The Darkest Torment
Page 56

“Offered. To. Help. How?” The last was spit into the darkness as William noticed the shirt draped over her.
On dangerous ground. Proceed carefully. “Promise me first,” she said. “Please.”
He remained silent as he ripped the shirt from her and tossed it into the water. She swallowed a whimper.
William scooped her up and carried her inside the house. She’d seen so little of the place. Only the path to her bedroom, really. A massive living room with sections of walls and ceiling strategically cut away to maximize daylight and ocean views. Floor-to-ceiling frosted glass windows welcomed nature inside while maintaining a sense of privacy.
A white couch curved into a half-moon, and two lounge chairs—also in white—offered a place to stretch out and relax in front of a stone fireplace with a lion carved on each side. The coffee table looked to be made of recycled wood he’d found on the beach.
“The verdict?” William asked, noticing her scrutiny.
“Clean, classic and yet homey, with touches of the ornate,” she said. “So, not really you.” He was extraordinary, unique and wicked. “How long have you owned the place?”
“Since the day we arrived, and I...relocated the owner.”
What! “Liam, you can’t just—”
“I can, and I did. Might is my right.” He climbed the winding staircase with ease and entered the first bedroom on the right. The walls were yellow and the comforter on the bed light blue. Reminded her of sunshine and morning sky. The nightstand had sailboat steering wheels for legs, lending a touch of novelty.
He eased her onto the mattress and tucked the covers around her. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
He considered Puck a closed subject, didn’t he? Frustrating man. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to—”
“Your conscience doesn’t need to bear anything. Mine alone will carry the burden.”
“That’s a problem. You don’t actually have a conscience.”
“Perhaps I’ll acquire one.” He arched a brow. “How much do you think they’re sold for nowadays?”
What was wrong with the men in her life?
“Are you thirsty?” he asked again.
“No,” she grumbled. “And, just so you know, I’m not going to marry you.”
He was as taut as a drum as he sat beside her. “I don’t remember asking, poppet.”
“I know you haven’t asked, just as I know you won’t ask. This way, when I’m gone, you won’t waste time feeling guilty, wondering if you should have asked.”
“You’re not going to die,” he said softly, menacingly. “I won’t let you.”
There were some things not even William the Ever Randy could stop from happening.
She gathered what strength she could to reach out and clasp his hand. “I love you, Liam. When I had nothing and no one, you gave me friendship and joy, and I will be forever grateful to you.”
His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Stop talking as if this is the end for you.”
She offered him the same sad smile she’d given Puck—where had he gone? What was he doing? And why did she care about a man who cared about nothing? “You have faults. A lot of faults. But you’re a wonderful man.”
The ticking stopped. He even looked as if he’d stopped breathing. “This wonderful man will find a way to save you. I’m working every day, every hour, every minute. Now get some rest.” With that, he stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.
The sad thing? Gillian stared at the balcony, waiting—hoping—Puck would appear. One minute bled into ten, but he never showed. Disappointment zapped the rest of her strength, and she closed her eyes.
As she drifted off, she thought she smelled peat smoke and lavender...thought she heard a deep voice whisper, “Sleep, lass. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
15
“Always believe a woman who says she’s innocent. Your trust in her will never come back to bite you in the ass.”
—Gideon, keeper of Lies
A THOUSAND NEW memories filled Baden’s head. Destruction’s memories. Hades’s memories. They took over, consumed, causing the beast to foam at the mouth. He wanted to rip Katarina to shreds. She had betrayed him just as royally as his mother.
As a child, Jezebel had strapped him to a rack. His every joint had been pulled out of socket, his muscles torn. Mother Dearest had also hung his intestines from a spit, roasting them while she ate his liver—straight from the source. She’d laughed and poured buckets of demonic insects over him. The little critters had crawled inside his mouth, down his throat, in and out every orifice.
When she’d failed to kill him—the one prophesied to destroy her—she’d sold him to one of the kings of the underworld. The male had controlled a pack of hellhounds. Not through bonding. The hounds had to be willing for that. But through threats. Do what I tell you, or watch as I kill your mate.
Upon his order, they’d tracked Hades...ripped him apart.
So much pain...so much agony. Of the body and of the soul. He’d loved his mother, but he’d hated her, too.
And now, Katarina thought she had the wits to trick him? The courage to betray him? She thought she could free her piece-of-shit husband and leave him?
Destruction roared with a rage he’d carried all these centuries, the emotion leaking into Baden. Power before sentiment. The weak always sought a protector. Any protector. It was just a fact of life.
Some part of Baden defended Katarina. Her mind was well-honed; she was intelligent and crafty. She could survive the world without him—without Aleksander—and even thrive.
The thought...couldn’t be correct. She needed a strong man to save her. She would always need a strong man to save her.
She raised her chin, her gray-green eyes crackling with fury of her own, daring him to speak against her.
In the revelation of her deceit, she dared challenge him?
Maybe her mind wasn’t so well-honed, after all. She purposely incited his worst.
Calm. Steady. Baden placed Biscuit in her arms and scooped up Gravy. With his free arm, he yanked his betrayer against him. Chest to chest. She gasped in surprise...perhaps in fear.
Baden and Destruction cursed her in unison. A treacherous bitch shouldn’t feel this good.
Aleksander lunged at him with all the slack the chain allowed. His mistake. Baden booted him in the face, nearly snapping his neck.