The Darkest Torment. Gena Showalter
had merit but he now knew beyond a doubt it wasn’t the answer. Because of his skin sensitivity, yes, but also because he couldn’t trust anyone.
Again, the irony.
Lucifer would send another assassin. It was only a matter of time.
Destruction writhed with anticipation, practically foaming at the mouth to prove himself strong. Attack me. See what happens.
Let me guess. You’ll kill. Broken record. The beast needed new material.
A sense of loss struck Baden. His friends wouldn’t understand his continued absence. A second “vacation.” They would worry, and they would wonder if they’d done something wrong.
Together we stand, or one by one we fall.
How many times had Maddox, the keeper of Violence, spoken those words since Baden’s return? Countless.
This wasn’t righting his wrongs, but it was putting the well-being of his loved ones first.
“Baden?”
He turned from Keeley and palmed the cell phone Torin had given him. Technology was a bitch he had yet to tame, but he gave group texting his best shot.
Meetinf in 5
He would explain his situation with Hades and, with the advice of the warriors who’d navigated this world far longer than him, plan his first move, gain his first point, and fight by fair means or foul to maintain the lead in his game with Pandora.
The sooner he won, the sooner he could say goodbye to Destruction and safely return to his family.
“All I want from a man is everything and nothing at the same but different times, sometimes and never but always.”
—Keeleycael, the Red Queen
KATARINA JOELLE PRAYED for the end of the world as her fiancé recited his wedding vows.
Aleksander Ciernik was a bad, bad man, and she would rather eat rusty nails than pledge her life to his. But he’d given her a choice: marry him or witness the torture of her bother Dominik.
Earlier in the year, Dominik had signed up to work for Alek of his own free will. So, after she’d laughed in Alek’s face and said, “Go ahead. Torture him,” he’d upped the ante. Marry him, or witness the torture of her precious dogs.
Panchart! Bastard.
She’d stopped laughing and started calculating the LGB. Likelihood of Getting Bitten.
To Alek, Katarina would only ever be a prized horse to trot around his friends whenever the mood struck. He would do nothing but make her miserable. But her dogs needed her. They had no one else.
The problem? If she saved the dogs today, Alek could hurt them tomorrow. Or any day after. He would continue threatening their welfare to control her.
But, if she saved them today, she would gain time. Time she could use to hide them. If ever she found them. Alek had hidden them.
His guards watched her every second of every day, but twice she’d managed to sneak out of her suite to search the estate. She’d been caught both times, no closer to success.
I’m going to get bitten one way or another, aren’t I?
Throughout her childhood, she’d helped her father with the family business, training drug-detection and home-protection dogs. After high school graduation, she’d taken the reins of control. And despite the added weight of responsibility, she’d used her free time to rehabilitate the aggressive, abused fighters the rest of the world had deemed too dangerous.
Three of those victims—Faith, Hope and Love—had been so deformed most people hadn’t had the cojones to look at them, much less to offer a forever home. So Katarina had adopted the trio as her personal pets, pouring her heart and soul into giving them the happily ever after they’d always deserved; they adored her for it.
Then Alek kidnapped them and held them for ransom. He’d also vowed to hunt down every dog she’d ever worked with—one bullet to the brain.
She loved her canines, remembered every name, every tragedy they’d suffered in their young lives, and every personality quirk. More than that? A trainer always protected her charges.
A lesson her father had taught her.
Mr. Baker—a sniveling coward on Alek’s payroll who’d gotten ordained online—cleared his throat. “Your vows, Miss Joelle.”
“Mrs. Ciernik,” Alek snapped.
She smiled without humor. “Not yet.” Can I really do this?
He scowled at her, and she rubbed her thumb over the words tattooed on her wrist. Once upon a time...
A tribute to her Slovakian mother, a woman who’d had the courage to marry an American dog trainer despite their different backgrounds and skin colors, even despite their language barrier. Edita Joelle had fancied fairy tales, and every night, after she’d read one to Katarina, she’d sighed dreamily.
Beauty can be found in ugliness. Never forget.
Katarina hadn’t really liked the stories. A princess in distress rescued by a prince? No! Sometimes you needed to wait for a miracle, but sometimes you needed to be the miracle.
Right now, she could find no beauty in Alek. Could see no miracle in the works.
Did it really matter? She was the author of her own story—she decided the twists and turns—and often what seemed to be the end was actually a new beginning. Every new beginning had the potential to be her happily-ever-after.
No question, today marked the start of a new beginning. A new story. Perhaps, like the fairy tales of old, it would end in blood and death, but it would end.
I can endure anything for a short time.
Strong fingers curved around her jaw and lifted her head. Her gaze locked on Alek, who looked at her with a shudder-inducing mix of lust and anger.
“Say your vows, princezná.”
She despised the nickname. She wasn’t pampered or helpless. She worked hard, and she worked often. Many of her patrons had called her a stay-at-home dog mom. A compliment. Mothers worked harder than anyone.
And I love my babies. Dogs were better company than most people, period. Better than Alek, definitely.
“You make me wait at your own peril,” he said.
Quiet words, clear promise.
She wrenched free of his hold. He was a plague upon mankind, and she would never pretend otherwise. Especially when she should be wedding Peter, her childhood sweetheart.
Peter, who had always joked, always laughed.
Sorrow spurred her on. “With you, everything is at my peril.”
This man had already ruined her. Dominik had spent her money on drugs, draining her accounts, before selling the kennel to Alek, who’d burned it down.
His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. He might like the look of her, but he’d never appreciated her honesty.
Fun fact: provoking him had become her only source of joy.
“I’m not sure you understand the great honor I bestow upon you, Katarina. Other women would kill to be in your position.”
Maybe. Probably. With his pale hair, dark eyes and chiseled features, he looked like an angel. But those other women failed to see the monster lurking within...until too late.
Katarina had seen it from the beginning, and her lack of interest had challenged him. There was no other reason a five-foot-eleven