The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  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.

&nbs
p; 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, a
fter 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.