The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  “Ah. I understand. Someone hurt you.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

  Her hackles rose. “I don’t want to talk about it. Change the subject or leave.” Well, well. The burst of anger had come with a side of strength. One she hadn’t experienced since this whole thing had kicked off.

  He didn’t change the subject and he didn’t leave. “I will kill the male responsible. Just tell me his name.”

  “Names. Plural,” she snapped, then pressed her lips together. She was confident William had already killed them. She’d lived with the Lords for three years now, and she’d sometimes looked up the names of her tormentors—a compulsion she despised. One day she’d discovered a police report about their horrific murders. Though no bodies had been found, their blood and...other things had been splattered all over the walls and floor of the very house where she’d suffered. The case remained unsolved.

  When she’d questioned William, he’d hurriedly distracted her with a new video game, as if he feared her reaction. Except he never feared anything!

  But she feared her reaction. Gratitude struck her as inappropriate, but then, so did anger.

  “One man or one hundred. It makes no difference to me,” Puck said, still so matter-of-fact.

  “Thanks for the offer, but they’re already dead.”

  He nodded. “William must have taken care of them.”

  “Are you on friendly terms with William?” she asked.

  “I know of him and I’m sure he knows of me, but we’ve never officially met.”

  “If you want to be his friend, sneaking around his property isn’t—”

  “I don’t want to be his friend. He can hate me. I don’t care one way or the other.”

  “That’s unwise. If you aren’t his friend, you’re his enemy. His enemies die. Painfully.” A fact she’d had to accept about him. He was what he was, and there was no changing him. Not that she wanted to change him. Why mess with perfection?

  Puck smiled at her, for a moment he was almost...adorable? “My enemies die gratefully, glad to finally escape me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You immortals and your blood feuds.”

  “Don’t you mean us immortals?”

  A pang of longing—I want to live. One she ignored. “I’m going to die, remember? Before the transformation is complete.” So weird to say! “And I don’t want to think up a bucket list.” She’d have to pick things she could do from her sickbed, and how sad was that?

  “You will die, yes.” He threw a pebble into the water. “I could marry you, I suppose. Save you.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you actually proposing to me?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t want to marry you, but I don’t not want to marry you. It’s just something to do. Something with the potential to be mutually beneficial.”

  I can live! Maybe. Or she could kill him.

  All right, let’s say she married him and she survived the transformation. What then? They would be man and wife. He would want to do things to her body, just as she dreaded. Bile churned, her stomach threatening to rebel. “Aren’t you worried I’ll make you mortal?”

  “I’m the dominant. My life force would overpower yours, no question.”

  He sounded so sure, and part of her was tempted. I can be saved! But...was her life worth the trouble that would follow such a bond? “Thank you for the kind offer non-offer, but I’m going to pass.”

  “Because of my horns?”

  “No.” Those were oddly...cool, she thought now. And maybe just a little sexy.

  Sexy? Nothing was sexy to her.

  He deserved the truth. “You would want to have...you know.”

  “Sex?”

  Her cheeks heated as she nodded.

  “You are correct,” he said. “I would.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t. Ever.”

  “You think that now, but I would change your mind.” He threw another pebble into the water. “Not that I would force you. I wouldn’t. That’s one of the rules I live by. I would wait for you to want it.”

  “I’m telling you, no matter how skilled you think you are, you’d have to wait forever.”

  He snorted. “I’d have you in my bed within the month, guaranteed.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, something warm pouring through her veins. Something she’d never experienced before.

  His head tilted to the side and his ear—his pointed ear!—twitched. “William has returned. He’ll be here in five...four...three...”

  “You should go,” she whispered, worry thundering inside her chest. “Please.”

  “One.”

  William sailed through the double doors leading to and from the home’s living room. He crouched beside her and frowned. “Are you all right, poppet? The guards—”

  “I’m fine,” she rushed out, turning to gaze at—Puck was gone. Just gone. And William had no idea, otherwise he would’ve focused on the intruder first. She breathed a sigh of relief. A fight wasn’t something she wanted to witness, especially since she could do nothing to help either—no. Scratch that. Help William. Only William. Of course.

  He came first.

  “What happened to the men?” He studied their sleeping forms, and she had the distinct feeling each man would be dead by morning—or wish he were dead.

  “Someone happened to them.” I have to tell him, don’t I? “A man. Puck. He came here and moved so quickly I couldn’t even see him. The guards were no match for his speed and strength.”

  William stood so fast she would bet he’d given himself whiplash. In both of his hands a dagger glinted in the firelight. “Puck. The keeper of Indifference. He’s sworn vengeance on Torin for trapping him in another realm. How did he escape?”

  Puck had failed to mention anything about that. And really, Gillian couldn’t imagine him caring enough to exact vengeance against anyone. “How do you know what he’s sworn if you’ve never met him?”

  “My spies. They are everywhere, poppet.”

  “Or Torin told you,” she said drily.

  “Did Puck say anything to you? Did the bastard do anything to you?” Antipathy dripped from every word.

  “He told me about morte ad vitam.” As William cursed, she added, “You won’t hurt him for it. And you won’t kill him. Or pay someone else to kill him.” A girl had to cover all her bases. “I should have heard the truth from you, but I didn’t, so he kindly offered to help.”

  “Offered. To. Help. How?” The last was spit into the darkness as William noticed the shirt draped over her.

  On dangerous ground. Proceed carefully. “Promise me first,” she said. “Please.”

  He remained silent as he ripped the shirt from her and tossed it into the water. She swallowed a whimper.

  William scooped her up and carried her inside the house. She’d seen so little of the place. Only the path to her bedroom, really. A massive living room with sections of walls and ceiling strategically cut away to maximize daylight and ocean views. Floor-to-ceiling frosted glass windows welcomed nature inside while maintaining a sense of privacy.

  A white couch curved into a half-moon, and two lounge chairs—also in white—offered a place to stretch out and relax in front of a stone fireplace with a lion carved on each side. The coffee table looked to be made of recycled wood he’d found on the beach.

  “The verdict?” William asked, noticing her scrutiny.

  “Clean, classic and yet homey, with touches of the ornate,” she said. “So, not really you.” He was extraordinary, unique and wicked. “How long have you owned the place?”

  “Since the day we arrived, and I...relocated the owner.”

  What! “Liam, you can’t just—”

  “I can, and I did. Might is my right.” He climbed the winding staircase with ease and entere
d the first bedroom on the right. The walls were yellow and the comforter on the bed light blue. Reminded her of sunshine and morning sky. The nightstand had sailboat steering wheels for legs, lending a touch of novelty.

  He eased her onto the mattress and tucked the covers around her. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

  He considered Puck a closed subject, didn’t he? Frustrating man. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to—”

  “Your conscience doesn’t need to bear anything. Mine alone will carry the burden.”

  “That’s a problem. You don’t actually have a conscience.”

  “Perhaps I’ll acquire one.” He arched a brow. “How much do you think they’re sold for nowadays?”

  What was wrong with the men in her life?

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked again.

  “No,” she grumbled. “And, just so you know, I’m not going to marry you.”

  He was as taut as a drum as he sat beside her. “I don’t remember asking, poppet.”

  “I know you haven’t asked, just as I know you won’t ask. This way, when I’m gone, you won’t waste time feeling guilty, wondering if you should have asked.”

  “You’re not going to die,” he said softly, menacingly. “I won’t let you.”

  There were some things not even William the Ever Randy could stop from happening.

  She gathered what strength she could to reach out and clasp his hand. “I love you, Liam. When I had nothing and no one, you gave me friendship and joy, and I will be forever grateful to you.”

  His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Stop talking as if this is the end for you.”

  She offered him the same sad smile she’d given Puck—where had he gone? What was he doing? And why did she care about a man who cared about nothing? “You have faults. A lot of faults. But you’re a wonderful man.”

  The ticking stopped. He even looked as if he’d stopped breathing. “This wonderful man will find a way to save you. I’m working every day, every hour, every minute. Now get some rest.” With that, he stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The sad thing? Gillian stared at the balcony, waiting—hoping—Puck would appear. One minute bled into ten, but he never showed. Disappointment zapped the rest of her strength, and she closed her eyes.

  As she drifted off, she thought she smelled peat smoke and lavender...thought she heard a deep voice whisper, “Sleep, lass. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  15

  “Always believe a woman who says she’s innocent. Your trust in her will never come back to bite you in the ass.”

  —Gideon, keeper of Lies

  A THOUSAND NEW memories filled Baden’s head. Destruction’s memories. Hades’s memories. They took over, consumed, causing the beast to foam at the mouth. He wanted to rip Katarina to shreds. She had betrayed him just as royally as his mother.

  As a child, Jezebel had strapped him to a rack. His every joint had been pulled out of socket, his muscles torn. Mother Dearest had also hung his intestines from a spit, roasting them while she ate his liver—straight from the source. She’d laughed and poured buckets of demonic insects over him. The little critters had crawled inside his mouth, down his throat, in and out every orifice.

  When she’d failed to kill him—the one prophesied to destroy her—she’d sold him to one of the kings of the underworld. The male had controlled a pack of hellhounds. Not through bonding. The hounds had to be willing for that. But through threats. Do what I tell you, or watch as I kill your mate.

  Upon his order, they’d tracked Hades...ripped him apart.

  So much pain...so much agony. Of the body and of the soul. He’d loved his mother, but he’d hated her, too.

  And now, Katarina thought she had the wits to trick him? The courage to betray him? She thought she could free her piece-of-shit husband and leave him?

  Destruction roared with a rage he’d carried all these centuries, the emotion leaking into Baden. Power before sentiment. The weak always sought a protector. Any protector. It was just a fact of life.

  Some part of Baden defended Katarina. Her mind was well-honed; she was intelligent and crafty. She could survive the world without him—without Aleksander—and even thrive.

  The thought...couldn’t be correct. She needed a strong man to save her. She would always need a strong man to save her.

  She raised her chin, her gray-green eyes crackling with fury of her own, daring him to speak against her.

  In the revelation of her deceit, she dared challenge him?

  Maybe her mind wasn’t so well-honed, after all. She purposely incited his worst.

  Calm. Steady. Baden placed Biscuit in her arms and scooped up Gravy. With his free arm, he yanked his betrayer against him. Chest to chest. She gasped in surprise...perhaps in fear.

  Baden and Destruction cursed her in unison. A treacherous bitch shouldn’t feel this good.

  Aleksander lunged at him with all the slack the chain allowed. His mistake. Baden booted him in the face, nearly snapping his neck.

  Far from satisfied, he flashed just outside the safe house, where Keeley and Lucien had flashed the others. The temporary home was a shack on the outside, but was a tricked-out arsenal/makeshift hospital on the inside. He released Katarina in a hurry, as if she were toxic waste—because she was—and placed the dog at her feet.

  Baden expected her to grab hold of his arm and cling, to sob and make excuses for her behavior.

  You misunderstood...

  I was so scared, so confused, but now I’m back on track.

  I would never betray you. I crave you too intensely.

  She merely flipped her hair over her shoulder and sneered at him. “You don’t need Distrust to be a suspicious, unreasonable kretén, eh?”

  “How am I unreasonable, zvodkyne?” Seductress. Tell me. Please. “Your own words condemn you.”

  “You’re right. Now go away.” She dismissed him with a regal wave. “You only hear, but you do not listen.”

  “What does that even mean?” he demanded.

  The hinges on the front door creaked; Sienna stepped onto the porch, ending the conversation. One of her enormous black wings was bent at an odd angle, and she had stitches on her forehead.

  A serene expression overtook her features as she approached. Her demon, Wrath, sensed the strife between them and ate it up, a fact that irritated both Baden and the beast.

  “Thought you might need these,” she said, holding out two collars and leashes.

  “Thank you. You are kind and understanding.” The dogs bucked as Katarina anchored the straps of leather in place. But when she began to hum, they settled, suddenly docile.

  Baden scowled. She’d once subdued him just as easily. Never again!

  “You’re, uh, welcome?” Sienna said and returned to the house with only a single backward glance.

  When Katarina attempted to follow the girl, Baden latched onto her wrist. “The attack we just faced was a hired hit. I’m a wanted man.” The anger in his voice would have caused anyone else to run, but not the human. Never the human. Foolish girl. Foolish Baden. Why did he admire her so? “Hades has two sons. William, whom you’ve met, and Lucifer, who is ultimate darkness with no hint of light. He’ll steal from anyone, kill anyone and destroy anything. He wants me dead. He wants all my allies dead. You need my protection, and you’d do well to remember that.”

  “Lucifer...as in the devil? The original fallen angel? The one who bargains and cajoles and tricks, damning souls?”

  “The very one.”

  “Well, I have nothing to fear. I’m not your ally. Screw your protection, and screw you.” Chin lifting another notch, she wrenched free of his clasp and marched into the house, the dogs trotting behind her.

  Baden trailed after her, too, catching up i
n a living room furnished like any other. A couch, two chairs and a coffee table. He gritted out, “Does your leg need further tending?”

  “No. There’s a small cut, nothing more.”

  He wanted to see it, to assure himself it wasn’t deeper than she realized, but he bit his tongue. Her hurts were not his problem. Not anymore. “If you value your life, you’ll stay here and you’ll stay quiet.” He would deal with her treachery after he’d seen to his friends. Men and women who would never betray him.

  “I can help—” she began.

  “But you won’t. I don’t trust you.”

  “Fine. We’ll stay away from the action.” She plopped onto the couch and patted the spots beside her. The dogs jumped up and sat. “Not because you ordered it, but because my sweethearts need time to calm.”

  Caters to the dogs, but not to me.

  Baden stomped through a doorway to the right, entering a small greenhouse where Keeley lay in a pile of dirt. The enclosure was warm and moist, the air scented with roses. Her flesh was in the process of sewing itself back together.

  Torin crouched beside her, drifting his fingers through her pink hair. He was chalk white, his features ravaged. “I love you, princess. I need you to heal. Just like before. Just like every time before. You can do it. You can do anything.”

  Behind the pair, Paris and Amun shoveled more dirt into a wheelbarrow. To dump on Keeley?

  “How can I help?” Baden’s mouth dried. What his friends felt for their women...it was foreign to him, and yet an undeniable spark of longing lit him up inside. To have someone of his own...

  Torin’s emerald gaze flipped up, glassed by unshed tears. “You can’t. I’ve got her, and she’s got her dirt.”

  As a Curator—once a spirit of light, tasked with the safekeeping of the planet—she was bound to the earth and its seasons.

  Baden scoured a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I know you think we’re better together, but I should have left the fortress weeks ago. My connection to Hades put everyone in the middle of his war with Lucifer. William warned me, told me I would bring nothing but harm.”