The Darkest Touch

Mental note: trash it.

“What I did to you was a mistake,” he said.

A mistake. A pretty word for the horrors she’d endured. “How sad for you.”

“One I’ll never make again.”

“Because soon you’ll be too busy being dead.”

He sighed.

“By the way. You should give your minions a raise. All their taunting, spitting and most recently, attempting to kill me? Gold-star effort. Really.”

“Taunting? Spitting...kill? Keeleycael—Keeley, you have my word I knew nothing of such treatment. I sent the minions with tools to aid your escape.”

“Sure. That makes tons of sense. You could have aided me personally, and yet I don’t recall your visit to the prison. Also, your word means nothing.”

“I could not give Cronus a chance to imprison me.”

“Oh, dear. You’re right. But would you call that selfish of you? Or just plain cold?”

His voice was laced with menace as he added, “The minions failed to obey me, and they will be punished.”

Liar! And suddenly, she couldn’t bear to be around another male so determined to use her. “Leave.”

One second he was across the way, the next he was in front of her, toying with the ends of her hair. He oozed seduction...carnality.

She wanted only to claw out his eyes.

“It only took a few years away from you to realize the depths of my mistake,” he said.

“A few years,” she replied dryly. “My appeal is that potent? How special for me.”

“I spent time with other women, of course, but none could compare to you. I want you, more powerful than I am or not.”

“Oh, I am. I’m definitely more powerful than you.”

His eyes narrowed. “We would make an undefeatable team.”

And there it was. The real reason he wanted her. He might as well have thrown back his head and given the evil overlord laugh. Mwahaha.

“I don’t believe death is too good for my enemies,” she said.

“See? We think alike.”

“You are my enemy. I hate you.”

“Very well. You need time, space,” he said. “I get it. But soon I’m coming after you, pet. You will be mine again.”

The arrogance! The audacity! “Sorry, but I already have a man.” One she didn’t like at the moment, but he was still hers. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry. He makes me laugh. He barely touches me and I go off like a rocket.”

Rage detonated in Hades’s dark eyes. “Who is it?”

That rage—another pretty lie meant to win her heart, to make her think he cared so she would fall for him and he could more easily hurt her. “That’s none of your business. But, Hades?” she said.

“Yes, pet,” he replied, and he did not sound happy.

She flashed a dagger into her hand and sank the blade deep into his stomach. She couldn’t use her power against him because of those stupid scars, but she could use a weapon. He hissed in a breath as warm blood coated her hand. Screw waiting. Screw planning. She couldn’t resist making a strike.

She expected him to erupt.

He merely smiled again—and pressed a hard kiss against her lips. “Your gowns will be returned by end of day tomorrow. Until next time, pet.” He vanished.

* * *

TORIN SWEPT HIS arm over the nightstand, knocking off the lamp. Where the hell was Keeley?

Since her disappearance, he’d gone to an internet café, worked a little computer magic, visited a bank and cashed out some funds. He’d rented a posh hotel room, charged his phone. Called Lucien—left a message when it rolled straight to voice mail.

All of that in two hours.

Keeley had been gone six.

He knew she would have no problem finding him. Some flashers—don’t I wish—could do more than go to a specific location; they could go to a specific person, someone they had some kind of a connection with. And if “some” could do it, the super powerful Red Queen could do it. She just had to want to find him.

Disease laughed, delighted by her continued absence.

Torin tossed a lamp across the room, the porcelain base shattering. The moment he saw her, he was going to spank her. Hard. Blistering. And he wouldn’t give her any salve afterward!

If she didn’t return soon, he would—

What?

Hunt her down and drag her back, that’s what. They might have fought, but they definitely weren’t finished. If she needed to be reminded of just who he was—pitiless, merciless warrior—he would remind her. And he wouldn’t be gentle about it.

“Keeley,” he shouted. “We aren’t operating on Keeley Standard Time here. We’re operating on Torin Central. Return!”

When there was no response, he pushed over the nightstand itself. The drawers spilled onto the floor, cracking.

“Well, well, Charming. Who’s the spoiled princess now?”

She appeared in front of him, displaying more tanned skin than she concealed, her hair falling around her face in lush, golden waves. Her eyes glittered with remnants of her anger. Her lips were slightly swollen and pinker than usual.

“Temper much?” she quipped.

His relief was palpable. She hadn’t forgotten him! But the relief was quickly replaced by concern. “Are you all right? Did someone hit you?”

She blinked with confusion. “No. Why?”

“Your lips are swollen.”