The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

“Yes! I’m empty without you.”

  “Then you’ll have me.” His nerve endings were on fire for her. “All of me.”

  She pointed a trembling finger to the nightstand. “Condom. I was on the pill...not anymore...condom,” she repeated when he remained unmoving.

  He wasn’t sure he could give her children, and the thought suddenly...angered him.

  One day, she would want children. A family.

  Aleksander could provide both.

  Baden’s anger prepared to detonate.

  “Warrior.” Katarina lifted her hips, a silent plea for his fiercest possession. “What are you waiting for? Get the condom and fill me.”

  Not asking now, but demanding. He liked this better.

  He yanked open the only drawer in the nightstand, the contents spilling out. Contain your strength. Never had the outcome of a bedding been so important. Bending down, he swiped up a foil packet, ripped it open with his teeth and sheathed his entire length with latex, Katarina watching his every move with abject hunger. That’s my girl.

  He leaned over her and positioned himself for entry. He didn’t thrust home, not yet, but flattened his palms at her temples. Their gazes held for several agonizing heartbeats.

  “There’s no going back after this,” he told her. It was a warning. One she had best heed.

  Take! Destruction demanded. No going back, anyway.

  Again, they were in agreement.

  “Good.” She licked her lips, a sexy little kitty he couldn’t resist. “I don’t want to go back.”

  He wasn’t sure she’d understood his meaning, and as sweat trickled along his back and chest he wasn’t sure he had the control to explain it to her. No, he knew he didn’t have the control.

  He managed to grit, “You are mine, Rina.”

  “And you are mine,” she whispered.

  He could wait no longer. He surged inside her with a single, forceful stroke.

  Crying out, she arched up to meet his thrust, sending him even deeper. Her inner walls clutched him tighter than any fist, slicker than any mouth, and for a moment, incomparable bliss fogged his mind. Pleasure was pain and pain was pleasure, the two so intertwined he wasn’t sure where one began and the other ended, only knew he loved every second.

  “Pleasant?” he asked.

  “Yes! Move in me,” she pleaded. Her nails sliced at his back. She bit into his shoulder. “Move fast.”

  Her passion stripped him of any lingering desire to proceed slowly, to savor every second; he pulled back only to surge forward. Again she met his thrust with an arch. Her legs, which were still wrapped around him, squeezed his waist. She surrounded him, possessed him. Savaged him.

  “Can’t hold back much longer,” he told her, hands already combing into her hair to fist the strands and hold her steady for his position. “If I hurt you...scream.”

  “Drahý, I’m going to scream no matter what you do. Give me everything you’ve got.”

  * * *

  He. Was. An. Animal.

  Katarina reveled in his every punishing thrust. The headboard bang, bang, banged into the wall, and pictures crashed to the floor. Springs squeaked in the mattress, the struts of the bed scraping against the wood floor.

  With every in-and-out glide of his shaft, her nipples scraped against his chest; the friction threw kindling on the fire already spreading through her veins. He awoke sensations in her that she’d never dreamed possible, her nerve endings sizzling, her cells buzzing.

  She’d never been so wet, never ached so thoroughly.

  He was so big he stretched her and so strong he was probably bruising her, but she loved every second.

  He’d once told her women wanted only two things from men: money and power. With him, she wanted affection and sex. Lots and lots of sex. But really, sex and power were synonymous right now, the maddened frenzy of his every stroke flooding her with a feminine prowess she’d never before known.

  Weak? Not even close.

  “Missing your sweet nipples,” he said, his voice nothing but gravel. He paused long enough to bend his head and give each beaded tip a hard suck.

  “Baden!” The pleasure! Mind-blowing!

  He hooked his elbow under one of her knees and as he surged back up, his shaft slamming deep, he lifted her leg, opening her wider, allowing him to go even deeper. She cried out—then she screamed, an orgasm slamming through her with the force of a battering ram, shattering any fortifications she might have built against his allure.

  The clenching of her inner walls soon drove him to the brink. He groaned and quickened his pace, moving faster and faster, harder and harder, prolonging her climax or sending her straight into a second, she wasn’t sure which.

  So good, so good, so freaking good. Every cell in her body exploded as if it was having an orgasm of its own. She was swept up, consumed, destroyed and remade.

  With an animalistic roar, he surged into her a final time, releasing her leg to grip her hips and hold her steady as he jetted into the condom. He sank his teeth into the cord that connected her neck to her shoulder, something he clearly liked to do, pinning her more thoroughly, marking her, too, and she erupted all over again, clinging to him.

  Finally, she sagged into the mattress and he collapsed atop her. They were both sweaty, both panting, and though she enjoyed his weight, he rolled over so that he wouldn’t crush her.

  She curled into his side because, without his body restraining hers, without his length deep inside her, she no longer felt complete—she needed some kind of connection with him...the first man she’d been with since Peter.

  Reminders of her darling’s death always saddened her. Today the sadness left her far too vulnerable.

  Please, please don’t let Baden’s finish be as deplorable as last time.

  When her heartbeat evened out, and he was still beside her, she decided to test the waters. “How do you feel?”

  “You can’t guess?” There was a teasing note to his tone, and she relaxed.

  “Are you in pain?” She traced her finger along the edge of his butterfly tattoo. “Does this hurt you?”

  “Ask me again when I awake from my pleasure coma.”

  She snickered, propping up on her elbow to meet his gaze. Hesitant, she drew her fingertip to his nipple, circling. He didn’t flinch, and he didn’t grimace, and satisfaction flowed over her like liquid sunshine.

  When she lifted her hand, he grabbed her wrist to force her palm back to his chest.

  From demanding she never touch him to insisting she never let him go. Oh, how their circumstances had changed!

  “Next time,” he said, “I’m going to kiss you while I take you.”

  She smiled at him. “So certain there will be a next time, eh?”

  “With this face?” He patted his cheeks. “Yes.”

  She giggled as he removed the condom, tied it off and tossed it in the trash can. “You are marginally handsome...I suppose.” Always end on a positive note. “But you are very, very good with your hands. And your mouth.”

  He stretched out at her side, as if the need to connect haunted him just as fiercely. “You forgot to mention my cock.”

  She leaned over and ran his earlobe through her teeth. “I didn’t forget. I was saving the best for last.”

  “Were you now?”

  “Mmm.” She stood to shaky legs and held out her hand. “You’ve proven your skills in the bedroom. Now it’s time to prove your skills in the kitchen. I’m hungry.” They needed to be able to keep this good vibe in different situations.

  “Nothing is ever free.” He took her hand but not to let her pull him to his feet; he yanked her back on the bed—or rather, on top of him. “I’ll make you a sandwich...for a price.”

  * * *

  Baden puttered a
round the kitchen with a smile on his face. A smile! His head was clearer than ever, the beast calm, the tension drained from his body and a beautiful woman was asleep in his bed. This was the life he’d always dreamed for himself. The life he’d never thought he’d have.

  “You look happy.”

  Fox. His smile faded. He hated that she’d approached without his senses being alerted—won’t happen again.

  Remembering his promise to Katarina, he nodded at her in greeting.

  “The human is good for you,” she said.

  “Yes.” He finished prepping the egg-and-cheese sandwich and returned the leftover ingredients to the refrigerator. “Tell me. Who do you distrust most this day?”

  A pause. Then, “The human.”

  He stiffened. “Why?”

  “She makes you happy...but for how long? She’s a liability. And what if she’s captured and tortured by your enemies? She’ll flip faster than you can say This is shit. What if she’s a spy? I’ve worked with Hunters, so I know the type. Goodie-goodie, but only on the outside. And what if a faction of Hunters has survived, operating in the shadows? She could be Bait, meant to lure you to your second death.”

  Was this how he’d sounded, all those centuries ago?

  He knew what would come next: an attack against the one she distrusted.

  She should fear Baden. If she harmed Katarina, he would harm her in turn. A thousand times over.

  “Sit at the table,” he commanded. “Now.”

  She forgot her torrent of suspicion long enough to grumble, “Wow. Are you always this affable?”

  “Yes. Do you want my help or not?”

  She sat with a huff.

  He cracked the egg into a pan, saying, “When the demon hits you with thoughts of someone’s possible betrayal, write down every good thing you remember about the person. Nice things they’ve said to you. Kind deeds they’ve done. The way they smile. Then read the list over and over until the demon shuts his foul, lying mouth.” For years, those lists had been the only thing capable of stopping an attack against his best friends.

  She regarded him warily. “If making lists is the golden ticket to peace, why did you allow yourself to be killed?”

  She knew the truth? Katarina would not have told her.

  Sensing the direction of his thoughts, Fox added, “Distrust shared the memory with me.”

  Of course. The bastard. “I abandoned my lists. Listening to the demon was just...easier. I’d been fighting for so long, I’d grown weary of it all.” He’d allowed his light—his hope, the heart of him, the protective side so much a part of his nature—to be snuffed out.

  A light Katarina had relit.

  Will protect her at any cost.

  Perhaps he should rename the beast Construction, he thought with an inner laugh. His other half no longer tore down but now built up.

  Only with my human.

  My human. Baden put the finishing touches on the sandwich.

  Galen sailed into the kitchen. The blond paused when he spotted them and arched a brow. “Am I interrupting a gabfest, girls?”

  “Yes,” Fox said at the same time Baden said, “No.” The eggs done, he dumped them atop the toasted bread. “I’m done.”

  “That’s his impolite way of saying he can’t be away from his precious another second,” Galen remarked. “Oh! Breakfast sandwich!”

  “Touch it and lose a hand.” The ends of his fingers burned, the claws threatening to emerge—oops, they had emerged. They clanked against the porcelain.

  Galen rolled his eyes. “BTW. Could you and the little missus keep it down the next time you go at it like rabbits? Some of us, and I’m not mentioning any names—” he hiked his thumb in Fox’s direction “—need our beauty Zs.”

  “Some of us, and I’m not mentioning any names—” Baden pointed directly at Galen “—need a dagger through the heart.”

  “Haven’t you heard? I don’t currently have a heart.” A tinge of bitterness seeped from his tone. “Word on the street is I’ve never had one.”

  “Here’s an idea. Don’t tattle on your friends after helping them plan a B&E, ensuring they get caught. Don’t send human assassins after them when they curse you for your betrayal, and don’t complain when one of them gets a little some-some while you have to rely on old faithful.” He motioned to Galen’s right hand.

  The warrior surprised him, laughing rather than attacking. “Are you fifteen? A little some-some. Really? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

  He shrugged. He’d heard his friends call the act many ridiculous things.

  “Also,” Galen added. “You need to work on forgiveness. Words hurt.”

  “So do daggers.” To end the conversation, he flashed to the bedroom and placed the sandwich on the nightstand.

  Katarina still slept. He was loath to disturb her, and yet need for her consumed him. He knew the bliss of her touch and now suspected there would never be a moment when he wouldn’t crave it.

  He decided to distract himself by granting her a boon she hadn’t asked for...at the same time proving just how much she did, in fact, need him.

  He made an adjustment in his mind. Because, according to Hades, he could always flash home. A loophole in the king’s plan to keep him contained. For the next few minutes, he considered Aleksander’s country estate his home. He flashed and stalked through the halls. Each of the male’s closest advisors and guards had a room, and he flashed in and out so swiftly, he went unnoticed. It was only a matter of time before he found Katarina’s brother, lying on a floor, a tourniquet tied to his arm, a needle sticking out of his vein.

  The male was passed out, vomit pooling under his head. If he hadn’t been turned on his side, he would have suffocated to death already.

  Kill. A command born of anger rather than a possible risk to their survival.

  No. Despite everything the male had done to Katarina, she would mourn him. Or rather, mourn the boy he’d once been.

  Baden grabbed him by the hair and flashed to the cell where he’d kept Aleksander. Where Aleksander’s severed hand still remained, he realized, allowing him to continuously flash without having to adjust his thought process. He then flashed in food, bottles of water and a bucket. Enough supplies to last a week.

  He texted Torin to find out if anything else would be needed and ended up raiding a pharmacy to gather meds that would help with detoxing.

  The male would get clean, whether he wanted to do so or not.

  We’ll be rewarded? Destruction asked.

  Yes, and Baden knew just what he wanted...

  21

  “I handle my problems the old-fashioned way. Gasoline and a match.”

  —Kane, former keeper of Disaster

  CAMEO’S MIND BUZZED with depressing statistics as she watched the clock. There were nearly two hundred million orphans in the world, and nearly fifteen percent of them would commit suicide before turning eighteen. Over twenty thousand children died every year due to poverty.

  Naturally, every minute—every second—was agony.

  But finally, blessedly, the last of her friends retired to his bedroom. The coast was clear, her friends now busy having sex.

  Proof: soft laughter and breathy moans drifted from cracks in the walls.

  Let the marathon begin, she thought with no small amount of envy. After the attack at the fortress, everyone was relieved to be alive and now that they were healed, they were celebrating privately.

  There were, of course, two stains on their happiness. William’s abduction of Gilly and Baden’s most recent move. Everyone worried he would be killed again. But Galen—the piece of shit—had been texting updates about the male, and so far all was well. There’d been no real problems, the human girl, Katarina, keeping Baden centered.

 
The way Lazarus once kept me centered?

  Cameo had to know. Desperation clawed at her. Hope taunted her. She had the chance to taste happiness again—she had to taste happiness again.

  And now, she had a plan.

  According to what she’d been told, she’d met Lazarus when she was sucked into another realm. So, it stood to reason she could meet him again if she allowed herself to be sucked back into the other realm.

  For such a journey, she needed three artifacts and a painting. The Cloak of Invisibility, the Paring Rod and the Cage of Compulsion. The painting had been done by Danika, the All-seeing Eye, who was able to see into heaven and hell. The pretty blonde gave life to the things she saw, those images acting as a guide through the realms. Without the right painting, Cameo could end up farther away from Lazarus.

  The good news? When Keeley had flashed the women and children to the safe house, she’d flashed the artifacts and paintings, too.

  The bad news? The artifacts and paintings were locked up, and Cameo hadn’t been given a key.

  Her friends knew her and had guessed her plan before she’d even conceived it. I’m going back to him...going back to Lazarus.

  Her heart fluttered wildly, and a thousand butterflies danced in her stomach.

  I know Lazarus, Strider had told her. He might have scarified his life for mine, but his reasons were not altruistic. He’s dangerous, the son of a creature known as the father of all monsters.

  Did Lazarus’s reasons for saving Strider really matter? He’d saved her friend. How bad could he truly be?

  And really, Lazarus’s sacrifice got him trapped in another realm and made him a spirit being. A spirit being she must have touched. How else would he have made her happy?

  I want to touch him again. I want him to touch me.

  Pleasure...oh, how she craved it.

  I don’t think you’re hearing us, Kaia had piped up. Lazarus is the consort of a Harpy. A Harpy who will come for him—and you!—if she discovers his spirit is out there and you’re trying to get your groove on with it.

  One, from the info Cameo had managed to glean, Lazarus had never considered the Harpy his mate. And two, if there was even the slightest chance she could change the course of her life for the better, she had to go for it. Which meant she had to do a little breaking and entering tonight. Once she had the artifacts in her possession, she had to say goodbye to her friends.