The Darkest Torment. Gena ShowalterЧитать онлайн книгу.
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