Читать книгу The Darkest Torment - Gena Showalter - Страница 14

4

“Only one thing should be infectious. Your smile.”

—Torin, keeper of Disease

“YOU CAN’T JUST...take me,” the bride said, obviously alarmed.

What was her name?

“I can, and I will. Don’t fight me.” The blood in Baden’s veins sang, Destruction purring in harmony. Tides of pleasure rolled through him. Hate the beast, but love this. Nothing in his life—this one or the one before—had ever compared. And all it had taken? The total annihilation of another man’s army.

So sure the annihilation is the cause? What about the girl?

One look at her and he’d been overcome with the urge to rut, long and hard and often—and oddly enough, to protect.

It was insanity. She meant nothing to him.

William and Torin were busy searching the slain for the coin. Just in case. Baden watched them, and the bride watched Baden, the heat of her gaze scalding him.

She cursed at him. “You’re smiling right now.”

Was he?

“Violence delights you? That’s sick. Sick!” She unleashed a stream of Slovakian profanity, calling him terrible names and accusing him of sleeping with everything from a rat to a goat. Her anger clearly freed her of all fear.

Destruction paid her no heed. She was puny, harmless.

She actually amused Baden. So much rage in such a tiny body.

If ever her passion was redirected...

He swallowed a rumble of need—to hurt, only to hurt, surely—no longer amused.

Her brother reached out to slap a hand over her mouth, but she batted him away and continued shouting, saving the male from a blade through the heart. Baden had claimed the girl as a war prize. For one night, she would belong to him. He would safeguard what was his.

“Do not touch her again,” he said with undeniable hostility.

The color drained from the brother’s cheeks.

The bride moved in front of Baden, demanding his attention. A clear attempt to shelter the male who should have done everything in his power to shelter her.

Her concern for the men in her life—the scum—irritated him. Delighting in violence was sick, she’d said, and yet she had bound herself to a human who’d left the bodies of both the guilty and the innocent in his wake.

“There’s a better way,” she announced. “Killing a defenseless man is unnecessary and cowardly.”

“No man is defenseless. Not while he has his wits.”

“If wits are a weapon, some men are better armed than others. Some, like yourself, are actually unarm—”

“Katarina,” the brother snapped. “Enough.”

Katarina. A delicate name for a delicate (looking) woman.

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

She was far, faaar from Baden’s type. He preferred strong warrior-women. Someone able to back up her boasts with her body. Like Pandora. Once or twice he’d even considered pausing their war. In the end, the desire to defeat her had always proved stronger than the desire to pleasure her.

He studied Katarina more intently. Her dark brown hair was wound in an intricate knot at the crown of her head, not a single tendril free to frame her arresting face. Arresting, even despite its delicacy. Big gray-green eyes possessed a catlike slant, sensually complemented by thick, straight brows and a fan of black lashes. A light smattering of freckles dotted an elegant nose and blade-sharp cheekbones. Plump lips dared a man to taste...

Resist.

Her jaw was her boldest feature, the one he wanted to trace with his fingertips; it was almost triangular, coming to a blunt point at her chin.

Her skin was as smooth and flawless as a freshly polished onyx stone—except for her arms. Multiple scars stretched from the inside of her elbows all the way to her wrists, each in the shape of teeth. She’d been bitten. But by what?

On her right arm, she had a tattoo. Once upon a time...

It was the beginning of more than one fairy tale, and an interesting choice for a gold digger. And she was a gold digger. He could think of no other reason a woman with such an indomitable spirit would pledge to love, honor and obey a man like Aleksander.

“Please,” she said, switching tactics. “Give me a chance to find your coin. Alek has other homes. He has businesses. As his wife, I’ll have full access. I will gladly search them all.”

“How quick you are to betray your new husband.” It irritated him as much as her concern. “Though I doubt he wanted you for your loyalty.”

Done with the conversation, Baden grabbed her by the waist and hung her upside down, tucking her against his side, effectively avoiding skin-to-skin contact.

She kicked and flailed to no avail. He was simply too strong and her dress was too big, creating the perfect cage.

The brother reached for her. A mistake. Baden kicked his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to his ass.

“Stay,” he commanded. “Or end up like the others.”

The brother stayed down but spit on Baden’s boots. “You won’t kill me. You need me to deliver a message for you.”

“Do I? A note would work just as well.”

Eyes the same gray-green as Katarina’s blazed with fury. “Take the girl, and Alek will kill you.”

Baden grinned—so did Destruction. “You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.”

Confusion shadowed the male’s features, followed quickly by fear as screams tapered to moans throughout the sanctuary. Did he finally grasp the full scope of Baden’s ruthlessness?

“A note won’t convey proper emotion,” the boy said.

He disagreed but said, “When Aleksander wakes, tell him I’ll find him in the morning. Hiding from me will do no good. If he fails to give me the coin, I’ll keep my promise and take something else he values. Something that will make him bleed.”

As the bride continued to struggle, Baden strode down the center aisle. “Let’s go,” he called.

William and Torin finished their search and raced over to flank his sides. They were spattered with crimson, but unlike him, they were free of injury. Good, that was good. Seeing them hurt might have propelled him into an unstoppable rampage. Against them!

Destruction liked to kick a man while he was down.

Should have ditched the pair and come alone.

When he’d told his friends about the life-and-death competition hosted by Hades, the entire group had insisted on accompanying him. Baden had protested. The warriors had families now. Wives and children, as William had reminded him. There was no reason to endanger any of them. And they had life-and-death things to do, like finding the box and the Morning Star before Lucifer. Even finding Pandora, who’d gone off the grid. What if she turned her rage to the Lords, now that she was forbidden from striking at Baden? Also, Sabin and Strider were exploring ways to free Baden from his bands, and therefore Hades’s control, while allowing Baden to retain his tangibility.

In the end, the warriors had overruled him, drawing straws to decide who would have the honor of aiding him. The honor. As if he was a prize they adored rather than a piece of shit who’d abandoned them. His guilt sharpened and razed his chest. How was he ever going to right the wrongs of his past when he owed his friends more and more?

Cameo, the keeper of Misery, and Torin had won the draw. William, who’d returned from the sexual buffet slash murder-fest, had simply said, “Try to stop me. Dare you. Oh, and it goes without saying you’ll owe me another favor.”

They reached the chapel exit. Baden stepped over the first set of guards he’d felled then shouldered his way through the door, sunlight and warm air greeting him.

“Taking the human is kind of a creeper move. You know that, right?” Torin said.

His words rallied Katarina. She increased her struggles, saying, “I can’t leave Alek. Please! Let me go.”

Her fear thrilled Destruction. “Calm yourself, girl. I have no plans to hurt you.”

“Plans can change, yes?”

Oh, yes. “The good news is, we’ll be together for only one night.” No matter how Aleksander felt about her—love or simple lust—he would move heaven and earth to get her back. Today his pride had been pricked. If he allowed another man to steal his woman, he would lose the respect of his men. Or what remained of his men. His authority would be challenged daily.

He would hand over the coin, and that would be that. Baden would be awarded his first point and take the lead in Hades’s game.

Actually, Baden would be awarded his second point. Once he secured Katarina, he would be flashing to the siren. He would remove her tongue, as demanded.

A dagger pierced his conscience. One he couldn’t remove. Aleksander was scum. The siren was not. How could he damage her?

Would her tongue grow back? She was immortal, but like Baden, she was a spirit.

How was he supposed to live with himself after committing such a foul deed?

Easy, Destruction said. You live.

When Katarina beat her fists into his side, Baden added, “Your actions will dictate mine.”

“Panchart!”

The sidewalks were crowded, the streets jammed with cars. Baden’s SUV was double-parked, Cameo waiting behind the wheel.

“Help me!” Katarina shouted, and he wasn’t surprised. To her, there was no better opportunity to escape. “This is an abduction!”

No one paid her any heed, everyone too busy staring at their phones, pretending the rest of the world no longer existed.

“Give her to me,” William said, making grabby hands. “I think I’ve proven I’m better with the opposite sex. And mission planning. And fighting. And basic hair care. Frizz isn’t your friend, Baden.”

Baden tightened his hold on the girl. “My prisoner. Mine.”

“Wow. Selfish much?” William frowned at him. “And after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You mean everything I’ll have to pay you for doing?” The favors to be named later had seemed innocent enough at the time. Slay an enemy for him? Guard his back during battle? Sure. Now the possibilities were endless and the beast...wasn’t pleased.

Kill him. A command, as always, though this one lacked any true heat because of William’s connection to Hades.

Death isn’t the answer to every situation.

William pouted. “You act as if payment makes my good deeds less altruistic.”

“It does!” Baden noticed two stray dogs perched on the curb.

Destruction growled in warning, and the dogs growled right back, as if they heard the sound Baden never released. The two were big, both black and white with patches of missing fur. Mange?

Katarina went as still as a statue. Quietly, calmly, she said, “Don’t you dare hurt those poor animals.”

I will not be ordered, the beast snapped. I will—

Nothing. You will nothing. Baden stepped around the dogs. The pair watched him with intense fixation, ready to pounce, and yet they made no move to jump him.

“Have a heart and call a shelter,” she said.

“Already messaged one.” Torin shoved his phone in his pocket and moved in front of him to open the back passenger door.

Baden threw the girl inside the vehicle, followed her in and caught her by the waist as she lunged for the opposite door. A superfluous action. William entered, blocking her from the other side. Torin claimed the front seat.

“Testosterone sandwich.” William pulled a moist towelette from a dispenser hanging on the back of the driver’s seat and handed it to Baden. “You should clean the condiments off your side of the bun.”

“Curak!” the bride sneered as Baden removed the blood from his face. The Slovak word for prick. “I’ve done nothing to you. Say yes to your heart and let me go.”

Baden fought—yes. An actual grin. “You think I have a heart?”

Even Destruction snorted.

Adorable.

“A human hostage?” Cameo burned rubber, speeding away from the chapel. “Really, boys? Whose bright idea was that?”

Everyone cringed, lances of sadness accompanying Cameo’s words. Baden, William and Torin were used to the sensation and rebounded quickly. Not the human. She paled and trembled, curling into herself.

“Only one of us stopped using our big-boy brain.” Torin hiked his thumb in Baden’s direction. “Our very own beastie boy.”

“What just happened?” Katarina whispered. “I never cry, and yet suddenly I want to bawl.”

Never? “Misery,” he replied, and left it at that.

“But...I’m always miserable.” Bitterness laced her tone. “You...this...this is nothing new.”

What did she mean, always miserable? She’d just married her dream man, had she not?

Cameo took the next corner a little too swiftly, nearly tossing everyone out the window. “Almost there.”

Again, the human curled into herself.

He snapped, “Not another word out of you, Cam.”

“What’s your name?” William asked the human, a clear tactic to distract her.

“Katarina Joelle,” she said, tremors in her voice.

“Katarina Ciernik now,” Baden corrected, unable to hide his disdain.

She bucked up, her temper once again pricked. “You’re right. I am. And a bride’s place is beside her husband.”

“So eager to return to your doom?”

“As if staying with you is any better, vyhon si.”

“Jerk-off? Words hurt, petal. Perhaps you need your mouth washed out with soap. Or the magic elixir. Lucky for you, I happen to have a little magic elixir right...” William unfastened his pants. “Here. A potion so strong it will take down Typhon.”

Typhon, also known as the father of all monsters. Baden grabbed William’s wrist to stop him from showing Katarina the source of the “elixir.”

“So suspicious.” The male tsk-tsked, and after shaking off Baden’s hold, pulled a tiny glass vial from a hidden pocket sewn on the inside of his slacks.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Katarina reared back. “Nie. Nie drugs. Please.”

Finally, the proper human response from her. Baden stuffed the vial of “magic elixir” in his own pocket, casting her a just in case look. “No drugs. If you stay still and quiet.”

* * *

Katarina took stock, calculating the LGB. By remaining still and quiet, as commanded, she would avoid sedation. Awake, she could listen to conversations, learn more about her captors, fight if necessary, and keep track of her surroundings to better her chances of escape.

Though she trembled, she did her best to settle comfortably against the seat. And, even more difficult, she kept her lips pressed together for the remainder of the drive.

Finally, the driver—a black-haired, silver-eyed beauty—parked at a busy curb. She turned to wink at Katarina. “You’re in good hands. Promise.”

The sadness! Katarina wanted to die. The sooner the better. All of her loved ones were dead. Midnight was dead, and not just because of the poison. Her brother hadn’t administered a strong enough dose, had merely caused Midnight’s organs to begin to shut down. Her precious dog had been in pain, so much pain, with no hope of recovery, the vet had told her. She’d had to put a dog in the prime of his life to sleep, holding on to his paw as he slipped away.

“What part of not another word out of you did you not understand, Cameo?” Baden asked. “The bride looks ready to scoop out her internal organs and set them ablaze.”

He acted as if the woman’s voice was the source of the problem. Which was impossible...yes?

Baden opened a door and wrapped an arm around Katarina’s waist, his gaze locking with hers. “If you run, I’ll catch you. If you scream, I’ll make you wish you’d died inside the chapel.”

She shuddered. If ever a man would do as promised—and enjoy it—it was this one.

“I won’t run,” she croaked. “Won’t scream.”

As he “helped” her from the car, a barbed lump grew in her throat. She studied her new surroundings, memorizing details for police. Myriad flower boxes bloomed with begonias and lined the road’s median, separating the traffic running north and south. The design of buildings varied, everything from medieval Gothic to box-shaped chrome and glass.

She’d seen very little of Manhattan, having spent most of her time confined inside Alek’s country estate, and had no idea where she was.

Baden ushered her toward the only brownstone with copper-framed windows. A doorman let them pass a set of large glass doors without impediment, saying, “Congratulations on your nuptials, sir.”

Baden ignored him. Katarina silently begged for help.

When the man merely smiled blankly at her, her shoulders hunched with disappointment.

People sucked. Her dogs would have helped her without hesitation.

Summer warmth gave way to cool air-conditioning. Once again she searched her surroundings. The ornate interior boasted a colorful ceiling mural and four three-tiered chandeliers that dripped with thousands of crystal teardrops. To the left was a beautiful winding staircase, hand-carved cherubs perched along the railing. To the right, multiple sitting areas delimited a massive unlit hearth.

The people milling about the lobby stared with open curiosity at the leather-clad warrior and the gaudy bride, but only for a second, not wanting to appear rude.

Can’t scream, can’t scream, really can’t scream.

“You can be reasonable,” Baden said as the elevator doors closed, sealing them inside the small cart. Alone. “I’m impressed.”

His condescension irked. Death would be a small price to pay for standing up to such a brute. “You can be an asshole. I’m not impressed.”

“You have spirit.” He used a key card and punched a button for the top floor. The key card must have programmed the elevator to continue ascending, despite anyone waiting for a ride on any of the other floors, because they never stopped to acquire new passengers. “Your problem is you can’t back up your spirit with brute strength.”

The comment only irked her further.

Be strong, Katarina. Her mother’s final words echoed in her mind. Without strength, we have nothing...we are nothing.

I’m someone!

“I suggest you be careful when dealing with one such as me,” Baden added. “I’m a monster.”

“The boogeyman,” she whispered. The only real emotion he’d displayed was delight, and all because men were in pieces around him. He was the kind of person who cheered and placed bets as dogs fought to the death.

Keep his mind on his goal. “What’s so special about the coin you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

Her brow creased with confusion. Had she mistranslated his words? “You don’t know?”

“No.”

And yet, he’d killed dozens of people to obtain the thing. He even planned to dismember Alek. “Explain. Please.”

Ding. He led her down a hall, past a door and into a spacious room with gleaming dark wood floors draped with Tibetan rugs. Every piece of furniture was antique, boasting a unique animal carving: a swan, an elephant, even a winged lion. The fabric bordering the large rounded windows matched the rugs, the sides pulled back to reveal elaborate stained glass.

“Sit.” He gave her a gentle push, and yet she stumbled onto the couch, plopping onto the comfortable cushions. “Stay.”

Two commands she’d often given her dogs. Her fists clenched around her gown’s colossal skirt, wrinkling the material. She was the trainer, not the other way around.

When an aggressive canine was sent to her for taming, she would introduce herself slowly, often pretending she was alone as she puttered around in places he could watch her without feeling as though she encroached on his space. What she didn’t do was allow him to scare her away. He would only lash out more aggressively the next time she appeared.

Baden wasn’t a dog, but he was certainly feral. The same principle applied. So, she stood.

He said nothing as she increased the distance between them. She pretended to scrutinize lamps, vases and the portraits on the wall, each a different type of flower.

“You appear calm and at ease, and yet I can sense your terror.” He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

Surviving a feral, rule one: Never show fear.

Basically, fake it till you make it.

Two: Use a soft but assertive tone. Anything else could rouse hostility.

Three: Remember you get what you reinforce, not necessarily what you expect.

In this case, she ignored number four: Place the dog’s needs first.

And skipped to number five: Find out what will work best with each individual dog.

“How do you sense my terror?” she asked, her tone soft but confident. “I have no tells.”

His raspy chuckle held a note of self-deprecation. “Trust me. You have tells. My more beastly qualities enjoy them.”

“Do your more beastly qualities think I should thank you for kidnapping me?”

“Yes. I did you a favor, nevesta. Consider this a holiday from the terrible life awaiting you.”

“You know nothing about my life. Or me!”

He scoffed, his disgust back in full force. “You are married to Aleksander Ciernik. I can guess.”

Don’t know this man, don’t like him. His opinion doesn’t matter. But...

What would he do if she told him about the dogs? Would he understand her plight? Help her? Or would he condemn her?

Will never tell him! He was a killer, as bad as Alek—maybe worse—and he might hunt down her babies just to spite her.

“Your greed will bring you nothing but pain,” he said.

She blinked at him. “Greed?”

“You covet your husband’s money and power.”

Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails cutting. “What about his pretty face? And what of redeeming him? Could I not want to make an honest man of him?”

“A bad man is a bad man,” he said, his tone flat.

“No hope for you, then, eh?”

Direct hit. He scowled at her.

Clearly, she’d stumbled onto dangerous territory. She backtracked, forcing a saucy grin. “Perhaps I spoke too hastily. Perhaps I just don’t know you well enough. Yet.” If she could get her hands on the vial in his pocket, she could drug him. She could escape, return to Alek, save her babies, and run...for the rest of her life.

Her grin slipped. “Why don’t you order room service for us both, pekný?” Handsome. She winked at him. “I’m dying—hopefully not literally—to learn more about you.”

* * *

Baden was no longer amused by the girl’s outbursts. The angry ones...and the flirtatious ones. More and more, he disliked how she made him feel. She looked at him as if he was a disappointment—because he was. She considered him as bad as the human she’d married—with good reason.

By the time he finished with the siren, he would be far worse.

“I’m your captor,” he told her, “not your provider.” She was beautiful, somehow more beautiful by the minute, and she most assuredly had plans to charm him. How many men had she tricked over the years? How many had she bled dry before moving on to another one?

Power before sentiment.

“Do you plan to keep me weak with hunger?” She continued to meander around the room, the innate sway to her hips acting as a summoning finger. Come here. Touch. He found the strength to resist. Barely. “Fear I’ll overpower you otherwise?”

“Hardly. I’ve never met a feebler female.” How easy it would be to wrap his hands around the elegant column of her neck and end her.

Or better yet, he could chew her up and spit her out.

She whipped around to face him, anger crackling in her eyes. “I’m feeble because a he-man was able to cart me away from my wedding?”

“Yes. You are unable to protect yourself, or even to take care of yourself. You need others to do it for you.”

Threatened by those with power, disdainful of those without it. Was there any type of person he liked?

Katarina looked as if he’d slapped her. Then she blinked away the wound and pouted at him. “Can any woman protect herself from you, pekný?” She picked up a vase, weighed it in her palm. Deciding if it would make a decent missile? “I bet you slay hearts...figuratively as well as literally. Oh, and let’s not forget the panties you must melt.”

Just. Like. That. He shot hard as stone.

William strode through the front door, spotted Baden’s state, and rolled his eyes. He launched into a speech about necessary tweaks to security.

Focus. Engage. But Baden...couldn’t. The bulk of his attention remained on Katarina. When she filched something from a side table, he stalked to her side and, ignoring the pain of skin-to-skin contact, pried open her fingers.

She gasped as he stepped back, taking...a pen with him. A simple ink pen?

“Fine,” she said. “Keep it. I didn’t want to write down the poem I’d composed about you, anyway.”

A lie. She’d hoped to use the pen as a weapon. Silly woman. Did she not know her own limitations? She’d vomited at the sight of blood. She would never have the courage to attack him. “Tell me the poem.” A command, not a request. “I’m brimming with anticipation.”

She smiled sweetly at him, batting her lashes. “His beauty is terrible, just like his temper. I look at him and I can only whimper.”

Funny. Baden leaned down, putting him nose-to-nose with her. “Do you like the beginning of my poem? I’m no better than a homicidal maniac right now. Mess with me, and you’ll see how.”