for a moment, reluctantly nodded. “We could use the wife to draw him—”
“No!” A roar. A threat, if she was smart enough to hear it. “You won’t turn your sights to her or our dogs. And you won’t use that title in reference to her, either.”
“Title? You mean wife?”
She’s mine! “Swear it or our truce is null and void.”
She arched a dark brow. “We have a truce?”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
She snorted. “Fine. Whatever. I swear it.” She straightened, scrubbing a shaky hand down her face. “I never thought you’d commit to anyone, much less a human.”
He could say the same. Humans were feeble, easily killed. And now, with as many enemies as Baden had racked up, he might as well paint a target on Katarina’s back. If he wed her—bonded his life to hers as Puck had bonded his life to Gilly—she could become immortal, but would she also become a slave to Hades?
He couldn’t risk it. There had to be another way.
One task at a time. First up: healing so that he was strong enough to protect her. “Have you learned to use a cell phone?”
“Am I a better warrior than you?” she replied drily.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“It’s a yes!”
He rattled off his number and stood to unsteady legs. “If Lucifer sends another ambush, let me know.”
“Planning to save the day?” she sneered.
“You mean again? Yes.”
She spun, kicking him in the stomach, but there was no actual anger to the strike and he simply lost his breath for a moment. “Bastard.”
“Bitch.”
“Pussy.”
“Failure.”
They peered at each other in silence, and he would have sworn the corners of her lips twitched, as if she was fighting a grin. “I’ll text if I’m attacked,” she said. “Or when I’m fully healed, whichever comes first.”
“Until next time...” he said, and flashed away without problem.
23
“I mixed a vial of poison, called it Kindness...and killed people with Kindness.”
—Josephina, Queen of the Fae
KATARINA PRAISED BISCUIT and Gravy liberally. They excelled at every game she initiated. Flirt pole. Fetch and catch. Hide-and-seek. Tug-of-war. But...did they excel too much?
Are they hellhounds or aren’t they?
At every turn, the two maintained a high level of excitement and determination to win. They remained focused and never entered any of the emotional danger zones: anger, nervousness or fear.
Galen and Fox avoided her bedroom and the backyard, which was a good thing—for them. The more time that passed without Baden, the more Katarina’s stomach churned. The more her stomach churned, the snappier she became. The snappier she became, the more aggrieved the dogs became.
She wanted her man home safe. She even wanted the beast home safe. The beast—who was a manifestation of Hades’s tortured childhood. She’d never thought she would sympathize with the dark king who pulled Baden’s strings. Or that she would fall prey to the old he’s just misunderstood, I should run to him not from him...should give him a hug.
I want to hug him!
But. Despite her sympathy, she would never allow him to harm her pups.
“Are you hellhounds?” she finally asked as she stored the tug-of-war sleeve in a box at the foot of the bed. “You can tell me the truth.”
—Play! Play!—
“Did you bite me? And if so, why didn’t you feed on me?” Because they loved her? Love could overcome a multitude of compulsions. “Am I going to morph into one of your kind?”
—Toy!—
Biscuit scratched at the box. When that failed, he nosed the lid.
“Sit,” she commanded, and both pups sat after only a slight hesitation.
Either they were too innocent to understand what she’d asked, or they didn’t want to admit the truth.
“Where are your parents? Were they...killed? Are you on your own?”
Both ducked their heads, radiating sadness.
“You’re not alone,” she told them. “You’ve got me. And I’ll love you even if you infected me, all right?”
Baden appeared in a flash of light, startling her. She pressed her lips together in a guilty line. The dogs didn’t act surprised, at least, as if they’d sensed him; they simply watched him. But the real wonder? They remained in place, waiting for her command to rise. Such fast learners!
As she took in Baden’s poor condition, a cry of dismay left her. He looked as if he’d been pitted against other junkyard dogs. His face, neck and arms were cut and bruised and caked with something thick and black that reeked of sulfur. His clothes were torn, and his limbs trembling.
She rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist, offering support and comfort. “What happened?” She