The Darkest Torment

Three of those victims—Faith, Hope and Love—had been so deformed most people hadn’t had the cojones to look at them, much less to offer a forever home. So Katarina had adopted the trio as her personal pets, pouring her heart and soul into giving them the happily ever after they’d always deserved; they adored her for it.

Then Alek kidnapped them and held them for ransom. He’d also vowed to hunt down every dog she’d ever worked with—one bullet to the brain.

She loved her canines, remembered every name, every tragedy they’d suffered in their young lives, and every personality quirk. More than that? A trainer always protected her charges.

A lesson her father had taught her.

Mr. Baker—a sniveling coward on Alek’s payroll who’d gotten ordained online—cleared his throat. “Your vows, Miss Joelle.”

“Mrs. Ciernik,” Alek snapped.

She smiled without humor. “Not yet.” Can I really do this?

He scowled at her, and she rubbed her thumb over the words tattooed on her wrist. Once upon a time...

A tribute to her Slovakian mother, a woman who’d had the courage to marry an American dog trainer despite their different backgrounds and skin colors, even despite their language barrier. Edita Joelle had fancied fairy tales, and every night, after she’d read one to Katarina, she’d sighed dreamily.

Beauty can be found in ugliness. Never forget.

Katarina hadn’t really liked the stories. A princess in distress rescued by a prince? No! Sometimes you needed to wait for a miracle, but sometimes you needed to be the miracle.

Right now, she could find no beauty in Alek. Could see no miracle in the works.

Did it really matter? She was the author of her own story—she decided the twists and turns—and often what seemed to be the end was actually a new beginning. Every new beginning had the potential to be her happily-ever-after.

No question, today marked the start of a new beginning. A new story. Perhaps, like the fairy tales of old, it would end in blood and death, but it would end.

I can endure anything for a short time.

Strong fingers curved around her jaw and lifted her head. Her gaze locked on Alek, who looked at her with a shudder-inducing mix of lust and anger.

“Say your vows, princezná.”

She despised the nickname. She wasn’t pampered or helpless. She worked hard, and she worked often. Many of her patrons had called her a stay-at-home dog mom. A compliment. Mothers worked harder than anyone.

And I love my babies. Dogs were better company than most people, period. Better than Alek, definitely.

“You make me wait at your own peril,” he said.

Quiet words, clear promise.

She wrenched free of his hold. He was a plague upon mankind, and she would never pretend otherwise. Especially when she should be wedding Peter, her childhood sweetheart.

Peter, who had always joked, always laughed.

Sorrow spurred her on. “With you, everything is at my peril.”

This man had already ruined her. Dominik had spent her money on drugs, draining her accounts, before selling the kennel to Alek, who’d burned it down.

His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. He might like the look of her, but he’d never appreciated her honesty.

Fun fact: provoking him had become her only source of joy.

“I’m not sure you understand the great honor I bestow upon you, Katarina. Other women would kill to be in your position.”

Maybe. Probably. With his pale hair, dark eyes and chiseled features, he looked like an angel. But those other women failed to see the monster lurking within...until too late.

Katarina had seen it from the beginning, and her lack of interest had challenged him. There was no other reason a five-foot-eleven man—who’d only ever dated short women in an effort to appear taller—would take a fancy to someone his same height.

Though she’d always been a jeans-and-tennis-shoes kind of girl, she had a feeling she would soon develop a love of stilettos.

“Honor?” she finally replied. His last three girlfriends had died in suspicious ways. Drowning, car wreck and drug overdose. “That’s the word you think applies?”

“Great honor.”

Alek liked to tell his business associates Katarina was his mail-order bride. And in a way, she was. A year ago, he’d wanted to buy home protection dogs from a fellow Slovak. He’d come across the Pes Denˇ website and discovered she was known for training the best of the best. Rather than filling out an application, as required, he’d flown out to meet her.

After only one conversation, she’d suspected he would abuse her animals. So she’d refused him.

Soon afterward, Peter died in a filthy alleyway, the victim of a seemingly random mugging.

And soon after that, her brother was invited to join Alek’s import/export business—importing drugs and prostitútky to the States, exporting millions in cash to be hidden or laundered. Not surprisingly, Dominik quickly developed an addiction to Alek’s heroin.

Just another way to manipulate me.

When Alek summoned her to his estate in New York—Dominik owes me thousands. You will come and pay his debt—she’d once again refused him. Later in the week, Midnight, a cherished mountain dog, was poisoned. She’d known Dominik—and thereby Alek—was to blame. The once-abused canine wouldn’t have taken a treat from anyone else.

She’d quickly found homes for the other dogs. But her fool of a brother had known the few people she trusted, and had given Alek their locations in exchange for a reduced debt. Always one step ahead.

“I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” she said, hating him, hating this, “and it has nothing to do with honor.”

Mr. Baker backed out of striking distance.

Alek grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard enough to restrict her airway. “Be very careful how you proceed, princezná. This can be a good day for you, or a very bad one.”

“Your vows,” Mr. Baker rushed out. “Say them.”

Alek gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

Breathing in...out...she skipped her wild gaze around the chapel. Armed guards were posted throughout. The pews were filled with Alek’s business associates, more armed guards and various other employees. The men wore suits, and their dates were draped in formal gowns and expensive jewels.

If she refused, she would be killed—but only if she were lucky. Most assuredly her babies would be killed.

To the back of the building, beautiful stained-glass windows framed an intricately carved altar. Beside each of those windows was a marble pillar veined with glittering rose, and between those pillars hung a painting of the tree of life. The frieze leading up to the domed ceiling depicted angels at war with demons and complemented the swirling design of gold filigree on the ivory floor tiles.

The room offered a fresh start, not damnation, and yet she felt damned to the depths of her soul.

Save the dogs. Save Dominik.

Scratch Dominik. Just the dogs. Then escape.

At last, she repeated the vows. Alek beamed with happiness. And why wouldn’t he? She had, like so many others, allowed evil to win the battle.

But the war still rages...

“You may kiss your bride,” Mr. Baker announced, his relief palpable.

Alek took her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. His lips pressed against hers, and his tongue forced its way past her teeth.

Her husband tasted like ashes.

There was no going back now.

How was she going to survive the wedding night?

As the crowd cheered, the sanctuary doors burst open, banging against the walls. An ominous thud heralded a quick silence. Alek stiffened and Katarina’s heart skipped like a stone over water.

Three males stalked down the center aisle. They were tall and muscled and very clearly on a mission. Law enforcement? Here to arrest Alek? Oh, please, please, please!

The one on the left had black hair and blue eyes. He smiled at the men in the pews, daring them to make a move against him.

The one on the right had white hair and green eyes. He wore black leather gloves that somehow lent an edge of menace to a genuinely relaxed demeanor.

The man in the middle...he captured her attention and refused to let go. He was so beautiful; he put Alek to shame. Despite the specks of blood staining his T-shirt—had he fought the guards outside?—he was an amalgamation of every fairy-tale prince ever written. The kind of man usually only seen in fantasies.

Her mother would have loved him.

He was the tallest of the three, with dark red waves that framed a fiercely masculine face. Every inch of him was defined by such incomparable strength, he could have been carved from stone.

Feminine awareness sparked—this man is the incarnation of dark, dangerous desire, but I’m not afraid...I’m intrigued.

A well-defined brow led to a straight nose and sharp cheekbones. His lips were lush and his softest feature. His square jaw, his harshest feature, was dusted with dark stubble.

But his eyes...oh, tristo hrmenych, his eyes. They were a combination of both, soft yet harsh and pure carnality. They were the color of a sunset, blazing with different shades of gold and copper.

He and his friends stopped just below the dais.

“Ladies and genitals.” The black-haired soldier—agent?—spread his arms to encompass his audience. “You’ll give us a moment of your time.”

Alek puffed up with fury. “Who are you? Better yet, do you know who I am?”

The redhead took another step forward, his gaze doing a quick sweep of his surroundings. He even looked Katarina up and down, taking in the wedding gown Alek selected for her—a strapless monstrosity with a corset top and a wide, full skirt layered with satin roses. His mouth curved in distaste.

She raised her chin, even as her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He focused on the glaring Alek. “You have a coin.” His accent... Greek, perhaps? “Give it to me.”

Alek laughed his patented you-only-have-minutes-to-live laugh. “I have many coins.” Several of his guards unsheathed their guns, waiting for the signal to strike. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This one belongs to Hades. Pretending ignorance will do you no good.”

Alek gave his most trusted enforcer, who now blocked the door at the back of the room, an almost imperceptible nod.

The signal.

The enforcer aimed. No. No! Katarina screamed out a warning. Which was unnecessary. The redhead was already mobilized, spinning and tossing a dagger. The tip sank into the enforcer’s eye socket.

Blood spurted, a howl of pain echoing from the walls. The gun fell from his grip, useless, and he dropped to his knees.

Katarina’s scream tapered into a whimper. The redhead had just...without any hesitation...so brutal...

The women in the pews jumped up and raced through the exit, their heels click-clacking against the floor tiles.

“My next victim will lose more than an eye,” the redhead said with cool detachment.

The male with black hair and blue eyes grinned. “Baden, my man, if I were keeping score you’d get a ten-point bonus. So proud of you right now.”

Baden. The redhead’s name was Baden. The killer’s name was Baden, and the black-haired man had just praised him for his violence.

Baden focused on her. “Test me. I dare you.”

Anyone else would have cried and begged for mercy when challenged by such a deadly force. For Katarina, tears were impossible.

She’d cried buckets in the months leading up to her mother’s death, but not a single one after. She’d been too relieved. Her mother’s misery had finally ended. But with the relief had come guilt. If Katarina hadn’t been able to cry for the mother she’d revered, what right did she have to cry for anyone else?

Paling, trembling, Alek retreated—he never retreated!—stepping behind her and...using her as a shield?

In the first pew, her brother stood. He was six feet tall, though his emaciation made him a pin-drop in comparison to the newcomers. Did the chruno actually plan to fight trained killers?

Baden pivoted in his direction.

“No!” She scrambled from the dais to throw herself in front of Dominik. “My brother has nothing to do with this. You will not harm him.” While her affection for her only living family member had withered, she remembered the boy he used to be. Kind, patient and protective. She had no desire to see him killed, would rather see him locked behind bars, forcibly removed from Alek’s insidious influence and a ready supply of heroin.

Maybe, if Dominik got clean, they could try to be siblings again.

He pushed her behind him, astounding her. “Do not play the hero, sestra.”

Baden lost interest in him. Radiating bloodcurdling malice, he closed in on Alek, the man so many feared. “This is your last chance. The coin.”

Alek pursed his lips, an action she knew well. His drug lord moxy—I am master of all I survey—had just switched back on. “The coin belongs to me. Tell Hades he can go to hell where he belongs.”

The dark-haired man laughed. The white-haired man adjusted his gloves.

“Wrong answer. Perhaps you don’t yet believe I’m willing to do anything to retrieve it.” Baden grabbed Alek by the neck and lifted him off his feet, squeezing him with so much force his eyeballs bulged and his face reddened. “Does this convince you?”

The dogs! If he died... “Stop,” she shouted. She tried to return to the dais, but Dominik snaked an arm around her waist to hold her in place. “Prosim!” Please.

Baden ignored her, telling Alek, “I’ll leave with the coin...or I’ll leave with something you value.” He motioned to Alek’s hand with a tilt of his chin, ensuring his meaning was clear. “You choose.”

Alek sputtered, beating at his arm.

“Know this,” the redhead added, unruffled. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, until I have what I want, and I will never leave without a prize.”

Who was this man? Who was Hades?

Alek grappled for the small gun hidden at his waist. Baden spun with him, using him as a buffer while firing the man’s own weapon at the guards who’d taken aim.

New howls of pain erupted. Blood splattered, and bodies dropped. Katarina clutched her stomach to ward off waves of nausea.

Finished with the guards, Baden twisted Alek’s wrist and broke the bones; the gun fell as her groom screamed. More and more men jumped up to help him, and more and more guns were aimed at the trio.

Even Dominik withdrew a gun from his ankle holster, though he didn’t take aim. He hauled her through a side door, down a long corridor.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Multiple shots rang out behind her.

Had Alek been hit? She tried to fight her way free. “Let go!”

“Enough.” Her brother was panting, already winded. “This is for your own good.”

A gesture of kindness, even if it was executed the wrong way.

“I won’t allow Alek’s bride to suffer,” he added, ruining everything. For him, everything always came back to Alek.

“I must stay with him,” she said. “The dogs—”

“Forget the dogs.”

“Never!”

The gunshots stopped. The pained grunts and groans quieted. The scent of gun smoke and corroded metal coated the air, following her.

Just before Dominik reached the doorway that led to the outside world, she stuck out her foot and tripped him. He maintained his grip on her, lugging her with him as he crashed. As he fought for breath, she was finally able to jerk free. He reached for her, but she kicked him in the stomach and stood.

Cursing, he hopped up. She leaped backward and—

Slammed into a brick wall. With a gasp, she whirled. Her gaze traveled up a man’s legs...a torso ridged with muscle. There were thin rivers of black tattooed from the tips of his fingers to the edge of the black bands that circled his biceps. Three bullet holes marred his shoulder, but the wounds didn’t appear to be bleeding.

Her eyes locked on cool copper irises. Baden.

He was hyperfocused, radiating challenge, determination and lethal intent...maybe even anticipation.

“Get out of the way, Katarina,” Dominik commanded.

Baden reached around her to knock her brother’s gun across the hall.

When confronted with an aggressive dog, stay calm. Avoid direct eye contact. Stand sideways and claim your space.

She peered beyond him while assuming the proper stance. Then, using her calmest tone, she said, “Your quarrel is not with us. We mean you no harm.”

“Lately I need no reason to quarrel with anyone, nevesta.” Bride in Slovak. He spoke her native tongue? “But you...you give me reason. You worry for a piece of shit.” His disgust had returned full force. “You married a piece of shit.”

He thought the worst of her, had no concept of the truth. Don’t know him, don’t like him. His opinion doesn’t matter. “Should you really cast stones? You have glitter smeared on your neck.” Truth. “Courtesy of a stripper girlfriend?”

When he offered no reply, her spark of temper drained. She asked softly, “Is Alek still alive?”

“Are you worried for him, or the position of power you’ll lose upon his death?”

Position of power? Please! “Is. He. Still. Alive?”

Baden inclined his head. “He even has all his body parts. For now.”

Thank God! “Listen to me. I’ll get your coin. Yes?”

“You won’t do any such thing. And you won’t hurt her,” Dominik told Baden. “I won’t let—”

Baden glared him into silence before returning his attention to her. “You know which coin I seek?”

“No, but you can describe it and I can search Alek’s home.” If Baden kept the guards at bay, she could finally hunt for her dogs without fear of getting caught. “Let’s go there now.”

“You’ve seen the trouble your husband is willing to endure to ensure the coin remains hidden.” Dark red waves fell over his strong brow, swatches of pure silk. “It won’t be in a drawer.”

Probably not. “Perhaps it’s inside a safe-deposit box. I can gather all his keys. If we leave now—”

Dominik squeezed her arm but didn’t say another word.

“What do you think I did before coming to the chapel?” Baden asked.

He’d been to the house? “Did you see three pit bulls? One is brindle, one is gray, and—”

“There were no dogs of any breed,” he interjected, his brow furrowed. “No cats, either.”

Devastation mixed with anger, the deadly combination frothing inside her. Where had Alek hidden her pets?

The white-haired man sidled up to Baden and, after a slight hesitation, patted his shoulder. “We have a problem. William killed the last—” His green eyes landed on Dominik, and he nodded. “Never mind. You kept a messenger alive. We’re good.”

Bile nearly choked her. “Three of you managed to kill over fifty armed guards?”

The white-haired man regarded her, all did the bride hit her head on the way out? “Wasn’t like it was a big deal. They were only human.” He smiled and walked away.

Only human. She couldn’t stop her gaze from seeking Baden’s, despite her warning to the contrary. He still watched her with that air of challenge, and she gulped. “You don’t consider yourself human? So what are you, the boogeyman?”

“Yes.”

What!

He stepped aside and motioned toward the sanctuary, the muscles in his arm flexing. “You will return. Now.”

Leave the crazy man? No need to tell her twice. She raced down the hall and burst through the doors. She would stand guard over Alek if necessary and—

She skidded to a halt. Blood covered the walls and pews and pooled on the floor. Bodies, body parts and other things she couldn’t name were flung here, there and everywhere.

Alek was nailed to the podium, unconscious, his head slumped forward. The bile returned, and waves of nausea crashed through her once again; she closed the distance. Her hand trembled as she felt for a pulse...it was barely perceptible, but it was there.

“Happy now?” Baden came up behind her, his shadow completely engulfing her.

“No! You tortured—”

“Rapists and killers. Yes. They got what they deserved.”

“What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?” And...and...the amount of death...the level of destruction...the trial of the day... “I think I’m going to—”

Too late. She hunched over and retched.

Baden had dragged her brother alongside him, but neither male did the gentlemanly thing and held her veil out of the danger zone.

She almost snorted as she straightened and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. A brutal savage and a callous heroin addict hadn’t come to her aid? What madness!

“Mater ti je kurva,” Dominik snapped at Baden as he struggled for freedom. Your mother is a whore. “You will pay for the travesty done this day.”

Unconcerned by the outburst, Baden looked Katarina over. A spark of something lit his eyes, making her shiver. With dread. Had to be dread. “Aleksander will be the one to pay, and in a most unexpected manner. I’ve decided to take—his bride.”

4

“Only one thing should be infectious. Your smile.”

—Torin, keeper of Disease

“YOU CAN’T JUST...take me,” the bride said, obviously alarmed.

What was her name?

“I can, and I will. Don’t fight me.” The blood in Baden’s veins sang, Destruction purring in harmony. Tides of pleasure rolled through him. Hate the beast, but love this. Nothing in his life—this one or the one before—had ever compared. And all it had taken? The total annihilation of another man’s army.

So sure the annihilation is the cause? What about the girl?

One look at her and he’d been overcome with the urge to rut, long and hard and often—and oddly enough, to protect.

It was insanity. She meant nothing to him.

William and Torin were busy searching the slain for the coin. Just in case. Baden watched them, and the bride watched Baden, the heat of her gaze scalding him.

She cursed at him. “You’re smiling right now.”

Was he?

“Violence delights you? That’s sick. Sick!” She unleashed a stream of Slovakian profanity, calling him terrible names and accusing him of sleeping with everything from a rat to a goat. Her anger clearly freed her of all fear.

Destruction paid her no heed. She was puny, harmless.

She actually amused Baden. So much rage in such a tiny body.

If ever her passion was redirected...

He swallowed a rumble of need—to hurt, only to hurt, surely—no longer amused.

Her brother reached out to slap a hand over her mouth, but she batted him away and continued shouting, saving the male from a blade through the heart. Baden had claimed the girl as a war prize. For one night, she would belong to him. He would safeguard what was his.

“Do not touch her again,” he said with undeniable hostility.

The color drained from the brother’s cheeks.

The bride moved in front of Baden, demanding his attention. A clear attempt to shelter the male who should have done everything in his power to shelter her.

Her concern for the men in her life—the scum—irritated him. Delighting in violence was sick, she’d said, and yet she had bound herself to a human who’d left the bodies of both the guilty and the innocent in his wake.

“There’s a better way,” she announced. “Killing a defenseless man is unnecessary and cowardly.”

“No man is defenseless. Not while he has his wits.”

“If wits are a weapon, some men are better armed than others. Some, like yourself, are actually unarm—”

“Katarina,” the brother snapped. “Enough.”

Katarina. A delicate name for a delicate (looking) woman.

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

She was far, faaar from Baden’s type. He preferred strong warrior-women. Someone able to back up her boasts with her body. Like Pandora. Once or twice he’d even considered pausing their war. In the end, the desire to defeat her had always proved stronger than the desire to pleasure her.