The Darkest Touch. Gena Showalter

heart.

      Well, well. Another mark against Torin.

      Flickers of anger. Thunder booming.

      Perhaps she needed to expand her Kill Torin plan. Find him, torture him for being so irresistible, and then slay the girlfriend in front of him.

      In a word—perfect! Mari would have been proud.

      Keeley’s shoulder drooped, her chest aching all over again. Actually, Mari would have scolded her for such a plot. The girl would have said, her tone gentle, “Keeley, love, you yourself have killed many people, and every victim had a best friend left behind. You know this. Do not hate someone else for committing the same sin. And do not wallow in the past. It’s like quicksand and will keep you trapped. Forgive and move on.”

      So wise, her Mari.

      But...could Keeley allow Torin to walk away from the travesty he’d caused?

       Can’t do it. Just can’t.

      Her heart was broken. Only vengeance would spackle the pieces together again.

      As she motored along, lost in thought, she stepped onto a dilapidated board. The center snapped and she fell, crashing into the bottom of a pit before she even realized what had happened. Her ankle twisted, and her knees buckled. Sharp pains exploded through her, but they were nothing she couldn’t handle.

      Gold star, Torin. He’d done his job well.

      A shadow fell over her. “It didn’t have to be this way, you know.”

      Skin prickling with an insane amount of heat, she glanced up. The diabolical warrior stood at the top edge of the pit, the barrel of a rifle aimed at her head. Breath caught in her throat—but not because of the weapon.

       He’s even more beautiful than I remember.

       He’s also a thief. He stole Mari. My sunshine. My happiness.

      “Really, Torin? Really?” she asked, as though disappointed, hoping to mask her humiliating reaction to him. Blood, heating right along with her skin. Every cell singing, begging for a rush of sensation only the press of male hardness against female softness could give. Hands, itching. To touch him. No, no. To kill him. Of course. For Mari. Sweet Mari. “Bringing a gun to a power fight? Not wise.”

      “You don’t want to know everything I brought, princess.”

      “You’re right—because none of it will help you.” She flashed to the top of the pit and smacked the weapon out of his hand before he had a chance to fire. The fragrance of sandalwood and spice drifted from him, and her mouth watered. One taste, just one. And then...

       I’ll want more.

      How was he doing this? How was he sweeping her up in a maddening storm of unstoppable chemistry, causing anticipation to build inside her until she shivered? Just by nearing her!

      He stroked his white-hot gaze over her. His breaths began to come shallowly, and he licked his lips.

       He lusts for me?

      He might as well have touched her, so strongly did she react to the darkly intoxicating thought. The ache...too much, too intense. Overwhelming.

       No! Just no.

      “Gotta say, Miss Keys. You’re looking very fine.”

      Reveal nothing. Hide everything. “Obviously,” she said, then ruined the bold statement by self-consciously combing her fingers through her hair.

      Since last they’d faced off, she’d scrubbed from head to toe with enough force to skin herself—again. Even though the dirt was gone, she had been unable to find new clothes and still wore the same tattered rag.

      Keeley would rather start every conversation she ever had with “Do you want to see my big fat lady balls?” than not look her best. Her own people had found her lacking in every way, and Hades’s minions used to delight in teasing her about her odd coloring; she’d never quite shaken the heart-crushing sense of not being good enough, not fitting in.

      “But what does that have to do with anything?” she finished.

      “I’ll tell you...after you tell me how good I look,” he said, and he appeared to be fighting a grin.

      Entrapment! Do not respond. Exploring him with her gaze, on the other hand...

      He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt that read “One Of These Things Doesn’t Belong: William. Panties. Women.” His leather pants were ripped. Black gloves covered his hands. A metal chain hung from around his waist. The typical bad-boy uniform hadn’t changed, it seemed...and still revved her motor.

       Forgive me, Mari.

      She found herself saying, “You look like...dinner.” She’d meant the words as an insult. A reminder that carnivorous beasts were out there, just waiting to devour him, but every sensation already coursing through her poor, neglected body suddenly heightened, nearly dragging a moan from her.

      His voice reminded her of smoke dusting over gravel, soft but gritty, as he said, “You want to eat me, huh?”

      I do. I really do. I want my mouth all over him. “I will not stoop to your level by answering.” Or mortify myself with the truth.

      “Well, then, do you have any interest in a bargain?” he asked, surprising her.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Rather than trying to kill me, you can get your pound of flesh another way. Like, say, a spanking? No? How about a good whipping? Twenty lashes? Thirty?” When she remained silent, he added, “All right, forty. But that’s my final offer.”

      It was...tempting. A way to satisfy her need for bloodshed while ending the strife between them. Except, he would recover from a whipping, while Mari hadn’t recovered from her illness. Has to be like for like.

      “I must respectfully decline,” she said.

      “Fine. Fifty lashes.”

      Why was he— Understanding peeked its head above her confusion. “Oh, I get it. You saw my power in action. You’re afraid of me.”

      His nostrils flared, and he actually recoiled from her. “Afraid? Princess, I was trying to do you a favor, save you a little embarrassment over the major defeat you’re about to suffer. For some reason, I’m no longer feeling quite so magnanimous.” He squared his shoulders. “Let’s do this. Take a swing at something covered by clothing.”

      She balled her fist, only to hesitate. “You take a swing. You’re wearing gloves. Which strikes me as odd now that I think about it. Shouldn’t you want to make me sick? That would solve all your problems.”

      “No, it would add to them. I hate knowing I’m responsible for Mari’s death. Adding yours to the mix isn’t my idea of a good time.”

      The words unnerved her. But maybe that was his plan. Throw her for a loop and then strike at her while she was too dizzy to notice. Well, she would show him!

      Keeley stretched both of her arms toward him, saying, “I’m going to do it. I’m going to hit you with a blast of power, and you’re going to writhe in the worst pain of your life. Nothing will ease you.”

      “Great.” Then, when she hesitated, he had the gall to add, “I’m waiting....”

      “You should be running.”

      “Why? Do you want to stare at my ass?”

      How was she supposed to react to his total lack of fear? “Any last words?”

      “Sure.” His gaze raked over her slowly, so wonderfully slow, and when next he spoke, his voice dripped with melted honey. “If I had one last wish, I’d use it to put my