taking another animal under her wing. She absolutely one hundred percent was not falling in love and losing another piece of her heart. Why bother? Death was inevitable.
“Like I told you last time. Take him and his buddy to a local shelter.”
“They bark at me every time I approach them. If I take them to a shelter, they’ll be labeled aggressive and euthanized. And I can’t ask anyone else to help. Everyone is too busy worrying about Gilly and planning William’s murder.” Ashlyn pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “It has to be you.”
She spoke of murder just as easily as Baden.
“I know Gilly is sick,” Baden said with a frown, “but why turn on William?”
“He flashed her somewhere else. We don’t know where. He’s ignoring all calls and texts.” Ashlyn looked to Katarina, beseeching with her gaze. “I’ve never had a pet, but I know suffering when I see it. Please.”
“I...” Can’t say no, but must protect my heart.
“Katarina,” Baden prompted. “Help her.”
That wasn’t the first time he’d used her name, but it was the first time his tongue had caressed all four syllables and made her shiver.
“Another order,” she told him with an arched brow.
“As I told you before, the strays won’t replace the ones you lost, but the loss of one doesn’t stop the need for another.”
Wise words. And really, deep down—underneath her fear of loss—she was tempted to work with the dogs and offer all the love she’d once had to give. Love they clearly needed. Love they’d probably never received.
Likelihood of Getting Bitten? A solid one hundred percent. One of the dogs had already tried to bite a person, his instinct to attack first and trust later—if ever. He needed guidance as much as food. New surroundings, with new people and smells, could be frightening, and frightened dogs acted out. Not all humans reacted with understanding, patience or even compassion.
“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “I’ll do it.”
Relief softened Baden’s expression. “We’ll have to muzzle—”
“No.” She shook her head, adamant. “No muzzles unless absolutely necessary.”
“Yes,” he insisted. “There’s no reason to risk a bite.”
“I’ll decide what I risk.”
“That isn’t how our relationship works,” he reminded her, as if speaking to a child. “I’m the general, and you’re the lowly soldier. I order, you comply.”
“For my safety, blah, blah, blah. Well, this lowly soldier is doing things her way. You can deal.”
“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you!” A clapping Ashlyn jumped up and down. “The dogs are locked in one of the downstairs bedrooms. My children have named them Biscuit and Gravy.”
Children...she’d heard about the twins in her many wanderings, but she’d never actually seen them. “How old are your kids?”
Ashlyn beamed with pride. “Urban and Ever are eight mon—years,” she corrected as her happiness faded.
An odd reaction.
Whatever. Katarina had aided her dad as soon as she could walk. “They’re welcome to watch me work, but they have to do everything I say, when I say it.”
“How kind of you. I’ll let them know. Oh! And they’ve already been instructed not to hurt you, so you don’t need to worry.”
Eight-year-olds were a danger to her? Please.
Unless they were immortal?
Right. New world, new rules. She had to adjust.
She met Baden’s probing stare. “Are you coming with us?”
“No.” He rubbed the band hidden under his shirtsleeve. “I have a job of my own to do.”
What job? she almost asked. With him, it was probably best if she didn’t know. “Be careful.” The words slipped out, and though she wanted to take them back—too concerned, almost clingy—she didn’t.
He blinked in surprise. “I will. You, too.” A tension-laden pause stretched between them, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint its source.
Perhaps he couldn’t, either. He frowned and stalked from the room.
Ashlyn skipped over and linked their arms. “According to the other warriors, Baden used to be the nicest male on the planet, but death changed him. So have the wreaths he wears. He’s harder, colder. But I know for a fact he’ll never hurt you.”
Her heart suddenly felt like the drum at a rock concert. “What makes me an exception?”
“Oh, honey. The way Baden just looked at you...well, I’m sure you’ll learn the answer firsthand. And soon!”
9
“Looks like it’s fuck-this-shit-up o’clock.”
—Kaia the Wing Shredder,
Harpy from Clan Skyhawk
GILLIAN BRADSHAW—GILLY to her friends, though she despised the nickname more and more, wanting to prove herself an adult rather than a child—tossed and turned atop a soft mattress as a terrible fever ravaged her from the inside out. So much of