“I’m not the one who will suffer.” He waved the gold blade.

The lover struggled against her bonds, uncertain what was happening around her, and Poseidon slapped her on the side of her buttocks, his gaze remaining on Baden.

“I’m here to return the necklace,” Baden said. “A gift from Hades. In exchange, you’ll agree to back him in the war against Lucifer.”

“I’m...interested. We have much to discuss.” Poseidon pulled from the girl, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, reaching for a robe.

“Slow and steady. My grip is loosening.”

“I’m sure,” was the wry response.

Behind him, banging sounded at the door. The guards had been alerted and would bust in at any moment. Obviously the king of the sea had no desire to chat, only to stall. Baden doubted a mention of Pandora would do the trick.

Take care of him, before we rage.

He almost—almost—conceded control to the beast. His methods were madness, but they were quick and the results undeniable. He released the scythe, instead, and the blade flew at Poseidon with a speed for the record books. Slices appeared on his face, chest, and thigh, beads of crimson welling.

Tried to be diplomatic. Failed.

Baden opened his hand and the weapon returned. “You’ll vow to back Hades in the war or I let the blade devour you. The choice is yours. Either way, you have five seconds to agree. One.”

Bang, bang, bang.

Poseidon lifted his bloody chin. “I won’t be forced.”

“Two. Three.”

“Lucifer has offered me your head on a silver platter if I aid him.”

So. The bastard was playing every angle.

The door at last burst open and armed men—on legs—rushed inside the room. No one took a shot at Baden. Yet. They surrounded him, awaiting the command from their king.

“Four.” Baden popped the bones in his neck, preparing for battle. And he wasn’t the only one. The tips of his fingers burned, and the marks on his arms writhed, the shadows rising.

Poseidon noticed and scowled. “Tell Hades I would be honored to aid him.”

27

“All of my friends are bitches. Including the men!”

—Gillian Bradshaw

—MOMMA! DADDY!—

The words bounced through Katarina’s mind, courtesy of the pups. She was still in the backyard, though she’d been in the process of heeding Baden’s request and herding her group inside. The excited cry had stopped her.

“Where?” she asked, spinning.

—Beyond the wall!—

Seriously? She scaled the tree to get a peek at—oh, wow! An entire pack of hellhounds glared at her. And she knew they were hellhounds. They were massive, as big as horses, and all different colors. Some were solid while others were speckled. All had fangs—lots and lots of fangs. Their tails were long, coiled like whips and resting on their backs, ready to strike.

Maybe—hopefully—they were impressed with Katarina’s courage. After all, she didn’t soil her pants or faint. Yet.

All the hounds were clearly older than Biscuit and Gravy—who should probably be named Blood and Shed.

Trembling, she climbed down. The pups leaped at her feet. If the pair wanted to return to their pack, she would understand. And cry. Mostly cry. There was another burn at the backs of her eyes as she crouched down, and this time...yes. Moisture actually trickled down her cheeks.

She’d built a family here. Even as mad as she’d been at Baden, they’d built a family here. And now her family was going to be ripped apart. Again!

“So.” She petted the tops of their heads. “That’s your momma and daddy out there, huh?”

—Momma! Daddy!—

“They are good to you? Don’t hurt you?”

—Love!—

“How were you separated from them?”

—Sensed the bad man. Wandered off, even after Momma said to stay.—

They’d sensed Hades in Baden, she realized. And the pack would never forgive Hades for his crimes—understandable—which meant they would never accept Baden—a travesty—which meant they would never accept her. A gut-punch!

“Why didn’t you tell me before? I could have helped you find your parents.”

—Didn’t want to leave you. Never want to leave you.—

“Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.” Her tears flowed more freely as she wrapped her arms around the dogs. A hug goodbye.

Some of their excitement drained.

—Not goodbye! You come! You come!—