The Darkest Torment - Gena Showalter Page 0,122

your anger than your death.”

“I’m a grown-ass woman, Baden, and you don’t get to make my decisions for me. My opinions matter. My wants matter. Whether you agree with me or not.”

He wasn’t deterred. “One day, you’ll thank me for my insistence.”

“I won’t.” I won’t reinforce his domineering tendencies. “Now back off before you push me too far.”

“I won’t back off. I can’t. This is too important. You’re too young and too human to understand the—”

An animalistic growl sprang from deep inside her—a sound she’d never before made—and he went quiet. Not because of her, she realized, but because of the pups, who’d risen from their mound of pillows, the hair on their backs standing up.

Fury, a mirror to her own, pulsed off them.

The dogs dove for the bed—for Baden. Their teeth were bared, as if they planned to rip out his throat.

“No,” she rushed out, and they twisted midair, soaring past Baden as he threw his body over hers.

“No?” He anchored his weight on his palms to loom above her, his beautiful features dark with anger and determination. “Do you hope to protect me? Or them?”

“Both. Though I can’t fathom why I’d save you right now.”

“Because I’m willing to do anything to see to your safety. Even go against your wishes. You might not like it, but some part of you must appreciate it.”

Was that what she’d reinforced?

As the pups prowled around the bed, waiting for her signal this time, Katarina forced herself to calm through every means possible. Deep breathing, counting to ten, imagining herself in a happy place—a field of wildflowers where her former pups could play with her new pups.

“How did we go from making love and cuddling to this?”

“Very easily. Making love, cuddling...you showed me the desires of a heart I’d thought long dead. And one day you might decide to take that away from me? One day someone might kill you or old age might get the better of you? No.”

The romance of his words was ruined by the harshness of his tone. “Might? One day? Oh, no, kretén. I’m taking the desires of your heart away from you today. You’re so hardheaded, my warning wasn’t able to get through. Action is needed.” He would learn a lesson, and she would calm down. “We’re going to spend some time apart.”

She stood and nuzzled the dogs to assure them all was well before dressing in a T-shirt and jeans. “When you deny my right to choose, you don’t deserve me.” She strode to the closet, grabbed an empty duffel and began to fill it with her clothing. “So I’m leaving. Going somewhere far, far away from you.”

“No.” He spat the denial as if it were poison. “You’re staying here.”

“Another command.” She tsk-tsked. “You can’t stop me without harming me. Because I will fight you.”

He jumped up, copper eyes hot on her, and ripped the bag from her grip. A bag he tossed across the room. He backed her into the wall, a mix of carnality and acrimony as he flattened his palms beside her temples, caging her in.

She wasn’t afraid...but might have been a little turned on. Stay strong! The long-term outcome was more important than the short-term pleasure.

To her surprise, the dogs remained quiet. Sensed no threat this time?

“Stay.” Taking a page from her training manual, he began to pet her. “We’re so good together.”

He stroked her hair...down her arm...up her stomach and between her breasts... Only when she had gone taut with anticipation, the very air she breathed burning her with awareness only this man could elicit, did he circle her beaded nipple.

“If we’re parted, I won’t be able to touch you like this, and I desperately want to touch you. Stay,” he repeated. “Please.”

His resolve was a tantalizing throb against her skin. The problem? He’d couched the words as a request this time, and yet they were still a demand.

“Your plea is too little too late, warrior.”

The gentleness evaporated from his expression. “You’re a human. You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“So you keep telling me.” She pushed him away. “Well, I know beyond a doubt you aren’t good for me. Now move!”

He moved, but only of his own volition, the bastard.

“What do you want from me?” he snapped.

“From you? Nothing.” Head high, she bent to pick up the bag. She stuffed her belongings inside. “I want a man who sees me as his equal.”

“That,” he said, his voice now devoid of emotion, “is something I’ll never do. I can’t. Not when

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