand.”

His body unlocked, and he leaped to his feet, his hand automatically resting on the hilt of a dagger. He’d been tricked. And oh, the irony. The one time he should have doubted, he’d trusted blindly.

Battling a redoubled rage, he gritted, “You can’t give orders if you’re dead.”

“An empty threat? I expected better from a fearsome Lord of the Underworld. Excuse me, former Lord. But all right. Do it. Try to kill me.” Hades motioned him forward. “I won’t move. I won’t even retaliate if you land a blow.”

Without hesitation, he stalked toward the throne, a plan of attack already forming. The throat and heart were obvious targets, so he would go for the femoral artery. Massive blood loss would lead to weakness.

The moment he came within striking distance, he went low, the dagger at the ready.

Hades smiled with genuine amusement.

The rage redoubled, and Baden—

Froze, unable to move. A mere inch from contact.

Arching a brow, Hades said, “I’m waiting.”

With a roar, Baden swung his other arm. It froze, as well.

The king smirked. “As you are clearly brain damaged, I’ll help you compute what’s happening. You are incapable of harming me. I could press myself into your weapon, but you would turn the blade on yourself before I started to bleed.” He ran the tip of a finger along the edge of the blade in question. “The box bitch required a demonstration of that. Do you?”

Box bitch. The bastard had put Pandora through this same routine?

Protective instincts welled, appalling him. And yet, he thought he understood the source. Right now she was the only person in the world who understood his plight. Not only had they experienced the same horrors in the spirit realm—poisonous fogs, months without a single spark of light, plagued by a bone-deep thirst that could never be quenched—they were now experiencing these new horrors in the land of the living.

“Well?” Hades prompted.

Baden didn’t need another demonstration. He needed a new plan. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.” Black eyes glittered like a night sky filled with dying stars. “Because I’ll do anything, hurt anyone, to win the war against Lucifer.”

A war Baden had supported for weeks. Of his own free will! There was no reason to force his hand. “Five minutes ago, I would have said the same.”

“Five minutes from now, you’ll say the same again.” Hades reclined, stretching out his legs, and gesticulated with two fingers. “I’ve decided to delegate some of the more unsavory tasks on my to-do list. I’ll hear your thanks now.”

Unleashed from the freeze-frame, Baden stumbled backward. Comprehension delivered a punch as powerful as William’s fists. He was to be an errand boy?

“To ensure your willing participation outside these walls, every successfully completed task will earn you a point,” Hades continued. “Once the list is completed, the slave with the most points will be freed from the wreaths and allowed to live in the human realm.”

New flickers of rage burned his chest. “And the loser?”

“What do you think? I have no use for incompetent weaklings. But by the end, you might actually welcome the blade, eh? That is your MO, is it not?”

Guilt...

“Don’t bother going after Pandora in order to eliminate the competition,” Hades added. “Kill her, and I will kill you.”

He licked his lips with an aggressive swipe of his tongue. “I’m already a spirit. I can’t be killed.”

“Oh, dear boy, you most certainly can be killed. Without your head and your arms, you will simply cease to exist.”

At least there was a way out.

Hell, no. He would never purposely die. Not again. He would never hurt his friends in such a cowardly way.

“By enslaving me, you court the wrath of my family. An army you need if you have any hope of winning your war. You also court the wrath of William, your own son.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Nice try, but you know nothing about the bond between father and son. William will support me. William will always support me. As for the Lords, I doubt they’ll ever back the monster who raped one of their own.”

No, they wouldn’t. Aeron, former keeper of Wrath, loved a demon-turned-human girl like a daughter. That girl, Legion...who called herself Honey...still suffered from the effects of Lucifer’s abuse.

Lucifer deserved a stake through his black heart, not another realm to rule. Siding with him would never be an option.

Hades was the lesser of two evils.

Baden flicked his tongue over an incisor. He had to play this bastard’s game—even though he suspected the outcome wouldn’t be as straightforward as Hades claimed.

Buy time. Figure out a solution.

“What of your father-son bond with Lucifer?” Baden asked with a sneer. “I’m not exactly feeling your love for him.”

“There is no bond. Not anymore. Now, that’s enough chatter from you. I have two tasks for you. One will take time. The other will take balls. I hope you’re wearing yours.”

Bastard.

Hades clapped his hands and called, “Pippin.”

An old man with a haggard face and humped back stepped out from behind the throne. He wore a long white robe and chiseled in a stone tablet. Never glancing up from his toils, he said, “Yes, sire.”

“Tell Baden his first assignments.”

“The coin and the siren.”

Hades smiled with fondness. “You spare no detail, Pippin. A true master of description.” When he held out his hand, the robed man placed a tiny piece of stone on his palm. “A male in New York has a coin that belongs to me. I want it back.”

This was an unsavory task? “You want me to fetch a single coin?”

“Laugh now, if you like. You won’t be laughing later.” The stone caught fire and quickly burned to ash; Hades blew in Baden’s direction. “You’ll need time, as I said, and cunning.”

He instinctively inhaled. A moment later, multiple images took center stage in his mind. A golden coin with Hades’s face on one side and a blank canvas on the other. A luxurious country estate. A chapel. A schedule. A picture: a twenty-five-year-old male with the face of an angel framed by golden curls that resembled a halo.

Suddenly Baden knew a myriad of details he’d never been told. The male’s name was Aleksander Ciernik, and he hailed from Slovakia, where his father built an empire selling heroin and women. Four years ago, Aleksander killed his father and took over the family business. His enemies tended to disappear without a trace. Not that anyone could concretely connect him to a crime.

“You now have the ability to flash to Aleksander,” Hades said. “You can also flash to me and your home, wherever it happens to be. The ability will expand to include any new assignments you’re given.”

The ability to flash was something he’d always coveted. Today, his excitement was tempered with caution. “How did the human obtain your coin?”

“Does it matter? A task is a task.”

True enough. “And my second assignment?”

Pippin placed a new stone in Hades’s palm. More flames crackled...more ashes floated in Baden’s direction. As he inhaled, a different image took shape in his mind. A beautiful woman with long strawberry-blond hair and big blue eyes. A siren.

Every siren could evoke certain emotions or reactions with her voice, but each familial line had a distinctive specialty. Her family excelled at creating calm during chaos.

The girl...she’d died centuries ago. Killed by—the details remained hidden. What Baden knew? She was now a spirit, though her lack of tangibility wouldn’t be a problem for him. Despite the bands, he was still able to connect with other spirits.

“Bring me her tongue,” Hades commanded.

As in, cut out her tongue? “Why?” The single word lashed from Baden.

“My sincerest apologies for giving you the impression I would assuage your curiosity. Go. Now.”

Baden opened his mouth to protest only to find himself inside the fortress in Budapest, where his friends lived. He was in the entertainment room, to be exact, with Paris, the keeper of Promiscuity, and Sienna, the new keeper of Wrath. A Hallmark movie played in the background as the two reclined on the couch, eating popcorn and strategizing ways to sneak into the underworld without detection.

Amun, the keeper of Secrets, sat at a small round table, with his wife by his side. Haidee was petite, her shoulder-length blond hair streaked with pink. A silver stud pierced her brow, and the tank top she wore revealed an arm sleeved with names, faces and numbers. Clues she’d needed to remind herself of who she was every time she’d died and come back, her memories erased. She’d died a lot, the demon of Hate reanimating her every time but the last, allowing her to continue her mission: destroying her enemies. The last time, the incarnation of Love reanimated her.

Baden had once been enemy number one, which was why she’d helped kill him all those centuries ago.

The memory rose, one he’d actually lived, and he couldn’t beat it back, as if—because he was both living and dead, body and spirit—he was trapped between present and past. He’d resided in ancient Greece with the other Lords. A distraught Haidee had come knocking on his door, claiming her husband had been injured and he required a doctor.

From the start, Baden had suspected her of malicious intent. But back then, he’d suspected everyone of malicious intent, and he’d been tired, so very tired, of the constant paranoia. He’d even begun to suspect his friends of wrongdoing, and the urge to hurt them, to kill them, had proven nearly irresistible on a daily basis. On several occasions, he’d stood at the foot of someone’s bed, a blade clutched in his hand. One day, he would have snapped.

Moving to a new town would have done him no good. Distrust had been as hungry then as Destruction was now. Eventually, the demon would have driven him home. Loose ends could not be tolerated for long, the paranoia they caused too intense. Suicide by homicide had struck him as the only option.

Seeing Haidee now sliced him up inside. He’d hurt her years before she’d attacked him—had killed her actual husband in battle. She’d hurt him in turn. They were even. Now, they weren’t the people they’d used to be. They’d started over with a clean slate. For the most part.

Destruction stopped playing dead and snarled at her, remembering her betrayal as if he had been the target. He craved revenge.

Not going to happen, Baden informed him.

Kane, the former keeper of Disaster, paced the length of a second table, while his wife Josephina, the queen of the Fae, studied an intricately detailed map. Long black hair tumbled over her delicate shoulders. Hair Kane stopped to smooth out of the way, revealing her pointed ears.

The warrior whispered something to her—something that made her chuckle—before kissing the scar on her cheek...the hollow of her neck. Her blue eyes warmed and sparkled.

“War is serious business.” She ran her hands over her rounded belly, a loving caress for her unborn child. “Let’s get serious.”

Need to leave. Now. Baden wasn’t stable. He shouldn’t be this close to the females, must less the pregnant one.

In unison, Paris, Amun and Kane noticed him. Each man jumped in front of his girl, acting as a shield while extending a bloodstained dagger in Baden’s direction.

He thrilled at seeing them work together. After his death, the twelve warriors he’d only ever sought to protect had split in two groups of six, severely weakening their defensive line. My fault.

While the groups had mended their broken relationships centuries later, Baden had yet to mend his conscience.

Destruction kicked at his skull. Kill!

The moment Baden’s identity clicked, the daggers were lowered and sheathed. Not that the beast was pacified.

“How’d your vacay with Willy go?” Paris winked. “As bad as the one I took with him?” The male was as tall as Baden, topping out at six-eight. He had multicolored hair, the strands ranging from the darkest black to the palest flax. His eyes were vibrant blue and, when not glaring at potential attackers, they almost always gleamed with welcome, inviting others to enjoy the party...in his pants.

Baden had always been the sympathetic one. Solid as a rock. There when you needed him. Sad? Call Baden. Upset? Show up at Baden’s place. He would make everything better.

But not anymore.

“The vacation—” his excuse for leaving “—is over.”

Amun nodded a greeting. The strong, silent one. He had dark skin, hair and eyes—guarded eyes—while the fun-loving Kane had happy hazels and, like Paris, multicolored hair, the shades tipping the darker side of the scale.

They were handsome men, created to be sexual lures as much as assassins.

“Don’t ever sneak up on me like that, man.” Kane wagged a finger at him. “You’re likely to lose your apple bags. And when did you acquire the ability to flash?”

“Today. A...gift from Hades.”

Amun stiffened, as if he could see into Baden’s head. Hell, he probably could.

“Did the H-bomb do something to you?” Paris demanded. “Say the word and we’ll take him out right along with his degenerate son.”

“Speaking of Lucifer,” Kane said, waving Baden over. “We’re in the process of creating a step-by-step plan to ensure his downfall.”

“Right now, we only have step one. Break into his dungeon to liberate Cronus and Rhea.” Josephina rubbed her belly. “They know too much about you guys. Your weaknesses, your needs. We can lock them in our dungeon.”

It was never a good idea to allow one of your enemies to be controlled by another of your enemies. But recently, Cronus, the former keeper of Greed, and Rhea, the former keeper of Strife, had been beheaded. The self-touted gods had been given a pair of serpentine wreaths, but theirs had come from Lucifer. Hades had not performed an exchange.

“Don’t go after the Titans,” Baden said. “Not yet. They’re likely enslaved to Lucifer.” The way he and Pandora were enslaved to Hades. They might have powers—and desires—the Lords knew nothing about.

“I don’t see the problem.” Sienna moved beside her man. The slender woman had curly dark hair and a freckled face. The enormous black wings arching above her shoulders gave her a regal and slightly wicked quality. “An enslaved man is a weakened man. There’s no better time to nab them.”

No! Baden refused to believe her assertion. He was enslaved, but he wasn’t weak. “Just...trust me on this. Lucifer might want you to rescue the pair. Let me do a little digging first.” He knew the first place to use his shovel. Though Keeley was currently shacked up with Torin, the keeper of Disease, she’d once been engaged to Hades. “Where’s the Red Queen?”

“With the artifacts,” Haidee said. “Why do you—”

Baden strode into the hall before she could finish, and the beast roared with displeasure.

Never leave an enemy behind.

I didn’t. I left friends.

He tuned out the shouts of denial, reaching the artifact room without incident.

Keeley was pacing. She stomped past the Paring Rod, the Cage of Compulsion, then turned and stomped past them again, twisting the Cloak of Invisibility between her fingers.

“I can’t find dimOuniak, and if I can’t find it, I can’t find the Morning Star,” she muttered. She was a beautiful woman who changed colors with the seasons. Summer had given her pink hair with streaks of green and eyes the color of an afternoon sky. “I have to find the box. I have to find the Morning Star. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?”

Baden knew the danger of startling this woman who had powers beyond imagining, but cleared his throat anyway.

As she jolted, a lightning rod of pain sliced through him.

The beast kicked up another fuss, demanding Baden slay her.

He should thank her. She could have done far worse damage to him. This? This was nothing.

“Baden?” She blinked with confusion.

Forced inhale...forced exhale. “The wreaths have made me a slave to Hades.”

“Uh, yeah.” She flipped the long length of her hair over her shoulder, the action wholly feminine, hiding the otherworldly strength she somehow managed to contain inside such a fragile-looking frame. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

She’d known? “It is. To me.”

“If you didn’t want to be Hades’s yes boy, why did you accept his wreaths?” She anchored her hands on her hips. “You could have remained Lucifer’s yes boy.”

When she’d appeared with Hades, she’d said, This season’s hottest accessory! You’ll never regret the decision to wear them. You have my word.

His jaw clenched so forcefully his teeth ached. He reminded her of her promise.

“I said that?” She shrugged. “Wow. You’re gullible. But, uh, I’m certain I calculated the odds of something bad happening to you.”

Oh, really. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d love to hear your math.”

“Well, if you have two wreaths and one immortal, how many problems will he face? Gold. Obviously. Because the heart bleeds secrets and doggies have claws.”

How did Torin remain sane when conversing with her? On top of being crazypants from centuries of captivity, she had a shit memory. She’d existed since the dawn of time and had often referred to her mind as a corkboard with too many pictures attached. Some things were hidden by others.

Focus on the task at hand. “Are Cronus and Rhea now controlled by Lucifer?”

“Oh, yes.”

Finally. A coherent answer.

“But the blind cannot lead the blind.”

An-n-nd back to square one. Lucifer, Cronus and Rhea were not blind. Baden switched routes. “Hades commanded me to fetch a coin.”

“Well, don’t look at me for a loan.” She held her hands up, palms out, and backed away from him. “I might beat you with a pillowcase full of quarters, but I’ll never share a penny.”

“I’m not asking for money. I’m asking for information.” He had to tap into the vast ocean of her knowledge. Somehow. “Think. Why would Hades want a specific coin?”

“Is he broke, too? Prick! If he steals the diamonds I stole, I’ll remove his testicles. Again!”

Calm... “Listen carefully, Keeley. A human male has Hades’s coin, and Hades wants this most special coin back. Does it have unusual powers?” Could Baden use it to his advantage?

She blew him a kiss. “I’m mighty and fearsome. Immortal royalty! I don’t concern myself with mortal affairs.”

Steady... “Forget the human.” For now. “I’m supposed to remove the tongue of a siren. Why would Hades command me to do such a gruesome task?”

“Hello! Because two tongues are better than one.”

Destruction shoved a roar out of Baden’s mouth as a memory rose...Keeley hovering in the air, her hair such a dark red the strands resembled rivers of blood. Others hovered in the air around her, their bodies taut, their limbs shaking...their lips parted in an endless scream.

One by one, the men and women burst apart, pieces of flesh and viscera raining down on him—on the beast. Blood splashed him, the only man left standing.

She smiled at him. “Better?”

“Much.” He clapped, proud of her, but also leery. If her power increased any more, she would be able to defeat him.

All threats had to be eliminated.

Fingers snapped in front of Baden’s face, and he blinked, returning to the present.

“Hey!” Summer Keeley looked him over. “You went zero dark thirty on me.”

“I’m not sure you understand the term—never mind. I apologize.” The beast had known and admired Keeley. Must have met her through Hades...must have been friends with Hades?

No better time to dispose of a future threat. Even if the threat is an ally.

Suddenly Baden’s hands ached to wrap around her neck and squeeze.

Her spine will break as easily as a twig.

Horrified, he stepped out of reach. William had spoken true. One day, he would snap; he would be hated. The guilt he carried now would not compare to the guilt he carried then.

He had to leave the fortress, and this time, he had to stay gone. William’s sex plan had merit but he now knew beyond a doubt it wasn’t the answer. Because of his skin sensitivity, yes, but also because he couldn’t trust anyone.

Again, the irony.

Lucifer would send another assassin. It was only a matter of time.

Destruction writhed with anticipation, practically foaming at the mouth to prove himself strong. Attack me. See what happens.

Let me guess. You’ll kill. Broken record. The beast needed new material.

A sense of loss struck Baden. His friends wouldn’t understand his continued absence. A second “vacation.” They would worry, and they would wonder if they’d done something wrong.

Together we stand, or one by one we fall.

How many times had Maddox, the keeper of Violence, spoken those words since Baden’s return? Countless.

This wasn’t righting his wrongs, but it was putting the well-being of his loved ones first.

“Baden?”

He turned from Keeley and palmed the cell phone Torin had given him. Technology was a bitch he had yet to tame, but he gave group texting his best shot.

Meetinf in 5

He would explain his situation with Hades and, with the advice of the warriors who’d navigated this world far longer than him, plan his first move, gain his first point, and fight by fair means or foul to maintain the lead in his game with Pandora.

The sooner he won, the sooner he could say goodbye to Destruction and safely return to his family.

3

“All I want from a man is everything and nothing at the same but different times, sometimes and never but always.”

—Keeleycael, the Red Queen

KATARINA JOELLE PRAYED for the end of the world as her fiancé recited his wedding vows.

Aleksander Ciernik was a bad, bad man, and she would rather eat rusty nails than pledge her life to his. But he’d given her a choice: marry him or witness the torture of her bother Dominik.

Earlier in the year, Dominik had signed up to work for Alek of his own free will. So, after she’d laughed in Alek’s face and said, “Go ahead. Torture him,” he’d upped the ante. Marry him, or witness the torture of her precious dogs.

Panchart! Bastard.

She’d stopped laughing and started calculating the LGB. Likelihood of Getting Bitten.

To Alek, Katarina would only ever be a prized horse to trot around his friends whenever the mood struck. He would do nothing but make her miserable. But her dogs needed her. They had no one else.

The problem? If she saved the dogs today, Alek could hurt them tomorrow. Or any day after. He would continue threatening their welfare to control her.

But, if she saved them today, she would gain time. Time she could use to hide them. If ever she found them. Alek had hidden them.

His guards watched her every second of every day, but twice she’d managed to sneak out of her suite to search the estate. She’d been caught both times, no closer to success.

I’m going to get bitten one way or another, aren’t I?

Throughout her childhood, she’d helped her father with the family business, training drug-detection and home-protection dogs. After high school graduation, she’d taken the reins of control. And despite the added weight of responsibility, she’d used her free time to rehabilitate the aggressive, abused fighters the rest of the world had deemed too dangerous.

Three of those victims—Faith, Hope and Love—had been so deformed most people hadn’t had the cojones to look at them, much less to offer a forever home. So Katarina had adopted the trio as her personal pets, pouring her heart and soul into giving them the happily ever after they’d always deserved; they adored her for it.

Then Alek kidnapped them and held them for ransom. He’d also vowed to hunt down every dog she’d ever worked with—one bullet to the brain.

She loved her canines, remembered every name, every tragedy they’d suffered in their young lives, and every personality quirk. More than that? A trainer always protected her charges.

A lesson her father had taught her.

Mr. Baker—a sniveling coward on Alek’s payroll who’d gotten ordained online—cleared his throat. “Your vows, Miss Joelle.”

“Mrs. Ciernik,” Alek snapped.

She smiled without humor. “Not yet.” Can I really do this?

He scowled at her, and she rubbed her thumb over the words tattooed on her wrist. Once upon a time...

A tribute to her Slovakian mother, a woman who’d had the courage to marry an American dog trainer despite their different backgrounds and skin colors, even despite their language barrier. Edita Joelle had fancied fairy tales, and every night, after she’d read one to Katarina, she’d sighed dreamily.

Beauty can be found in ugliness. Never forget.

Katarina hadn’t really liked the stories. A princess in distress rescued by a prince? No! Sometimes you needed to wait for a miracle, but sometimes you needed to be the miracle.

Right now, she could find no beauty in Alek. Could see no miracle in the works.

Did it really matter? She was the author of her own story—she decided the twists and turns—and often what seemed to be the end was actually a new beginning. Every new beginning had the potential to be her happily-ever-after.

No question, today marked the start of a new beginning. A new story. Perhaps, like the fairy tales of old, it would end in blood and death, but it would end.

I can endure anything for a short time.

Strong fingers curved around her jaw and lifted her head. Her gaze locked on Alek, who looked at her with a shudder-inducing mix of lust and anger.

“Say your vows, princezná.”

She despised the nickname. She wasn’t pampered or helpless. She worked hard, and she worked often. Many of her patrons had called her a stay-at-home dog mom. A compliment. Mothers worked harder than anyone.

And I love my babies. Dogs were better company than most people, period. Better than Alek, definitely.

“You make me wait at your own peril,” he said.

Quiet words, clear promise.

She wrenched free of his hold. He was a plague upon mankind, and she would never pretend otherwise. Especially when she should be wedding Peter, her childhood sweetheart.

Peter, who had always joked, always laughed.

Sorrow spurred her on. “With you, everything is at my peril.”

This man had already ruined her. Dominik had spent her money on drugs, draining her accounts, before selling the kennel to Alek, who’d burned it down.

His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. He might like the look of her, but he’d never appreciated her honesty.

Fun fact: provoking him had become her only source of joy.

“I’m not sure you understand the great honor I bestow upon you, Katarina. Other women would kill to be in your position.”

Maybe. Probably. With his pale hair, dark eyes and chiseled features, he looked like an angel. But those other women failed to see the monster lurking within...until too late.

Katarina had seen it from the beginning, and her lack of interest had challenged him. There was no other reason a five-foot-eleven man—who’d only ever dated short women in an effort to appear taller—would take a fancy to someone his same height.

Though she’d always been a jeans-and-tennis-shoes kind of girl, she had a feeling she would soon develop a love of stilettos.

“Honor?” she finally replied. His last three girlfriends had died in suspicious ways. Drowning, car wreck and drug overdose. “That’s the word you think applies?”

“Great honor.”

Alek liked to tell his business associates Katarina was his mail-order bride. And in a way, she was. A year ago, he’d wanted to buy home protection dogs from a fellow Slovak. He’d come across the Pes Denˇ website and discovered she was known for training the best of the best. Rather than filling out an application, as required, he’d flown out to meet her.

After only one conversation, she’d suspected he would abuse her animals. So she’d refused him.

Soon afterward, Peter died in a filthy alleyway, the victim of a seemingly random mugging.

And soon after that, her brother was invited to join Alek’s import/export business—importing drugs and prostitútky to the States, exporting millions in cash to be hidden or laundered. Not surprisingly, Dominik quickly developed an addiction to Alek’s heroin.

Just another way to manipulate me.

When Alek summoned her to his estate in New York—Dominik owes me thousands. You will come and pay his debt—she’d once again refused him. Later in the week, Midnight, a cherished mountain dog, was poisoned. She’d known Dominik—and thereby Alek—was to blame. The once-abused canine wouldn’t have taken a treat from anyone else.

She’d quickly found homes for the other dogs. But her fool of a brother had known the few people she trusted, and had given Alek their locations in exchange for a reduced debt. Always one step ahead.

“I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” she said, hating him, hating this, “and it has nothing to do with honor.”

Mr. Baker backed out of striking distance.

Alek grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard enough to restrict her airway. “Be very careful how you proceed, princezná. This can be a good day for you, or a very bad one.”

“Your vows,” Mr. Baker rushed out. “Say them.”

Alek gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

Breathing in...out...she skipped her wild gaze around the chapel. Armed guards were posted throughout. The pews were filled with Alek’s business associates, more armed guards and various other employees. The men wore suits, and their dates were draped in formal gowns and expensive jewels.

If she refused, she would be killed—but only if she were lucky. Most assuredly her babies would be killed.

To the back of the building, beautiful stained-glass windows framed an intricately carved altar. Beside each of those windows was a marble pillar veined with glittering rose, and between those pillars hung a painting of the tree of life. The frieze leading up to the domed ceiling depicted angels at war with demons and complemented the swirling design of gold filigree on the ivory floor tiles.

The room offered a fresh start, not damnation, and yet she felt damned to the depths of her soul.

Save the dogs. Save Dominik.

Scratch Dominik. Just the dogs. Then escape.

At last, she repeated the vows. Alek beamed with happiness. And why wouldn’t he? She had, like so many others, allowed evil to win the battle.

But the war still rages...

“You may kiss your bride,” Mr. Baker announced, his relief palpable.

Alek took her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. His lips pressed against hers, and his tongue forced its way past her teeth.

Her husband tasted like ashes.

There was no going back now.

How was she going to survive the wedding night?

As the crowd cheered, the sanctuary doors burst open, banging against the walls. An ominous thud heralded a quick silence. Alek stiffened and Katarina’s heart skipped like a stone over water.

Three males stalked down the center aisle. They were tall and muscled and very clearly on a mission. Law enforcement? Here to arrest Alek? Oh, please, please, please!

The one on the left had black hair and blue eyes. He smiled at the men in the pews, daring them to make a move against him.

The one on the right had white hair and green eyes. He wore black leather gloves that somehow lent an edge of menace to a genuinely relaxed demeanor.

The man in the middle...he captured her attention and refused to let go. He was so beautiful; he put Alek to shame. Despite the specks of blood staining his T-shirt—had he fought the guards outside?—he was an amalgamation of every fairy-tale prince ever written. The kind of man usually only seen in fantasies.

Her mother would have loved him.

He was the tallest of the three, with dark red waves that framed a fiercely masculine face. Every inch of him was defined by such incomparable strength, he could have been carved from stone.

Feminine awareness sparked—this man is the incarnation of dark, dangerous desire, but I’m not afraid...I’m intrigued.

A well-defined brow led to a straight nose and sharp cheekbones. His lips were lush and his softest feature. His square jaw, his harshest feature, was dusted with dark stubble.

But his eyes...oh, tristo hrmenych, his eyes. They were a combination of both, soft yet harsh and pure carnality. They were the color of a sunset, blazing with different shades of gold and copper.

He and his friends stopped just below the dais.

“Ladies and genitals.” The black-haired soldier—agent?—spread his arms to encompass his audience. “You’ll give us a moment of your time.”

Alek puffed up with fury. “Who are you? Better yet, do you know who I am?”

The redhead took another step forward, his gaze doing a quick sweep of his surroundings. He even looked Katarina up and down, taking in the wedding gown Alek selected for her—a strapless monstrosity with a corset top and a wide, full skirt layered with satin roses. His mouth curved in distaste.

She raised her chin, even as her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He focused on the glaring Alek. “You have a coin.” His accent... Greek, perhaps? “Give it to me.”

Alek laughed his patented you-only-have-minutes-to-live laugh. “I have many coins.” Several of his guards unsheathed their guns, waiting for the signal to strike. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This one belongs to Hades. Pretending ignorance will do you no good.”

Alek gave his most trusted enforcer, who now blocked the door at the back of the room, an almost imperceptible nod.

The signal.

The enforcer aimed. No. No! Katarina screamed out a warning. Which was unnecessary. The redhead was already mobilized, spinning and tossing a dagger. The tip sank into the enforcer’s eye socket.

Blood spurted, a howl of pain echoing from the walls. The gun fell from his grip, useless, and he dropped to his knees.

Katarina’s scream tapered into a whimper. The redhead had just...without any hesitation...so brutal...

The women in the pews jumped up and raced through the exit, their heels click-clacking against the floor tiles.

“My next victim will lose more than an eye,” the redhead said with cool detachment.

The male with black hair and blue eyes grinned. “Baden, my man, if I were keeping score you’d get a ten-point bonus. So proud of you right now.”

Baden. The redhead’s name was Baden. The killer’s name was Baden, and the black-haired man had just praised him for his violence.

Baden focused on her. “Test me. I dare you.”

Anyone else would have cried and begged for mercy when challenged by such a deadly force. For Katarina, tears were impossible.

She’d cried buckets in the months leading up to her mother’s death, but not a single one after. She’d been too relieved. Her mother’s misery had finally ended. But with the relief had come guilt. If Katarina hadn’t been able to cry for the mother she’d revered, what right did she have to cry for anyone else?

Paling, trembling, Alek retreated—he never retreated!—stepping behind her and...using her as a shield?

In the first pew, her brother stood. He was six feet tall, though his emaciation made him a pin-drop in comparison to the newcomers. Did the chruno actually plan to fight trained killers?

Baden pivoted in his direction.

“No!” She scrambled from the dais to throw herself in front of Dominik. “My brother has nothing to do with this. You will not harm him.” While her affection for her only living family member had withered, she remembered the boy he used to be. Kind, patient and protective. She had no desire to see him killed, would rather see him locked behind bars, forcibly removed from Alek’s insidious influence and a ready supply of heroin.

Maybe, if Dominik got clean, they could try to be siblings again.

He pushed her behind him, astounding her. “Do not play the hero, sestra.”

Baden lost interest in him. Radiating bloodcurdling malice, he closed in on Alek, the man so many feared. “This is your last chance. The coin.”

Alek pursed his lips, an action she knew well. His drug lord moxy—I am master of all I survey—had just switched back on. “The coin belongs to me. Tell Hades he can go to hell where he belongs.”

The dark-haired man laughed. The white-haired man adjusted his gloves.

“Wrong answer. Perhaps you don’t yet believe I’m willing to do anything to retrieve it.” Baden grabbed Alek by the neck and lifted him off his feet, squeezing him with so much force his eyeballs bulged and his face reddened. “Does this convince you?”

The dogs! If he died... “Stop,” she shouted. She tried to return to the dais, but Dominik snaked an arm around her waist to hold her in place. “Prosim!” Please.

Baden ignored her, telling Alek, “I’ll leave with the coin...or I’ll leave with something you value.” He motioned to Alek’s hand with a tilt of his chin, ensuring his meaning was clear. “You choose.”

Alek sputtered, beating at his arm.

“Know this,” the redhead added, unruffled. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, until I have what I want, and I will never leave without a prize.”

Who was this man? Who was Hades?

Alek grappled for the small gun hidden at his waist. Baden spun with him, using him as a buffer while firing the man’s own weapon at the guards who’d taken aim.

New howls of pain erupted. Blood splattered, and bodies dropped. Katarina clutched her stomach to ward off waves of nausea.

Finished with the guards, Baden twisted Alek’s wrist and broke the bones; the gun fell as her groom screamed. More and more men jumped up to help him, and more and more guns were aimed at the trio.

Even Dominik withdrew a gun from his ankle holster, though he didn’t take aim. He hauled her through a side door, down a long corridor.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Multiple shots rang out behind her.

Had Alek been hit? She tried to fight her way free. “Let go!”

“Enough.” Her brother was panting, already winded. “This is for your own good.”

A gesture of kindness, even if it was executed the wrong way.

“I won’t allow Alek’s bride to suffer,” he added, ruining everything. For him, everything always came back to Alek.

“I must stay with him,” she said. “The dogs—”

“Forget the dogs.”

“Never!”

The gunshots stopped. The pained grunts and groans quieted. The scent of gun smoke and corroded metal coated the air, following her.

Just before Dominik reached the doorway that led to the outside world, she stuck out her foot and tripped him. He maintained his grip on her, lugging her with him as he crashed. As he fought for breath, she was finally able to jerk free. He reached for her, but she kicked him in the stomach and stood.

Cursing, he hopped up. She leaped backward and—

Slammed into a brick wall. With a gasp, she whirled. Her gaze traveled up a man’s legs...a torso ridged with muscle. There were thin rivers of black tattooed from the tips of his fingers to the edge of the black bands that circled his biceps. Three bullet holes marred his shoulder, but the wounds didn’t appear to be bleeding.

Her eyes locked on cool copper irises. Baden.

He was hyperfocused, radiating challenge, determination and lethal intent...maybe even anticipation.

“Get out of the way, Katarina,” Dominik commanded.

Baden reached around her to knock her brother’s gun across the hall.

When confronted with an aggressive dog, stay calm. Avoid direct eye contact. Stand sideways and claim your space.

She peered beyond him while assuming the proper stance. Then, using her calmest tone, she said, “Your quarrel is not with us. We mean you no harm.”

“Lately I need no reason to quarrel with anyone, nevesta.” Bride in Slovak. He spoke her native tongue? “But you...you give me reason. You worry for a piece of shit.” His disgust had returned full force. “You married a piece of shit.”

He thought the worst of her, had no concept of the truth. Don’t know him, don’t like him. His opinion doesn’t matter. “Should you really cast stones? You have glitter smeared on your neck.” Truth. “Courtesy of a stripper girlfriend?”

When he offered no reply, her spark of temper drained. She asked softly, “Is Alek still alive?”

“Are you worried for him, or the position of power you’ll lose upon his death?”

Position of power? Please! “Is. He. Still. Alive?”

Baden inclined his head. “He even has all his body parts. For now.”

Thank God! “Listen to me. I’ll get your coin. Yes?”

“You won’t do any such thing. And you won’t hurt her,” Dominik told Baden. “I won’t let—”

Baden glared him into silence before returning his attention to her. “You know which coin I seek?”

“No, but you can describe it and I can search Alek’s home.” If Baden kept the guards at bay, she could finally hunt for her dogs without fear of getting caught. “Let’s go there now.”

“You’ve seen the trouble your husband is willing to endure to ensure the coin remains hidden.” Dark red waves fell over his strong brow, swatches of pure silk. “It won’t be in a drawer.”

Probably not. “Perhaps it’s inside a safe-deposit box. I can gather all his keys. If we leave now—”

Dominik squeezed her arm but didn’t say another word.

“What do you think I did before coming to the chapel?” Baden asked.

He’d been to the house? “Did you see three pit bulls? One is brindle, one is gray, and—”

“There were no dogs of any breed,” he interjected, his brow furrowed. “No cats, either.”

Devastation mixed with anger, the deadly combination frothing inside her. Where had Alek hidden her pets?

The white-haired man sidled up to Baden and, after a slight hesitation, patted his shoulder. “We have a problem. William killed the last—” His green eyes landed on Dominik, and he nodded. “Never mind. You kept a messenger alive. We’re good.”

Bile nearly choked her. “Three of you managed to kill over fifty armed guards?”

The white-haired man regarded her, all did the bride hit her head on the way out? “Wasn’t like it was a big deal. They were only human.” He smiled and walked away.

Only human. She couldn’t stop her gaze from seeking Baden’s, despite her warning to the contrary. He still watched her with that air of challenge, and she gulped. “You don’t consider yourself human? So what are you, the boogeyman?”

“Yes.”

What!

He stepped aside and motioned toward the sanctuary, the muscles in his arm flexing. “You will return. Now.”

Leave the crazy man? No need to tell her twice. She raced down the hall and burst through the doors. She would stand guard over Alek if necessary and—

She skidded to a halt. Blood covered the walls and pews and pooled on the floor. Bodies, body parts and other things she couldn’t name were flung here, there and everywhere.

Alek was nailed to the podium, unconscious, his head slumped forward. The bile returned, and waves of nausea crashed through her once again; she closed the distance. Her hand trembled as she felt for a pulse...it was barely perceptible, but it was there.

“Happy now?” Baden came up behind her, his shadow completely engulfing her.

“No! You tortured—”

“Rapists and killers. Yes. They got what they deserved.”

“What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?” And...and...the amount of death...the level of destruction...the trial of the day... “I think I’m going to—”

Too late. She hunched over and retched.

Baden had dragged her brother alongside him, but neither male did the gentlemanly thing and held her veil out of the danger zone.

She almost snorted as she straightened and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. A brutal savage and a callous heroin addict hadn’t come to her aid? What madness!

“Mater ti je kurva,” Dominik snapped at Baden as he struggled for freedom. Your mother is a whore. “You will pay for the travesty done this day.”

Unconcerned by the outburst, Baden looked Katarina over. A spark of something lit his eyes, making her shiver. With dread. Had to be dread. “Aleksander will be the one to pay, and in a most unexpected manner. I’ve decided to take—his bride.”

4

“Only one thing should be infectious. Your smile.”

—Torin, keeper of Disease

“YOU CAN’T JUST...take me,” the bride said, obviously alarmed.

What was her name?

“I can, and I will. Don’t fight me.” The blood in Baden’s veins sang, Destruction purring in harmony. Tides of pleasure rolled through him. Hate the beast, but love this. Nothing in his life—this one or the one before—had ever compared. And all it had taken? The total annihilation of another man’s army.

So sure the annihilation is the cause? What about the girl?

One look at her and he’d been overcome with the urge to rut, long and hard and often—and oddly enough, to protect.

It was insanity. She meant nothing to him.

William and Torin were busy searching the slain for the coin. Just in case. Baden watched them, and the bride watched Baden, the heat of her gaze scalding him.

She cursed at him. “You’re smiling right now.”

Was he?

“Violence delights you? That’s sick. Sick!” She unleashed a stream of Slovakian profanity, calling him terrible names and accusing him of sleeping with everything from a rat to a goat. Her anger clearly freed her of all fear.

Destruction paid her no heed. She was puny, harmless.

She actually amused Baden. So much rage in such a tiny body.

If ever her passion was redirected...

He swallowed a rumble of need—to hurt, only to hurt, surely—no longer amused.

Her brother reached out to slap a hand over her mouth, but she batted him away and continued shouting, saving the male from a blade through the heart. Baden had claimed the girl as a war prize. For one night, she would belong to him. He would safeguard what was his.

“Do not touch her again,” he said with undeniable hostility.

The color drained from the brother’s cheeks.

The bride moved in front of Baden, demanding his attention. A clear attempt to shelter the male who should have done everything in his power to shelter her.

Her concern for the men in her life—the scum—irritated him. Delighting in violence was sick, she’d said, and yet she had bound herself to a human who’d left the bodies of both the guilty and the innocent in his wake.

“There’s a better way,” she announced. “Killing a defenseless man is unnecessary and cowardly.”

“No man is defenseless. Not while he has his wits.”

“If wits are a weapon, some men are better armed than others. Some, like yourself, are actually unarm—”

“Katarina,” the brother snapped. “Enough.”

Katarina. A delicate name for a delicate (looking) woman.

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

She was far, faaar from Baden’s type. He preferred strong warrior-women. Someone able to back up her boasts with her body. Like Pandora. Once or twice he’d even considered pausing their war. In the end, the desire to defeat her had always proved stronger than the desire to pleasure her.

He studied Katarina more intently. Her dark brown hair was wound in an intricate knot at the crown of her head, not a single tendril free to frame her arresting face. Arresting, even despite its delicacy. Big gray-green eyes possessed a catlike slant, sensually complemented by thick, straight brows and a fan of black lashes. A light smattering of freckles dotted an elegant nose and blade-sharp cheekbones. Plump lips dared a man to taste...

Resist.

Her jaw was her boldest feature, the one he wanted to trace with his fingertips; it was almost triangular, coming to a blunt point at her chin.

Her skin was as smooth and flawless as a freshly polished onyx stone—except for her arms. Multiple scars stretched from the inside of her elbows all the way to her wrists, each in the shape of teeth. She’d been bitten. But by what?

On her right arm, she had a tattoo. Once upon a time...

It was the beginning of more than one fairy tale, and an interesting choice for a gold digger. And she was a gold digger. He could think of no other reason a woman with such an indomitable spirit would pledge to love, honor and obey a man like Aleksander.

“Please,” she said, switching tactics. “Give me a chance to find your coin. Alek has other homes. He has businesses. As his wife, I’ll have full access. I will gladly search them all.”

“How quick you are to betray your new husband.” It irritated him as much as her concern. “Though I doubt he wanted you for your loyalty.”

Done with the conversation, Baden grabbed her by the waist and hung her upside down, tucking her against his side, effectively avoiding skin-to-skin contact.

She kicked and flailed to no avail. He was simply too strong and her dress was too big, creating the perfect cage.

The brother reached for her. A mistake. Baden kicked his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to his ass.

“Stay,” he commanded. “Or end up like the others.”

The brother stayed down but spit on Baden’s boots. “You won’t kill me. You need me to deliver a message for you.”

“Do I? A note would work just as well.”

Eyes the same gray-green as Katarina’s blazed with fury. “Take the girl, and Alek will kill you.”

Baden grinned—so did Destruction. “You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.”

Confusion shadowed the male’s features, followed quickly by fear as screams tapered to moans throughout the sanctuary. Did he finally grasp the full scope of Baden’s ruthlessness?

“A note won’t convey proper emotion,” the boy said.

He disagreed but said, “When Aleksander wakes, tell him I’ll find him in the morning. Hiding from me will do no good. If he fails to give me the coin, I’ll keep my promise and take something else he values. Something that will make him bleed.”

As the bride continued to struggle, Baden strode down the center aisle. “Let’s go,” he called.

William and Torin finished their search and raced over to flank his sides. They were spattered with crimson, but unlike him, they were free of injury. Good, that was good. Seeing them hurt might have propelled him into an unstoppable rampage. Against them!

Destruction liked to kick a man while he was down.

Should have ditched the pair and come alone.

When he’d told his friends about the life-and-death competition hosted by Hades, the entire group had insisted on accompanying him. Baden had protested. The warriors had families now. Wives and children, as William had reminded him. There was no reason to endanger any of them. And they had life-and-death things to do, like finding the box and the Morning Star before Lucifer. Even finding Pandora, who’d gone off the grid. What if she turned her rage to the Lords, now that she was forbidden from striking at Baden? Also, Sabin and Strider were exploring ways to free Baden from his bands, and therefore Hades’s control, while allowing Baden to retain his tangibility.

In the end, the warriors had overruled him, drawing straws to decide who would have the honor of aiding him. The honor. As if he was a prize they adored rather than a piece of shit who’d abandoned them. His guilt sharpened and razed his chest. How was he ever going to right the wrongs of his past when he owed his friends more and more?

Cameo, the keeper of Misery, and Torin had won the draw. William, who’d returned from the sexual buffet slash murder-fest, had simply said, “Try to stop me. Dare you. Oh, and it goes without saying you’ll owe me another favor.”

They reached the chapel exit. Baden stepped over the first set of guards he’d felled then shouldered his way through the door, sunlight and warm air greeting him.

“Taking the human is kind of a creeper move. You know that, right?” Torin said.

His words rallied Katarina. She increased her struggles, saying, “I can’t leave Alek. Please! Let me go.”

Her fear thrilled Destruction. “Calm yourself, girl. I have no plans to hurt you.”

“Plans can change, yes?”

Oh, yes. “The good news is, we’ll be together for only one night.” No matter how Aleksander felt about her—love or simple lust—he would move heaven and earth to get her back. Today his pride had been pricked. If he allowed another man to steal his woman, he would lose the respect of his men. Or what remained of his men. His authority would be challenged daily.

He would hand over the coin, and that would be that. Baden would be awarded his first point and take the lead in Hades’s game.

Actually, Baden would be awarded his second point. Once he secured Katarina, he would be flashing to the siren. He would remove her tongue, as demanded.

A dagger pierced his conscience. One he couldn’t remove. Aleksander was scum. The siren was not. How could he damage her?

Would her tongue grow back? She was immortal, but like Baden, she was a spirit.

How was he supposed to live with himself after committing such a foul deed?

Easy, Destruction said. You live.

When Katarina beat her fists into his side, Baden added, “Your actions will dictate mine.”

“Panchart!”

The sidewalks were crowded, the streets jammed with cars. Baden’s SUV was double-parked, Cameo waiting behind the wheel.

“Help me!” Katarina shouted, and he wasn’t surprised. To her, there was no better opportunity to escape. “This is an abduction!”

No one paid her any heed, everyone too busy staring at their phones, pretending the rest of the world no longer existed.

“Give her to me,” William said, making grabby hands. “I think I’ve proven I’m better with the opposite sex. And mission planning. And fighting. And basic hair care. Frizz isn’t your friend, Baden.”

Baden tightened his hold on the girl. “My prisoner. Mine.”

“Wow. Selfish much?” William frowned at him. “And after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You mean everything I’ll have to pay you for doing?” The favors to be named later had seemed innocent enough at the time. Slay an enemy for him? Guard his back during battle? Sure. Now the possibilities were endless and the beast...wasn’t pleased.

Kill him. A command, as always, though this one lacked any true heat because of William’s connection to Hades.

Death isn’t the answer to every situation.

William pouted. “You act as if payment makes my good deeds less altruistic.”

“It does!” Baden noticed two stray dogs perched on the curb.

Destruction growled in warning, and the dogs growled right back, as if they heard the sound Baden never released. The two were big, both black and white with patches of missing fur. Mange?

Katarina went as still as a statue. Quietly, calmly, she said, “Don’t you dare hurt those poor animals.”

I will not be ordered, the beast snapped. I will—

Nothing. You will nothing. Baden stepped around the dogs. The pair watched him with intense fixation, ready to pounce, and yet they made no move to jump him.

“Have a heart and call a shelter,” she said.

“Already messaged one.” Torin shoved his phone in his pocket and moved in front of him to open the back passenger door.

Baden threw the girl inside the vehicle, followed her in and caught her by the waist as she lunged for the opposite door. A superfluous action. William entered, blocking her from the other side. Torin claimed the front seat.

“Testosterone sandwich.” William pulled a moist towelette from a dispenser hanging on the back of the driver’s seat and handed it to Baden. “You should clean the condiments off your side of the bun.”

“Curak!” the bride sneered as Baden removed the blood from his face. The Slovak word for prick. “I’ve done nothing to you. Say yes to your heart and let me go.”

Baden fought—yes. An actual grin. “You think I have a heart?”

Even Destruction snorted.

Adorable.

“A human hostage?” Cameo burned rubber, speeding away from the chapel. “Really, boys? Whose bright idea was that?”

Everyone cringed, lances of sadness accompanying Cameo’s words. Baden, William and Torin were used to the sensation and rebounded quickly. Not the human. She paled and trembled, curling into herself.

“Only one of us stopped using our big-boy brain.” Torin hiked his thumb in Baden’s direction. “Our very own beastie boy.”

“What just happened?” Katarina whispered. “I never cry, and yet suddenly I want to bawl.”

Never? “Misery,” he replied, and left it at that.

“But...I’m always miserable.” Bitterness laced her tone. “You...this...this is nothing new.”

What did she mean, always miserable? She’d just married her dream man, had she not?

Cameo took the next corner a little too swiftly, nearly tossing everyone out the window. “Almost there.”

Again, the human curled into herself.

He snapped, “Not another word out of you, Cam.”

“What’s your name?” William asked the human, a clear tactic to distract her.

“Katarina Joelle,” she said, tremors in her voice.

“Katarina Ciernik now,” Baden corrected, unable to hide his disdain.

She bucked up, her temper once again pricked. “You’re right. I am. And a bride’s place is beside her husband.”

“So eager to return to your doom?”

“As if staying with you is any better, vyhon si.”

“Jerk-off? Words hurt, petal. Perhaps you need your mouth washed out with soap. Or the magic elixir. Lucky for you, I happen to have a little magic elixir right...” William unfastened his pants. “Here. A potion so strong it will take down Typhon.”

Typhon, also known as the father of all monsters. Baden grabbed William’s wrist to stop him from showing Katarina the source of the “elixir.”

“So suspicious.” The male tsk-tsked, and after shaking off Baden’s hold, pulled a tiny glass vial from a hidden pocket sewn on the inside of his slacks.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Katarina reared back. “Nie. Nie drugs. Please.”

Finally, the proper human response from her. Baden stuffed the vial of “magic elixir” in his own pocket, casting her a just in case look. “No drugs. If you stay still and quiet.”

* * *

Katarina took stock, calculating the LGB. By remaining still and quiet, as commanded, she would avoid sedation. Awake, she could listen to conversations, learn more about her captors, fight if necessary, and keep track of her surroundings to better her chances of escape.

Though she trembled, she did her best to settle comfortably against the seat. And, even more difficult, she kept her lips pressed together for the remainder of the drive.

Finally, the driver—a black-haired, silver-eyed beauty—parked at a busy curb. She turned to wink at Katarina. “You’re in good hands. Promise.”

The sadness! Katarina wanted to die. The sooner the better. All of her loved ones were dead. Midnight was dead, and not just because of the poison. Her brother hadn’t administered a strong enough dose, had merely caused Midnight’s organs to begin to shut down. Her precious dog had been in pain, so much pain, with no hope of recovery, the vet had told her. She’d had to put a dog in the prime of his life to sleep, holding on to his paw as he slipped away.

“What part of not another word out of you did you not understand, Cameo?” Baden asked. “The bride looks ready to scoop out her internal organs and set them ablaze.”

He acted as if the woman’s voice was the source of the problem. Which was impossible...yes?

Baden opened a door and wrapped an arm around Katarina’s waist, his gaze locking with hers. “If you run, I’ll catch you. If you scream, I’ll make you wish you’d died inside the chapel.”

She shuddered. If ever a man would do as promised—and enjoy it—it was this one.

“I won’t run,” she croaked. “Won’t scream.”

As he “helped” her from the car, a barbed lump grew in her throat. She studied her new surroundings, memorizing details for police. Myriad flower boxes bloomed with begonias and lined the road’s median, separating the traffic running north and south. The design of buildings varied, everything from medieval Gothic to box-shaped chrome and glass.

She’d seen very little of Manhattan, having spent most of her time confined inside Alek’s country estate, and had no idea where she was.

Baden ushered her toward the only brownstone with copper-framed windows. A doorman let them pass a set of large glass doors without impediment, saying, “Congratulations on your nuptials, sir.”

Baden ignored him. Katarina silently begged for help.

When the man merely smiled blankly at her, her shoulders hunched with disappointment.

People sucked. Her dogs would have helped her without hesitation.

Summer warmth gave way to cool air-conditioning. Once again she searched her surroundings. The ornate interior boasted a colorful ceiling mural and four three-tiered chandeliers that dripped with thousands of crystal teardrops. To the left was a beautiful winding staircase, hand-carved cherubs perched along the railing. To the right, multiple sitting areas delimited a massive unlit hearth.

The people milling about the lobby stared with open curiosity at the leather-clad warrior and the gaudy bride, but only for a second, not wanting to appear rude.

Can’t scream, can’t scream, really can’t scream.

“You can be reasonable,” Baden said as the elevator doors closed, sealing them inside the small cart. Alone. “I’m impressed.”

His condescension irked. Death would be a small price to pay for standing up to such a brute. “You can be an asshole. I’m not impressed.”

“You have spirit.” He used a key card and punched a button for the top floor. The key card must have programmed the elevator to continue ascending, despite anyone waiting for a ride on any of the other floors, because they never stopped to acquire new passengers. “Your problem is you can’t back up your spirit with brute strength.”

The comment only irked her further.

Be strong, Katarina. Her mother’s final words echoed in her mind. Without strength, we have nothing...we are nothing.

I’m someone!

“I suggest you be careful when dealing with one such as me,” Baden added. “I’m a monster.”

“The boogeyman,” she whispered. The only real emotion he’d displayed was delight, and all because men were in pieces around him. He was the kind of person who cheered and placed bets as dogs fought to the death.

Keep his mind on his goal. “What’s so special about the coin you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

Her brow creased with confusion. Had she mistranslated his words? “You don’t know?”

“No.”

And yet, he’d killed dozens of people to obtain the thing. He even planned to dismember Alek. “Explain. Please.”

Ding. He led her down a hall, past a door and into a spacious room with gleaming dark wood floors draped with Tibetan rugs. Every piece of furniture was antique, boasting a unique animal carving: a swan, an elephant, even a winged lion. The fabric bordering the large rounded windows matched the rugs, the sides pulled back to reveal elaborate stained glass.

“Sit.” He gave her a gentle push, and yet she stumbled onto the couch, plopping onto the comfortable cushions. “Stay.”

Two commands she’d often given her dogs. Her fists clenched around her gown’s colossal skirt, wrinkling the material. She was the trainer, not the other way around.

When an aggressive canine was sent to her for taming, she would introduce herself slowly, often pretending she was alone as she puttered around in places he could watch her without feeling as though she encroached on his space. What she didn’t do was allow him to scare her away. He would only lash out more aggressively the next time she appeared.

Baden wasn’t a dog, but he was certainly feral. The same principle applied. So, she stood.

He said nothing as she increased the distance between them. She pretended to scrutinize lamps, vases and the portraits on the wall, each a different type of flower.

“You appear calm and at ease, and yet I can sense your terror.” He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

Surviving a feral, rule one: Never show fear.

Basically, fake it till you make it.

Two: Use a soft but assertive tone. Anything else could rouse hostility.

Three: Remember you get what you reinforce, not necessarily what you expect.

In this case, she ignored number four: Place the dog’s needs first.

And skipped to number five: Find out what will work best with each individual dog.

“How do you sense my terror?” she asked, her tone soft but confident. “I have no tells.”

His raspy chuckle held a note of self-deprecation. “Trust me. You have tells. My more beastly qualities enjoy them.”

“Do your more beastly qualities think I should thank you for kidnapping me?”

“Yes. I did you a favor, nevesta. Consider this a holiday from the terrible life awaiting you.”

“You know nothing about my life. Or me!”

He scoffed, his disgust back in full force. “You are married to Aleksander Ciernik. I can guess.”

Don’t know this man, don’t like him. His opinion doesn’t matter. But...

What would he do if she told him about the dogs? Would he understand her plight? Help her? Or would he condemn her?

Will never tell him! He was a killer, as bad as Alek—maybe worse—and he might hunt down her babies just to spite her.

“Your greed will bring you nothing but pain,” he said.

She blinked at him. “Greed?”

“You covet your husband’s money and power.”

Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails cutting. “What about his pretty face? And what of redeeming him? Could I not want to make an honest man of him?”

“A bad man is a bad man,” he said, his tone flat.

“No hope for you, then, eh?”

Direct hit. He scowled at her.

Clearly, she’d stumbled onto dangerous territory. She backtracked, forcing a saucy grin. “Perhaps I spoke too hastily. Perhaps I just don’t know you well enough. Yet.” If she could get her hands on the vial in his pocket, she could drug him. She could escape, return to Alek, save her babies, and run...for the rest of her life.

Her grin slipped. “Why don’t you order room service for us both, pekný?” Handsome. She winked at him. “I’m dying—hopefully not literally—to learn more about you.”

* * *

Baden was no longer amused by the girl’s outbursts. The angry ones...and the flirtatious ones. More and more, he disliked how she made him feel. She looked at him as if he was a disappointment—because he was. She considered him as bad as the human she’d married—with good reason.

By the time he finished with the siren, he would be far worse.

“I’m your captor,” he told her, “not your provider.” She was beautiful, somehow more beautiful by the minute, and she most assuredly had plans to charm him. How many men had she tricked over the years? How many had she bled dry before moving on to another one?

Power before sentiment.

“Do you plan to keep me weak with hunger?” She continued to meander around the room, the innate sway to her hips acting as a summoning finger. Come here. Touch. He found the strength to resist. Barely. “Fear I’ll overpower you otherwise?”

“Hardly. I’ve never met a feebler female.” How easy it would be to wrap his hands around the elegant column of her neck and end her.

Or better yet, he could chew her up and spit her out.

She whipped around to face him, anger crackling in her eyes. “I’m feeble because a he-man was able to cart me away from my wedding?”

“Yes. You are unable to protect yourself, or even to take care of yourself. You need others to do it for you.”

Threatened by those with power, disdainful of those without it. Was there any type of person he liked?

Katarina looked as if he’d slapped her. Then she blinked away the wound and pouted at him. “Can any woman protect herself from you, pekný?” She picked up a vase, weighed it in her palm. Deciding if it would make a decent missile? “I bet you slay hearts...figuratively as well as literally. Oh, and let’s not forget the panties you must melt.”

Just. Like. That. He shot hard as stone.

William strode through the front door, spotted Baden’s state, and rolled his eyes. He launched into a speech about necessary tweaks to security.

Focus. Engage. But Baden...couldn’t. The bulk of his attention remained on Katarina. When she filched something from a side table, he stalked to her side and, ignoring the pain of skin-to-skin contact, pried open her fingers.

She gasped as he stepped back, taking...a pen with him. A simple ink pen?

“Fine,” she said. “Keep it. I didn’t want to write down the poem I’d composed about you, anyway.”

A lie. She’d hoped to use the pen as a weapon. Silly woman. Did she not know her own limitations? She’d vomited at the sight of blood. She would never have the courage to attack him. “Tell me the poem.” A command, not a request. “I’m brimming with anticipation.”

She smiled sweetly at him, batting her lashes. “His beauty is terrible, just like his temper. I look at him and I can only whimper.”

Funny. Baden leaned down, putting him nose-to-nose with her. “Do you like the beginning of my poem? I’m no better than a homicidal maniac right now. Mess with me, and you’ll see how.”

5

“If this situation sucked any harder, I’d have an orgasm.”

—Paris, keeper of Promiscuity

KATARINA REMAINED DOCILE as Baden ushered her down a long hallway. He probably viewed her passivity as another sign of weakness. Let him. His mistake, her gain. He would never expect her to act against him. Which she planned to do, in three...two...one...

She sagged into him, pretending to faint while reaching inside his pocket to filch the vial. Success!

She hid the drug within the folds of her gown as he snarled and hefted her into his arms. He carried her inside a spacious bedroom, the sleeves of his shirt lifting to reveal the metal bands fixed to his biceps. Bands warm to the touch. He tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed.

She maintained a smooth expression and lax body as she bounced.

“Behave, girl, and tomorrow morning you’ll be returned to your husband in the same condition you left him.” Footsteps pounded. The door snicked shut, sealing her inside. The lock engaged with an ominous click.

She waited one second...five...ten...before opening her eyes. Alone! Yes! She jumped up and rushed around the room, searching for a way out. Maybe Baden would take her to Alek tomorrow, maybe he wouldn’t. Probably he wouldn’t. She’d seen his face; she could identify him to authorities. Once he had the coin, he would be better off killing her.

The window had been sealed shut. The knob on the balcony doors had been removed and plastered over, preventing her from picking the lock. Fine. She switched gears, hunting for weapons. But all knickknacks had been removed. There were no paintings on the walls—nothing to smash over his fat head. In the bathroom, there were no brushes to use as shanks.

Either he’d expected to take a prisoner and prepared, or she wasn’t the first person he’d abducted.

Think, think. She spun in a circle, eyeing every piece of furniture as if it was the answer to the question: Will I live or die? The dresser! Determined, she opened an empty drawer. A sense of triumph overtook her when she noticed the knobs were attached with nails.

The plan: use those nails to gouge Baden’s eyes and escape.

Though she broke several of her own nails and ended up with multiple cuts on her fingers, she managed to unscrew two before the door lock clicked.

Her heart an unruly hammer against her ribs, she dove onto the bed, hiding her hands in the folds of the comforter.

Baden rolled in a cart of food. “Eat. You won’t wither away on my watch.” He threw a bundle of clothing at her feet. “Also, do us both a favor and change. I’ve never seen an uglier dress.”

Then he hadn’t rifled through the closet Alek had filled for her. “I’m curious. What poison did you use to flavor this food?”

He scowled at her, but took a bite of every dish before stalking to the exit.

“Don’t you want to eat with me? We can—”

He shut the door and turned the lock.

Great! How was she supposed to drug him if he refused to spend time with her?

The answer ceased to matter as the scents of sugar, spice and everything nice wafted to her nose. Can’t...resist... Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled as she walked toward the cart. Since her arrival in New York...however long ago...Alek had basically starved her.

Have to maintain your girlish figure.

And, she was sure, the lack of nourishment had the added bonus of keeping her weak and befuddled.

Weak...

I’ve never met a feebler female.

Don’t like him, his opinion doesn’t matter.

As she lifted the lid from each dish, the scents intensified, and so did the grumbles in her stomach. She discovered creamy pasta with flakes of crabmeat, a bacon-wrapped filet with butter-drenched asparagus on the side, a strawberry-and-spinach salad, and a bowl of French onion soup. But her favorite? The pecan pie soaked in melting vanilla ice cream. Baden might be a bastard, but he was a bastard with excellent taste buds.

She inhaled the dessert first, shoveling in bite after bite. The pasta received the same treatment, and by the time she cleared the plate, she was moaning with discomfort, so full she might pop.

Battling a stomachache, she changed into the new clothes: a pair of shorts and a pink T-shirt that read “William Approved.” Both were a little too snug, but she’d have an easier time moving in them.

She’d make him regret the gift.

She padded to the door. She could pick the lock as she’d done at Alek’s home, but why? Baden would stop her. Maybe she could prevent him from getting in, at least for a little while, and figure out her next move without fear he’d harm her any second.

She struggled and strained to pull the dresser in front of the entrance, and finally succeeded. Not the best barricade, but adequate.

Her mind raced as she worked on liberating another nail. Considering Baden had accomplices, the more ammunition she acquired the better. But the stomachache only intensified, eventually welcoming bone-deep fatigue. Her adrenaline began to crash, her limbs growing heavier, until they weighed a thousand pounds each.

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t you dare fall asleep.

Sleep, even a light doze, would leave her vulnerable. The very reason she’d only catnapped since Alek entered her life.

Her best option for escape? The balcony. After stuffing the nails and the vial in her pocket, she dragged the comforter to the balcony doors. If she could get outside, she could flag help. She wrapped a pillow around her fist and punched, punched, punched. Finally a section of glass shattered. The tinkling sound was muffled, thanks to the comforter she’d draped, but it still made her cringe. She waited one minute, two, a seeming eternity, unable to breathe.

Baden never reentered the room. Was he even nearby? Or had he taken off, leaving her to rot?

She removed as much glass as possible and shimmied through the opening. Hot summer air had turned the entire area into an oven. She stood, expecting to see wrought iron, but the bright rays of sunshine highlighted six-foot-tall brick walls with ivy spilling over the sides. Tristo hrmenych! The balcony was completely surrounded by the brick, in fact. She could see no one, no other room and no other balcony.

She’d have to climb the wall to catch someone’s attention. Heart, don’t fail me now. She scaled up...up...using irregularities in the bricks as handholds and footrests. When finally she cleared the top, she straddled the ledge and held on for dear life.

Don’t you dare look down.

She looked down, and oh, wow, her heart failed her, shuttering in her chest. She was a million flights up. Cars looked like ants and people mere specks. If she fell, she would become the definition of splat.

Sweat beading over her skin, she scanned the C-shaped building. Most of the window drapes were drawn. The few balconies within range were guarded only by wrought iron, not brick. A point in her favor. But no one stood—wait! A woman stepped onto the balcony to Katarina’s right.

A striking twentysomething with shoulder-length black hair, the ends straight as a pin but uneven, as if she’d cut the strands with a kitchen knife—and no mirror. She had a strong, angular face and an equally strong body. The kind Baden preferred? Her black tank top put her toned biceps and the black bands wrapped around them on display. Bands just like Baden’s. An American fashion statement?

Both of her arms were tattooed, but from this distance, Katarina couldn’t catalog the designs.

A cigar rested between the woman’s lips, black smoke curling around her. In one hand, she clutched a glass of amber liquid. In the other, she clutched a bottle of amber liquid.

“Madam!” Katarina whisper-yelled, waving her arms. “Madam!”

Eyes of indeterminate color focused on her.

“Potrebujem pomoc. Zavolajte políciu!” The words left in a rush. Speak English! Right. “My name is Katarina Joelle, and I need help. I’m being held prisoner by a man named Baden. He’s a killer. Call the police—”

The woman stubbed out her cigar, turned around and entered her room, shutting the door behind her. Without ever speaking a word.

Katarina withered with disappointment. One of her dogs would have leaped across the building to reach her, but a fellow human being couldn’t be bothered to reply?

Damn it, what was she going to do now?

* * *

The time had come to earn his first point.

Baden flashed to—

The spirit realm. A cottage by the sea, judging by the sound of lapping waves, the scent of salt in the cool evening breeze. The furnishings were sparse, offering only the bare necessities. A couch, a coffee table and a chair. There were no pictures or decorations. No personal items of any kind, the kind of things that made a house a home.

A sweet melody drifted from the back of the house. A woman was humming. More specifically, a siren was humming. The lush, magical quality of her voice swept over Baden and even...soothed Destruction?

A trick of the beast to lull him into a false sense of calm? Always a possibility. Or a wile of the siren?

Baden couldn’t make himself care. He closed his eyes and enjoyed a rare and precious moment of peace.

Only when pots and pans clanged did he snap to attention. Anger burned through him, and Destruction growled. Not a trick, after all. The woman had managed to distract them both without trying. If she had the same power over Hades...

No wonder the male wanted her silenced.

Her, an innocent. Guilt razed Baden all over again.

Can’t afford to lose the game. He still wasn’t convinced Hades would keep his word and free the winner, but right now, he had no solution. He had to participate and buy time.

Determined, he stalked through the house. He stopped in the kitchen entrance, watching as the woman from his ash-vision dried and stored dishes. She moved slowly and always used both hands—one to hold the dish, the other to feel the cabinets as if...

She was blind?

He observed her for several more minutes, just to be sure, and decided, yes, she was blind. Twice, she’d turned in his direction but she’d never displayed a single hint of distress.

Horror joined his guilt. Hades expected him to mute a blind siren? No. Absolutely not. There were lines one simply didn’t cross. Once you did, there was no going back. No being the man you used to be.

What if, when Baden returned without the girl’s tongue, Hades sent Pandora to finish the job? Knowing her, she would act without question. She had centuries’ worth of rage trapped inside her.

Damn it! There was no good option here.

The siren stiffened, quieted. Her ears twitched. “Who’s there?”

Now or never. He flashed directly in front of her, wound his arm around her waist and, as she beat at his chest to no avail, flashed her to Hades.

“I will not hurt her,” Baden announced, and the girl stilled. “You wanted her tongue. Now you have it—attached to her body. If you want to keep it, you will vow not to harm her.”

The king sat upon the throne, the rest of the chamber empty. “You defy me right out of the gate. Shocking.” Such a dry tone.

“If you wanted a devoted acolyte, you should have given the bands to someone else.”

“What I wanted was a minion of darkness. What I got was a pussy! You need to get your shit together.” Hades drummed his fingers impatiently. “I’ll give you one more chance to man up. Let it be known henceforth. Hades, king of the underworld, shall grant his slave Baden one boon, good today only. You may use it any way you see fit. Freedom? A physical body?”

Baden blinked, and the siren vanished from his arms. Another blink, and she reappeared draped over Hades’s lap. She trembled so violently she might have been having a seizure. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, making him think about the tears Katarina hadn’t shed. A pang in his chest.

Hades combed gentle fingers through the girl’s hair, his gaze locked on Baden. “I will take her tongue. Unless you use your boon to stop me.”

Rage—all his own. More guilt. Helplessness. Each bombarded him.

“Think carefully,” Hades said. “You don’t know the crimes this woman has committed against me.”

What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

“Release her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Vow never to harm her, and never to allow someone else to harm her.”

Hades arched a brow. “This is your boon? You’re sure?”

No. No!

He canted his head in agreement, earning a sigh from the king.

“I’ll be damned,” Hades said. “You’re the first of my slaves to do so.”

Others had worn the bands? What had happened to them?

A twinge of hope. With those few words, the king had revealed more than he’d probably wished. A fact Baden would use to his advantage. He would find the answers—and act.

Hades’s days as his lord were numbered.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Hades said. “One day you’ll learn people are never what they seem. Isn’t that right, siren?”

Her tears dried, and she laughed. “Wow. You really are a pompous dick. Let me up. This position isn’t exactly comfortable.”

With a fond smile, Hades released her. She slugged him in the shoulder before she stood. Her eyes remained unfocused as she descended the dais steps, counting silently.

Realization hit. She was blind, but she was no innocent. She was wily as hell.

“What would you have done if I’d put a blade to her?” Baden demanded.

“He would have done nothing,” she said, answering for the king. “I would have stopped you.”

“She’s one of my best fighters.” How proud Hades sounded now.

People are never what they seem...

A trick. Only a trick.

“Await me in my chambers,” Hades told her.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.”

Baden snarled at her when she passed him. She sensed his ire and flipped him off, unabashed, as she sailed through the door.

Were all the tasks Hades assigned him trivial? Or were they tests? What of Aleksander and the coin?

No, not a test. Baden had scented zero fear from the siren, but Aleksander had projected the emotion from the beginning.

Hades wanted him to do his bidding, never certain of the reason, never knowing what was real and what was fake. Perhaps so Baden would never scheme to keep something or someone for himself.

Well, Baden would treat every task with the utmost importance. He would watch and learn. He would find his moment...find a way to beat Pandora and Hades.

“You’ve made a grave error this day, King.” He spat the title like the curse it was.

“Or have I learned more about you than you were able to learn about me?” Hades smiled at him. “Consider today’s lessons freebies, Red. The next one will cost you dearly.”

* * *

Katarina climbed the balcony wall throughout the night...the morning...cursing the height of the brick that blocked any type of view, hoping to catch the attention of someone else. All the while, she listened for Baden, thinking she’d jump down and dive on the bed when he busted through her blockade. And when he was within reach, she would finally put the nails to good use.

As she straddled the top of the balcony wall for what had to be the thousandth time, a hard hand wrapped her ankle and yanked. She tumbled into an equally hard chest. A hiss sounded—one she recognized—and strong arms caught her.

Baden was here!

He roared like a grizzly bear woken too early from hibernation as he set her away from him. His features tightened with...disgust?

Definitely disgust. It was his favorite reaction to her.

“Going somewhere, nevesta?”

Her blood flash-froze. Keep it together. “Just seeing the sights, kretén.” Asshole.

“There’s that naughty mouth again.” Sunlight stroked him, unconcerned by the danger he presented. Or the darkness inside him.

Could she really blame the sun, though? Baden smelled edible. Like honey-and-cinnamon candles set ablaze in the heart of midnight. Delicious and seductive...wanton.

A killer shouldn’t smell like that.

“Do you need the elixir?” he asked.

“Nie.” Soon he would realize the vial was no longer in his possession.

Strike. Now!

In a lightning-fast motion, she grabbed a nail from her pocket and slammed the tip into his neck. Hissing again, he shoved her away from him. She stumbled backward and hit the balcony doors—the closed balcony doors. They sprang open on impact, and she toppled inside the room, skidding into the wall. Stars glittered in front of her eyes.

“Do not touch me,” he barked. “Ever.”

She was that repulsive to him?

When she caught her breath, she said in a dry tone, “But attempting to injure you is okay?”

He plucked the nail from his skin, not a drop of blood leaking from the wound. Was that a drop of...motor oil? “You tried to fight back the only way you could.” He actually sounded impressed. Then he appeared irritated. “Don’t try again.”

Trembling with a mix of astonishment and fear, she lumbered to her feet. His gaze raked her scanty attire, and he lost his air of enmity. He suddenly appeared appreciative.

Had the heater just switched on? Because perspiration now sheened her skin. “Are you taking me to Alek?”

A blank mask quickly covered his features. “No.”

“But why? It’s a new day. He might have the coin ready for you.” He wouldn’t. He’d have an army ready instead. “Don’t you want your treasure? You’ve worked so hard for it...”

Baden combed a hand through his hair, leaving the strands sticking out in spikes. Could he be any sexier?

Shame on her for noticing!

“I want it,” he said, “but I don’t want Hades to have it. So Aleksander can wait.”

“Hades is—”

“Not a topic up for discussion.”

She motored on, anyway. A distracted Baden was better than a roaring Baden. At first glance, he could pass for calm. Upon closer inspection, she realized his pupils were blown, his eyes wild. The muscles in his arms were clenched, the bands pressing deep into his biceps.

“You work for Hades but you don’t actually like him? Why don’t you present him with your resignation and—”

He crossed his arms over his chest. A warning?

“All right. You win,” she said. “We’ll talk about something else while we have a drink, yes?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he motioned to the bedroom door. A door still blocked by the dresser.

She peered at him in question. “How did you get inside?” A secret passage?

Silent, he stalked past her and shoved the dresser out of the way with a single swipe of his arm. Such strength! Her heart pounded as she entered the hallway and followed the path he’d taken last night, snaking around a corner, stepping into the familiar sitting area.

She stopped at the wet bar, keeping her back to him as she poured two glasses of whiskey...and stealthily withdrew the vial; she emptied the contents into the bottle rather than a glass. There was a good chance Baden would decline any drink she offered him, but an even better chance he would indulge on his own later.

As she drained the contents of one glass, she faced him and held out the second. He shook his head. With a shrug, she drained it, too. The alcohol burned going down but settled like melted honey in her stomach, soon warming her.

“Where are your friends?” she asked.

He glared at her as if debating whether to answer her or strangle her.

Maintaining a neutral expression, she looked him over. He wore yesterday’s blood-splattered clothing. Had he slept in them or forced himself to stay awake, like her? Probably the latter. His features were so taut she wasn’t sure he’d ever slept, the poor man.

Wait. Poor man? She had sympathy for him?

No, oh no. Unacceptable! But it made her wonder...what had shaped him into the cold, calculating monster he was?

Finally, he said, “The others are out buying essentials.”

That sweet feeling of melted honey in her stomach? Gone in an instant. “Rope? Knives? Plastic tarp to protect the furniture from blood spray?”

“Monopoly. Candy Land. Jenga.” He settled in the chair across from the couch, the floral fabric somehow showcasing his intense masculinity to perfection.

“Board games?” She chose to remain standing, the dominant position. “For children?”

“Apparently I’m boring. And immature. As soon as I returned from—” He white-knuckled the arms of the chair. “Anyway. The others left.”

That grip of his...a sign his friends had hurt his feelings?

How sad.

No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t! A new plan formed. Make nice with Baden while creating a one-way bond with him, ensuring he kept his word not to harm her, then escape, save her dogs, and run.

Rule six of training canines: keep interactions short and sweet.

Seven: always end on a positive note.

“I’ll get to know you,” she said, feigning delight, “and I’ll decide if you’re boring or not.”

“Your opinion of me hardly matters. We’ll sit in silence.”

Don’t like him. “Poor dear. I’m a very excellent conversationalist, and you fear you’ll struggle to keep up. I understand.”

His lips pursed. “Did your conversation win Aleksander?”

“Please. I blinked, and he came running.” Which was the truth. Unfortunately. “Don’t you consider yourself stronger and smarter than Alek? Shouldn’t you be able to resist my potent allure?”

He traced his tongue over his teeth and stood, the motion jerky. As he marched to the wet bar and poured himself a drink, he avoided her gaze.

Hope unfurled. Finally! Something was going her way.

“What do you want to know about me?” He returned to the chair, his glass half-full. “Why do you want to know?”

A sense of anticipation and triumph flared, one she tried her best to hide. “Why? I’m a curious creature. What? More than once you and your friends have mentioned the people around you are human, implying you yourselves are not. The white-haired man—”

“Torin.”

“Torin even said you are something better. The boogeyman is not better.”

He continued to hold the glass without drinking. Don’t stare. Shouldn’t appear too eager.

“I know you’re not a literal monster,” she said. Had she put a tad too much emphasis on the word?

“So you think we’re...what?” he asked. “Delusional?”

No reason to lie. “Yes. But what do you think you are?”

“Immortal.”

She barked out a laugh. “Like vampires? Werewolves?” The current movie fad.

“If I were a bloodsucker, you would already be drained. If I were a wolf, you would be chained to my bed and used as a pack whore. A kurva jebat’, you’d call it.”

There wasn’t an ounce of amusement in his tone, and she sobered, realizing he truly believed what he was saying—believed creatures of the night existed.

“I’ll tell no one,” she said, raising her right hand. In fiction, otherworldly predators liked to keep their origins a secret, often killing the ones who discovered the truth. “You have my word.”

“Tell whoever you’d like. You’ll be labeled crazy. Insane.” He shrugged and at long last drained the glass.

Relief bathed her, cool and sweet. She waited, watching him closely for any sign of sedation, but nothing changed.

Rule eight: distract when necessary. “Convince me. Tell me about your life.”

“Again, why should I bother?”

“Because I’d really love to hear your story?”

“That’s insufficient enticement.”

“So...what do you want?”

His gaze heated. He inhaled sharply, as if he wasn’t pleased with the direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he was a little too pleased. His pants suddenly looked tighter.

The moisture in her mouth dried. She pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “Just tell me. Pretty please. Please!”

The plea...actually softened his expression. “For centuries I lived in Mount Olympus, a guard to Zeus. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Everyone has. My friends and I were vastly offended when he gave his greatest treasure, dimOuniak, to a female to guard. You know this treasure as Pandora’s box. To punish Zeus, we stole it, opened it and unleashed the demons trapped inside it.”

Wait, wait, wait. “Demons?”

A curt nod. “He decided to punish us and cursed us to host a demon inside our bodies. I was given Distrust, though I was liberated from him the day I was beheaded.”

She snorted. “Beheaded? And yet, here you are, alive and well.”

“Alive, yes. Well, no. No one, immortal or human, is merely a body. We have spirits and as you can see, my spirit is still very much intact.”

“You’re saying you’re a ghost?”

“In a fashion.” He set his empty glass on the side table, his arm disappointingly steady. “I spent the past four thousand years trapped inside a prison realm. Until a few weeks ago, when I was freed just like the demons in the box.”

“Demons,” she repeated hollowly. She accepted the supernatural and always had. The world, humans and animals were so amazingly intricate, so perfectly honed, and so clearly of intelligent design, she knew there was a God...and if there was a God, there were guardian angels.

Her guardian angel was on vacation. Obviously.

Also, she’d seen far too much evil not to believe there were demons ruled by a devil. But...but...

Baden wasn’t an immortal. He couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. Normal. Ordinary.

“Where’s your laughter now, nevesta?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. He dared mock her? “Perhaps I’m too busy wondering if you’re going to blame your crimes on the demon.”

“No,” he said, surprising her. “I’m no longer possessed. Not by a demon, anyway. I’m not sure what inhabits me now. A dark presence...a beast named Destruction. But I don’t blame him for what was done at the chapel. I made my own choices. I pulled the trigger. I wielded the blade.”

A beast? Destruction? “You hurt the men in the chapel so easily. I’m guessing violence isn’t new to your wheelhouse, whether you are what you claim or not.”

“No, it’s not new to me. But sometimes it’s a special treat.”

Cold fingers of dread walked the length of her spine. “The more evil you do, the more evil you are,” she said softly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined she was safe in Peter’s arms. A girl with a bright future. Happy. Hopeful. “What does your girlfriend...wife?...think of your proclivities?”

“I have no woman I call my own. There’s no one strong enough to handle me.”

Without strength, we have nothing. We are nothing.

“Strength is your only requirement in a mate?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “No. I want no mate. I’m too dangerous.”

He looked away from her, focusing beyond her. The color drained from his face, and flickers of red lit his eyes. No, no. His eyes were bloodshot, that was all. The horror of the situation—and his declarations—had affected her perception of him.

Sweat rolled from his brow as a tremor rocked him. Was he having a panic attack? Or was he fighting whatever he considered the beast?

She contemplated comforting him, but she knew better than to touch him.

“Sing,” he croaked. “Sing now.”

She wanted to snap at him for issuing such a harsh command, but she obeyed him instead. She’d often serenaded her dogs whenever they’d been frenzied. More often than not, they’d calmed. Within a few minutes, the red began to ebb from Baden’s eyes. He released a heavy sigh, the color returning to his cheeks.

He rubbed his temple, as if to ward off an ache. Or a voice he couldn’t silence.

Were the drugs finally kicking in? She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. If he suspected...

Keep him distracted.

“Well. It’s my turn to share.” Before he could order her to be quiet, she said, “I grew up with an American father. He was black. My mother was Slovak and as white as snow. Most people accepted our family, but there were some who didn’t. I got in trouble on more than one occasion for fighting the didn’ts. Knock-down-drag-outs at school. Daddy used to say we can’t fight fire with fire. We have to use water.”

“I had...no mother.” Baden blinked rapidly as his head lolled to the side. His eyes closed slowly, and stayed closed, his body slumping over the side of the couch.

What had he meant, he’d had no mother?

Did it matter? There was no better time to act. Stay calm. Stay focused. Katarina ran to the front door, searching for more weapons along the way. No knives, no guns. Nothing. Fine. She would go with what she had. Her hands shook as she flipped the lock. Hinges squeaked as the entrance swung open.

Ding. Elevator doors slid apart. Out strode the black-haired woman who’d smoked a cigar on her balcony. She had a big black bag slung over her shoulder—and headed straight for Katarina.

Humans weren’t a waste of space, after all. She’d come to help.

“Thank you!” Katarina stopped in front of her. “We need to notify—”

“Where’s Baden?” the woman asked, a raspy quality to her voice. Like Baden, she had a slight Greek accent.

The accent...the bands...

Unease overshadowed Katarina’s sense of elation. “In there. Asleep. I drugged him.”

The woman smiled with relish. “Well, well. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

Katarina latched onto her wrist to pull her back to the elevators. “Come on. We must notify the authorities. They’ll handle—”

“No. They won’t. But I will.” With that, the woman slammed her forehead into Katarina’s.

She careened backward, pain and vertigo rushing her. Her last thought before darkness swallowed her whole: Only I could escape a murderer and go from bad to worse.

6

“Steal the box, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”

—Baden, companion to Destruction

BADEN FOUGHT THROUGH the oppressive taint of lethargy, Destruction roaring obscenities in the back of his mind. Katarina had drugged him, obviously, and escaped.

As weak as she was physically, she was strong mentally. She’d proved to be smart, resourceful and sneaky. He’d underestimated her. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

He almost...admired her right now. Almost.

Enemies must be dealt with swiftly and harshly.

Destruction wasn’t so easily impressed.

Only a few minutes ago, the beast had raged inside Baden’s head—the discussion about parents had made him think of his mother, Jezebel. A witch who’d ruled a section of the underworld before Hades. The bitch who’d sold Destruction to one of the (former) kings—the male who’d locked him in the dungeon all those centuries ago.

Remembering the calm the siren had caused with her voice, Baden had command Katarina sing to him. She wasn’t a siren, or even part siren, and yet she’d caused a stronger reaction. The beast hadn’t just calmed, he’d purred, utterly content.

She had power over him. Another reason she had to die.

Baden’s ears twitched as the front door opened. Booted footsteps thumped against the floor. Too heavy to belong to Katarina.

A tension-laced pause ended with a soft chuckle he recognized. Pandora had found him.

She must have passed Katarina at the bank of elevators. Had she harmed the human to get to him?

Baden raged, and yet the beast quieted.

Pandora tsk-tsked. “Apparently females are your Kryptonite, my friend. This is the second time one has led to your murder.”

Threat? Destruction asked. He wasn’t sure?

Baden fought the lethargy with all his strength, his nerve endings beginning to tingle as they came back to life.

“Do you remember the feel of the blade slicing through your neck?” she asked, maintaining a conversational tone. “No worries if you don’t. I’m about to remind you.”

Something heavy whacked the coffee table. He managed to crack open his eyelids as a zipper opened.

Threat! Destruction snarled. Must eliminate.

“When I’m finished with you,” Pandora said, digging inside an oversize duffel bag, “I’m going to kill your friends. And I’m going to make it hurt.”

If she targeted Baden, not fine, but whatever. Just more of the same. But to turn her murderous intentions to his brothers and sister? Too far!

The beast snarled louder.

She continued blithely. “You and the others...you didn’t just take the box from me, didn’t just end my life. You ruined my only chance to—” She pressed her lips together, and her nostrils flared.

Her only chance to what? In all their years together, she’d never revealed the secrets of her past.

She slapped different metal parts together, creating a battery-powered chain saw. She smiled as she pushed a button, the motor revving and blades spinning.

She had come to play.

Rage consumed him; the rivers of black the wreaths had etched into his skin now chewed through his veins and burrowed deep into his bones, forcing them to expand. All the while, Destruction slammed against his chest—a chest that expanded, as well. Unnatural strength flooded him, dark and intoxicating, more than he’d ever experienced, as if the beast was taking over his body.

The beast was taking over his body.

Pandora looked him over and frowned. “How did you—never mind. I can guess. The wreaths have done weird things to me, too. But your reaction is too little too late, I’m afraid.” She lifted the chain saw overhead. “This is goodbye, Baden. I’d say it’s been nice knowing you, but I never lie.”

He worked his jaw, finding his voice. “What of Hades’s warning?”

“If killing you means dying myself, so be it.” She stepped toward him, and he sprang into motion at last, kicking out his leg to knock her ankles together. She crashed to her ass, losing her breath; she managed to retain her hold on the chain saw, even as the blade cut through the wood floor, shavings flying in every direction.

He latched onto her foot and twisted, hard, breaking the bones in her ankle and hobbling her. At least for a moment.

She yelped, and then she swung the chain saw at him. Target: his neck. He ducked and, when the opportunity presented itself, booted the back of her hand, causing her grip on the weapon to finally loosen.

The chain saw dropped, the motor dying.

He stood while she crouched, her hair standing on end as if she’d just jammed her finger into a socket. Fangs extended past her bottom lip, little growls rising from her. The chompers were new; they were bigger than a vampire’s but smaller than a bear shifter’s. She had lines of black running from the bands, just like him, but hers were intermixed with the many butterflies tattooed on her forearms.

When Baden and the others were first possessed, a butterfly tattoo appeared on each of their bodies. Same basic shape, but in different locations and colors. Pandora’s tattoos were self-inflicted, each representing one of the demons. Violence, Death, Pain, Doubt, Wrath, Lies, Secrets, Defeat, Promiscuity, Disaster, Disease, Jealousy, False Hope and Distrust. There had been other demons, but they were given to the immortals trapped in Tartarus. A prison for the worst of the worst criminals.

Pandora had no problem with those prisoners, only the people who’d stolen her box.

The butterflies were an obvious kill list.

She’s a threat.

Yes. Oh, yes. “Where’s the human girl?” he demanded.

“She’s sleeping soundly at the elevators. Why? Were you hoping she’d come to your rescue?”

“You’re the only one in danger today.” Hades wouldn’t punish him for defending himself. How could he? “You made a grave mistake, coming after me.” The beast already envisioned how best to end her. Using the chain saw to hack off her limbs...then her head. “You should have focused your efforts on earning your first point.”

“How adorable.” She circled him, her chilling grin widening. “You don’t know. I’ve already earned my first point.”

His hands curled into fists as he turned with her. She was the head, and he was the tail? Unacceptable!

“Enjoy being in the lead while you can, skýla.” Bitch. “It won’t last long. You’re weak.” He pricked at her pride, determined to send her into a rage, to make her vulnerable. “You’ve always been weak. I remember how Haidee killed me, yes...but I also remember how easy it was to steal dimOuniak from you. I remember how Maddox swiped up a sword upon his possession and stabbed into your vulnerable belly six different times. You were utterly defenseless, unable to stop him. You couldn’t even—”

Cursing him, she swung at his head. When he blocked her fist with the palm of his hand, she swung at him with her other arm, going for his throat. He leaned back, avoiding impact, while catching her other wrist. A single twist spun her around, allowing him to pin her arm behind her back.

“See? Weak,” he whispered into her ear.

“Bastard!”

Destruction laughed as Baden wrapped an arm around her neck to draw her against him, the pressure he applied enough to choke anyone else.

“Asshole,” she managed to rasp.

A sharp pain exploded in his thigh before his entire leg went limp. He released her, stumbling back. The hilt of what had to be a poison-tipped dagger protruded just above his knee.

“I’m going to rip out your—”

A pained moan drifted from the hallway, snagging his attention, silencing him.

Katarina was waking.

“Dibs on the first kill,” Torin said with relish. A gun cocked.

His friends had returned.

Pandora stiffened. Baden yanked out the dagger, and for the second time since his return from the dead, he bled. But just as before the blood was thick and black. He could only guess at the reason: the beast, who was more alive to him with every day that passed.

With Destruction shouting obscenities, Baden tossed the weapon. Pandora dodged left, but not swiftly enough. The blade grazed her shoulder. She sprinted toward the window, jumping...diving. Glass shattered, warm air blustering inside the living room.

He raced over, seeing she’d left smears of black behind. As she soared down, down, she used a retractable wire to slow her momentum. Swinging forward, she crashed through a window in the middle of the building.

He wanted to give chase, to attack, but the urge to safeguard Katarina—the key to his point—proved stronger.

William had her draped over his shoulder. “Where do you want her?”

Torin and Cameo flanked his sides, weapons drawn and at the ready. Baden wanted to make their lives easier, and yet he kept adding complications.

“The couch,” he said. The scene of the crime.

“There’s no one to kill?” Torin pouted. “I always miss the fun.”

William tossed Katarina onto the couch cushions. When she finished bouncing, he noticed the large knot on her forehead. One he’d sported on several occasions. Pandora had head-butted her.

Scowling, he shoved William in the shoulder. “Be more careful with her. She could have a concussion.”

“That’s not exactly a me problem, now, is it?”

Cameo gave her semiautomatic a little toss, caught it by the barrel and pistol-whipped the shit out of William. As he cursed and rubbed the fresh wound, she said, “Consider it a you problem from now on. Any injury she sustains, I’ll make sure you sustain as well.”

Baden and Destruction shuddered in unison.

Note to self: Earplugs are my best friend. He had no idea how Cameo lived with her demon. Anytime she experienced a moment of happiness, the kind that would change her life for the better, the demon erased the memory, ensuring she remained forever surrounded by darkness.

Without light—hope—there was no desire to live. A fact he’d suffered firsthand.

“You’re worse than my children,” William muttered. “You know that, right, Cam?”

The male had four children. Three sons and a daughter. The daughter was murdered months ago, and the sons were now in the midst of a vicious war with her killer’s family. A war the killer’s family would not win. William had fathered the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Cameo—thankfully, blessedly—shrugged.

Torin holstered his gun and held up a shredded box. “Monopoly, anyone? Got the M&M’s edition. The stray dogs outside the hotel used it as a chew toy, but I think I managed to salvage most of the pieces.”

More stray dogs?

Katarina moaned before bolting upright. Panting, she gave the room a panicked scan. Her gaze met Baden’s, and she scrambled to the edge of the couch, holding out her hand to ward him off, as if she expected him to attack.

“The woman,” she said. Most of her hair had fallen from the topknot, long dark waves now framing her face. The sight of her in such disarray caused his gut to clench. So fragile—the weak died swiftly—but so damned beautiful.

Destruction snarled at her, but made no new demand to kill her.

“She is Pandora, the one I told you about,” he said. “She’s my enemy.”

“That’s who attacked you?” Torin laughed. “Wow. The chick has balls, that’s for sure.”

Baden frowned at him. “She plans to kill me, to take me out of the game, before coming after the rest of you.”

William nodded, impressed. “That’s not exactly a bad strategy.”

“And,” he added, wanting to punch something, “she’s already earned a point.”

“A point?” Katarina asked. “What game are you playing with her?”

With a scowl, he focused on her. Any other human would have cowered. This one lifted her chin, a now familiar action, refusing to back down. Brave, but foolish. Merely another weakness.

“A dark and dangerous one. At the end, the one with the most points lives and the other dies. As you might, very soon. You drugged me,” he snapped.

She flinched. “If you wanted a passive prisoner, you should have chosen someone else.”

He’d thrown similar words at Hades.

I’m nothing like the king. I have limits.

Easier said...

“The human drugged you?” Torin barked out another laugh. “Dude. Are you embarrassed? Because I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Like you have room to talk.” William poked him in the shoulder. “Your girlfriend has spanked you on a number of occasions.”

“Yeah, but I was a very naughty boy. I started worldwide plagues, and I needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Plagues?” Katarina gasped out.

William winked at her. “Don’t worry, petal. If he touches you skin-to-skin, you’ll sicken...but you can cure yourself by sucking on his—”

Baden punched him in the mouth, shutting him up. “She’s had enough of our world. And I have things to do.” A sense of urgency overtook him. He was still without a point. “I’m taking her back to her groom. Give me your gloves,” he said to Torin, already resenting the barriers that would prevent skin-to-skin contact with Katarina.

The few times they’d touched, the warmth of her flesh had tantalized him even as it had agonized him.

His friend understood his affliction better than most and pulled the leather from his arms without protest.

Baden claimed one then the other, encasing each of his arms before extending a hand to Katarina. “Come.”

She stood eagerly, curling her fingers around his.

“So determined to return to hell.” A dark tide of...something rolled through him. Not jealousy. It wasn’t!

She’s a means to an end, nothing more.

“I have my reasons,” she said quietly.

“Of course you do. Money, power and protection.”

Baden yanked her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist. An unbreakable shackle. She gasped, and he wondered what she’d sound like when she surrendered to her man, incomparable pleasure consuming her.

Destruction prowled through his mind, more restless with every second that passed. She peered up at him through the thick shield of her lashes...and both he and the beast lost their concentration. The faint scent of vanilla wafted from her. Delicious. Edible.

Must taste her...

With so much evil in the world, beautiful things should be cherished.

“This is way past awkward, right?” William asked, ruining the sensuality of the moment.

“Definitely,” Torin said as Katarina blushed.

Cameo did everyone a favor and merely shrugged.

Baden glared at the lot of them. “Patch the windows and doors and meet me at the fortress in Budapest. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

Torin got real serious real fast. “Going to visit Aleksander alone? I’m not sure that’s wise, my man. He’ll be armed, and he’ll have more guards, guaranteed.”

No human would ever be strong enough or fast enough to behead Baden and remove his arms. “I’ll be fine.”

William clasped his shoulder. “Your reasons for avoiding Budapest are still valid. Don’t forget. And if you decide to move, stay away from Fox. Bad for your health and all that.”

Why would he go around a fox?

He secured Katarina even more firmly against him, a pang in his chest, an ache in his groin. He ignored both. Can’t want her. Won’t want her. A seductress who used her man would ultimately betray him.

“Unless you’re planning to carry me,” she said, “you can let me go. I can walk.”

“I won’t be carrying you, and we won’t be walking. And you aren’t the one who gives orders. With us, I call the shots. For your safety, not my enjoyment.”

“The excuse every bossy man uses, I’m sure.” She flattened her palms on his chest and pushed...without results. Glowering, she snapped, “I don’t understand how we can travel without movement.”

“You don’t need to understand. Close your eyes.”

A single shake of her head. “Nie.”

“I said—” Never mind. The stubborn female could deal with the consequences. Reyes and Gideon always vomited after being flashed. Paris passed out. “Keep your eyes open, then.”

“Reverse psychology? Nice try,” she muttered. “I’ll never purposely make myself vulnerable.”

And yet she’d done just that by wedding Aleksander. Maybe there was more to her—to her circumstances—than he’d realized, just as she’d claimed. Maybe not. Not that it mattered. Soon she would be out of his life for good.

A fact that pleased him. Greatly.

He brought Aleksander to the forefront of his mind. One moment he stood in the penthouse with William, Torin and Cameo, the next he stood in some kind of an underground bunker richly furnished with plush rugs, a mahogany desk, a king-size bed and, off to the side, a private bathroom.

There was a large metal door next to the bed, but it was bolted from the inside.

Katarina gasped. “How...we just...we couldn’t have...this isn’t possible.”

Aleksander sat at a desk, the lone occupant of the room, looking through a stack of photos. When he heard his wife’s voice, he jumped to his feet, his chair skidding behind him. Paling, he swiped up a .44 and aimed at Baden.

“How did you get in here?” Aleksander demanded.

No concern for his wife’s safety? Fool.

Baden released Katarina and stepped in front of her, blocking her from the line of fire. Destruction raged over the action, but directed the heat of the emotion at Aleksander.

Kill him. Kill him now.

Soon.

“Y-yes,” Katarina stuttered. “How did we get here?”

Baden smiled at Aleksander but spoke to the girl. “I told you, nevesta. I’m immortal.”

7

“Dude. You should not have put a ring on it.”

—Bianka the Terrible, Harpy from Clan Skyhawk

KATARINA’S MIND THREATENED to shut down. Too much to process! She couldn’t have...how had...no, no, there were zero ways what she thought had happened could have actually happened. But truth was truth, and like any apex predator, it could defend itself. She’d traveled from one location to another in only a blink. Without taking a step. Without being carried. Without flying inside a plane or driving in a car. Just boom, the scenery had altered.

Baden had been honest about his origins, hadn’t he? He really was immortal. And if he was immortal, he was also formerly demon-possessed—was now playing host to some kind of beast. A beast with an insatiable craving for violence.

Her hand fluttered over her throat. He said he worked for Hades...who was the ruler of the underworld, according to mythology.

Hello, vertigo. We meet again.

“The coin,” Baden barked at Alek.

Alek gave a violent shake of his head, the barrel of his gun wavering. “I don’t know where it is, someone must have stolen it.”

“You lie. Unfortunately for you, I tolerate only one liar in my life.” Baden pulled a dagger from the sheath in his belt. How many other weapons were hidden on his body? “And Gideon is way better at it than you.”

“Go to hell.” Alek squeezed the trigger. Pop! Pop! Pop!

As Baden jerked from impact, Katarina covered her mouth to silence a scream. Anyone else would have fallen, but he didn’t flinch or even stumble.

What he did? Stalk across the room and turn the gun while it remained in Alek’s grip. He pressed his finger over Alek’s and forced her miserable excuse of a husband to shoot himself in the shoulder.

Alek—a mere human—toppled into his chair, blood spurting from his wound.

Men banged at the door, but it was locked and barred from the inside. No one could enter. No one could help him.

His own safety measures would aid his downfall.

“Last chance,” Baden said, as calm as if they were discussing today’s lunch menu.

Almost hysterically, she thought: Death with a side of pain.

“I can’t give it to you.” Alek panted for breath. “I just can’t.”

“You can. You choose not to, and you’ll forever regret it.” He dropped the gun on the desk and very slowly, very deliberately moved in front of Alek. He still held the dagger. “I am not a liar. I told you I’d take something else you value. Today, you lose a hand.”

Alek tried to stand and run. Baden contained him easily and with a quick, downward swing, chopped through his wrist. Just—like—that. The hand plopped on the floor, and an agonized scream echoed from the walls.

Slak to trafil! Baden had done it. He’d really done it. The viciousness of the action...the sight of the blood...the stench it released into the air... Katarina clutched her stomach.

Baden wiped the dagger on Alek’s cheeks, leaving smears of crimson behind. “Get me the coin or tomorrow I’ll take a foot.” He returned the weapon to his belt before closing in on Katarina.

She backed up. “What are you doing? You said we’d only spend one night together.”

His gaze narrowed. “I hoped we’d part. I was wrong.”

“I’m not going with you.” She couldn’t leave Alek a second time. He’d just lost a hand, he was in pain, and he would be enraged, violent; he would hurt her dogs just because.

“I insist.”

“And I pass.” She faked left and darted right, closing in on Alek. “Where are they?” Her voice cracked with desperation. In the back of her mind, she understood she’d just handed the immortal—and unstoppable—Baden information about her. Information he could use against her. But she was beyond caring. The need to save her animals far outweighed the need to protect herself. “Tell me!”

Alek gasped for breath he couldn’t catch and clutched his spurting limb to his chest. Tears of pain streamed down his chalk-white cheeks. With his uninjured arm, he reached for...the gun? Did he fear her now? He should!

Merciless, she pushed the weapon, photos and computer to the floor. She leaped onto Alek’s lap and cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “Tell me where they are, or I’ll remove your other hand.” She would do it, too. Without hesitation. She might hate herself, might retch before, during and afterward, but she would do anything for answers.

“Tell me!” she shouted, shaking him.

“Let him go,” Baden commanded. He always commanded, but this time he wasn’t getting his way.

“Tell me!”

“Dead. They’re...dead,” Alek said through chattering teeth, shock setting in. “Killed...last night.”

No, no, no. No! She couldn’t believe...wouldn’t believe... “You wouldn’t have acted so soon—”

“Was going to...use them to find you...but they attacked...had to...put down.”

Her gaze homed in on the bite marks that littered his arms. Marks he’d been without yesterday. The dogs must have smelled her scent on his clothing—smelled her desperation—and acted out to protect her. To save her. And he’d killed them for it.

Rage bubbled over, spilling through her. She hammered her fists into his ugly, wretched, despised face. He was too weak to dodge her and couldn’t shield himself from the blows, could only sit there and take what she dished out. His teeth scraped her knuckles, and his bones cracked hers, but she didn’t care, couldn’t stop, would never stop. Her babies...dead...gone forever.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and wrenched her from Alek. “Enough, Katarina. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Baden’s calm voice only made her more furious.

“Hate you!” she spat at Alek, then at Baden. He’d absconded with her. If he’d left her behind, if he’d allowed her to remain with her despicable husband, the dogs would still be alive. “Hate you so much!” Using her captor as a pulley, she kicked out her legs, nailing Alek in the face. “Odjebat! You are horrible men! Horrible! And yet you live and they...they...”

Baden carried her around the desk, out of striking distance.

“Let me go!” She fought him with all of her strength, scratching his arms, punching, kicking. “Don’t you dare whisk me—”

The bunker vanished, a bedroom quickly taking shape around her.

She wrenched free and tried to orient herself. Little details hit her awareness. Masculine furnishings. A massive sleigh bed with a dark brown comforter. Aged stone walls, like those she’d seen when her family toured the abandoned castles in Romania and Budapest—when life was wondrous, happiness the norm. Wrought-iron sconces and a cracked marble fireplace boasting hand-carved roses.

Another prison? Well, this one was well earned. She hadn’t protected her babies. When they’d needed her most, she’d failed them. They’d died in pain, alone and afraid, after she’d promised to always protect them.

Guilt and sorrow joined the rage, leaching what remained of her strength, and her knees crumpled. She would have crashed into the floor if Baden hadn’t caught her and eased her down.

She kicked him. “Panchart! Don’t you dare touch me.” She’d tried to scream the words at him, but the lump in her throat caused her to whisper. “I hate you.”

He straightened and held up his gloved hands in a sign of surrender. A lie! This male never surrendered.

“Hate you,” she repeated. The toxic mix of emotions wrapped her in a cold embrace. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so badly. The dogs deserved her tears, but there was no telltale burn in her eyes.

Baden rubbed the spot just above his heart. “You lost loved ones?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, there was a note of gentleness in his voice. A note she resented. Where had this softer side been as she’d begged him to let her search Alek’s homes?

“Katarina,” he prompted, still gentle.

“My dogs, the most precious fur babies ever born, are dead. Gone.” She didn’t even have pictures of them. The fire had destroyed physical copies, and Alek and Dominik had crashed her website. “They were murdered. And you are the man who prevented me from saving them. Does that please you and your beast?”

“No. I’m sorry, Katarina.” He crouched beside her and reached out, running a fingertip along the corner of her eye. Was he searching for a teardrop?

“Save your sorry and get out of my face, kretén.”

“Had I known—”

“Get out!”

He blanched, but stubborn bastard that he was, he remained in place.

The protective sheath around her heart suddenly cracked, all the rage, guilt and sorrow spewing out; the emotions became a gale force she couldn’t fight, destroying her.

She curled into a ball, shaking so forcefully her muscles soon gave out, her bones as limp as noodles. She hated anyone— especially this man—seeing her in such a helpless state, but she no longer cared to maintain a brave face.

“Katarina.” He reached for her again. “I need to—”

She rolled away, done with him, done with the conversation—done with life.

* * *

Besieged by helplessness, Baden plowed a hand through his hair. Katarina loved her dogs the way he loved his friends. All-encompassing. Never-ending. Nothing held back. He had no doubts about that. Even without a flood of tears, so much sadness and misery radiated from her, she rivaled Cameo.

In an attempt to save her dogs, Katarina had sacrificed her happiness and her future. And, during Baden’s short acquaintance with her, he’d repeatedly mocked her for it. He’d sneered at her and insulted her. His actions had even spurred Aleksander’s, leading to the untimely deaths of the animals.

She hated Aleksander, and she hated Baden. She had every right.

She’s just a means to an end. I don’t need her admiration.

But there was an ache in his chest now. One he couldn’t shake. He knew the horror of losing loved ones, of feeling as if you’d been dropped in the middle of an ocean during a turbulent storm, wave after wave crashing over you, rocks scraping you; again and again you swallowed too much water, but still you fought to breathe, to rise. The moment you breached the surface, hoping you were in the clear, you were swept under again.

How many centuries had passed before he’d stopped missing his friends? Trick question. He’d never stopped.

Far too vividly he remembered the centuries he’d been imprisoned, the rats his only friends. He’d adored those rats...had cried when he’d had to eat them to survive.

Survival before sentiment.

No, no. The rats...not Baden’s memory but Destruction’s.

With a grunt, Baden pulled at his hair. “You’ll be safe here, Katarina. You have my word.” He owed her, and he would pay his debt.

The beast began to utter a protest, only to quiet. The girl’s misery touched a chord in them both.

Silence met his pronouncement, somehow worse than a torrent of curses.

He’d brought Katarina to the fortress in Budapest. The other women would care for her, hopefully soothing her as they’d so often tried to soothe him; the men would guard her from any and every danger while Baden saw to Aleksander’s punishment. For killing the dogs, he would lose his eyes. To start.

Anticipation...

Suddenly the wreaths began to warm. Baden glanced down as a soft red glow pulsed from the metal.

Another summons from Hades.

Knowing what was coming, he raced to the door, shouting, “Maddox. Ashlyn. Anyone! Do not harm the—”

The fortress vanished, and the throne room materialized. Hades was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the siren. Instead, a black tornado swirled over the bottom step of the royal dais, a thousand screams assaulting Baden’s ears.

The tornado slowed...stopped, the wealth of black shadows thinning. Hades appeared in the center, standing over what might have been a body, the flesh and muscle picked off, the bone pitted. A bloody heart rested in his hand. He’d ditched the suit and tie in favor of a black T-shirt and leather pants, chains wrapped around both of his wrists.

From business formal to punk rock. The man was a chameleon.

Destruction played the quiet game, just as before, irritating Baden. “What do you want?”

Hades smiled, and there was blood on his teeth. “We’re just waiting on— Ah. There she is.”

A movement at Baden’s right. He twisted and came face-to-face with Pandora.

“You.” She scowled at him, her hair standing on end, her fangs beginning to grow. Claws extended from the ends of her nails.

Baden’s body expanded, preparing for battle.

“There will be no bloodshed in my throne room,” Hades announced. “Well, no more. Not today.”

His muscles locked onto his bones, preventing any kind of movement. The same freeze-frame clearly overtook Pandora, her expression strained as she fought the immobility.

Only when he made a conscious decision to stand down—won’t act, not here—did he gain his freedom.

“Now, then.” Hades stalked toward them. “You broke my only rule. You tried to kill my other slave.”

“You never said attempting to kill Baden was a problem,” Pandora replied. “Only that I’d be killed if I succeeded.”

How did he know of Pandora’s crime?

“Pippin.” Hades clapped his hands.

The white-robed man appeared in a puff of dark smoke. Like before, he clutched a stone tablet.

“Yes, sire.”

“What’s my only rule?”

“That there are no rules, sire.”

“And?” Hades prompted.

“And whatever else you decide, sire.”

“That’s right. Whatever else I decide.” Hades spread his arms, the very picture of smug masculinity. “I’ve decided even an attempt to kill each other is a punishable offense. You won’t be beheaded for it, even if you succeed, but you will be penalized—and wish I’d killed you instead.”

Baden swallowed a curse. “If you’re allowed to change your mind whenever you wish, how can we trust you’ll keep your word and liberate the winner?”

“Do you have any other choice?” The king pinched off a piece of the still-beating organ and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste. “Spy is so much better than chocolate.”

Pandora flinched, and Baden frowned. Had she sent someone to spy on Hades?

“Send another one, Pandy girl, and you won’t like what happens.” Hades dropped what was left of the organ and wiped his hands together.

Well. That answered that.

“Now,” the king said. “You’re lucky I have a heart today.” He kicked the one he’d dropped like it was a soccer ball. “I’m going to go easy on you. For attacking Baden, you are hereby stripped of your point.” He glared at Pandora, daring her to respond. “And you.” He focused on Baden, his anger seeming to double.

Baden waved his fingers, all bring it. He would not apologize for defending himself.

“You have yet to acquire my coin.”

That was the male’s beef? “This particular task requires time. Your words, not mine.”

Hades winced on Baden’s behalf. “Time, yes. Eternity, no. To speed things up, Pandora will aid you.”

A roar rose from deep in his chest. Calm. Steady. With or without the game, Baden would be the one to find the coin and slay Aleksander. My point. My right.

“I’ll ensure Pandora can flash to the male. In the meantime, I have a new task for you.” Hades held out his palm and Pippin placed a piece of stone in the center.

The stone caught fire, turned to ash and when that ash drifted Baden’s way, he inhaled it.

New images popped up in his mind. A bearded man with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. He had multiple scars on his arms. Thin straight lines, as if sliced by a blade.

Baden’s mind jumped the track to Katarina and her scars.

The pang returned to his chest. The pain she must have endured—

Stop. Concentrate!

New information continued to barrage him. The man was a sociopath, killing without concern for the age and gender of his victims. After every murder, he notched both of his arms as a memento.

Baden ran his tongue over his teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Bring me his head. Today.”

In the past, Baden had only ever killed during battle. And he’d never enjoyed it. This time, he thought he might cheer alongside the beast.

What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

Katarina’s words danced through his mind, and he frowned.

I have a mission to do, a point to earn. An evil act against an evil man.

Would Katarina understand? Would she castigate him for his actions?

Concentrate. Why did Hades want the head of a human?

The answer rose. The target played host to some sort of dark presence. Not a demon, not even a creature like Destruction. But something even worse. Something Lucifer hoped to obtain to use against Hades and give himself an edge in the war.

Baden would catch it and escort it to the underworld along with the head. Because, as much as he disliked Hades, he wouldn’t allow evil to roam free on the earth. Not if he could stop it. He would also do anything, even remain a slave, to prevent Lucifer from ruling supreme over any more territory.

“Consider it done. A point earned.” He pictured his target... flashed to a small log cabin. Despite the light cast by multiple kerosene lamps, doom-and-gloom tainted the air—or maybe the blame was the scent of rot.

Baden strode into the kitchen...found a dead body strapped to a long wooden table, the chest cavity opened, and several organs removed.

His target perched at the end of the table, eating what looked to be a liver. Nice. He was talking to the corpse.

“—was nekkid as a jaybird. I almost spit my soda—” He noticed Baden and grabbed the rifle propped against his chair. “You stay right thar, now, you heer.”

Baden flashed to his side, grabbed the gun and slammed the handle into his temple, then his yellowed teeth. Jab, jab. Impact sent him tumbling to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count. He crab-walked backward, blood trickling down his face, catching in his dirty beard.

“Don’t be hurtin’ me. Please.” He tried to stealthily reach inside his boot, where a dagger hilt peeked out.

Thinks to stab me?

Baden flashed over and stomped on his hand, breaking the bones.

As a scream of agony cut through the air, Destruction laughed with delight—so did Baden. Then the man pissed himself, and one of the beast’s memories knocked on the door of Baden’s mind.

He fought to remain in the present...but he...he...the cabin was replaced by a cell. No longer a child but finally a man, he stalked to the first person he’d seen in centuries. The lord of the castle. The one who’d paid his mother a few measly coins for the privilege of “taming” him. The one who’d ordered his imprisonment when he’d resisted the taming.

The lord was draped in expensive velvets, with different medals pinned to his shoulders and chest. How many battles had he won? Countless. And yet, he urinated as the distance between them vanished, knew his time had come—

In the present, Baden’s feet were knocked out from under him. He blinked and shook his head, breaking the tight grip of the past. His target stabbed him in the chest and raced toward the front door.

Baden grabbed his ankle, tripping him. His jaw shattered, blood and what remained of his teeth spewing over the wood panels.

Smiling, Baden removed the dagger and stood. The man stayed down.

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