THE DARKEST ANGEL (13 page)
Authors: Gena Showalter
New York Times
bestselling author Gena Showalter returns with
her most explosive
Lords of the Underworld
tale to date
with
A tale about a fierce warrior on the brink of sanity who will
stop at nothing to claim the exquisite human with the power to soothe the beast
inside him...
For more spellbinding tales full of passion and peril, don’t
miss any of the irresistible titles in the
Lords of the
Underworld
series:
The Darkest Fire
(digital prequel)
The Darkest Prison
(novella)
The Darkest Angel
(novella)
Complete your collection today!
“Showalter...rocks me every time!”
—Sylvia Day, #1
New York Times
bestselling author
And don’t miss Gena Showalter’s scorching
Original
Heartbreakers
series, where these not-quite-reformed bad boys meet
the women who will bring them to their knees!
Collect all four titles in the
Original
Heartbreakers
series!
“Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Lori Foster
Available wherever ebooks are sold.
Connect with us on
Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases,
access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us on
Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases, access to exclusive
offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
by Gena Showalter
G
UILT
COULD
NOT
change the past. Worry could not change the future. And yet, both followed Baden with relentless determination. One brandished a barbed whip, the other a serrated blade, and though he had no visible wounds, he bled buckets every—damned—day.
Pain had become his constant companion, provoking an already dangerous situation. Pain incited the beast that had moved into his mind—an animal resentful of the cage...a predator starved for prey.
Kill someone.
Kill
everyone
!
The beast’s war cry. The command Baden heard whenever someone approached him. Or looked at him. Or simply breathed. The urge to obey always followed...
I
will not kill
, he vowed
.
I
am not the monster who lives inside me.
He prowled from one corner of his bedroom to the other and yanked at the collar of his shirt, ripping the soft cotton. His too-sensitive skin was in constant need of soothing. Another
perk
of returning from the dead.
The butterfly he’d tattooed on his chest hadn’t helped—had quickly become an itch he couldn’t scratch. But he didn’t regret the image. The jagged wings and horned antennae were the mark of the demon he’d once carried. A reminder that he’d overcome death. That he now lived. That he had brothers and a sister who needed and loved him. That he wasn’t an outsider...even though he felt like one.
Now he laughed without humor. He was just too different, no longer fitting within the family dynamic. It was the guilt he carried. Four thousand years ago, he’d allowed himself to be beheaded—suicide by proxy—leaving his friends to war against their horde of enemies without him. To
suffer
without him. But it was also the worry he coddled against his chest like a baby. The beast hated everyone he loved. Specifically the men and women Baden owed a blood debt. The beast would stop at nothing to destroy the lot of them.
If ever the urge to kill overshadowed Baden’s desire to right the wrongs he’d committed...
I
will
right my wrongs.
As he continued to pace, sweat rolled down the knotted muscles in his back and chest, catching in the waist of his pants.
I
will
—
Killlll.
He beat his fists into his temples, pulled at hanks of his hair. The metal bands circling his biceps pinched as he flexed. He would rather die—again—than harm his friends.
Upon his resurrection, all twelve warriors welcomed him with open arms. No, not twelve. Thirteen now. Galen, the keeper of Jealousy and False Hope—the one who’d orchestrated Baden’s death—had moved in a few weeks before. Everyone believed the prick had changed his evil ways.
Please. Shit sprinkled with sugar was still shit.
Baden would love to hack Galen to pieces and perhaps dance in his coagulating blood, but his friends had issued a strict hacking moratorium.
Baden, no matter his own desires, would not break the rules. Not once had his friends ever castigated him for his terrible mistakes. Not once had they demanded answers. They’d given him food, weapons and a private room in their massive home. A fortress hidden in the mountains of Budapest, Hungary.
A knock sounded at the door, earning a growl from the beast.
Enemy!
Kill!
Calm.
Steady.
“Go away.” His voice contained bits of smoke and gravel, as if every word had been shoved through rivers of smoldering glass.
“I’m here to stay.”
Bang
,
bang
,
bang
. “Let me in.” William the Ever Randy, youngest son of Hades. The savage bastard was obsessed with fine wine, finer women and, ridiculously enough, hair care.
In a snap, the beast stopped snarling and started purring. Like a tamed housecat. A startling change, but Baden didn’t have to wonder at its source. Hades was the one who’d given Baden his new life. The king’s family now had a Get Out of Torture Free card. Well, everyone except the eldest son, Lucifer; his sins were simply too great.
Perhaps Baden’s were, too. But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t squander his second chance.
“Now isn’t a good time,” he said.
“Don’t care. Open up.”
For all intents and purposes, his body was still dead. He had no need to breathe, but purposely inhaled deeply...exhaled sharply...searching for calm.
I’m the Gentleman of Mount Olympus.
Or rather, Baden
had been
the Gentleman of Mount Olympus. Long, looong ago. Before he’d helped his friends steal and open Pandora’s box, freeing the demons from within. As punishment, every immortal responsible was forced to play permanent host to one.
And so your body shall become the vessel of your own destruction
. A house of evil. The warriors were also discharged from the Greek army by Zeus—the king of the Greek gods—and kicked out of the heavens, doomed to walk the earth until death did they part.
Baden had been given Distrust. As predicted, the demon utterly destroyed him. More and more, his ability to trust those around him—even himself—had eroded. He’d spent days...weeks...even months plotting ways to murder those he should only succor.
Them or me.
The last thought to sweep through his mind as the human swung a sword at his head. He’d picked them—his brothers, his family—but in the end they’d suffered for it.
The moment Baden’s head had been cleaved from his body, Distrust had emerged, free of him and his control. No longer had Baden been able to check the worst of the demon’s impulses. Or even to influence the creature. Invisible chains had dragged his spirit into a prison realm created specifically for those who’d come into contact with the box. His only link to the land of the living had been a wall of smoke that revealed real-time happenings in the world he’d willingly abandoned.
He’d watched as his friends mourned him, spiraling into a pit of agony and despair.
Baden had been helpless, unable to do anything but lament from the sidelines. He’d spent his days and nights warring with Pandora, the realm’s only other occupant—a woman who detested the very air he used to breathe.
Then, what seemed a lifetime ago but had been only a few months, Cronus and Rhea, former king and queen of the Titans, had arrived. Zeus’s enemies.
Baden’s
enemies. How many times had the pair hurt his friends?
He’d taken great pleasure in his escape with Pandora, leaving the other two behind.
Bang
,
bang
,
bang.
“Yo! Baden!”
He jolted, pissed he’d gotten lost in his head.
“Do you want to keep your door? Last chance,” William called.
Baden yanked so hard the handle came off in his hand. “What do you want?”
From urgent to casual in a blink, the black-haired, blue-eyed warrior leaned one shoulder against the frame and looked Baden up and down, only to grimace. “My corneas now need to be bleached. Thanks but no thanks for that.”
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. One punch. Pure bliss. Bone against bone. The intoxicating scent of blood would hit his senses, and the musical howl of someone else’s agony would fill his ears.
Who
am
I?
“Go...away,” he managed to repeat.
“Why are you in here pouting like a baby?” William asked. “Are you missing your demon?”
A few times, he’d thought he...might. The arrival of his new companion had set him straight.
Now Distrust possessed a woman named...named... His brow furrowed. What was her name? He couldn’t remember, but thought he recalled she’d supported Galen for centuries. Even helped him commit the most heinous of his deeds.
The woman...whatever her name was...had willingly accepted Distrust—paranoia—something Baden could not understand.
William sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re in worse shape than I imagined. Fine, fine. I’ll help you.” He drew back his fist and punched Baden in the nose. “I
know
. I’m a giver. You’re welcome.”
He experienced a sharp blast of pain as cartilage snapped out of place. Though he didn’t bleed, his body nothing but a husk for his spirit, the taste of old pennies coated his tongue. Delicious...practically dessert. And yet, the beast raged.
“You want a little more?” William asked, rolling up his shirtsleeves.
Thinks to hit me again?
The Get Out of Torture Free card burned to ash.
The beast utterly...exploded. Muscles pumping full of adrenaline and bones filling with molten lava, Baden’s body doubled in size. At one time, his hair would have caught fire, too. Without Distrust, the only flames present were those raging inside his veins.
Kill!
With a roar, Baden swung at William. Contact! But one punch wasn’t enough. His fist a jackhammer, he punched, punched, punched. Brutal, unrelenting. The guy took the blows like a champ, miraculously remaining on his feet.
I
like this man...kind of.
Hurting him hurts me.
Finally. Rational thought. Baden dropped his arm to his side and gripped his camo pants. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he rasped.
“Why?” William smiled, his teeth smeared with crimson. “Did you soil your panties while you were giving me those love taps?”
Humor. He wasn’t in the mood. “Leave. Before it’s too late.”
Already the beast pawed at his gray matter, hungry for round two.
“Don’t be silly.” William waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Hit me again, only this time, try to do some real damage.”
The warrior didn’t understand...
couldn’t
understand...not yet.
“What are you waiting for?” William jabbed a finger in his shoulder. “Hit. Me.”
The beast snarled, and Baden...
Baden exploded into motion a second time, punching, punching. William made no effort to block or dodge the barrage of blows.
“Fight back!” Baden shouted.
“Well...since you suggested it.” William threw a punch of his own, a crack so powerful Baden reeled backward.
He came to a stop only when he slammed into the dresser. Junk one of the female residents had placed there to “add a touch of pretty” rattled. Several items toppled to the floor and shattered. William stalked forward and, without a pause in his step, bent down to swipe up a book. With another bloodstained smile, he struck, pummeling Baden’s throat into his spine. As Baden hunched over with the force of momentum, the warrior slammed the book into his side once, twice, and it felt as if he was taking a cement block to his kidney.
Opponent...stronger than expected...threat!
He cannot be allowed to live.
Before William could deliver another blow, Baden jerked up his knee, sending the book flying across the room. He nailed William in the jaw with a hard punch. As the warrior stumbled to the side, Baden kicked him in the center of his chest, sending him soaring backward.
Baden stomped over without pause...and took a vase to the side of the head. Shards of glass rained as different voices penetrated his awareness.
“Is that Baden? Duuude! That
can’t
be Baden. He’s twice his usual size!”
“He’s going to make a retainer out of Willy’s teeth!”
“I call dibs! If my man ever kicks the bucket, I get to hook up with Baden first!”
In the back of his mind, he knew his friends and their mates had heard the commotion and come running, intending to break up the fight—
a
mistake...kill...will kill them
,
too...they’re too strong
,
too much of a risk.
The beast had no friends, only enemies.
The group is dangerous to the rest of the world
,
but not to me
, he told the beast
.
Never to me.
These people would die for me.
Die...yes
,
they must die...
William kicked the door closed, blocking the others from Baden’s view. “You focus on me, Red. Understood? I’m the biggest threat, so take your arthritis medication and
hit me
.”
Yes. Biggest threat. Hit. Rage gave him added strength as he threw another punch. William blocked, but wasn’t quick enough to dodge the next one. The fight propelled them around the room, as if they were dancing. A brutal, violent dance.
Pick up a piece of glass.
Cut through the warrior’s ribs.
The perfect end. But as Baden swooped down, William flashed behind him—moving from one location to another with only a thought—and kicked the glass from his hand. With a curse, Baden spun. William threw another punch, but Baden captured his hand in a vise-grip and dropped to the floor, taking his opponent with him.
As they fell, Baden swung up his legs and locked them around William’s neck, bringing Willy with him while applying enough pressure to choke. Upon impact, Baden rolled, forcing the warrior’s entire body to swing over his head. When William hit the floor face-first, Baden drew himself up, straddling the guy’s back.
He landed only one punch to William’s skull before the warrior flashed again. The next blow—too late to halt—cracked a wood panel on the floor. His knuckles shattered like the vase, pain vibrating up his arm, pooling in his shoulder.
William laughed with delight and, miracle of miracles, the beast quieted, as if finally spent.
“There.” The warrior ruffled Baden’s hair like an older brother with a tagalong he couldn’t shake. “Feeling better now?”
He performed a rage-check, just to be sure, and nodded. “Much, actually.” Even his throat had healed.
“Good. Now we can have a conversation without you eyeing my trachea as if it’s a gummy worm.”
“Conversation can wait.” He stood, grimacing as he noted the condition of his room. Holes in the wall, broken glass on the floor. Furniture overturned and missing legs. “I’ve got some cleaning to do.”