The Darkest Touch (Lords of the Underworld 11)

The girl raced forward and executed a formal bow reserved for the most revered of royalty. “The warrior Galen asked me to get a message to you. Told me you would pay handsomely.”

A message? “Tell me.”

Trembling, the Fae said, “Hades has captured him. Him and Torin. Locked them away.”

“What?” the other girls proclaimed in unison, their good moods plummeting.

Like the club walls, the ground shook. Hades had Torin? Thought to use him against her?

No matter how badly Torin had hurt her, she did not want him tortured. The thought of him enduring a single scratch still had the power to enrage her.

“Give the girl one of the piles of gold in my room. I’ll be back,” she announced. She flashed directly to Hades.

He was in his bedroom, the one in the fortress he’d built inside the Realm of Blood and Shadow, not the one he’d stolen from Lucifer. The curtain was drawn around his bed, but Keeley knew he was there. He was speaking, his voice low and seductive. A female moaned with pleasure.

How nice. Keeley had been forgotten by him, too.

The walls of the palace trembled forcefully as she shouted, “Hades. We need to talk.”

A feminine gasp of shock.

A male curse.

The rustle of moving bodies.

“That’s enough out of you, Tally,” Hades said, and then he was pushing the curtain aside and standing beside the bed. He dropped the curtain in place before she could catch a glimpse of his partner.

His hair stuck out in spikes. He was shirtless, his muscles on display. His pants were on but undone. His cheeks were flushed, his skin littered with bite marks and scratches.

He tilted his head to the side as he met Keeley’s gaze.

“What’s going on?” the woman—Tally—snapped, clearly irritated.

He ignored her, saying to Keeley, “I’m logging an official request that you never wear anything but that outfit ever again.”

“You have Torin and Galen locked away.”

He didn’t try to deny it, didn’t even look ashamed to have been caught. “I do. Torin’s manner displeased me. Galen was just in the way.”

“Release me,” this Tally person demanded. “Immediately!” Chains rattled.

Hades slapped the curtain. “I said enough. Remember what happens when my orders are not heeded.”

A mouthful of curses resounded.

“Let them go,” Keeley commanded.

“No. And now that that discussion is over...would you like to join us?” He waved to the bed.

Hissing outrage from the woman.

“No, thanks,” Keeley said. “Free Torin and Galen.”

“Why should I? Torin filled your eyes with pain.”

He couldn’t be serious. “That’s your excuse? You did the same!”

“Yes, but I’m trying to make amends.”

“You want to make amends? Fine. Let Torin and Galen go.”

He frowned at her. “Is this part of your motivational speaking? Or can we call this nagging?”

She waved her fist at him. “Do it.”

Stubborn, he crossed his arms over the wide expanse of his chest. “Torin will only hurt you again. Physically and emotionally.”

“Last chance,” she said, the walls shaking harder...harder. “Release them.”

“If I do,” he replied, his voice even, “I feel like you’ll owe me.”

She ground her teeth. He’d once feared her power, had considered it greater than his own. Perhaps it was time to prove that was actually the case. “You brought this on yourself.” She struck.

* * *

TORIN WOKE UP with hundreds of tiny men using jackhammers inside his head. He pulled himself upright gingerly, rubbed his eyes. Galen sat across from him, covered in dried blood and bruises. His hair was a mess, sticking out at odd angles.

Torin’s fingers snagged in a nest of tangles when he tried to comb his own.

Memories rolled through his mind...the minions...claws snapping at him, whiskey spilling all over him, nips at his arms and legs, something slamming into his head again and again. Then...darkness.

“Hades,” Galen said. “Bastard locked us up.”

The walls of the palace shook, and Torin frowned. Was Keeley here? With Hades?

Hell, no. He sprang up and raced to the cell door, then flattened his hands on the lock. It clicked open instantly. Thank you, All-key. He ran down a long, narrow corridor.

“How the hell did you do that?” Galen asked.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to find Keeley. I think she’s here.”

“I’m sure she’s here. I sent one of the servants to find her.”

“Idiot!” Torin shouted. “You shouldn’t have—”

The wall in front of him utterly exploded, huge hunks of debris flying in every direction. Hades arrowed through the crude opening, and Torin doubted it was of his own volition. Dude rolled across the sea of broken stone, head bumping and banging along the way.

Keeley floated in behind the male, and oh, what a majestic sight she made. Her skin—so much of it bared—was as pale as a white rose and literally glowed, streams of bright light glimmering around her. A mane of light pink hair with hunks of green framed her face. She was beautiful, yes, but also glorious. Like a warhorse of old. And yeah, okay, if he spoke the comparison aloud she might grind his bones to powder. But appearance had nothing to do with it.

There had once been a time when men trained their horses for battle. Not just to charge into a fray, but to love it. Crave it. Those animals had felt no fear. They hadn’t shied away from sword or spear or dagger but had flared their nostrils and stomped their hooves, daring the enemy to make a move—wanting him to. They hadn’t cared if they lived or if they died, just as long as they had a taste of the action. That was Keeley.