“Stopped what?” she asked, confused.

He clasped onto her wrist with a too-tight grip, as if he didn’t know his own strength, and moved her hand up and down his chest. “Do this.” He released her. “Do not stop again.”

Baden wasn’t usually so harsh with her and understanding suddenly dawned. Those eyes... She was talking directly to the beast, wasn’t she? This wasn’t the first time it had happened, either.

Tread carefully. The beast needed far more taming than Baden. He was wild, unpredictable. “You like being stroked?”

Short and sweet. Always end on a positive note.

“No.”

She almost laughed. Almost. His expression held no hint of playfulness. “Why do you command me to continue, then?”

“I like being stroked by you. You are weak. No threat.”

Argh! Not another naysayer. What would it take to prove to these people—and creatures—she possessed strength, just a different kind of strength than they possessed? “What else do you like?”

“Blood. Death. Vengeance. Never betray me, woman.”

“As if I would dare,” she said drily.

He glared at her. “You mock me?”

“I tease you. There’s a difference. One is cruel, one is sweet. Sweet makes me happy.”

Slowly the tension drained from him. “I think I like when you’re happy.”

“I’m glad. I like when you are happy, too.”

“Only because you are frightened of me.” He said the words as if they were an undisputed fact. “You are wise, at least. Sometimes.”

“I’m not frightened of you,” she replied, tracing her finger around one of his nipples, then the other. “Why should I be? We’re friends.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “I have no friends. Friends are a hindrance.”

“Friends are a blessing. They guard your back and—”

“I trust no one at my back.” He barked the words, his anger pricked.

Still, she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. No risk, no reward. “They stroke you when you need to be stroked.”

Now he pursed his lips, unable to issue a rebuke without encouraging her to stop.

“They make you smile when you’re sad,” she added. “They fill you with joy when sorrow tries to overtake you. They shine light in your darkness.”

“I can see in the dark,” he grumbled.

The anger had left him, at least, the danger passed. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your brother hasn’t guarded your back, and he hasn’t been a blessing to you. He hurt you.”

“Yes. There’s no denying that. But I never said he was my friend.”

A moment passed in silence as he pondered her statement. Then he said, “He won’t hurt you again. He’s now locked away, unable to buy drugs or even contact another human.”

Destruction might as well have placed paddles over her heart. “He is?”

“We made sure of it. For you.”

For me. “Thank you.” Oh, she knew Dominik had to want to stay clean for this to succeed when he was freed, but this...this was a gift. “All right, big guy. We’re going to do a trust exercise.” Her gift to Baden and Destruction.

His frown returned in a hurry. “I trust—”

“No one. I know. But we’re still going to do the exercise.”

“Woman, you cannot force me—”

She placed her finger over his mouth, silencing him. His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe her daring. “Your commentary isn’t appreciated. Be quiet.”

He nipped at her fingertip. “You are brave. And foolish.”

Not so brave—and foolish—as determined to win this creature over. “Roll over.”

“No.” His teeth flashed in a scowl. “If you attempt to harm me, I will have to kill you.”

Not a threat, but a promise. LGB? Pretty high. “Roll over,” she repeated anyway, giving him a little push. “I’m going to stroke your back.”

His muscles hardened into rocks. “You’re stronger than before.” He latched onto her wrist to bring her hand to his nose. As he sniffed, rage turned his pupils to smoke, dark tendrils wafting over his irises. “You carry the faint scent of hellhounds, and yet the race has been extinct for centuries. How is this possible?”

Hellhounds? Her? Impossible. Unless...

An idea took root, and she struggled to catch her breath. “I know so little about your immortal world, but I love dogs. Tell me about these hellhounds.”