crystalline blue darkened until jet black. Black that spread to his cheekbones, reminding Baden of one of the kings he’d seen in Hades’s chamber.
I’m staring into the abyss.
“No,” William said. “I think I’d rather wait.”
“Very well.” Baden twisted the daggers deeper. “Then let’s discuss the reason for my visit. Were you or were you not once bound by Hades’s bands?”
In a shocking move, William surged forward, pushing both daggers deeper. One more step, and Baden’s hands would come out the other side.
“Does this feel like a sharing moment to you?” the warrior demanded, deceptively calm, even as bolts of lightning flashed underneath his skin.
“Answer me, anyway,” Baden said.
“Or what? You’ll stick me with a third dagger?”
Bastard. Was there nothing he feared? “You think you’re the only one with problems?” A question the male had once asked him.
“I’m the only one with a problem I care about.”
“Tell me what I want to know or—”
“Or what?” The words were whispered, more lethal than the blades. “Tell me. I’m figuratively dying of curiosity.”
This was Hades’s son. Threats wouldn’t work, as proven. Appeals to a softer side wouldn’t work, either. He had no softer side. Or rather he’d had a softer side, but she’d been taken away from him.
Baden yanked out the daggers, one at a time, removing bits of heart and liver, too. Oops. “Do you know if Gilly and Puck registered? Want to make sure I buy the right toaster.”
William narrowed his eyes, and it was clear he struggled to retain his composure. “Yes, Red. I wore the bands, just like you. They made me Hades’s son, and if you live long enough, they’ll do the same to you—brother.”
25
“Go ahead and eat your weight in ice cream. You’ll just give him more of you to love.”
—Haidee, former keeper of Hate
GALEN, THE CHRUNO, refused to take Katarina and the dogs to Bratislava, where she could find a new place to live and start over. Instead, he took her little ragtag group straight to Keeley and Kaia. According to Galen, Keeley had horrifying powers her enemies feared so greatly, they wouldn’t even speak her name except in hushed whispers, and Kaia could chew through an entire army without breaking a sweat. Details Baden had left out during intros.
This was another perfect example of why Katarina needed a book of who was who to whom in the worlds.
Not that Baden would provide such a tome now.
The backs of her eyes began to...no, surely not...but she couldn’t deny—or fight—the burn for long. Trembling, she patted her cheeks. They were still dry. Good, that was good. She would not cry for him. Her parents and Peter deserved her tears. Her precious dogs deserved her tears. Baden did not.
Suck it up. Move on.
“Here. She’s your problem now, ladies. Protect her if you want. Or not. My part is done.” Galen vanished without another word.
Keeley stared at her, confused. “Who are you?”
Was that a joke? “You know me. We hung out just last week.”
Keeley shook her head. “No way. I’d remember. Wait.” She rubbed her temples. “The deets are coming back to me. You’re Baden’s girl... Katrina. He absconded with you after the attack on our home.”
A pang in her heart, the burn returning to her eyes. “I was Baden’s girl.” She pointed to a cozy spot in the corner, and the dogs trotted over to lie down. “We decided to part ways because he’s an asshole. And my name is Katarina.”
“Katrina is better,” Kaia said with a nod. “Fewer syllables.”
Katarina gave her a false smile. “I’ll call you KiKi, then. It’s prettier.”
Got to make the best of a bad situation.
She took in her surroundings. The decor could have been plucked from the set of a porno. Dark, intimate and suggestive, with mirrors on the ceiling and walls. “What is this place?”
“A nightclub for immortals,” Keeley said. “Known as Downfall.”
Appropriate. According to the hours of operation displayed on the wall, the bar wasn’t set to open for hours. Well. No wonder it was currently devoid of other patrons.
“Why are you here after hours?” she asked.
“Long story short, I was testing the club’s security, seeing if it was possible to break and enter. Hint: it is.” Kaia moved behind the bar and mixed a concoction she named the Shame Spiral. “Slight hiccup. I didn’t actually tell the owners I would be doing them such a massive favor. Here. Drink.”
“I’ll be honest with you,” Katarina said. “This might as well be cardboardeaux. I can’t tell the difference between a well-mixed drink