A pause. Then, “The human.”
He stiffened. “Why?”
“She makes you happy...but for how long? She’s a liability. And what if she’s captured and tortured by your enemies? She’ll flip faster than you can say This is shit. What if she’s a spy? I’ve worked with Hunters, so I know the type. Goodie-goodie, but only on the outside. And what if a faction of Hunters has survived, operating in the shadows? She could be Bait, meant to lure you to your second death.”
Was this how he’d sounded, all those centuries ago?
He knew what would come next: an attack against the one she distrusted.
She should fear Baden. If she harmed Katarina, he would harm her in turn. A thousand times over.
“Sit at the table,” he commanded. “Now.”
She forgot her torrent of suspicion long enough to grumble, “Wow. Are you always this affable?”
“Yes. Do you want my help or not?”
She sat with a huff.
He cracked the egg into a pan, saying, “When the demon hits you with thoughts of someone’s possible betrayal, write down every good thing you remember about the person. Nice things they’ve said to you. Kind deeds they’ve done. The way they smile. Then read the list over and over until the demon shuts his foul, lying mouth.” For years, those lists had been the only thing capable of stopping an attack against his best friends.
She regarded him warily. “If making lists is the golden ticket to peace, why did you allow yourself to be killed?”
She knew the truth? Katarina would not have told her.
Sensing the direction of his thoughts, Fox added, “Distrust shared the memory with me.”
Of course. The bastard. “I abandoned my lists. Listening to the demon was just...easier. I’d been fighting for so long, I’d grown weary of it all.” He’d allowed his light—his hope, the heart of him, the protective side so much a part of his nature—to be snuffed out.
A light Katarina had relit.
Will protect her at any cost.
Perhaps he should rename the beast Construction, he thought with an inner laugh. His other half no longer tore down but now built up.
Only with my human.
My human. Baden put the finishing touches on the sandwich.
Galen sailed into the kitchen. The blond paused when he spotted them and arched a brow. “Am I interrupting a gabfest, girls?”
“Yes,” Fox said at the same time Baden said, “No.” The eggs done, he dumped them atop the toasted bread. “I’m done.”
“That’s his impolite way of saying he can’t be away from his precious another second,” Galen remarked. “Oh! Breakfast sandwich!”
“Touch it and lose a hand.” The ends of his fingers burned, the claws threatening to emerge—oops, they had emerged. They clanked against the porcelain.
Galen rolled his eyes. “BTW. Could you and the little missus keep it down the next time you go at it like rabbits? Some of us, and I’m not mentioning any names—” he hiked his thumb in Fox’s direction “—need our beauty Zs.”
“Some of us, and I’m not mentioning any names—” Baden pointed directly at Galen “—need a dagger through the heart.”
“Haven’t you heard? I don’t currently have a heart.” A tinge of bitterness seeped from his tone. “Word on the street is I’ve never had one.”
“Here’s an idea. Don’t tattle on your friends after helping them plan a B&E, ensuring they get caught. Don’t send human assassins after them when they curse you for your betrayal, and don’t complain when one of them gets a little some-some while you have to rely on old faithful.” He motioned to Galen’s right hand.
The warrior surprised him, laughing rather than attacking. “Are you fifteen? A little some-some. Really? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
He shrugged. He’d heard his friends call the act many ridiculous things.
“Also,” Galen added. “You need to work on forgiveness. Words hurt.”
“So do daggers.” To end the conversation, he flashed to the bedroom and placed the sandwich on the nightstand.
Katarina still slept. He was loath to disturb her, and yet need for her consumed him. He knew the bliss of her touch and now suspected there would never be a moment when he wouldn’t crave it.
He decided to distract himself by granting her a boon she hadn’t asked for...at the same time proving just how much she did, in fact, need him.
He made an adjustment in his mind. Because, according to Hades, he could always flash home. A loophole in the king’s plan to keep him contained. For the next few minutes, he considered Aleksander’s country estate his home. He flashed and stalked through the halls. Each of the male’s closest advisors and guards had a room, and he flashed in and out so swiftly, he went unnoticed. It was only a matter of time before he found Katarina’s brother, lying on a floor, a tourniquet tied to his arm, a needle sticking out of his vein.