The Darkest Torment. Gena Showalter

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The Darkest Torment - Gena Showalter

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moment Baden’s identity clicked, the daggers were lowered and sheathed. Not that the beast was pacified.

      “How’d your vacay with Willy go?” Paris winked. “As bad as the one I took with him?” The male was as tall as Baden, topping out at six-eight. He had multicolored hair, the strands ranging from the darkest black to the palest flax. His eyes were vibrant blue and, when not glaring at potential attackers, they almost always gleamed with welcome, inviting others to enjoy the party...in his pants.

      Baden had always been the sympathetic one. Solid as a rock. There when you needed him. Sad? Call Baden. Upset? Show up at Baden’s place. He would make everything better.

      But not anymore.

      “The vacation—” his excuse for leaving “—is over.”

      Amun nodded a greeting. The strong, silent one. He had dark skin, hair and eyes—guarded eyes—while the fun-loving Kane had happy hazels and, like Paris, multicolored hair, the shades tipping the darker side of the scale.

      They were handsome men, created to be sexual lures as much as assassins.

      “Don’t ever sneak up on me like that, man.” Kane wagged a finger at him. “You’re likely to lose your apple bags. And when did you acquire the ability to flash?”

      “Today. A...gift from Hades.”

      Amun stiffened, as if he could see into Baden’s head. Hell, he probably could.

      “Did the H-bomb do something to you?” Paris demanded. “Say the word and we’ll take him out right along with his degenerate son.”

      “Speaking of Lucifer,” Kane said, waving Baden over. “We’re in the process of creating a step-by-step plan to ensure his downfall.”

      “Right now, we only have step one. Break into his dungeon to liberate Cronus and Rhea.” Josephina rubbed her belly. “They know too much about you guys. Your weaknesses, your needs. We can lock them in our dungeon.”

      It was never a good idea to allow one of your enemies to be controlled by another of your enemies. But recently, Cronus, the former keeper of Greed, and Rhea, the former keeper of Strife, had been beheaded. The self-touted gods had been given a pair of serpentine wreaths, but theirs had come from Lucifer. Hades had not performed an exchange.

      “Don’t go after the Titans,” Baden said. “Not yet. They’re likely enslaved to Lucifer.” The way he and Pandora were enslaved to Hades. They might have powers—and desires—the Lords knew nothing about.

      “I don’t see the problem.” Sienna moved beside her man. The slender woman had curly dark hair and a freckled face. The enormous black wings arching above her shoulders gave her a regal and slightly wicked quality. “An enslaved man is a weakened man. There’s no better time to nab them.”

      No! Baden refused to believe her assertion. He was enslaved, but he wasn’t weak. “Just...trust me on this. Lucifer might want you to rescue the pair. Let me do a little digging first.” He knew the first place to use his shovel. Though Keeley was currently shacked up with Torin, the keeper of Disease, she’d once been engaged to Hades. “Where’s the Red Queen?”

      “With the artifacts,” Haidee said. “Why do you—”

      Baden strode into the hall before she could finish, and the beast roared with displeasure.

      Never leave an enemy behind.

      I didn’t. I left friends.

      He tuned out the shouts of denial, reaching the artifact room without incident.

      Keeley was pacing. She stomped past the Paring Rod, the Cage of Compulsion, then turned and stomped past them again, twisting the Cloak of Invisibility between her fingers.

      “I can’t find dimOuniak, and if I can’t find it, I can’t find the Morning Star,” she muttered. She was a beautiful woman who changed colors with the seasons. Summer had given her pink hair with streaks of green and eyes the color of an afternoon sky. “I have to find the box. I have to find the Morning Star. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?”

      Baden knew the danger of startling this woman who had powers beyond imagining, but cleared his throat anyway.

      As she jolted, a lightning rod of pain sliced through him.

      The beast kicked up another fuss, demanding Baden slay her.

      He should thank her. She could have done far worse damage to him. This? This was nothing.

      “Baden?” She blinked with confusion.

      Forced inhale...forced exhale. “The wreaths have made me a slave to Hades.”

      “Uh, yeah.” She flipped the long length of her hair over her shoulder, the action wholly feminine, hiding the otherworldly strength she somehow managed to contain inside such a fragile-looking frame. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

      She’d known? “It is. To me.”

      “If you didn’t want to be Hades’s yes boy, why did you accept his wreaths?” She anchored her hands on her hips. “You could have remained Lucifer’s yes boy.”

      When she’d appeared with Hades, she’d said, This season’s hottest accessory! You’ll never regret the decision to wear them. You have my word.

      His jaw clenched so forcefully his teeth ached. He reminded her of her promise.

      “I said that?” She shrugged. “Wow. You’re gullible. But, uh, I’m certain I calculated the odds of something bad happening to you.”

      Oh, really. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d love to hear your math.”

      “Well, if you have two wreaths and one immortal, how many problems will he face? Gold. Obviously. Because the heart bleeds secrets and doggies have claws.”

      How did Torin remain sane when conversing with her? On top of being crazypants from centuries of captivity, she had a shit memory. She’d existed since the dawn of time and had often referred to her mind as a corkboard with too many pictures attached. Some things were hidden by others.

      Focus on the task at hand. “Are Cronus and Rhea now controlled by Lucifer?”

      “Oh, yes.”

      Finally. A coherent answer.

      “But the blind cannot lead the blind.”

      An-n-nd back to square one. Lucifer, Cronus and Rhea were not blind. Baden switched routes. “Hades commanded me to fetch a coin.”

      “Well, don’t look at me for a loan.” She held her hands up, palms out, and backed away from him. “I might beat you with a pillowcase full of quarters, but I’ll never share a penny.”

      “I’m not asking for money. I’m asking for information.” He had to tap into the vast ocean of her knowledge. Somehow. “Think. Why would Hades want a specific coin?”

      “Is he broke, too? Prick! If he steals the

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