was separated from the ones who still lived. I hated every second.”
What if he’d left her with Alek, as she’d asked? What then? Alek probably would have killed the dogs anyway, since he’d gotten what he’d wanted: control of her life.
Still, she rolled away from Baden to end the heart-wrenching conversation.
He wasn’t deterred. “Want to hear something messed up? I warred with Pandora for four thousand years, and yet she’s the reason I remained sane. I owe her, but I’ll still do whatever proves necessary to beat her at our game. I have to. Victory might be my only way out of these bands.” He laughed, the sound sharp with a bitter edge. “I’ve never had more reason to give up, but I’ve never wanted to live so much.”
Her chest constricted. For her pain, yes, but also for his.
“Sharing is easier than I expected,” he remarked.
Curiosity got the better of her. “You’ve never done it?”
“Why would I? I’m a warrior. Bearing burdens is my job. My privilege.”
“I disagree. The more burdens you carry, the fewer battles you’re able to fight. You’re too bogged down.”
He frowned at her.
“Why share with me?” To help her reconnect, as he’d said, but there had to be more to it than that. “You don’t care about my opinion, remember?”
“I...care. I did you wrong, now I do you right.”
What a sweet—and baffling—response from a man she shouldn’t trust but couldn’t bring herself to spurn.
He left her then. Rather than puttering around the fortress to calm the tempest in her head, she cleaned his room. And that night, as fatigue settled over her, she drifted off, enjoying her first peaceful rest since meeting Alek.
She woke when the bedroom door opened, hinges squeaking. A stoic Baden strode toward her, breakfast tray in hand.
“You will eat,” he said, putting the food in front of her.
Hunger pangs failed to overshadow the sudden burn of anger. “You need to stop ordering me around.”
“I’ve lived longer. I know what’s best for you. Besides, you’re fragile. You need my help.”
Her anger only escalated. “I’m fragile...I’m weak. I admit it.” I’m nothing without my dogs. “But you are a patronizing asshole.”
“This, you’ve told me before.”
“Well, it bore mentioning again.”
A knock sounded, and relief glinted in his eyes. Hadn’t liked the direction of the conversation? He moved to the door to speak to the intruder and Katarina sneaked an avocado slice.
When he returned to her side, he held a large black-and-white mutt. The dog had fleas and multiple scars, as if he’d once served as bait in a fighting ring.
She recognized him. One of the strays from outside the chapel.
“I know this boy can’t replace the others,” Baden said, “but he clearly needs an advocate. He showed up on our doorstep.”
What! No. Absolutely not. She’d lost so much already; she couldn’t bear to lose more. “Take him to the nearest shelter. They’ll check for a microchip. If he doesn’t have one, they’ll put up posts to find his owners.”
The wiggling dog growled at Baden, who shifted from one foot to the other, struggling to maintain his hold. The action only aggravated the dog further, and he snapped and snarled, baring the sharpest set of teeth she’d ever seen.
“Katarina—”
“No.” Too raw and ragged to offer any more help.
With a sigh, Baden carried the dog away.
She set the tray on the floor, no longer hungry, and drew the covers over her head.
When he returned, Baden settled beside her and draped a glove-covered arm over her middle. Strangely enough, she fell into another peaceful rest—
Only to awake with a jolt as he muttered, “Kill. Kill!”
She stiffened. He wanted to kill her? She scrambled up. Lamplight trickled over him. His eyes were closed, his features pale and taut. He was sleep talking?
“Shhh. You don’t need to kill anyone,” she told him softly.
“Threats...too many threats.” There was a husky quality to his voice, one she’d never heard before. “They can’t be allowed to live.”
“Who dares to threaten you?”
He answered as if he heard her, even understood her, despite his current state. “Everyone.”
“Why?” She brushed her fingers over his furrowed brow, and he actually leaned into the caress. When she remembered the command he’d once bellowed at her—Do not touch me. Ever—she drew back.
He frowned and kicked at the covers. “I won’t be imprisoned again. Never again.”
How long had he been locked away?
This man had lived, in some capacity, for a very long time. Considering the violence of his world, he must have grappled with his fair share of ordeals. “Shhh,”