The Darkest Torment Page 38


The guys told her she’d mentioned a name upon her return home. Lazarus.

Lazarus, Lazarus, Lazarus.

Still no memory, only a vague craving for chocolate...

Were the two linked?

Of course, the answer eluded her.

With a screech, she picked up the biggest vase on her dresser and threw the stupid thing across her bedroom. Glass shattered, pieces tinkling to the floor. One taste of happiness she could stroke like a lover deep into the night, that’s all she wanted. But noooo. It wasn’t even possible in her imagination.

There had to be a way to remember Lazarus. Whoever he was. Was he the road to her happiness?

Her bedroom door burst open, the hinges shattering just as surely as the vase. Maddox stalked inside, a dagger palmed and at the ready. His violet gaze scanned every shadow in the room in a single second, and she knew he’d already cataloged every bit of damage.

“I’m fine,” she said, and he cringed. Everyone always cringed.

Had Lazarus?

Don’t think about him.

Rather than saying anything else, she shooed Maddox away with her hands.

He stood his ground. “You don’t look like you’re fine.”

She arched a brow, giving him an I’m Misery, asshole, what do you expect look.

He shrugged, his shoulders brushing against the ends of his shaggy black hair. “So there’s no one I need to kill for upsetting you?”

She shook her head.

“Very well.” He backed out of the room, only to pause to tap the shredded doorframe. “You should probably have someone fix this.”

Little shit. Laughter bubbled up...and died a painful death in her throat.

Laughter wasn’t allowed. If even a chuckle managed to escape, she would suffer.

Wow. What a life. And, even better, this was what she had to look forward to forever.

Long ago, she used to wonder why Baden allowed himself to be killed. And she’d always suspected he’d allowed it. He’d been too strong a fighter for anyone to get the drop on him. So, why? Even as miserable as she was, she’d never contemplated such a fate.

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!

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