The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

Baden freed her, wondering if he would find the keeper of Doubt nearby, dead. As he pressed two fingers into Gwen’s neck to check for a pulse—be alive, please be alive—the bands on his arms heated. No. No! Not now. But he was helpless to stop the pull and dematerialized...reappearing in Hades’s throne room, Pandora beside him.

“Send me back,” he commanded, trying to flash and failing. “Right now.”

Hades stood at a long rectangular table, the four kings surrounding him in a show of support.

The Iron Fist was shirtless, revealing tattoos similar to Hades’s. Strange and...alive? Those markings moved, slithering over his skin. He had long, wavy black hair, a thick beard shadowing his jaw.

The warrior with a slight bluish tint to his skin, eyes surrounded by black paint—surely he hadn’t been born with such coloring—and staple-like piercings that stretched the length of his eyebrows, laughed. “Your puppet thinks he’s in charge. How adorable.” He had a slight accent. What he didn’t have? Hades’s essence.

Destruction snarled with hatred.

Baden leaped at him and threw a punch, the strength of an army in his arm; he could feel it, the bands so hot they blistered his skin. The male merely stumbled back a step and worked his jaw.

“Not bad.”

“I told you he was strong,” Hades said, sounding like a proud papa.

“But he’s not overly bright.” The new voice came from behind him, warm breath fanning his neck just before he was lifted over the head of the Iron Fist—must have flashed behind me—and tossed across the room. “Perhaps the blow will knock some sense into him.”

Bones shattered, pain a burst of sensation, but he didn’t care. He stood and limped over. Threat. Will kill.

Once again Pandora kept pace beside him. She still had only one good eye and it was locked on the male responsible for Baden’s unplanned flight. “I’m allowed to hurt him.” She wasn’t exactly steady on her feet, either, but at least they had a common enemy in sight. “You’re not.”

“Enough,” Hades said, looking bored.

Baden and Pandora froze, their limbs locking in place.

“Send me back,” Baden repeated, his rancor echoing from the walls.

“This is the thanks I get? I brought you here to warn you. Lucifer has sent an assassin to destroy you. His name is...something. I forget because I don’t really care. He’ll use—”

“We know,” Baden and Pandora shouted in unison.

“He’s at the fortress,” Baden added. “Which might have already fallen.”

“Well, then.” Hades stood and stepped toward them. “To defeat such a warrior, you’re going to need a boost.” He touched their bands, the heat cranking up a thousand degrees.

Baden roared as his knees buckled. Destruction roared, as well, but it wasn’t only a new flood of pain he felt. Power exploded inside him. So much power.

“The one to defeat the assassin,” Hades said with a smile, “will receive five bonus points. Go.”

Baden wasted no time; he flashed home. Pandora appeared beside him, equally determined to win those points.

Truce over. “Mine.” He picked her up and launched her across the rubble.

Drunk on the power, Destruction quickly worked himself into a maddened frenzy. Killkillkill. Never stop. Raze the world!

Baden’s hands fisted of their own accord. He would hurt anyone foolish enough to get in his way.

Yes, yes. He focused on the assassin, who had been grounded a few yards away, his wings bent at an odd angle. Smoke thickened the air, the black tendrils beautifully macabre as they curled toward the clouds like ribbons, but Baden had no trouble identifying the warriors currently engaged in battle with his target. Paris, Sabin, Maddox and Torin. They swung swords, fired guns, and threw punches and daggers, inflicting damage but not death.

KILL!

Baden could suddenly taste the desire to end life. His blood was hot and only growing hotter, even as the bands cooled.

“Mine,” he said and took a step, just a step, but the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of his target. Maddox’s punch landed on the back of his head, but he barely felt the blow that would have killed a weaker man.

The assassin grinned, revealing his lack of a tongue. Not to mention tusks as yellow as his claws. He slammed a fireball into Baden’s face—and Baden loved it. The flames only empowered him, bonding with whatever juice Hades had given him, his body acting as a conduit. And a syphon.

The assassin’s grin waned, and he stumbled backward.