“They called me a bitch. I called them an ambulance.”
—Cameo, keeper of Misery
KATARINA LAY ON the floor of the unfamiliar bedroom, strange men and women surrounding her, talking about her as if she wasn’t there.
“Baden told us to protect...her?”
“Maybe he needed protection from her. Let’s lock her in the dungeon.”
“That’s your answer to everything, Maddox.”
“Because our enemies are wily.”
“The girl’s not a danger to anyone, least of all mad, bad Baden.”
“Speaking of, where is he? Why’d he leave? And why’d he call for Ashlyn?”
“I can answer your last question right now. He called for me because of my ability. Which means I can answer the other questions as soon as you leave the room...”
“Not happening, sweetheart. This girl is an unknown and—”
“I know, I know. Unknowns are our foes. Been there. But Baden isn’t an unknown. You trust him. He would never bring a vicious woman into our home.”
Katarina tuned out the woman’s sweet voice, the man’s reply, and the myriad of responses that followed. If the group decided to lock her in the dungeon...whatever. What did she care about another location change?
Grief enveloped her, choked her.
Someone picked her up and carried her to the bed. The covers were lightly tucked around her, and one of the women—a plump beauty with light brown hair and matching eyes—stayed when the others exited, sitting beside her and tracing soft fingertips over her brow.
“My name is Ashlyn. I’m not sure how much you know about the men who live here, but I’m married to one. I have a very special ability that allows me to hear every conversation that’s taken place in a room as long as my husband isn’t with me. As soon as he left us, I heard about your dogs. I’m so sorry for your loss, Katarina.”
Shut up, she wanted to shout. Maybe the girl had a special ability, like Baden, or maybe there were bugs in the room, and she’d eavesdropped. Either way, the dogs weren’t up for discussion.
“You’re safe here. You have my word.”
Katarina closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Well, in and out of sleep, always fitful. She had no idea when Ashlyn took off. The other people visited throughout the day, checking on her, and someone even brought a tray of food. She had no desire to eat. The only thing she wanted to do was continue sleeping. And cry, the way she used to as a child. But as always, no tears were forthcoming, which meant she experienced no cathartic release.
Eventually the needs of her bladder plagued her. She rose to unsteady legs and shut herself in the spacious en suite. Mosaic tile decorated the floor, the pattern floral but dizzying. The walls were cream-colored stucco, the countertops gold-veined marble, and the shower encased by stone and glass. Behind two white columns was a sunken tub.
Overall, as luxurious as Alek’s. She laughed without humor. Monsters and their money.
When she exited, Baden was seated at the edge of the bed. He’d recently showered, his damp hair darker than usual. He stood when he spotted her and held out his hand. “Come. I’ll give you a tour of the fortress.”
She ignored him, crawled under the covers and fell back to sleep.
The next time she awoke, she was alone. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with her misery...her memories.
Faith, Hope and Love adored her. When they were excited, they had hopped around her feet like bunnies. They had panted and smiled every time she’d walked through the door. She remembered playing fetch and going on walks, and she began to shake. She remembered slobbery kisses and cuddles on the couch, and she dry heaved.
She needed a distraction. Like, now.
She stood, her legs even shakier, and pulled on the first oversize sweatshirt she found in the closet. I Would Die For Lucien was scripted over the center. Using a string she cut from a bow with a blade—there were weapons stored in an unlocked trunk at the foot of the bed—she anchored her hair in a ponytail.
Why hadn’t Baden hidden the trunk? Did he not fear her rage?
Whatever. She wandered through the massive home. No bedroom or sitting room was off-limits. There was an entertainment room fully stocked with all the latest technology. Antique furniture abounded. Portraits of muscled men wearing tiaras littered walls that were marred with cracks and fist-size holes.
At some point, she ran into Baden.
Keeping pace beside her, he said, “Aleksander is locked in the dungeon below. Pandora has done her best to steal him, but I’ve taken measures to stop her.” Satisfaction dripped from his voice. “Would you like to torture him?”
Yes, oh, yes. Would she actually do it? No. “Torturing another living being is something you and Alek enjoy. I have no desire to become a reflection of the men I despise.”
He flinched.
Different people stopped to speak with them and introductions were officially made, but she remained quiet, uncaring, and ultimately retreated to the solitude of the room.
Baden followed close at her heels. “Are you hungry? You need to eat. You’re—”
She climbed in bed and burrowed under the covers.
Over the next few days—weeks?—she developed a routine. She slept and, whenever her shattered heart pained her too greatly, roamed the fortress like a ghost. The residents soon became used to her presence and, for the most part, ignored her as thoroughly as she ignored them. If they even noticed her at all.
Once, she encountered a beautiful brunette with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. The girl was young, perhaps even younger than Katarina. Some people called her Legion. Others called her Honey. Whatever her name, she kept her head bowed and her voice low, as if she feared being heard.
Poor thing. Katarina lost track of her, though, when she ran into Baden, who was in the middle of a conversation with Torin.
“She’s a liability,” Torin said. “She trains dogs for a living. And you know what that means, right? She relies on the canines to see to her defense.”
Baden rubbed the back of his neck.
She almost backtracked, determined to avoid him, but curiosity held her in place. How would he respond?
“The scars on her arms finally make sense. She’s been bitten. Repeatedly.” He paused for a moment, nodded. “If trouble comes, we’ll protect her like we protect the children.”
That galled. Not that she reprimanded him. His opinion mattered less now than it had the day they’d met.
“Trouble is coming,” Torin said. “From the info I’ve been able to gather, Lucifer is doing his best to take out Hades’s closest allies. So far, two realms in the underworld have been hit. It’s only a matter of time before the bastard comes after us.”
“Perhaps I’ll send him a message,” Keeley said as she strode into the room. “Mess with mine, lose yours.”
Torin chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the pink-haired beauty. “That’s my sweet girl.”
“No,” Baden said with a shake of his head. “No making out in front of the dead guy. I’m— Katarina? Do you need—”
She slipped away without a word.
A day—two? three?—later, she stumbled upon a conversation between a woman named Anya and the black-haired warrior named William.
“He shouldn’t have come back,” William said. “And he shouldn’t be digging into the history of the bands. We have to stop him before he finds out...you know.”
“Your secrets.” Anya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. But it’s not like he’ll discover the truth. Hades ensured only lies are known about them, right?”
“A specialty of his. But you know as well as I that the truth is like the sun. It always finds a way to shine.”
“So what? If you try to stop Baden from digging, you’ll only pique his already piqued interest—and probably learn what it’s like to be split in two. Just leave him alone and let him stay here, okay. He hasn’t lost his temper more than twelve times.”
“A miracle, yes, but he’s only going to decline. Clearly he’s not laying pipe. If you know what I mean. Not playing hide the sausage. Not giving his new roommate a ride on the carnal—”
“Yeah, yeah. We both wish his girl’s favorite color of lipstick was penis,” Anya said with a shrug. “But it’s not, so we deal. The guys need him, and if they need him, he’ll fight to hell and back to ensure he’s here to help. You’re a man-boy so you’re as dumb as a box of rocks, which means you haven’t noticed he regrets leaving in the first place. And now, with the war between your daddy and Lucifer racing to level two...”
William sighed. “After Lucy’s defeat, I’m going to spank Hades for giving Baden those bands. Daddy Dearest should only be willing to die for me. I shouldn’t have competition for his affections.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense. Hades cares for no one but himself. Not even you.” Anya patted the top of his head. “You need rest. Why don’t you lie down and watch a movie with the lights off. And your eyes closed. And the TV off.”
Katarina padded off...and though she would never admit it, she searched for Baden this time. Where was he? What was he doing?
She had no luck finding him. In fact, he didn’t reappear until bedtime, and he was splattered with blood. After he showered, he made a pallet on the floor. All without speaking a word.
The next day, she overheard a conversation between Maddox, the warrior possessed by Violence, and Sabin, the warrior possessed by Doubt.
“How many points has he earned?” Sabin asked.
“As of this morning, eight. But Pandora has nine. Damn it!” Maddox punched a wall, which explained the many holes Katarina had found. “Hades has turned the Gentleman of Mount Olympus into a guilt-ridden assassin.”
“And that’s not even the worst of it. Baden says many of his points mark the death of a human possessed by—he still doesn’t know what. Hades called the creatures a gift. Monsters other monsters fear.”
“I’ll ask around. Maybe someone knows something.”
“Good. Torin’s been searching for immortals who might have worn serpentine wreaths before Baden, but so far he’s had no luck.”
Katarina walked away. As she turned the corner, she heard another warrior mutter, “Are you sure Katarina is legit?”
“I’m not.” The reply came from Lucien, keeper of Death. “But Baden is sure. Says he’ll kill anyone who harms her.”
How...almost sweet.
That night, she noticed Baden moved his pallet closer to the bed, and she couldn’t bring herself to protest. Because she didn’t care what he did. She didn’t!
The next day, she ended up in a room where the girlfriends, wives and consorts trained with swords, guns and crossbows.
“Well, Gillian’s birthday party is officially canceled. She’s supersick,” Ashlyn said. “William’s on a rampage, mumbling about his book and how this must be the curse in action, and how he has to do something.”
Book? Curse?
“And that’s the good news,” Kaia the Wing Shredder announced. The beautiful redhead was a Harpy. A bloodthirsty race of thieves and pranksters. She appeared human, except for the tiny wings that fluttered between her shoulder blades. “I’ve spoken to Bianka. Lysander and Zacharel are looking for the box, too. How are we supposed to battle Sent Ones and the evil minions who don’t exactly like our jam?”
Bianka...Kaia’s twin, Katarina thought she remembered hearing. Lysander...Bianka’s husband. Zacharel...she wasn’t sure. Sent Ones...a term she couldn’t identify.
“We have to intensify our search,” Anya said. She was the goddess of Anarchy and, according to everyone in the fortress, an unholy terror. “Those goody-goodies might help our men, they might not. The problem is Lucifer. If he gets hold of the Morning Star...” She shuddered.
Morning Star. Another term Katarina couldn’t identify.
“Actually, the problem is our men,” Gwen interjected. She was Kaia’s younger sister and often teased about being the “nice” one. “They worry about Baden. When he’s here, they hover around him, as if they’re afraid something bad will happen to him.”
The girls brainstormed ways to fix the situation—until they noticed Katarina.
“You need to snap out of this funk, like, el pronto,” Anya said. “You think you’re the only one with crises? Chica, you should try living a few thousand years and see how many losses you suffer. You’re being a baby and I’m sick of it. You’re stealing my thunder!”
“I’m totally willing to gut the piece of scum who killed your dogs,” Gwen said. “Blink twice if you want me to get started...waiting...waiting...fine. But the offer will forever stand.”
“Listen. I’ve been meaning to talk to you but time got away from me.” Danika was a petite blonde whose nickname confused Katarina. The All-seeing Eye. “I see into the future and what I’ve seen...well, if you don’t step up, it’s not pretty, Katarina. Please help him. Help us all.”
What did Danika mean, she saw into the future? Was she psychic? Well. That explained the name, didn’t it?
Katarina managed to escape the group without making any promises.
That night, Baden placed his pallet right next to the bed, so close she could touch him with her toes if she stretched out her leg. She still didn’t care what he did...but for some strange reason, she took comfort from his nearness.
The next morning, she stumbled upon a make-out session between Danika and Reyes, the warrior possessed by Pain. Knives were involved, and it made Katarina gasp with horror. She raced away before the two realized they had an audience, trying to wipe the memory from her mind. But...
The two had looked so happy.
As the rest of the week ticked by, Katarina witnessed several other make-out sessions. One couple couldn’t wait to get to their bedroom before ripping at each other’s clothes. Another couple chased each other through the halls, laughing. Through it all, a startling fact became very clear. These people might be vicious and bloodthirsty, but they loved each other. Deeply. Madly. Their devotion was palpable.
And, in the quiet darkness of Baden’s bedroom that night—with the redhead asleep on the other side of the mattress, the pallet forgotten—Katarina could no longer deny the truth: that devotion had lured her out of isolation. These people kept each other going. They had troubles, but they never gave up. Bearing witness to their bravery and determination to live life to the fullest had eased something inside her.
When morning sunlight streamed into the bedroom, she was once again alone. Thirsty for the first time in forever, she padded to the kitchen. As she poured herself a glass of orange juice, Baden crossed the threshold. He noticed her right away, as if his gaze was drawn to her, and closed in on her.
“I can’t get you out of my mind, and it’s twisting up my insides,” he said, his voice a mix of anger and concern. “I’m worried about you. One minute I want to shake you, the next I want to...hold you.”
He wants to hold me?
“Welcome to a non-relationship,” Gideon said as he entered the kitchen. The keeper of Lies. “Please tell me you drank all the—”
Baden pointed to the hall.
“So cool.” The warrior with blue hair and multiple piercings backed out of view.
“You’ve disconnected from life,” Baden continued. “I understand why, but now you need a reason to connect again.”
She turned away from him. Even though he was right. She had disconnected, and this wasn’t the first time.
After her mom died, she’d disconnected from the more rambunctious aspects of her personality. The girl who loved to laugh had soon become the somber girl who focused on her work with her father. Then she’d lost her father, then Peter—new reasons to throw herself into her work. Then she’d lost her work...her pets. Her only source of unconditional love.
Katarina slammed the juice on the counter. The glass shattered, liquid spilling everywhere. She rushed from the kitchen and into the safety of Baden’s room, where she climbed into bed and buried herself under the covers.
A few seconds later, Baden stretched out beside her. Because he wanted to hold her?
He combed his fingers through her hair, making her gasp—tremble. Purposeful contact? “I know words can’t make this better for you, nothing can, but I am sorry for your loss.”
Guilt clogged her throat. Wasn’t the blame partly hers? She could have told Baden the truth their first night together. Maybe he would have helped her rescue the dogs, maybe not, but she had denied him the chance, allowing fear to lead her.
“I know what you’re doing,” she croaked. What was he doing? “Stop.”
He continued combing her hair. “I’m familiar with the pain of saying goodbye to someone you love. There were more of us created, you know. More immortal warriors meant to guard Zeus. Before the box, we lost eight brothers and six sisters during battle, and I still bear the scars.” He expelled a forced breath. “After I died, my thoughts free of the demon for the first time in hundreds of years, I realized just how thoroughly I was separated from the ones who still lived. I hated every second.”
What if he’d left her with Alek, as she’d asked? What then? Alek probably would have killed the dogs anyway, since he’d gotten what he’d wanted: control of her life.
Still, she rolled away from Baden to end the heart-wrenching conversation.
He wasn’t deterred. “Want to hear something messed up? I warred with Pandora for four thousand years, and yet she’s the reason I remained sane. I owe her, but I’ll still do whatever proves necessary to beat her at our game. I have to. Victory might be my only way out of these bands.” He laughed, the sound sharp with a bitter edge. “I’ve never had more reason to give up, but I’ve never wanted to live so much.”
Her chest constricted. For her pain, yes, but also for his.
“Sharing is easier than I expected,” he remarked.
Curiosity got the better of her. “You’ve never done it?”
“Why would I? I’m a warrior. Bearing burdens is my job. My privilege.”
“I disagree. The more burdens you carry, the fewer battles you’re able to fight. You’re too bogged down.”
He frowned at her.
“Why share with me?” To help her reconnect, as he’d said, but there had to be more to it than that. “You don’t care about my opinion, remember?”
“I...care. I did you wrong, now I do you right.”
What a sweet—and baffling—response from a man she shouldn’t trust but couldn’t bring herself to spurn.
He left her then. Rather than puttering around the fortress to calm the tempest in her head, she cleaned his room. And that night, as fatigue settled over her, she drifted off, enjoying her first peaceful rest since meeting Alek.
She woke when the bedroom door opened, hinges squeaking. A stoic Baden strode toward her, breakfast tray in hand.
“You will eat,” he said, putting the food in front of her.
Hunger pangs failed to overshadow the sudden burn of anger. “You need to stop ordering me around.”
“I’ve lived longer. I know what’s best for you. Besides, you’re fragile. You need my help.”
Her anger only escalated. “I’m fragile...I’m weak. I admit it.” I’m nothing without my dogs. “But you are a patronizing asshole.”
“This, you’ve told me before.”
“Well, it bore mentioning again.”
A knock sounded, and relief glinted in his eyes. Hadn’t liked the direction of the conversation? He moved to the door to speak to the intruder and Katarina sneaked an avocado slice.
When he returned to her side, he held a large black-and-white mutt. The dog had fleas and multiple scars, as if he’d once served as bait in a fighting ring.
She recognized him. One of the strays from outside the chapel.
“I know this boy can’t replace the others,” Baden said, “but he clearly needs an advocate. He showed up on our doorstep.”
What! No. Absolutely not. She’d lost so much already; she couldn’t bear to lose more. “Take him to the nearest shelter. They’ll check for a microchip. If he doesn’t have one, they’ll put up posts to find his owners.”
The wiggling dog growled at Baden, who shifted from one foot to the other, struggling to maintain his hold. The action only aggravated the dog further, and he snapped and snarled, baring the sharpest set of teeth she’d ever seen.
“Katarina—”
“No.” Too raw and ragged to offer any more help.
With a sigh, Baden carried the dog away.
She set the tray on the floor, no longer hungry, and drew the covers over her head.
When he returned, Baden settled beside her and draped a glove-covered arm over her middle. Strangely enough, she fell into another peaceful rest—
Only to awake with a jolt as he muttered, “Kill. Kill!”
She stiffened. He wanted to kill her? She scrambled up. Lamplight trickled over him. His eyes were closed, his features pale and taut. He was sleep talking?
“Shhh. You don’t need to kill anyone,” she told him softly.
“Threats...too many threats.” There was a husky quality to his voice, one she’d never heard before. “They can’t be allowed to live.”
“Who dares to threaten you?”
He answered as if he heard her, even understood her, despite his current state. “Everyone.”
“Why?” She brushed her fingers over his furrowed brow, and he actually leaned into the caress. When she remembered the command he’d once bellowed at her—Do not touch me. Ever—she drew back.
He frowned and kicked at the covers. “I won’t be imprisoned again. Never again.”
How long had he been locked away?
This man had lived, in some capacity, for a very long time. Considering the violence of his world, he must have grappled with his fair share of ordeals. “Shhh,” she repeated. “No one’s going to imprison you. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Can only trust myself.”
Because he’d responded well to her singing in the past, she hummed. Gradually, the tension drained from him. He relaxed against the pillows.
So beautiful, she thought. And like this he was almost...innocent. Like one of the abused dogs she’d rescued. Once forced to fight to survive, desperate for a safe home, hungry for affection...finally safe and able to hope for better.
In a fairy tale, he would be cast as the prince and the dragon. Right now, she would be cast as the princess, once again the damsel in distress. Well, things were about to change. Today they would switch roles. She would be the dragon prince, and he would be the princess. In the morning, she might even kiss him awake.
Kiss him? Whoa! Too far!
But his perfect lips snagged her attention, delicious warmth uncoiling in her belly.
Ignore it! Determined to use her energy to protect him—this man who’d fed her and comforted her—she remained awake the rest of the night, just in case. But no one attempted to sneak into the room; no one even knocked on the door.
When he sat up with a jolt, fully awake and aware, she yawned and muttered, “We’re alone. Everything’s okay.”
“Of course it is.” He climbed to his feet. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Was he kidding? “Because of what you said last night.”
He went still, his back to her. “What did I say last night?”
He couldn’t remember? “You said I’m the reason you breathe—or used to breathe—and you’d be lost without me.”
The muscles between his shoulders knotted, pulling at the shirt he wore. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m teasing. There’s a difference.”
“Teasing?” He spun. “You’re healing.”
She was, wasn’t she? An-n-nd with the realization, grief and guilt enveloped her. But even still, the waves weren’t as big and didn’t quite tug her under the tide.
“You’re going to shower,” he said with a nod. “Today.”
She sputtered. “I would have showered if you’d asked nicely. Now you can take your order and shove—”
He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, his delectable scent tantalizing her, his protective arms keeping the worst of her emotions at bay.
“You can’t manhandle me to get your way,” she said on a sigh.
“I believe I just proved otherwise.”
“You’re strong, blah blah blah. Do you really think this will end well for you?”
“I’m willing to risk your ire.” His amused smile galled her.
When the water heated and steamed, he placed her inside the shower stall. He even followed her in, clothing and all. And, oh! This had to be heaven.
Her mind betrayed her, failing to supply a reason to protest as he stripped her of everything but her bra and panties. Instead she entertained a crazy thought: Let’s see where this goes.
He kept his own clothes in place and even wore the gloves. He sat down, taking her with him, and anchored her between his legs. She trembled with...anticipation?
“You have a rat’s nest of tangles,” he said. “We have two options. Shave your head or use the conditioner I stole from William, who will protest. With knives.”
“Shave it.” Hair was hair. It would grow back.
“Singular creature. Most women—and that includes William—would fight to the death to protect their locks.”
“Would you?”
“No. I fight for enough already. Although I realize now I’ll gladly fight for your locks.” He slathered her hair with a sweet-smelling cream and, while it soaked into her scalp, soaped up the rest of her, avoiding her intimate areas. In fact, his touch remained impersonal.
And why would it be anything else? She was fragile, weak. The worst attributes ever, according to Baden. And her mother, who’d hoped to prepare her for the day the cancer would win.
He handed her a toothbrush and toothpaste, and she scrubbed her mouth clean.
He rinsed out the hair cream and finally shut off the water. He placed her on the toilet lid, dried her with a soft towel and gently untangled the locks of hair that had dared defy the deep conditioning treatment.
“Are you still unwilling to torture Aleksander?” he asked, his tone cautious.
“I’ll always be unwilling.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Has he given you the coin?”
Anger colored his cheeks. “He resists me at every turn.”
“I’m sorry.” In the bright light, she noticed the cuts and bruises that littered his face. He’d recently been in a fight. Probably multiple fights. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Of course not.”
But others had.
Baden says many of his points mark the death of a human...
He’d had to fight to survive. “I’d like to doctor your injuries,” she said.
He frowned at her. “I’m fine.”
“But—”
“No. No touching,” he reminded her.
Seriously? “We just took a shower together. Our bodies were pressed together.”
“That was different.”
“How?” she demanded.
He scrubbed a hand over his strained features. “You’re no longer my captive, Katarina. I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go.”
Subject changed. Fine. What else had changed? Her! She didn’t want to leave him, her junkyard dog, even though she should return home and rebuild her kennel. And her bank account.
This man needed help. The game he played with Pandora was a tether. A chain. Through it, he suffered mental and physical abuse. His friends thought she could soothe him and she, well, she really wanted to prove them right. How foolish!
“No need to take me anywhere,” she said. “I’m where I want to be.”
“Why?” He was suspicious...hopeful?
“Why else? I like living on someone else’s dime.”
He stared at her, as if trying to see inside her head. “Very well.” He nodded. “You may stay.”
No protests about her gold-digger status? Bastard.
“Dress.”
Another command. Would he ever just ask?
Maybe he needed a proper example. “Would you please turn around?”
He hesitated, his features tight, before doing as requested. She hopped up, removed her soaking wet undergarments and tugged on the T-shirt and shorts that were folded at the edge of the sink. Once again, the clothes he’d picked for her were meant for a much smaller person; the hem of the shirt ended well above her navel, and the shorts barely covered the curve of her ass.
“All done,” she said.
As she strode past him, he sucked in a mouthful of air. “Your legs...”
She paused to look over each limb, but everything appeared normal. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Was that...reverence in his tone? Did she want it to be?
Her insides heating, she toyed with a lock of hair. He strode to the closet and changed into dry clothing, unabashedly giving her a peek at his naked form, and oh, wow, he was a magnificent specimen. More muscled than she’d realized, a carnal buffet of strength and sinew.
“Your tattoo,” she said, certain she was drooling. “The butterfly on your chest.”
“Yes?”
“It’s...” Delectable—edible. “Beautiful.”
“We were marked with a butterfly when the demons first entered our bodies. I lost mine when I died and thought getting another would help me become the man I used to be.”
How very sweet, and very sad. “Why would you want to become the man you used to be? From everything I’ve heard, he sucked ass.”
He looked at her as if she were a strange creature. “The others loved him.”
“But they sucked ass, too, yes? Not really a high recommendation for his character.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps I got the mark because I secretly wanted to be more like the honorable men my friends had become. To be bonded to them.”
“Silly warrior. You didn’t need a tattoo for that. You guys are bonded by your love for each other. But maybe the mark can have a new meaning now. You were Distrust, then you were dead, but you emerged from the abyss able to fly.”
A strange and wonderful creature.
She preened. “Did you and Pandora hook up when you were trapped together? She’s tough. Totally your type.”
“Yes, she’s very tough. But no, we didn’t.” He stepped toward her, his pupils expanding over his copper irises. His hands fisted...to control a need to reach for her? “You’ve proven to be even more fragile than I realized. You’re also married.”
The disgust had returned, and yet...no matter his feelings about fragility, no matter his prejudice about her sham of a marriage, he obviously found her attractive. As he studied her, the telltale signs of excitement only grew more pronounced.
The most feminine parts of her began to throb. “I’m married, yes, but not for long. This girl will be getting a speedy annulment.”
Another step. “No need. I’ll make you a widow.”
How easily he spoke of murder. As easily as he committed it, she was sure.
And he was staring at her lips now, she realized. Wondering how they tasted?
She shivered with longing.
A harried knock stopped him while making her jolt guiltily. Would he have kissed her? Would she have let him?
“Baden?” Ashlyn called. “Is Katarina in there?”
He’d stiffened. “She is. Why?”
“Are you both dressed?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he grated, not sounding pleased by that fact.
She rushed inside the room, her hands wringing together. “Another stray dog showed up, and I’m begging you to take care of them both, Katarina.”
No way, no how. She wasn’t taking another animal under her wing. She absolutely one hundred percent was not falling in love and losing another piece of her heart. Why bother? Death was inevitable.
“Like I told you last time. Take him and his buddy to a local shelter.”
“They bark at me every time I approach them. If I take them to a shelter, they’ll be labeled aggressive and euthanized. And I can’t ask anyone else to help. Everyone is too busy worrying about Gilly and planning William’s murder.” Ashlyn pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “It has to be you.”
She spoke of murder just as easily as Baden.
“I know Gilly is sick,” Baden said with a frown, “but why turn on William?”
“He flashed her somewhere else. We don’t know where. He’s ignoring all calls and texts.” Ashlyn looked to Katarina, beseeching with her gaze. “I’ve never had a pet, but I know suffering when I see it. Please.”
“I...” Can’t say no, but must protect my heart.
“Katarina,” Baden prompted. “Help her.”
That wasn’t the first time he’d used her name, but it was the first time his tongue had caressed all four syllables and made her shiver.
“Another order,” she told him with an arched brow.
“As I told you before, the strays won’t replace the ones you lost, but the loss of one doesn’t stop the need for another.”
Wise words. And really, deep down—underneath her fear of loss—she was tempted to work with the dogs and offer all the love she’d once had to give. Love they clearly needed. Love they’d probably never received.
Likelihood of Getting Bitten? A solid one hundred percent. One of the dogs had already tried to bite a person, his instinct to attack first and trust later—if ever. He needed guidance as much as food. New surroundings, with new people and smells, could be frightening, and frightened dogs acted out. Not all humans reacted with understanding, patience or even compassion.
“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “I’ll do it.”
Relief softened Baden’s expression. “We’ll have to muzzle—”
“No.” She shook her head, adamant. “No muzzles unless absolutely necessary.”
“Yes,” he insisted. “There’s no reason to risk a bite.”
“I’ll decide what I risk.”
“That isn’t how our relationship works,” he reminded her, as if speaking to a child. “I’m the general, and you’re the lowly soldier. I order, you comply.”
“For my safety, blah, blah, blah. Well, this lowly soldier is doing things her way. You can deal.”
“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you!” A clapping Ashlyn jumped up and down. “The dogs are locked in one of the downstairs bedrooms. My children have named them Biscuit and Gravy.”
Children...she’d heard about the twins in her many wanderings, but she’d never actually seen them. “How old are your kids?”
Ashlyn beamed with pride. “Urban and Ever are eight mon—years,” she corrected as her happiness faded.
An odd reaction.
Whatever. Katarina had aided her dad as soon as she could walk. “They’re welcome to watch me work, but they have to do everything I say, when I say it.”
“How kind of you. I’ll let them know. Oh! And they’ve already been instructed not to hurt you, so you don’t need to worry.”
Eight-year-olds were a danger to her? Please.
Unless they were immortal?
Right. New world, new rules. She had to adjust.
She met Baden’s probing stare. “Are you coming with us?”
“No.” He rubbed the band hidden under his shirtsleeve. “I have a job of my own to do.”
What job? she almost asked. With him, it was probably best if she didn’t know. “Be careful.” The words slipped out, and though she wanted to take them back—too concerned, almost clingy—she didn’t.
He blinked in surprise. “I will. You, too.” A tension-laden pause stretched between them, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint its source.
Perhaps he couldn’t, either. He frowned and stalked from the room.
Ashlyn skipped over and linked their arms. “According to the other warriors, Baden used to be the nicest male on the planet, but death changed him. So have the wreaths he wears. He’s harder, colder. But I know for a fact he’ll never hurt you.”
Her heart suddenly felt like the drum at a rock concert. “What makes me an exception?”
“Oh, honey. The way Baden just looked at you...well, I’m sure you’ll learn the answer firsthand. And soon!”