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 pursed. “Did your conversation win Aleksander?”
“Please. I blinked, and he came running.” Which was the truth. Unfortunately. “Don’t you consider yourself stronger and smarter than Alek? Shouldn’t you be able to resist my potent allure?”
He traced his tongue over his teeth and stood, the motion jerky. As he marched to the wet bar and poured himself a drink, he avoided her gaze.
Hope unfurled. Finally! Something was going her way.
“What do you want to know about me?” He returned to the chair, his glass half-full. “Why do you want to know?”
A sense of anticipation and triumph flared, one she tried her best to hide. “Why? I’m a curious creature. What? More than once you and your friends have mentioned the people around you are human, implying you yourselves are not. The white-haired man—”
“Torin.”
“Torin even said you are something better. The boogeyman is not better.”
He continued to hold the glass without drinking. Don’t stare. Shouldn’t appear too eager.
“I know you’re not a literal monster,” she said. Had she put a tad too much emphasis on the word?
“So you think we’re...what?” he asked. “Delusional?”
No reason to lie. “Yes. But what do you think you are?”
“Immortal.”
She barked out a laugh. “Like vampires? Werewolves?” The current movie fad.
“If I were a bloodsucker, you would already be drained. If I were a wolf, you would be chained to my bed and used as a pack whore. A kurva jebat’, you’d call it.”
There wasn’t an ounce of amusement in his tone, and she sobered, realizing he truly believed what he was saying—believed creatures of the night existed.
“I’ll tell no one,” she said, raising her right hand. In fiction, otherworldly predators liked to keep their origins a secret, often killing the ones who discovered the truth. “You have my word.”
“Tell whoever you’d like. You’ll be labeled crazy. Insane.” He shrugged and at long last drained the glass.
Relief bathed her, cool and sweet. She waited, watching him closely for any sign of sedation, but nothing changed.
Rule eight: distract when necessary. “Convince me. Tell me about your life.”
“Again, why should I bother?”
“Because I’d really love to hear your story?”
“That’s insufficient enticement.”
“So...what do you want?”
His gaze heated. He inhaled sharply, as if he wasn’t pleased with the direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he was a little too pleased. His pants suddenly looked tighter.
The moisture in her mouth dried. She pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “Just tell me. Pretty please. Please!”
The plea...actually softened his expression. “For centuries I lived in Mount Olympus, a guard to Zeus. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Everyone has. My friends and I were vastly offended when he gave his greatest treasure, dimOuniak, to a female to guard. You know this treasure as Pandora’s box. To punish Zeus, we stole it, opened it and unleashed the demons trapped inside it.”
Wait, wait, wait. “Demons?”
A curt nod. “He decided to punish us and cursed us to host a demon inside our bodies. I was given Distrust, though I was liberated from him the day I was beheaded.”
She snorted. “Beheaded? And yet, here you are, alive and well.”
“Alive, yes. Well, no. No one, immortal or human, is merely a body. We have spirits and as you can see, my spirit is still very much intact.”
“You’re saying you’re a ghost?”
“In a fashion.” He set his empty glass on the side table, his arm disappointingly steady. “I spent the past four thousand years trapped inside a prison realm. Until a few weeks ago, when I was freed just like the demons in the box.”
“Demons,” she repeated hollowly. She accepted the supernatural and always had. The world, humans and animals were so amazingly intricate, so perfectly honed, and so clearly of intelligent design, she knew there was a God...and if there was a God, there were guardian angels.
Her guardian angel was on vacation. Obviously.
Also, she’d seen far too much evil not to believe there were demons ruled by a devil. But...but...
Baden wasn’t an immortal. He couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. Normal. Ordinary.
“Where’s
