The Darkest Torment. Gena ShowalterЧитать онлайн книгу.
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“No hope for you, then, eh?”
Direct hit. He scowled at her.
Clearly, she’d stumbled onto dangerous territory. She backtracked, forcing a saucy grin. “Perhaps I spoke too hastily. Perhaps I just don’t know you well enough. Yet.” If she could get her hands on the vial in his pocket, she could drug him. She could escape, return to Alek, save her babies, and run...for the rest of her life.
Her grin slipped. “Why don’t you order room service for us both, pekný?” Handsome. She winked at him. “I’m dying—hopefully not literally—to learn more about you.”
* * *
Baden was no longer amused by the girl’s outbursts. The angry ones...and the flirtatious ones. More and more, he disliked how she made him feel. She looked at him as if he was a disappointment—because he was. She considered him as bad as the human she’d married—with good reason.
By the time he finished with the siren, he would be far worse.
“I’m your captor,” he told her, “not your provider.” She was beautiful, somehow more beautiful by the minute, and she most assuredly had plans to charm him. How many men had she tricked over the years? How many had she bled dry before moving on to another one?
Power before sentiment.
“Do you plan to keep me weak with hunger?” She continued to meander around the room, the innate sway to her hips acting as a summoning finger. Come here. Touch. He found the strength to resist. Barely. “Fear I’ll overpower you otherwise?”
“Hardly. I’ve never met a feebler female.” How easy it would be to wrap his hands around the elegant column of her neck and end her.
Or better yet, he could chew her up and spit her out.
She whipped around to face him, anger crackling in her eyes. “I’m feeble because a he-man was able to cart me away from my wedding?”
“Yes. You are unable to protect yourself, or even to take care of yourself. You need others to do it for you.”
Threatened by those with power, disdainful of those without it. Was there any type of person he liked?
Katarina looked as if he’d slapped her. Then she blinked away the wound and pouted at him. “Can any woman protect herself from you, pekný?” She picked up a vase, weighed it in her palm. Deciding if it would make a decent missile? “I bet you slay hearts...figuratively as well as literally. Oh, and let’s not forget the panties you must melt.”
Just. Like. That. He shot hard as stone.
William strode through the front door, spotted Baden’s state, and rolled his eyes. He launched into a speech about necessary tweaks to security.
Focus. Engage. But Baden...couldn’t. The bulk of his attention remained on Katarina. When she filched something from a side table, he stalked to her side and, ignoring the pain of skin-to-skin contact, pried open her fingers.
She gasped as he stepped back, taking...a pen with him. A simple ink pen?
“Fine,” she said. “Keep it. I didn’t want to write down the poem I’d composed about you, anyway.”
A lie. She’d hoped to use the pen as a weapon. Silly woman. Did she not know her own limitations? She’d vomited at the sight of blood. She would never have the courage to attack him. “Tell me the poem.” A command, not a request. “I’m brimming with anticipation.”
She smiled sweetly at him, batting her lashes. “His beauty is terrible, just like his temper. I look at him and I can only whimper.”
Funny. Baden leaned down, putting him nose-to-nose with her. “Do you like the beginning of my poem? I’m no better than a homicidal maniac right now. Mess with me, and you’ll see how.”
“If this situation sucked any harder, I’d have an orgasm.”
—Paris, keeper of Promiscuity
KATARINA REMAINED DOCILE as Baden ushered her down a long hallway. He probably viewed her passivity as another sign of weakness. Let him. His mistake, her gain. He would never expect her to act against him. Which she planned to do, in three...two...one...
She sagged into him, pretending to faint while reaching inside his pocket to filch the vial. Success!
She hid the drug within the folds of her gown as he snarled and hefted her into his arms. He carried her inside a spacious bedroom, the sleeves of his shirt lifting to reveal the metal bands fixed to his biceps. Bands warm to the touch. He tossed her unceremoniously onto the bed.
She maintained a smooth expression and lax body as she bounced.
“Behave, girl, and tomorrow morning you’ll be returned to your husband in the same condition you left him.” Footsteps pounded. The door snicked shut, sealing her inside. The lock engaged with an ominous click.
She waited one second...five...ten...before opening her eyes. Alone! Yes! She jumped up and rushed around the room, searching for a way out. Maybe Baden would take her to Alek tomorrow, maybe he wouldn’t. Probably he wouldn’t. She’d seen his face; she could identify him to authorities. Once he had the coin, he would be better off killing her.
The window had been sealed shut. The knob on the balcony doors had been removed and plastered over, preventing her from picking the lock. Fine. She switched gears, hunting for weapons. But all knickknacks had been removed. There were no paintings on the walls—nothing to smash over his fat head. In the bathroom, there were no brushes to use as shanks.
Either he’d expected to take a prisoner and prepared, or she wasn’t the first person he’d abducted.
Think, think. She spun in a circle, eyeing every piece of furniture as if it was the answer to the question: Will I live or die? The dresser! Determined, she opened an empty drawer. A sense of triumph overtook her when she noticed the knobs were attached with nails.
The plan: use those nails to gouge Baden’s eyes and escape.
Though she broke several of her own nails and ended up with multiple cuts on her fingers, she managed to unscrew two before the door lock clicked.
Her heart an unruly hammer against her ribs, she dove onto the bed, hiding her hands in the folds of the comforter.
Baden rolled in a cart of food. “Eat. You won’t wither away on my watch.” He threw a bundle of clothing at her feet. “Also, do us both a favor and change. I’ve never seen an uglier dress.”
Then he hadn’t rifled through the closet Alek had filled for her. “I’m curious. What poison did you use to flavor this food?”
He scowled at her, but took a bite of every dish before stalking to the exit.
“Don’t you want to eat with me? We can—”
He shut the door and turned the lock.
Great! How was she supposed to drug him if he refused to spend time with her?
The answer ceased to matter as the scents of sugar, spice and everything nice wafted to her nose. Can’t...resist... Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled as she walked toward the cart. Since her arrival in New York...however long ago...Alek had basically starved her.
Have to maintain your girlish figure.
And, she was sure, the lack of nourishment had the added bonus of keeping her weak and befuddled.
Weak...
I’ve never met a feebler female.
Don’t like him, his opinion doesn’t matter.
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