“Your tattoo,” she said, certain she was drooling. “The butterfly on your chest.”

“Yes?”

“It’s...” Delectable—edible. “Beautiful.”

“We were marked with a butterfly when the demons first entered our bodies. I lost mine when I died and thought getting another would help me become the man I used to be.”

How very sweet, and very sad. “Why would you want to become the man you used to be? From everything I’ve heard, he sucked ass.”

He looked at her as if she were a strange creature. “The others loved him.”

“But they sucked ass, too, yes? Not really a high recommendation for his character.”

His lips twitched. “Perhaps I got the mark because I secretly wanted to be more like the honorable men my friends had become. To be bonded to them.”

“Silly warrior. You didn’t need a tattoo for that. You guys are bonded by your love for each other. But maybe the mark can have a new meaning now. You were Distrust, then you were dead, but you emerged from the abyss able to fly.”

A strange and wonderful creature.

She preened. “Did you and Pandora hook up when you were trapped together? She’s tough. Totally your type.”

“Yes, she’s very tough. But no, we didn’t.” He stepped toward her, his pupils expanding over his copper irises. His hands fisted...to control a need to reach for her? “You’ve proven to be even more fragile than I realized. You’re also married.”

The disgust had returned, and yet...no matter his feelings about fragility, no matter his prejudice about her sham of a marriage, he obviously found her attractive. As he studied her, the telltale signs of excitement only grew more pronounced.

The most feminine parts of her began to throb. “I’m married, yes, but not for long. This girl will be getting a speedy annulment.”

Another step. “No need. I’ll make you a widow.”

How easily he spoke of murder. As easily as he committed it, she was sure.

And he was staring at her lips now, she realized. Wondering how they tasted?

She shivered with longing.

A harried knock stopped him while making her jolt guiltily. Would he have kissed her? Would she have let him?

“Baden?” Ashlyn called. “Is Katarina in there?”

He’d stiffened. “She is. Why?”

“Are you both dressed?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” he grated, not sounding pleased by that fact.

She rushed inside the room, her hands wringing together. “Another stray dog showed up, and I’m begging you to take care of them both, Katarina.”

No way, no how. She wasn’t taking another animal under her wing. She absolutely one hundred percent was not falling in love and losing another piece of her heart. Why bother? Death was inevitable.

“Like I told you last time. Take him and his buddy to a local shelter.”

“They bark at me every time I approach them. If I take them to a shelter, they’ll be labeled aggressive and euthanized. And I can’t ask anyone else to help. Everyone is too busy worrying about Gilly and planning William’s murder.” Ashlyn pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “It has to be you.”

She spoke of murder just as easily as Baden.

“I know Gilly is sick,” Baden said with a frown, “but why turn on William?”

“He flashed her somewhere else. We don’t know where. He’s ignoring all calls and texts.” Ashlyn looked to Katarina, beseeching with her gaze. “I’ve never had a pet, but I know suffering when I see it. Please.”

“I...” Can’t say no, but must protect my heart.

“Katarina,” Baden prompted. “Help her.”

That wasn’t the first time he’d used her name, but it was the first time his tongue had caressed all four syllables and made her shiver.

“Another order,” she told him with an arched brow.

“As I told you before, the strays won’t replace the ones you lost, but the loss of one doesn’t stop the need for another.”

Wise words. And really, deep down—underneath her fear of loss—she was tempted to work with the dogs and offer all the love she’d once had to give. Love they clearly needed. Love they’d probably never received.

Likelihood of Getting Bitten? A solid one hundred percent. One of the dogs had already tried to bite a person, his instinct to attack first and trust later—if ever. He needed guidance as much as food. New surroundings, with new people and smells, could be frightening, and frightened dogs acted out. Not all humans reacted with understanding, patience or even compassion.

“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “I’ll do it.”

Relief softened Baden’s expression. “We’ll have to muzzle—”

“No.” She shook her head, adamant. “No muzzles unless absolutely necessary.”

“Yes,” he insisted. “There’s no reason to risk a bite.”

“I’ll decide what I risk.”

“That isn’t how our relationship works,” he reminded her, as if speaking to a child. “I’m the general, and you’re the lowly soldier. I order, you comply.”

“For my safety, blah, blah, blah. Well, this lowly soldier is doing things her way. You can deal.”

“Thank you, thank you, a thousand times thank you!” A clapping Ashlyn jumped up and down. “The dogs are locked in one of the downstairs bedrooms. My children have named them Biscuit and Gravy.”

Children...she’d heard about the twins in her many wanderings, but she’d never actually seen them. “How old are your kids?”

Ashlyn beamed with pride. “Urban and Ever are eight mon—years,” she corrected as her happiness faded.

An odd reaction.

Whatever. Katarina had aided her dad as soon as she could walk. “They’re welcome to watch me work, but they have to do everything I say, when I say it.”

“How kind of you. I’ll let them know. Oh! And they’ve already been instructed not to hurt you, so you don’t need to worry.”

Eight-year-olds were a danger to her? Please.

Unless they were immortal?

Right. New world, new rules. She had to adjust.

She met Baden’s probing stare. “Are you coming with us?”