The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

“You’ve seen the trouble your husband is willing to endure to ensure the coin remains hidden.” Dark red waves fell over his strong brow, swatches of pure silk. “It won’t be in a drawer.”

Probably not. “Perhaps it’s inside a safe-deposit box. I can gather all his keys. If we leave now—”

Dominik squeezed her arm but didn’t say another word.

“What do you think I did before coming to the chapel?” Baden asked.

He’d been to the house? “Did you see three pit bulls? One is brindle, one is gray, and—”

“There were no dogs of any breed,” he interjected, his brow furrowed. “No cats, either.”

Devastation mixed with anger, the deadly combination frothing inside her. Where had Alek hidden her pets?

The white-haired man sidled up to Baden and, after a slight hesitation, patted his shoulder. “We have a problem. William killed the last—” His green eyes landed on Dominik, and he nodded. “Never mind. You kept a messenger alive. We’re good.”

Bile nearly choked her. “Three of you managed to kill over fifty armed guards?”

The white-haired man regarded her, all did the bride hit her head on the way out? “Wasn’t like it was a big deal. They were only human.” He smiled and walked away.

Only human. She couldn’t stop her gaze from seeking Baden’s, despite her warning to the contrary. He still watched her with that air of challenge, and she gulped. “You don’t consider yourself human? So what are you, the boogeyman?”

“Yes.”

What!

He stepped aside and motioned toward the sanctuary, the muscles in his arm flexing. “You will return. Now.”

Leave the crazy man? No need to tell her twice. She raced down the hall and burst through the doors. She would stand guard over Alek if necessary and—

She skidded to a halt. Blood covered the walls and pews and pooled on the floor. Bodies, body parts and other things she couldn’t name were flung here, there and everywhere.

Alek was nailed to the podium, unconscious, his head slumped forward. The bile returned, and waves of nausea crashed through her once again; she closed the distance. Her hand trembled as she felt for a pulse...it was barely perceptible, but it was there.

“Happy now?” Baden came up behind her, his shadow completely engulfing her.

“No! You tortured—”

“Rapists and killers. Yes. They got what they deserved.”

“What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?” And...and...the amount of death...the level of destruction...the trial of the day... “I think I’m going to—”

Too late. She hunched over and retched.

Baden had dragged her brother alongside him, but neither male did the gentlemanly thing and held her veil out of the danger zone.

She almost snorted as she straightened and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. A brutal savage and a callous heroin addict hadn’t come to her aid? What madness!

“Mater ti je kurva,” Dominik snapped at Baden as he struggled for freedom. Your mother is a whore. “You will pay for the travesty done this day.”

Unconcerned by the outburst, Baden looked Katarina over. A spark of something lit his eyes, making her shiver. With dread. Had to be dread. “Aleksander will be the one to pay, and in a most unexpected manner. I’ve decided to take—his bride.”

4

“Only one thing should be infectious. Your smile.”

—Torin, keeper of Disease

“YOU CAN’T JUST...take me,” the bride said, obviously alarmed.

What was her name?

“I can, and I will. Don’t fight me.” The blood in Baden’s veins sang, Destruction purring in harmony. Tides of pleasure rolled through him. Hate the beast, but love this. Nothing in his life—this one or the one before—had ever compared. And all it had taken? The total annihilation of another man’s army.

So sure the annihilation is the cause? What about the girl?

One look at her and he’d been overcome with the urge to rut, long and hard and often—and oddly enough, to protect.

It was insanity. She meant nothing to him.

William and Torin were busy searching the slain for the coin. Just in case. Baden watched them, and the bride watched Baden, the heat of her gaze scalding him.

She cursed at him. “You’re smiling right now.”

Was he?

“Violence delights you? That’s sick. Sick!” She unleashed a stream of Slovakian profanity, calling him terrible names and accusing him of sleeping with everything from a rat to a goat. Her anger clearly freed her of all fear.