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The interlude gave her a chance to think. “Our captors,” she gasped, her desire draining as she realized a fight was about to go down. They were about to burst into the room and drag her away to the auction block. Well, there was no way she would allow anyone to sell her. She would rather die.
The door swung open, and two armed guards marched inside.
A scowling Lazarus threw a blanket over her, covering her nakedness. She clutched the material to her chest and scrambled for her clothing.
“Your Great and Awesome Highness,” one of the guards said.
Both men bowed.
Wait. Cameo stilled, her forehead furrowing with confusion.
Lazarus was as stiff as a board, silent. “You have two seconds, and then you die.”
Both paled.
One said, “I know you told us not to interrupt, but you have a guest. A minion who says the Red Queen is in play. We know you’ve been searching for her, sire.”
She puzzled over the Red Queen until realization slammed into her, making her gasp. But the realization had nothing to do with the royal. Lazarus was...he was...
Looking at her with something akin to regret. He waved the men away.
They obeyed. Because they were his men.
His.
He wasn’t a prisoner, after all.
He stood and tugged on his pants. Then he looked at her again, and this time the humor was back. “Welcome to my kingdom, sunshine.”
* * *
BADEN HELD PANDORA up by the neck, her legs dangling above the floor and kicking at him. He merely tightened his hold, choking her so forcefully her eyes bugged and her lips turned blue. He did this calmly. Had his emotions been involved, his hair would have already caught fire. It was an ability he’d had since before his possession, and one he’d kept after. He wasn’t sure why when none of the other Lords reacted to dark emotion that way,
Pandora had dared to sneak up on him while he slept and plant a dagger in his heart. And his stomach. And his thigh. A quick jab, jab, jab job.
Had they lived in another realm, the action would have killed him. Again. But they didn’t. They lived here, separate from other dead souls, not good enough for any level of the heavens but not yet ready for hell.
He’d experienced the pain of the cuts but not the ultimate consequence. He’d healed—and then he’d gone after her.
“Do you have anything to say to me?” he asked, just as calm. She would apologize, or she would continue to suffer.
When she tried to nod, he loosened his hold.
“Knew you’d...react...this way,” she gasped. “Hoped you...would. Planned for it.”
He frowned—and then he released her. A sword sliced through his back and came out of his chest. He looked down, confused, before his knees gave out. Pandora thumped to the ground, her pained gasp blending with his.
Instinctively, he threw himself in front of her, protecting her from whichever enemy lurked behind him. It was either Cronus or Rhea, and judging by the scent of lilies in the air, he was guessing Rhea. Pandora was his to hurt—no one else’s.
Only, Pandora kicked him away and, with Rhea’s help, lumbered to her feet.
The former queen of the Titans grinned down at him, as smug as could be. She was a beautiful woman, with hair as black as Pandora’s and skin as creamy white. But while the ex-queen had blue eyes, Pandora’s were as dark as her evil heart.
The two were working together, were they? A sense of betrayal hit him.
Maybe Pandora sensed it. She spat, “What did you expect? You’re planning to leave me behind when you’re rescued.”
“No,” Rhea said, sounding assured. “He’s not leaving either of us behind. And do you want to know why, Baden?”
Glaring at her, he gripped the sword by the blade, the metal cutting all the way to bone. Drops of energy dripped out rather than blood as he yanked the weapon out of his chest, the hilt dragging through him, breaking his ribs and emerging with bits of his just-healed heart.
He stayed on the ground, panting but silent.
Irritated by his nonchalance, Rhea planted her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you why. Because you know the Red Queen will use the Morning Star for her own gain. She won’t give you a second thought. Or, if she does, she’ll make you pay for her aid. And what do you have to give her? Nothing.”
“I won’t be paying.” Torin would, and everyone knew it.
“You’ve watched the mists same as we have. You know she and Torin have parted, and she may not be willing to help him any longer. May strike out on her own. We can only rely on ourselves to find the Morning Star, and we have to do it before she does. You can strike out on your own, yes, but against such a powerful being, you’ll have a better chance of success if someone is watching your back. Someone like me. But I won’t help you until I have your vow to grant me whatever I desire when the Star is in your possession.”
“Hey! That’s not what we agreed,” Pandora shouted at the queen.
Rhea flicked her hair over her shoulder, ignoring her, and said to Baden, “Until then.” She strode away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE HOME KEELEY remembered leaving behind was not the home she actually returned to find. She should be in the middle of a primitive cave—albeit palatial—filled with the most beautiful sediment and all of her treasures. This was a modern-day marvel with none of her furniture, jewels or gowns. The new pieces looked to have come from a sultan’s harem.
How had this happened?
There was a hot spring complete with a showering waterfall in back. Plush couches, colorful carpets throughout. A coffee table carved from beautiful rosewood and surrounded by beaded pillows. A wardrobe made from the crystal that had once graced the ceiling, bursting with an array of scanty clothing. Hip-hugging jeans. Halter tops. Microminis.
