The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  “You didn’t kill him?” she’d asked. “Baden, I’m so proud of you!”

  “The fact that I restrained myself is what earned my nickname. The Gentleman of Mount Olympus.”

  She’d laughed, and he’d tickled her. She’d begged him to stop, even as she’d hoped he would continue. He’d missed out on so much throughout the course of his life. Childish games, innocent fun...connection.

  They’d made love again, and he’d fallen asleep with a smile—and the whisper of a single word on his lips. Marriage.

  Was he considering making her immortal through the marriage bond? Was she?

  No, no. Of course not. They were only temporary. That hadn’t changed...had it?

  She studied him now. Without the cares of the world and the demands of the beast pulling him in different directions, his features were almost boyish. And she had helped get him to that point.

  “You stopped,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, raspier, too. He turned his head to meet her gaze, and she gasped. His pupils consumed his irises, hiding the copper she found so beautiful. Flickers of red danced in the black. Blood stars. “Start again.”

  “Stopped what?” she asked, confused.

  He clasped onto her wrist with a too-tight grip, as if he didn’t know his own strength, and moved her hand up and down his chest. “Do this.” He released her. “Do not stop again.”

  Baden wasn’t usually so harsh with her and understanding suddenly dawned. Those eyes... She was talking directly to the beast, wasn’t she? This wasn’t the first time it had happened, either.

  Tread carefully. The beast needed far more taming than Baden. He was wild, unpredictable. “You like being stroked?”

  Short and sweet. Always end on a positive note.

  “No.”

  She almost laughed. Almost. His expression held no hint of playfulness. “Why do you command me to continue, then?”

  “I like being stroked by you. You are weak. No threat.”

  Argh! Not another naysayer. What would it take to prove to these people—and creatures—she possessed strength, just a different kind of strength than they possessed? “What else do you like?”

  “Blood. Death. Vengeance. Never betray me, woman.”

  “As if I would dare,” she said drily.

  He glared at her. “You mock me?”

  “I tease you. There’s a difference. One is cruel, one is sweet. Sweet makes me happy.”

  Slowly the tension drained from him. “I think I like when you’re happy.”

  “I’m glad. I like when you are happy, too.”

  “Only because you are frightened of me.” He said the words as if they were an undisputed fact. “You are wise, at least. Sometimes.”

  “I’m not frightened of you,” she replied, tracing her finger around one of his nipples, then the other. “Why should I be? We’re friends.”

  His brow furrowed with confusion. “I have no friends. Friends are a hindrance.”

  “Friends are a blessing. They guard your back and—”

  “I trust no one at my back.” He barked the words, his anger pricked.

  Still, she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. No risk, no reward. “They stroke you when you need to be stroked.”

  Now he pursed his lips, unable to issue a rebuke without encouraging her to stop.

  “They make you smile when you’re sad,” she added. “They fill you with joy when sorrow tries to overtake you. They shine light in your darkness.”

  “I can see in the dark,” he grumbled.

  The anger had left him, at least, the danger passed. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Your brother hasn’t guarded your back, and he hasn’t been a blessing to you. He hurt you.”

  “Yes. There’s no denying that. But I never said he was my friend.”

  A moment passed in silence as he pondered her statement. Then he said, “He won’t hurt you again. He’s now locked away, unable to buy drugs or even contact another human.”

  Destruction might as well have placed paddles over her heart. “He is?”

  “We made sure of it. For you.”

  For me. “Thank you.” Oh, she knew Dominik had to want to stay clean for this to succeed when he was freed, but this...this was a gift. “All right, big guy. We’re going to do a trust exercise.” Her gift to Baden and Destruction.

  His frown returned in a hurry. “I trust—”

  “No one. I know. But we’re still going to do the exercise.”

  “Woman, you cannot force me—”

  She placed her finger over his mouth, silencing him. His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe her daring. “Your commentary isn’t appreciated. Be quiet.”

  He nipped at her fingertip. “You are brave. And foolish.”

  Not so brave—and foolish—as determined to win this creature over. “Roll over.”

  “No.” His teeth flashed in a scowl. “If you attempt to harm me, I will have to kill you.”

  Not a threat, but a promise. LGB? Pretty high. “Roll over,” she repeated anyway, giving him a little push. “I’m going to stroke your back.”

  His muscles hardened into rocks. “You’re stronger than before.” He latched onto her wrist to bring her hand to his nose. As he sniffed, rage turned his pupils to smoke, dark tendrils wafting over his irises. “You carry the faint scent of hellhounds, and yet the race has been extinct for centuries. How is this possible?”

  Hellhounds? Her? Impossible. Unless...

  An idea took root, and she struggled to catch her breath. “I know so little about your immortal world, but I love dogs. Tell me about these hellhounds.”

  His distaste for the subject was keen. “Some secured the underworld while others hunted and captured spirits who managed to escape. They communicated telepathically—what one knew, they all knew—and they could flash between realms.”

  Her idea grew branches, horror sprouting at the ends like ripening fruit. “Were the people they bit...infected?” Her mouth dried. “Like, say, a werewolf.”

  “In a way. But there were very few bite-survivors. Once a hellhound tasted someone’s blood, the need to feed on that specific person eclipsed everything else.”

  What a relief! Her dogs couldn’t be hellhounds. If they’d actually bitten her, they would have devoured her. “How do you know this?”

  “The male who imprisoned me controlled a pack. They...played with my limbs.”

  Her stomach roiled. She ached for the boy he’d been. “I’m so sorry.” The words weren’t good enough. No words were good enough.

  His grip tightened enough to make her cry out in pain.

  He gentled his hold, saying, “As children, immortals cannot regenerate. But I’m more than immortal. And I never forget a wrong done to me. If hellhounds managed to survive, they must be eradicated.”

  Despite her lingering horror about his past, protective instincts flared. To destroy an entire race for the crimes of a few? No!

  —You need help?—

  No, no. She projected her thoughts and prayed the animals heard. They were enclosed in the bathroom, but they were totally able to claw their way free. I’m fine. Stay where you are.

  If she was wrong, if the race had changed, had learned to control the bloodlust and the pups were indeed hellhounds...if Destruction turned his wrath on them...

  There would be hell to pay.

  “Baden never mentioned a hellhound scent,” she said.

  “His senses aren’t as highly developed.”

  Keeping her expression neutral proved to be a challenge, but she did it. “Well. As you said, hellhounds are extinct. Centuries have passed. Your nose could be playing tricks on you. Or maybe hellhounds once lived here. The place is old. Now. Stop stalling and—roll
—over.”

  He obeyed at last, and she knew it wasn’t because he’d suddenly decided to trust her. He probably intended to test her. A test she would pass with an A++, gold star, or whatever grading system he used.

  She trailed her fingertips down the ridges of his spine, over the knots between his shoulders and down, down to the tight globes of his ass, continuing until he melted into the mattress. Soon, he began to purr.

  “You’re so hard and soft at the same time,” she said.

  “You like this.” A demand, not a question.

  “I do.” She increased the pressure of her touch, massaging his muscles. His purrs soon became...snores? He’d fallen asleep? Really? A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Clearly, this beauty had just bagged and tagged two beasts.

  * * *

  As morning sunlight poured into the bedroom, Baden tugged on a pair of battle fatigues. He was a bit unbalanced. Destruction was calm, almost content—would he next break out in song like a Disney princess?

  I’m happy.

  I know. And it’s weirding me out.

  Baden anchored weapons to his arms, his waist and ankles, his focus remaining on Katarina as she ate the “thanks for your help” breakfast Fox had delivered. Pancakes and eggs. There were dark smudges on her forearms. Definitely not dirt. Probably bruises. Anger... He’d handled her roughly. Next time he would have to be more careful.

  Her features were soft, luminous, her skin still flushed from this morning’s debauchery.

  The phone in his pocket vibrated, and he checked the screen. A text from Torin.

  William wants revenge against the satyr & our help to get it

  William would have to call in his favor if he desired Baden’s help. Two birds, one stone. “Where are the dogs?” he asked Katarina.

  Her head canted to the side, as if she were listening for the pitter-patter of their feet. “In the backyard playing. Why?”

  He frowned at her. “You can hear them from here?” The windows were closed, the yard on the other side of the palace.

  Though color stained her cheeks, she shrugged off the oddity as unimportant. “I’m a momma bear, and they’re my cubs.” She smiled at him, the sweetness not quite reaching her eyes. “You and Destruction better not hurt them.”

  Why would she say such a thing? “I would never. Why would you think otherwise?”

  She licked her lips, clearly nervous. “Destruction mentioned his hatred for hellhounds, and I hope the hatred doesn’t extend to all canines.”

  “The beast speaks to you?” Anger bloomed. “Without me?”

  “Sometimes,” she said with a shrug.

  Baden hated the thought of the beast interacting with her without his aid. “He hates hellhounds for a good reason. His mother sold him to the Master of Dark Pleasures. The former king of the underworld kept young...sex slaves.” Last night, the horrific memories had invaded his dreams. “Destruction ran and hellhounds gave chase...dragged him back to hell.”

  The color drained from Katarina’s cheeks. “I despise the horrors he suffered. I do. But not all packs are—were—ambassadors of evil, I’m sure.”

  Katarina, forever the dog lover. “Our pups will never suffer at his hand.”

  Her eyes flared with hope. “You vow it?”

  Her lack of trust cut at him, but he looked past it. From the beginning, he’d told this woman to fear him. He’d earned this. “I do.”

  “Thank you.” Changing gears, she looked him over and whistled. “Sexy man. Are you headed out on another mission?”

  “I am.”

  “Well. If you refrain from killing today, I’ll do very naughty things to you...with my mouth.”

  Both he and Destruction roared with a desire so hot the flames might never be extinguished. “I want that. And I will have that. Today. I go to see Aleksander.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re going to let him live?”

  “I am. But he must sever his tie with you. Afterward, I’ll lock him away. He’ll never be freed, will die in his cell.”

  Katarina set her plate on the nightstand and blew him a kiss. “You, Baden, are a wonderful man. Oh! In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you Alek’s mother is the one who gave him the coin.”

  His mother? Who was his mother, and how had she gotten it?

  Destruction supplied the answer, pushing a memory through a dark miasma of rage, blood and death.

  A harem took shape in Baden’s mind. In his early days as king, Hades had kept a harem filled with beautiful women, immortals and humans alike. Anyone who’d caught his fancy.

  I take what I want. No one stops me.

  A blonde woman...one of his favorites, for a while, at least...was an angel who’d fallen for him, literally as well as figuratively, abandoning her home in the sky to live with him. Her wings had been removed by her sister, leaving thick, jagged scars on her back. He’d liked scars, and she’d liked the homage he paid them.

  But she hadn’t been content inside the harem, had been insulted every time she’d had to share him with others, and she’d eventually lashed out, killing his other women in cold blood. He’d come close to killing her in turn, but in a rare moment of mercy, he’d exiled her to the earth instead.

  Soon after, he’d learned the coin he’d kept under heavy guard had gone missing. He’d known instantly who’d taken it. Her only means of vengeance.

  He’d gone after her. No one he’d marked could hide from him. Ever.

  That day, she’d laughed at him.

  You want the coin? Too bad. You’ll never find it. Especially if you kill me. The moment I die, it will be delivered to Lucifer.

  He’d left her, then, sending one of his spies to remain near her at all times. Over the years, she’d married a human male and bore him a son—Aleksander—and by all accounts, the son who loved her had been the one who’d savagely torn out her insides. But, being only half immortal rather than fully, Aleksander would never have had the strength to overpower her. Which meant she’d allowed him to kill her.

  Later that same day, Aleksander had cornered Hades’s spy and told him to deliver a message: I have the coin. I have no plans to use it—presently. But I, like my mother, have taken measures to ensure it’s delivered to Lucifer upon my death.

  You should have told me sooner, Baden snapped at Destruction.

  Sharing secrets is as new to me as it is to you.

  In the present, Katarina climbed to her knees and wound her arms around his neck. “Where did you go, drahý?”

  He loved when she called him darling. Even Destruction approved. The nickname told nothing of their strength but everything about the softening of their woman.

  “I was right. Aleksander isn’t human,” he said. “His mother was a fallen angel.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Everything is here, thanks to Hades.” He tapped his temple. “Sometimes I must dig. Sometimes the beast willingly offers.”

  She pressed her perfect breasts against his chest, and he lamented the shirt that prevented the skin-to-skin contact he now craved more than breath. “Again I wonder how I missed my husband’s—”

  He nipped at her lips. “That word is forbidden to you.”

  She smiled slowly at him. “Because you’re jealous?”

  More than he’d ever dreamed possible.

  “Well, you basically have a husband, too,” she pointed out. “You’re bound to Hades.”

  Baden shuddered, and she laughed.

  So beautiful...so bright. “Katarina,” he said and cupped the back of her neck. His chest constricted. “Tell me you need me.”

  Her good humor faded, and she licked her lips. “No way. I won’t lie.”

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “Never! I’ve train
ed dogs that would make you piss your pants in fear. I became their leader, the one they relied on for protection. I’ve spearheaded a business, taking it from a moderate success to an international phenomenon. And just so you know, showing mercy requires more strength than doling out vengeance. One fights an urge, the other indulges it.”

  He called himself a thousand kinds of fool for placing her in a defensive position. He eased off—for now—but he needed her admission like he needed the bands: both were crucial to his survival.

  “Pandora has Aleksander. I’ll resist the urge to hurt her. I’ll even be gentle with her. Will that make you happy?”

  “Yes.” Katarina softened as she toyed with the ends of his hair. “But be careful out there. She’s one wily bitch.”

  “You’re beginning to sound as if you like me.”

  She pursed her beautiful lips before saying, “I...might.”

  A very Katarina answer. Stubborn while remaining mysterious.

  “I’ll return to you. Nothing in this world or any other can stop me.” He placed a hard, swift kiss on her lips, then another, and her tongue came out to play with his. If he didn’t flash now, he wouldn’t flash at all, his shaft already throbbing for her.

  He gave her a final kiss before leaving—that he could be parted from her was a miracle—and appeared in...what looked to be a horror movie.

  Screams echoed from walls splattered with blood. Black goo flowed in rivers across a concrete floor, with organs floating along the surface. The scent of sulfur and brimstone saturated the air, stinging his nostrils. His lungs seized in an effort to expel the tainted particles.

  Demons were here.

  These particular minions had long, hairy limbs—some had claws, some had multiple horns—their different parts piled throughout the room. Pandora must have been fighting for hours.

  There was a human arm amid the debris, a chain still shackled around the biceps.

  Either Aleksander was free or Aleksander was dead.

  Baden palmed his semiautomatics, the ones with axes protruding from the handles, and rushed down a winding hallway, following the sound of the screams. The lightbulbs had been busted from every source, the surrounding darkness thick, and yet he had no problem cataloging every detail as Destruction focused with laserlike intensity.