The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

The glare returned full force, and he actually snarled at her. “I learned the reference. I will only ever pretend to be me, and you’ll thank me for it.”

Yes. She probably would. “I don’t think you have to pretend to be you, pekný.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled.

So adorable. She liked this man. Liked liked. A lot. He was stubborn and grumpy and he had those murderous tendencies thanks to Destruction, but he could make her laugh when no one else was able.

Wow. He makes me laugh? Way to reach for the stars.

Well...he could turn her on with a single look. He challenged her and delighted her. And maybe she had a wild side she’d never before acknowledged or maybe she was just getting used to his world, because she liked that he would go to any means necessary to protect what he loved.

He doesn’t love me.

But...I might be falling for him.

Tristo hrmenych! That wasn’t a good thing. He would never age, but she would—yes? Despite the possible hellhound thing. Also, all the women his friends had picked were hardcore warriors, no matter how delicate they appeared. Katarina had sensed Ashlyn would morph into a snarling ogre if ever her children were threatened.

Baduction still considered Katarina weak.

I’m someone, damn it. I’m plucky!

“Are you hurt?” Baden asked, drawing her from her musings.

“No.” She hooked a lock of hair behind his ear, connecting with him through touch. “Why?”

“You grimaced.”

Galen saved her from having to think up a reply by stumbling into the room. Biscuit shoved his muzzle into one leg and Gravy shoved his muzzle into the other to nudge Galen closer. Both canines stopped and panted, tongues hanging out of their mouths, only when Galen stood within reach of Katarina.

“Such good babies,” she praised.

Scowling, Galen said, “If your dogs ever come after me again, I’ll—”

Katarina leaped to her feet, the dogs jumping in front of her. His jaw dropped as she growled at him. Literally growled. Her gums burned. So did the ends of her fingers and even the ends of her toes, but she ignored the painful sensations, keeping her gaze locked on Galen.

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” she told him.

The pups echoed her sentiment with a snarl. A sound unlike any they’d released before, deep and hungry, absolutely menacing, as if the warrior had just been placed on the dinner menu. An all-you-can-eat buffet.

“I don’t think they like you,” Baden remarked, his tone easy, almost amused.

The color drained from Galen’s face as he held up his hands, palms out, and took a step back. “They are...”

“Going to tear off your face if you insult them? Yes. Or were you going to say they are angels? Because they are. Now zip your foolish mouth and help Baden.” She motioned to the patient with a regal wave of her arm. “And you,” she said, smiling at the dogs. “Guard my pekný.”

The dogs jumped on the bed, taking up posts beside Baden. And okay, all right, not even she was this good, this fast. They were hellhounds, weren’t they?

Hellhounds must be eradicated.

Over her dead body!

“All right. On that note...” Galen tentatively approached the bed and raked his gaze over Baden. “Here’s my official diagnosis. With a little rest and a shower, he’ll be fine. Just offer to screw his brains out as soon as he’s on his feet. You’ll have a healthy, happy boy by the end of the day.” Galen winked at her before marching out of the room.

The words were both liberating and worrisome at once. She’d learned a few things about the warrior. As the keeper of False Hope, he enjoyed—and perhaps needed—to build people up only to tear them down. Even himself!

This could be a trick of the demon.

Well, she would make sure Baden did rest and recover. She gathered all the supplies she thought she might need: a bowl of hot water—which was always used in books and movies—rags, antibiotic ointment and bandages. Baden remained quiet, even pensive as she removed his shirt and got to work.

Finally he said, “I want to keep you. I will keep you.”

Her heart kicked into a hard rhythm against her ribs. “Until the novelty wears off or until I’m old and gray?”

Angry, brooding eyes met hers, sending a shiver dancing through her. “I don’t like the thought of you aging.”

Well, that made two of them. This virile man didn’t need a granny in a diaper clinging to his arm like a crutch. Not for a girlfriend. “No silver fox fantasies?” Half tease, half hope. Half plea for help.