“And you are. Boohoo for you.” She twisted her fists under her eyes to mimic tears. “Guess you’re not strong enough to overcome.” A challenge. A clear taunt. “I was.”

He took a forbidding step toward her. “You need—”

“Don’t say it.” She raised her chin, stood her ground. I am the alpha dog. I am pack leader. “If you don’t like what I’m saying, refute it, but don’t you dare insult me. Or order me to feel a certain way.”

He halted, his hands clenching and unclenching. Good boy. He’d calmed on his own, with no real prompting from her.

His training would be easier than she’d suspected. Beauty would totally tame her beast, yo. She just had to concentrate and stop losing herself in the vast expanse of his sexiness.

Thought I planned to leave him sooner rather than later.

Well, plans changed. Again.

The door burst open, and a scowling Galen stomped inside the room. He held a leash in each hand, Biscuit and Gravy bucking at the ends. “Special delivery. Enjoy. Or not. Yeah, probably not.”

Happiness sprouted. He dropped the leashes, and the dogs bounded toward her. She crouched, welcoming them with open arms. They licked her face as she petted and praised them. Most trainers discouraged licking, but she’d always enjoyed the show of canine affection. Dogs spoke a different language than humans, and licking said, “I love you.”

“What’s that stain on your pants?” Galen asked Baden, obviously trying not to laugh. “What were you crazy kids doing while I was away? Shall I venture a guess?”

She pressed her lips together to stop a laugh of her own.

Baden murmured curses under his breath. “Katarina, you’ve seen Galen around, I’m sure. He’s the keeper of Jealousy and False Hope. He owns this home, which is located in another realm.”

She’d seen Galen around, yes, but they’d never actually spoken. She’d noticed most of the warriors avoided him. “Another realm?” she asked.

A nod. “You can trust the male with your life, but nothing else.”

Galen lost his amusement in a hurry. “The murderous beast-man likes to cast stones. Excellent. We should probably start a dodgeball team. Or like the Harpies, a dodge-boulder team.”

“I need to leave before I do something I’m not sure I’ll regret.” Baden stomped out of the room, Katarina’s mirth dying, too.

Her gaze landed on Galen. His prettiness was almost hypnotic, but in a scary serial killer kind of way. “What did he mean, another realm?”

“Think of it as another world. Because it is.”

Immortals...other worlds...what else did she not know about? “Why the animosity between you two?”

He ignored her, saying, “I’m supposed to keep you safe any time Baden is off on one of his missions for Hades, but I won’t hesitate to gut you if I think you’re a danger to him.”

Biscuit prowled toward him, growling, until she called the pup back to her side.

“You love Baden?” she asked.

Galen shrugged. “I love myself, and I need him. You, little girl, aren’t that lucky.”

17

“I wish I was kissing you instead of missing you.”

—Aeron, former keeper of Wrath

BADEN STRIPPED OUT of his soiled clothing, glanced at the unlit hearth and decided burning every stitch was a sound plan. He threw a blazing match in the center, then the clothes, watching the fabric smolder. The garments would only serve as a reminder of Katarina and the way he’d come like a wee lad being handled for the first time. Humiliating, but also...worth it? He climbed into the steaming shower.

Hot water pounded against his face and shoulders, droplets trickling down his chest; even without the clothes, his mind returned to Katarina. The pleasure she’d given him...he’d never experienced its like. He’d wanted her so badly he would have done anything she’d asked, given her anything she desired. He would have died for her.

She’d had power over him—over both of them—and yet Destruction had been willing to kill for her. Her, not himself. As if her enemies mattered more than his. As if every foe needed to be taught the error of turning his sights on the human.

Damn it, she still had power over them!

Having more of her was no longer optional, was now a necessity. Her taste. Her purrs. Her groans and moans, and the breathless way she uttered his name—or shouted it. Her hand, fisting his length just right. Her passion unleashed, pure wicked indulgence, as she ground herself on his fingers.

He banged a fist against the tile. What the hell was he going to do about her?