to fight to survive. “I’d like to doctor your injuries,” she said.
He frowned at her. “I’m fine.”
“But—”
“No. No touching,” he reminded her.
Seriously? “We just took a shower together. Our bodies were pressed together.”
“That was different.”
“How?” she demanded.
He scrubbed a hand over his strained features. “You’re no longer my captive, Katarina. I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go.”
Subject changed. Fine. What else had changed? Her! She didn’t want to leave him, her junkyard dog, even though she should return home and rebuild her kennel. And her bank account.
This man needed help. The game he played with Pandora was a tether. A chain. Through it, he suffered mental and physical abuse. His friends thought she could soothe him and she, well, she really wanted to prove them right. How foolish!
“No need to take me anywhere,” she said. “I’m where I want to be.”
“Why?” He was suspicious...hopeful?
“Why else? I like living on someone else’s dime.”
He stared at her, as if trying to see inside her head. “Very well.” He nodded. “You may stay.”
No protests about her gold-digger status? Bastard.
“Dress.”
Another command. Would he ever just ask?
Maybe he needed a proper example. “Would you please turn around?”
He hesitated, his features tight, before doing as requested. She hopped up, removed her soaking wet undergarments and tugged on the T-shirt and shorts that were folded at the edge of the sink. Once again, the clothes he’d picked for her were meant for a much smaller person; the hem of the shirt ended well above her navel, and the shorts barely covered the curve of her ass.
“All done,” she said.
As she strode past him, he sucked in a mouthful of air. “Your legs...”
She paused to look over each limb, but everything appeared normal. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Was that...reverence in his tone? Did she want it to be?
Her insides heating, she toyed with a lock of hair. He strode to the closet and changed into dry clothing, unabashedly giving her a peek at his naked form, and oh, wow, he was a magnificent specimen. More muscled than she’d realized, a carnal buffet of strength and sinew.
“Your tattoo,” she said, certain she was drooling. “The butterfly on your chest.”
“Yes?”
“It’s...” Delectable—edible. “Beautiful.”
“We were marked with a butterfly when the demons first entered our bodies. I lost mine when I died and thought getting another would help me become the man I used to be.”
How very sweet, and very sad. “Why would you want to become the man you used to be? From everything I’ve heard, he sucked ass.”
He looked at her as if she were a strange creature. “The others loved him.”
“But they sucked ass, too, yes? Not really a high recommendation for his character.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps I got the mark because I secretly wanted to be more like the honorable men my friends had become. To be bonded to them.”
“Silly warrior. You didn’t need a tattoo for that. You guys are bonded by your love for each other. But maybe the mark can have a new meaning now. You were Distrust, then you were dead, but you emerged from the abyss able to fly.”
A strange and wonderful creature.
She preened. “Did you and Pandora hook up when you were trapped together? She’s tough. Totally your type.”
“Yes, she’s very tough. But no, we didn’t.” He stepped toward her, his pupils expanding over his copper irises. His hands fisted...to control a need to reach for her? “You’ve proven to be even more fragile than I realized. You’re also married.”
The disgust had returned, and yet...no matter his feelings about fragility, no matter his prejudice about her sham of a marriage, he obviously found her attractive. As he studied her, the telltale signs of excitement only grew more pronounced.
The most feminine parts of her began to throb. “I’m married, yes, but not for long. This girl will be getting a speedy annulment.”
Another step. “No need. I’ll make you a widow.”
How easily he spoke of murder. As easily as he committed it, she was sure.
And he was staring at her lips now, she realized. Wondering how they tasted?
She shivered with longing.
A harried knock stopped him while making her jolt guiltily. Would he have kissed her? Would she have let him?
“Baden?” Ashlyn called. “Is Katarina in there?”
He’d stiffened. “She is. Why?”
“Are you both dressed?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” he grated, not sounding pleased by that fact.
She rushed inside the room, her hands wringing together. “Another stray dog showed up, and I’m begging you to take care of them both, Katarina.”