The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

“I can’t get you out of my mind, and it’s twisting up my insides,” he said, his voice a mix of anger and concern. “I’m worried about you. One minute I want to shake you, the next I want to...hold you.”

He wants to hold me?

“Welcome to a non-relationship,” Gideon said as he entered the kitchen. The keeper of Lies. “Please tell me you drank all the—”

Baden pointed to the hall.

“So cool.” The warrior with blue hair and multiple piercings backed out of view.

“You’ve disconnected from life,” Baden continued. “I understand why, but now you need a reason to connect again.”

She turned away from him. Even though he was right. She had disconnected, and this wasn’t the first time.

After her mom died, she’d disconnected from the more rambunctious aspects of her personality. The girl who loved to laugh had soon become the somber girl who focused on her work with her father. Then she’d lost her father, then Peter—new reasons to throw herself into her work. Then she’d lost her work...her pets. Her only source of unconditional love.

Katarina slammed the juice on the counter. The glass shattered, liquid spilling everywhere. She rushed from the kitchen and into the safety of Baden’s room, where she climbed into bed and buried herself under the covers.

A few seconds later, Baden stretched out beside her. Because he wanted to hold her?

He combed his fingers through her hair, making her gasp—tremble. Purposeful contact? “I know words can’t make this better for you, nothing can, but I am sorry for your loss.”

Guilt clogged her throat. Wasn’t the blame partly hers? She could have told Baden the truth their first night together. Maybe he would have helped her rescue the dogs, maybe not, but she had denied him the chance, allowing fear to lead her.

“I know what you’re doing,” she croaked. What was he doing? “Stop.”

He continued combing her hair. “I’m familiar with the pain of saying goodbye to someone you love. There were more of us created, you know. More immortal warriors meant to guard Zeus. Before the box, we lost eight brothers and six sisters during battle, and I still bear the scars.” He expelled a forced breath. “After I died, my thoughts free of the demon for the first time in hundreds of years, I realized just how thoroughly I 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.”