“Words, use words.” She glared at Bader’s reflection. “Did she survive their fight?”

“I’m not sure, but there were no signs of her blood on Venge, or much of…Risk’s…” he finished.

Not a surprise. Lusse didn’t expect Venge to get the best of Risk. In fact, she’d hoped Risk would be angered enough by the whelp’s appearance, in what she knew Risk thought of as his territory, that he would allow his hellhound nature to take over completely. She’d hoped to have little more than a ginger-colored hide left of the whelp as a result of his dedicated service.

She turned her back on the mirror, pressing her spine against the marble top of the server that set beneath it. Risk had potential to be unstoppable, but his annoying edge of humanity kept getting in his way — her way.

She pressed her palms and fingers together in front of her face.

“Should I call him?” A carved horn hung from a leather strap in Bader’s hand.

Lusse glanced from the horn to Bader’s flat face. “Not yet. Let’s talk to Venge first. I need to know what’s keeping Risk before I summon him.”

With a short nod, Bader shuffled from the room.

Lusse spun back around to study her reflection. This had not gone at all as she had planned. She plucked a tube of lipstick from the tray in front of her and smeared a line of red across her lips. Risk should be here now, fresh from the capture of the girl — a total innocent.

Lusse’d laid out a test for him and he’d failed.

The boy was just insurance, but even that part of her plan had fallen short.

Not only had Risk not returned with the young witch, he’d allowed another hellhound to step into his territory and survive. It was unthinkable.

She threw the lipstick down. The open cosmetic rolled across the marble before thunking onto the white carpet below.

Risk should be here, finally embracing his darkest side. Finally ready to lead Lusse’s hounds in more than name only. With Risk as pack leader, willingly following her, she would be unstoppable.