“Beating is too strong a word for what transpired. I’d go with massage.” William buffed his nails. “Just so you know, the wreaths’ side effects are numerous and horrifying.”
“I figured the horrifying part out on my own, thanks.” Removing the wreaths wasn’t an option. They were fused to him, and he would have to amputate his arms with a meat cleaver.
Before his death, his arms would have grown back. Now? He wasn’t sure and wasn’t willing to experiment. Well, not on himself. His hands were his first line of defense.
“Give me specifics,” he demanded.
“For starters, if you want to keep your new temper tantrums at bay, you’ll need sex and a lot of it.”
The pronouncement was a joke. Had to be.
Baden arched a brow. “You offering, oh great and randy one?”
William snorted. “As if you could handle me.”
To be honest, he couldn’t handle anyone. When he wasn’t fighting, he avoided any kind of contact, the sensitivity of his skin too great. Every brush of flesh against flesh was excruciating, like a dagger being raked across exposed nerve endings.
“You’re going to leave Budapest today,” William said. “You’ll go...somewhere else. You’ll collect a harem of immortal women, and you’ll spend the next decade or two concerned only with pleasure.”
Leave his friends? After they’d only just been reunited? No. He was here to help them, to guard their backs the way he’d longed to do for centuries. “I’m going to pass.”
“And I’m going to insist. You can’t beat the darkness.”
“I am the darkness.”
The warrior canted his head in agreement. “Here’s the rub. Maddox and Ashlyn have children. Both Gideon and Kane have a pregnant wife. Not to mention the other females living in the house. And what about the traumatized Legion? The vulnerable Gillian?” His voice roughened with her name. “You go after any of the females the way you went after me, and your brothers-by-choice will gut you. No matter how much they love you. I will gut you.”
“I would never—”
“Oh, princess. You so would.”
A new rage sparked. He slammed a fist through the wall and cursed, proving William right. The beast took advantage of him at every opportunity. “All right. I’ll leave.” The words pained him, but he even added, “Today.”
“Your IQ just jacked to the next level.” William beamed at him. “Any idea where you’ll go?”
“No.” He had very little experience with the modern world.
A sigh. “I’ll probably regret this later,” the warrior said, stroking two fingers over his jaw, “but what the hell. We only live twice, right?”
Baden waved a hand, a silent command to carry on.
“For the bargain price of a favor to be named later, I’ll give you one of my homes and even set up a carnal buffet for you. And don’t worry. By the time I’m done, even a man with your lack of game will be able to score a ten.”
* * *
As the rapid beat of rock music blasted from surround-sound speakers, a pair of double Ds hit Baden in the face. He hissed in pain, not that—whatever her name—noticed as she gyrated on his lap.
She reached out to cup his nape, clearly intending to draw him closer.
Every man needs to motorboat at least once in his life, William had told her earlier. Make sure Red gets his chance.
Baden batted her hand away as gently as possible.
She grinned at him, though there wasn’t a single hint of amusement in her eyes. “Performance anxiety, sugar? I know the perfect cure.” She hopped off and spun, shoving her ass in his face.
“Twerking is the best, isn’t it?” William said now.
Baden turned to glare at him. They were the only males in the room, and the prick was certainly living up to his original playboy reputation as he stuffed a hundred-dollar bill in the G-string of his own stripper. A blonde bumping and grinding on him with absolute abandon.
“Even though you should be paying me, I’m feeling generous.” William gave her another hundred. “Don’t think I failed to notice your orgasm. The first or the second.”
She was too busy having a third to respond.
“This isn’t helping me,” Baden snapped.
William leaned forward to lick the blonde’s collarbone. A practiced move he seemed to perform by rote. “Don’t doubt my pimposity just yet. This is only the appetizer.”
Pimposity?
“Listen to him.” Miss Twerk faced Baden, brushing her fingertip along the curve of his jaw. “You’re supposed to eat me up.”
The pain! He endured it a few seconds more, but only to clasp her by the hips and set her away from him once and for all. “No touching. Ever.”
His unintentionally harsh tone made her tremble.
“Go.” Disgusted with himself as much as the circumstances, he motioned to the door. “Now.”
As she raced from the room, he settled more comfortably on the couch and closed his eyes. He needed sex—supposedly—but he couldn’t bring himself to have it. What kind of future awaited him? One dark rage constantly bleeding into another? Like before...
Another memory he’d never lived played through his mind.
He stood outside the dungeon he’d occupied for a torturous eternity, a sea of bodies and body parts all around him. Blood soaked his hands...hands tipped by sharp claws, bits of flesh and other things.
Footsteps thumped in a nearby hallway. A survivor?
Not for long.
Grinning with anticipation, he climbed through the debris and—
The music cut off abruptly, drawing Baden back to the present. He opened his eyes in time to see the last stripper exit the room.
William tsk-tsked at him before flashing away...and returning with two glasses and a bottle of ambrosia-laced whiskey.
Ambrosia, the drug of choice for immortals.
The warrior filled the cups to the brim. “Here. Lubricate your brain.”
The sweet scent wafted to Baden, causing his stomach to churn. For a moment he was a child again, trapped in the burning field, running...running...his heart galloping like a horse at a race.
Not me. The beast.
Trembling, he drained the cup. A tide of warmth spread through him quickly, calming him despite the adverse association, grounding him deeper in the here and now.
“There. Isn’t that better?” William reclined at his end of the white couch, the only piece of furniture in a room of white.
White walls, white floor tiles. White dais with a trio of mirrors in back. Baden’s reflection—the only real source of color—glared at him in challenge. He’d become a soldier he no longer recognized, with shaggy red waves in desperate need of a trim. Dark eyes once filled with welcome only offered silent threats. A mouth that used to quirk up in amusement only ever curved down in anger. Laugh lines had been replaced by scowl lines.
No, not better. “I’m ready to leave.”
“Too bad. I won’t remember how to flash you somewhere else until you’ve gotten laid. And as soon as you appear less murdery, you will get laid. The girls will love you.” William drained the contents of his glass in a single gulp. “Just