The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  Until now.

  Baden’s female was so depressed she walked around the fortress like a phantom. And Cameo felt partly responsible, as if the taint of her demon had infected the girl. Had it? What about Gilly and William? Gilly was sick, and William was inconsolable. Her fault?

  Probably.

  The world would be better off without me.

  Heart-heavy, she plopped onto the edge of the bed. She longed to sob, but crying would do her no good, would only feed the demon, making him stronger.

  Finding the box would free her from the fiend at long last, and on the surface, appeared to be her best bet. But finding the box had never been more impossible, every edge they’d gained now dulled.

  What could she do?

  She had some thinking to do...some decisions to make about her future. What she knew? She couldn’t go on this way.

  10

  “Only one of these sentences is true: I never chase, I replace. I will eat my words.”

  —Galen, keeper of Jealousy and False Hope

  BADEN—NEEDED—SEX.

  He needed it hard, and he needed it fast. Most important, he needed it now. The fate of the fortress depended on it, as William had predicted. Destruction frothed inside his mind, banging on his skull.

  Every minute—correction—every second in Katarina’s presence had become a special kind of hell. Yesterday he’d showered with her, and though he’d been in agonizing pain he’d done his best to hide, every point of contact like dusting salt on an open wound, the pleasure of having her in his arms had almost proved greater.

  Her nipples had tightened against his palms as he’d rubbed soap into her flesh, and he’d had to fight the urge to grind into her back. And afterward, when she’d walked across the bedroom, her mile-long legs on display, he’d wanted to pick her up and throw her on the bed, strip her naked and plunge deep, deep inside her.

  His body had yet to calm.

  His mind had even begun to rationalize. Katarina might not be his type, might be weak, but strength wasn’t necessary in a temporary lover. So she belonged to someone else. So what? She belonged to Aleksander in name only. For now. Hardly a big deal. She could belong to Baden, too. For a little while.

  But if he lost control of the beast and hurt her? Or worse?

  He didn’t want to hurt her. He actually cared about her well-being. When he’d shared bits and pieces of his life with her, attempting to draw her out of her depression, he’d created an unexpected connection to her. A bond he’d been unable to break. And he’d tried!

  Destruction wanted her, too, which was part of the problem. The beast was now leery of her, unsure of what to make of her.

  Baden stalked down the hallway, heading for Strider’s bedroom. “Any sign of Pandora today?” he asked. He was alone, but Torin monitored the halls through a series of cameras and mics.

  “Not yet,” the warrior replied, his voice spilling from overhead speakers.

  Though Pandora had flashed into the dungeon at least once a day in an attempt to snag Aleksander, she’d managed to avoid the trap Baden set.

  No matter. She was impulsive and impatient, and soon, she would make a mistake.

  She had to make a mistake.

  Earlier in the week, when Baden refused to dismember a teenager, Hades gave the task to Pandora. She’d done it without hesitation, earning an extra point, putting her in the lead. Only later had Baden learned the teenager in question wasn’t actually a teenager but an older witch cloaked by magic. A witch on Lucifer’s payroll, who received a bonus for every human she lured to the dark side.

  The king of Harbingers wasn’t content with his immortal army. He planned to raise a human one, too.

  Hades grew more agitated by the day. He’d even increased the number of assignments he doled out, presenting both Baden and Pandora with a list.

  And Baden, well, he was beginning to not hate the male. There was a method to his madness, whether Baden understood right away or not.

  He reached the keeper of Defeat’s door and knocked hard enough to crack the wood.

  Note to self: Buy a new door.

  “Coming, coming.” A patter of footsteps rang out and the door swung open, revealing Strider’s mate, Kaia. She greeted him with a dagger in hand, her mass of red hair anchored in pigtails, her eyes bright with fury.

  She’s armed...a true threat. Kill her!

  Baden did his best to ignore the beast, staring over Kaia’s shoulder. He scanned the room, checking for hidden threats out of habit. Well. Her decorating style could probably be classified as a hoarder died here. “Did you reach your sister?”

  For his next assignment, he was supposed to steal a pair of panties from Taliyah the Cold Hearted. Without touching or harming her. Taliyah was a Harpy, Kaia’s older sister, and a snake-shifter hybrid. She was almost as bloodthirsty as Destruction.

  Why Hades wanted him to do this, he couldn’t yet fathom, but he was done questioning the man’s orders.

  “Yep. She’ll meet you at Downfall in an hour.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Save your thanks and do me a favor.” She gave the hilt of her dagger a kiss. “Next time you’re with Hades, demand to know each of William’s hideouts.”

  The urge to protect suddenly overwhelmed him. Protect William? Or Hades?

  Both. Destruction snarled inside his head. They are mine, and I will annihilate anyone who even thinks to harm them.

  That was far more than just a Get Out of Torture Free card. That was determination, caring and concern.

  But the beast wasn’t done. He fought Baden’s domination—and he fought hard, finally managing to take over his body and mind.

  His mouth watered. Her blood, I’ll taste it. His hands itched. Her bones, I’ll break them.

  As a predator, Kaia sensed his intentions and reacted accordingly, crouching, readying for attack.

  Rational thought intruded: No, no. Not her.

  But Destruction had already pulled back his fist to strike. At the last second, Baden regained a semblance of control, raining the fury upon the wall with punches and kicks.

  The beast roared as more and more of Baden’s friends sprinted from their rooms, grabbing hold of him to try to stop him.

  They dare try to restrain me?

  Again, the beast was able to overtake him, flinging one warrior after another across the hall. The males crashed with so much force they left body-shaped cracks behind. Dust and bits of plaster thickened the air.

  He laughed.

  “How do we corral him?” someone shouted.

  “Keeley.” Torin’s voice poured over the intercom. “You’re needed in Strider’s room. ASAP.”

  “No time. We need Katarina,” a female called. “She calms him, I think.”

  A handful of warriors rushed him at once, tackling him to the floor, but again, flinging them away wasn’t difficult. Power expanded his limbs, reinforced his bones. He was able to work his way to his feet.

  I might fall, but I’ll never stay down.

  A grinning blond stepped into his path. The male named Strider. Killing him would be a pleasure.

  Baden screamed at Destruction. He’s my friend. They all are!

  “Hey! Over here.” One of the women said, “I’m going to rip you a new asshole—in your face.”

  Not my friends, Destruction told Baden as he grabbed the woman by the neck and lifted her off her feet. Anya. Destruction had made of point of learning the identities of the residents. Know your enemy...

  “No!” Lucien shouted, tackling him from behind.

  The goddess of Anarchy twined her legs around Destruction’s neck and, as he stumbled, squeezed with surprising strength.

  From the corner of his eye, he spotted Katarina and the one named Ashl
yn rounding the far corner. Both females stopped to gape at him. He paused, he wasn’t sure why, giving Baden the opportunity to regain a bit of control. Not enough to claim ownership of the body, but enough to slow him down as their wills clashed. He bellowed to the rafters.

  “Run, Ash, and take the girl with you,” Maddox demanded. “She’s only making him worse.”

  Katarina...leave?

  Baden and Destruction worked together to pull Anya off their shoulders and drop her. They sidestepped Lucien and stalked to the woman who’d haunted them. The woman who belonged to them. If only for a little while.

  “Go!” multiple voices screamed at once. The warriors were giving chase, trying to beat him to the object of his fascination.

  Ashlyn attempted to tug Katarina away, but Katarina shook off her hold and stepped forward. Toward him.

  The moment she reached him, she framed his face with her delicate hands. He had to crouch to allow the action, which wasn’t exactly a prime position to mount a proper defense—but worth it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  He drew in a breath, his usually useless lungs suddenly infused by the sweetness of her scent...as if he were coming back to life. “They are threats.”

  “Wrong. There are no threats here.”

  “They are threats,” he insisted.

  She brushed her thumbs over the rise of his cheeks, gentle, so gentle, and yet still the action stung. But he didn’t pull away. The air between them thickened and crackled with awareness. He liked it.

  The others stopped their pursuit and maintained a proper distance, whispering with incredulity.

  “Is this really happening or am I hallucinating?” someone asked.

  “Does the human have a magic hoo-ha?”

  “You have a job to do,” Katarina reminded him, ignoring the others. “Why don’t you go do it, and I’ll take care of the threats here?”

  He snorted. “You’re not strong enough.”

  That earned a raised brow. “So you’ve told me.”

  “Dude. Isn’t she married?” Kaia asked.

  He snarled at the Harpy, though his gaze remained on Katarina. She’d lost weight and looked more fragile than ever, and yet her beauty took his breath away.

  Breath he now needed to survive?

  “Baden,” she said.

  “Destruction,” he corrected.

  “Since he’s affected by you, I’m willing to bet you’re affected by him. Why don’t I call you Baduction?” She smiled at him, inviting him to play with her. “And a hat tip to you. If your newest job is to stare at me, you’ve got it nailed.”

  He didn’t know how to play, but he liked seeing her like this. Happy rather than despondent.

  He shouldn’t care what she felt. Caring left him vulnerable.

  He scowled at her. “Stay out of trouble today.”

  “I will, but not because you ordered it. Because I’m a girl and girls are made of—”

  “Sugar and spice,” he interjected, remembering the rhyme. Boys were made of snakes and snails.

  “Wrong. Girls are made of vodka and ice. The two combined increase our tolerance for masculine nonsense.”

  He snort-laughed. Funny girl. But the laughter died a swift death as Baden rose closer and closer to the surface, fighting with all his might.

  Expression growing serious, Katarina said, “I expect you to come back unscathed.”

  Did she care about his well-being? That...he would allow. “I won’t be harmed. I’m strong.” He just wasn’t strong enough to hold back Baden any longer. The warrior won the battle.

  Baden shook as he returned to his normal size. He still had to bend to press his forehead against Katarina’s, but he did it, so damned glad the beast hadn’t hurt her—feeling guilty for allowing the fight to happen in the first place and worried over his friends’ reactions.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his jaw tingling from her touch.

  “There you are,” she replied. “My Baden.”

  Her eyes widened as the words echoed between them. Her Baden?

  “Yes,” he found himself saying. Agreeing.

  “On your job today...maybe don’t kill anyone?” She rose on her tiptoes and whispered, “If you can refrain, I’ll reward you with...”

  He tensed with excitement as she lowered and their gazes locked. Black flooded the gray-green. Her cheeks were flushed, her respirations quickening.

  “With?” he demanded.

  She licked her lips as she stared at his. “Anything you want.”

  Instant hard-on.

  An arc of surprise passed between them...and longing. So much longing.

  “I’ll refrain,” he said, and flashed to Downfall before he carried her straight to bed.

  The club resided in the third level of the heavens. A haven for degenerates.

  He pushed the beast’s coup to the back of his mind—wouldn’t consider the helplessness he’d just experienced.

  He even pushed Katarina to the back of his mind—because he had to. If he thought about her parting words, he wouldn’t last five minutes away from her. Definitely wouldn’t complete his newest task.

  He pushed through the crowd. The walls and floor were comprised of wispy clouds, allowing glimpses of black skies and bright stars, and yet both the walls and the floor were solid to the touch. To the left, a live band played, a group of women throwing their undergarments at the lead singer.

  If only Baden’s mission would be so easy.

  To his right, bartenders manned a congested bar, mixing drinks and spreading good cheer. To his left, countless bodies writhed on the dance floor.

  Destruction banged against his skull. Trust no one. Hurt everyone.

  That’s enough out of you.

  There was only one reason he’d chosen the immortal nightclub for his meeting with Taliyah: it was owned by three Sent Ones. Merciless winged warriors who might have insight about the wreaths. Two birds, one wild stone. The warriors were currently—always—at war with Lucifer and his minions, and they’d made it their business to know the happenings in the underworld.

  Baden swiped two shots of ambrosia-laced whiskey from a tray as a waiter passed him. He downed both, the taste and scent harkening back to the chase through the blazing field, but the warmth soothed him anyway.

  “Hey,” the waiter said. “Those are for—”

  One look at Baden, and he zipped his lips, gratefully accepting the empty glasses.

  Just before Baden crossed the VIP threshold, a giant of a man stepped in his path. Bulging muscles, with the mane of a lion and the flexible jaw of a bear. He was a Berserker, no question.

  Baden decided to give a polite request a shot. “I’m here to speak with the Sent Ones.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I’m willing to overlook the lack and see them anyway.”

  The Berserker crossed massive arms over a massive chest. “They’re busy, and they’re not to be disturbed.”

  Deny us? We’ll teach him the error of his ways.

  We’re an us now? Still on edge, Baden found himself consenting. Just this once.

  Destruction laughed with glee as he poured dark strength straight into Baden’s veins.

  Like Kaia, the Berserker moved into an offensive stance, preparing to strike. Baden beat him to it, slamming a fist into the center of his chest, only corralling his strength at the last second when Katarina’s voice drifted through his mind.

  Anything you want.

  The guy flew backward, smashed into the back wall and slid to his ass. He remained conscious, though the center of his torso was now sunken in, as if Baden had punched through skin, muscle and bone. Maybe he had. Black mist swirled over his palms before thinning and
dispersing. A sight he’d encountered before. With Hades.

  Baden wasn’t sure what to think. At least the Berserker would heal.

  Everyone in the VIP lounge stilled and quieted. Several women stared at him with sudden interest, while most of the men gaped at him with fear. They sensed a predator far more dangerous than themselves. Berserkers were usually at the top of the food chain and Baden had just taken one down with a single blow.

  Destruction hungered for more.

  Baden breathed in and out with purpose, determined to resist temptation.

  In the far corner, two males stood. The Sent Ones. Large white and gold wings arced over their shoulders.

  Though Baden had never met the pair, he knew of them. Everyone did. The one with the white hair, scarred white skin and red eyes was Xerxes. The one with the dark hair, bronzed skin and rainbow-colored eyes was Bjorn.

  “You harmed our man,” Xerxes told him, cracking his knuckles. “Today you die.”

  “I meant him no harm.” Baden squared his shoulders and braced for impact. “I’m here for answers.”

  Behind the pair, the Berserker jumped to his feet, roaring as he healed. He sprouted five...eight more inches, grisly claws springing from the tips of his fingers.

  Baden frowned, his mind suddenly buzzing with another of Destruction’s memories. When he’d fought the guards at the prison, their bodies had piled up around him. He’d expanded, growing bigger than ever, his nails lengthening and sharpening into claws for the first time. Claws just...like...that.

  The beast was part Berserker?

  Gasps drew Baden to the present. The ends of his fingers felt as if they had been lit on fire. He looked down to see his nails had lengthened and sharpened into claws—like meeting the call of like? He was now part Berserker?

  As he shook his hands, shocked by the transformation, the claws retracted.

  Bjorn held out his arm, stopping both Xerxes and the Berserker in an instant. Without glancing away from Baden, he said, “Calm yourself, Colin, or I’ll do it for you.”

  The warning worked, the Berserker remaining in place.

  “Look at the warrior’s arms,” Bjorn said to Xerxes. “He’s wearing serpentine wreaths.”