to good use.
As she straddled the top of the balcony wall for what had to be the thousandth time, a hard hand wrapped her ankle and yanked. She tumbled into an equally hard chest. A hiss sounded—one she recognized—and strong arms caught her.
Baden was here!
He roared like a grizzly bear woken too early from hibernation as he set her away from him. His features tightened with...disgust?
Definitely disgust. It was his favorite reaction to her.
“Going somewhere, nevesta?”
Her blood flash-froze. Keep it together. “Just seeing the sights, kretén.” Asshole.
“There’s that naughty mouth again.” Sunlight stroked him, unconcerned by the danger he presented. Or the darkness inside him.
Could she really blame the sun, though? Baden smelled edible. Like honey-and-cinnamon candles set ablaze in the heart of midnight. Delicious and seductive...wanton.
A killer shouldn’t smell like that.
“Do you need the elixir?” he asked.
“Nie.” Soon he would realize the vial was no longer in his possession.
Strike. Now!
In a lightning-fast motion, she grabbed a nail from her pocket and slammed the tip into his neck. Hissing again, he shoved her away from him. She stumbled backward and hit the balcony doors—the closed balcony doors. They sprang open on impact, and she toppled inside the room, skidding into the wall. Stars glittered in front of her eyes.
“Do not touch me,” he barked. “Ever.”
She was that repulsive to him?
When she caught her breath, she said in a dry tone, “But attempting to injure you is okay?”
He plucked the nail from his skin, not a drop of blood leaking from the wound. Was that a drop of...motor oil? “You tried to fight back the only way you could.” He actually sounded impressed. Then he appeared irritated. “Don’t try again.”
Trembling with a mix of astonishment and fear, she lumbered to her feet. His gaze raked her scanty attire, and he lost his air of enmity. He suddenly appeared appreciative.
Had the heater just switched on? Because perspiration now sheened her skin. “Are you taking me to Alek?”
A blank mask quickly covered his features. “No.”
“But why? It’s a new day. He might have the coin ready for you.” He wouldn’t. He’d have an army ready instead. “Don’t you want your treasure? You’ve worked so hard for it...”
Baden combed a hand through his hair, leaving the strands sticking out in spikes. Could he be any sexier?
Shame on her for noticing!
“I want it,” he said, “but I don’t want Hades to have it. So Aleksander can wait.”
“Hades is—”
“Not a topic up for discussion.”
She motored on, anyway. A distracted Baden was better than a roaring Baden. At first glance, he could pass for calm. Upon closer inspection, she realized his pupils were blown, his eyes wild. The muscles in his arms were clenched, the bands pressing deep into his biceps.
“You work for Hades but you don’t actually like him? Why don’t you present him with your resignation and—”
He crossed his arms over his chest. A warning?
“All right. You win,” she said. “We’ll talk about something else while we have a drink, yes?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he motioned to the bedroom door. A door still blocked by the dresser.
She peered at him in question. “How did you get inside?” A secret passage?
Silent, he stalked past her and shoved the dresser out of the way with a single swipe of his arm. Such strength! Her heart pounded as she entered the hallway and followed the path he’d taken last night, snaking around a corner, stepping into the familiar sitting area.
She stopped at the wet bar, keeping her back to him as she poured two glasses of whiskey...and stealthily withdrew the vial; she emptied the contents into the bottle rather than a glass. There was a good chance Baden would decline any drink she offered him, but an even better chance he would indulge on his own later.
As she drained the contents of one glass, she faced him and held out the second. He shook his head. With a shrug, she drained it, too. The alcohol burned going down but settled like melted honey in her stomach, soon warming her.
“Where are your friends?” she asked.
He glared at her as if debating whether to answer her or strangle her.
Maintaining a neutral expression, she looked him over. He wore yesterday’s blood-splattered clothing. Had he slept in them or forced himself to stay awake, like her? Probably the latter. His features were so taut she wasn’t sure he’d ever slept, the poor man.
Wait. Poor man? She had sympathy for him?
No, oh no. Unacceptable! But it made her wonder...what had shaped him into the cold, calculating monster he was?
Finally, he said, “The others are out buying essentials.”
That sweet feeling of melted honey in her stomach? Gone in an instant. “Rope? Knives? Plastic tarp to protect the furniture from blood spray?”
“Monopoly. Candy Land. Jenga.” He settled in the chair across from the couch, the floral fabric somehow showcasing his intense masculinity to perfection.
“Board games?” She chose to remain standing, the dominant position. “For children?”
“Apparently I’m boring. And immature. As soon as I returned from—” He white-knuckled the arms of the chair. “Anyway. The others left.”
That grip of his...a sign his friends had hurt his feelings?
How sad.
No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t! A new plan formed. Make nice with Baden while creating a one-way bond with him, ensuring he kept his word not to harm her, then escape, save her dogs, and run.
Rule six of training canines: keep interactions short and sweet.
Seven: always end on a positive note.
“I’ll get to know you,” she said, feigning delight, “and I’ll decide if you’re boring or not.”
“Your opinion of me hardly matters. We’ll sit in silence.”
Don’t like him. “Poor dear. I’m a very excellent conversationalist, and you fear you’ll struggle to keep up. I understand.”
His lips
