“Going to give you everything, Rina.” The need for release plagued him. Been too long without her. A day—an hour, a single minute—was too long. He slid his fingers out of her.

In protest, she bit his bottom lip with enough force to sting. Naughty girl. He flipped her hair out of the way, placed the hand wet with her essence on her nape and applied pressure, forcing her to lean forward until her cheek met the glass.

“Want you bare,” he said. She’d taught him to crave skin-to-skin contact.

“Yes. Please. No worries...the ward...can’t get pregnant...please.”

Ward? Keeley must have tattooed her with a symbol used by the Curators, the Red Queen’s people. A powerful race somehow able to both strengthen and weaken themselves with their mystical wards. Symbols from a time before the creation of humans.

As he dove down to lick the essence he’d left on Katarina’s skin, he positioned himself for entry—then drove all the way in.

Her climax was instant and all-consuming, her inner walls squeezing his length, milking it. He fought his own release, not ready for this to end, barely able to breathe, wanting—needing—more of her. But the more he pounded into her, the more fighting his climax ceased to be an option; in fact, it became nothing but an afterthought. Her climax still raged, still squeezed at him, his name a continuous purr on her lips, and a thick fog fell over his mind.

Mine. She’s mine. Will keep. Will have, again and again.

Yes, yes. So good. Nothing better. Will mark. Brand. Possess.

Control...lost.

He gripped her hips to hold her steady and thrust deep inside her one last time. He felt every wave of sublime pleasure as it left him, his body shuddering with the force.

Only when he was emptied out did her own orgasm end.

Her legs trembled, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before she collapsed. He pulled out and scooped her up in his arms.

Panting, she rested her head on his shoulder. “See? Didn’t change anything.”

Only fooling yourself, krásavica.

“Sleep if you wish.” He laid her across the bed then gathered the proper supplies to clean their bodies. As soon as he finished, he tucked her under the covers. “I’ll protect you from anyone foolish enough to try and claim Lucifer’s bounty.”

“Don’t need—”

“I know. You’re strong.” He smoothed a hand over her brow. “And Rina?”

“Yes?”

“Kaia texted me about the change in you. The fangs and the claws.” He wished he’d seen the transformation. How beautiful she must have been. “The pups are hellhounds.”

She stiffened, saying, “That was supposed to be a secret.”

“Considering the questions you once asked me, I’m assuming they bit you at some point.”

Defensive, she said, “They didn’t do it to hurt me.”

“I know.” He knew Hades had been bitten by hellhounds, and now wondered if Pandora bore that part of him, thanks to the bands. The way Baden bore the Berserker. “If they’d wanted to hurt you, you would have been hurt. Badly. They must have done it to bond with you.”

“Like the goat-man bonded with Gilly?”

“In essence. I want you to know, whatever changes the bond causes, my opinion of you won’t be altered. I like you.”

Destruction liked her, too, despite the hellhound thing. He’d been without her, and never wished to experience such a horror again.

“No,” she said, sounding bitter, “you like me now that I’m stronger.”

“You’ve always been strong.” He stroked his finger along her jaw. “I pretended not to see it so that I’d have an excuse to protect you. But even the strongest of warriors need a watchman. Let me have the honor of being yours. I know I would love for you to be mine.”

Heavy-lidded eyes stared up at him, more green than gray at the moment. Her lips were red and swollen from his abundance of kisses, her cheeks pink from his stubble. “Maybe...maybe what just happened between us changed a few things,” she admitted, “but I’m still furious with you.”

He blew her a kiss. “Don’t worry. That makes two of us.”

27

“The best defense is killing the other team’s offense.”

—Bjorn, Sent One

BADEN DID HIS best to barricade the desert palace from every immortal race—those who would attack from the sky, those who would attack from the ground and those who would attack from the underground. He built traps along the perimeter and stocked the arsenal with weapons Hades had given him. Weapons he’d never before seen and wasn’t yet sure how to use.

When you had a price on your head, every weapon was welcome.

After he’d told his friends about the bounty Lucifer had placed on Katarina, they’d decided to help William later and Baden now. They were here, in the Realm of the Forgotten, placing traps beyond the house.

So far, no one had found a way into the realm without a key or an invitation from Galen. An invitation he hadn’t extended to Pandora.

Yesterday, Baden met her in a neutral location: the rubble in Budapest. He’d flashed, the ability working again. He’d simply thought of Pandora’s bands, how they were part of Hades and now, part of Baden. She’d done the same.

Another loophole? Maybe.

Like him, she’d healed from her injuries and had suffered no other demon ambushes. They’d discussed their current predicament. How neither had a desire to kill Hades. Or each other.

I don’t know how this happened, she’d said with more than a little disgust, but...I don’t hate you.

Prepare to gag, he’d replied. Because I’m beginning to think of you as...a sister.

She had gagged. I know—brother. Will these feelings change when the bands are removed? Or is Hades’s essence too firmly entrenched in us?

She hadn’t known about the hellhounds or the Berserker, and Baden had explained before answering her question. Probably too firmly entrenched. How else would they survive the removal of the bands?

And Hades would want them to survive. They were part of his family now.

We must defeat Lucifer, Baden had said. Lucifer had come after Baden’s woman—our woman, do not forget again—and the bastard would pay for it.

Mess with Katarina, suffer the consequences. Let the world know.