Eternal Rider

Nine

Cara stood there like a deer in headlights, her mind spinning, her heart pounding. “I think I need to sit down after all.”

Her feet were leaden as she moved over the marble floor to a thick throw rug, on top of which sat a huge coffee table designed like a chessboard. She knocked over two game pieces the size of soda cans as she sank down in an overstuffed leather chair.

“You like chess.” Her voice was hollow, her observation plain moronic.

“Yes.”

“You’re good at it, then?” Another moronic statement. She was discussing something as mundane as chess when Ares was talking about fallen angels, demons, and her death.

He righted the pieces. “No one has ever beaten me.”

“Remind me not to challenge you to a game,” she muttered.

“It would be wise not to challenge me to anything.” He swung toward one of the exits on the far side of the room and shouted for someone named Vulgrim.

His arrogance, while probably justified, irritated her, and she welcomed the annoyance. Anything was better than being afraid and confused. But before she could say anything, a hulking creature with ramlike horns and a broad snout stalked into the room, his hooves clacking on the floor. He—at least, she thought it was a he—wore some sort of leather tunic over chain mail that must have something else underneath it, or his thick, tan fur would have gotten pinched in the links.

She’d thought nothing could possibly freak her out more than she already was, but she assumed her best imitation of a stone statue, trying to be as invisible as possible as Ares spoke to the thing.

“My lord?” the thing rumbled.

Ares inclined his head. “Vulgrim, bring orc-water for the human. Instruct the others that she is to be given anything she wants.” He slid her a meaningful glance. “Except freedom. She is to be guarded with your lives.”

Orc-water? Surely he said orchid-water. Like rose-water. Only with orchids. God, she wanted to laugh like a maniac right now, because there was a monster in the room, and she was thinking about flower water. She eyed Ares and revised her thought. There were two monsters in the room.

Vulgrim bowed, wheeled around crisply on his hooved feet, and disappeared down the hall.

“What—” she cleared her throat to get rid of the humiliating hoarseness “—what was that?”

He peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Ramreel demon. I have thirty on staff as servants and guards. They won’t harm you.”

Of course not. Because why would demons harm her? “Do all demons look like goat-things?”

He inhaled deeply, as though gathering patience to answer her questions. “There are as many species of demons as there are mammals on earth, though many appear as human as you and I. We call them ter’taceo. You’ll be able to sense or see some of them now that you’re part of this world.”

She remembered the man who had come out of the pub in York, the one who had turned into a hideous creature for a few horrific seconds. Something furry darted across the room, and she forgot the pub guy. “Is… that thing behind you a demon?”

Ares swiveled around, a broad grin softening his rugged features. “Yep.” He made some purring noises, and the beagle-sized thing, a miniature, roundish, bushier version of Vulgrim, sprinted over on four legs. She watched, amazed by Ares’s unexpected tenderness, as he gave it an affectionate tickle. “Go home, Rath. Your father is probably worried.” The little goat-thing bleated and bounced away, and Ares smiled until he turned back to her. “Vulgrim’s grandson. He’s only a few months old, and curious as hell. Mother is dead.”

Man, she had a bazillion questions for him, but she didn’t even know where to start. Maybe the reason she was here would be a good place. She settled back in the chair, and when Ares’s gaze raked her boldly, she brought her knees up to her chest and arranged the ruined pajama top to keep herself covered, though at this point, she supposed it didn’t matter. He’d already seen it all.

“Polite men don’t ogle,” she snapped, because dammit, he’d seen it, but he didn’t have to drool.

“Oh, they ogle,” he drawled. “They’re just more subtle about it.”

Whatever. “Why did you bring me here?”

He began to prowl the length of the room, his long strides eating up the floor, his severe expression frozen in concentration. “To protect you from my brother.”

“Your brother? He’s the one trying to kill me?”

“He was the male on the white horse, and he’s not the only one who wants you dead. Half the underworld will be after you. That’s why you need to be here. My brother can find the island, but few others can. He’ll suspect that I brought you here, but he’ll have no specifics—I’ve had the island cleaned of vermin and bats, and my Ramreels have hawks chasing birds out of the airspace.” At what must have been a questioning look on her face, he added, “My brother can communicate with disease-carriers and use them as spies.”

Eew. So that was why Ares had asked if she’d seen any rats. “Your brother sounds charming.”

There was a long pause, silence that was filled only by the strike of his boots on the floor. “He used to be.”

Somehow she couldn’t picture the psychopath on the demon horse being charming. “Maybe it’s time you told me exactly who you and your brother are, because frankly, I’m having a hard time processing any of this.”

He shook his head. “Knowing isn’t going to make it any easier.”

“Is it really going to make it harder?”

“It’s not going to be easy to believe.”

“Ah… hello.” She gestured in the direction the ram-horned demon had gone. “After what I’ve seen, you could say you’re Darth Vader, and I wouldn’t be surprised.”

One corner of his generous mouth tipped up in a smile before settling back into a firm, forbidding line. But for that one second, she actually felt herself drawn to him the way she’d been when she’d first seen him on her porch.

“My brother’s name is Reseph,” he said roughly. “Was Reseph. He’s now the being you might recognize as Pestilence, first Horseman of the Apocalypse.”

Okay, she’d been wrong about not being surprised. Doing her best to not hyperventilate, she sat in stunned silence for a moment. Brother. Ares’s brother was Pestilence. She finally managed to speak, but the sound was more of a croak. “And that makes you…?”

“War. Second Horseman of the Apocalypse.” The demon, Vulgrim, arrived with a bottle of water, which Ares brought to her. “Drink.”

Numbly, she did as he bade. The cold water relieved her parched tongue, and she downed half the contents before his hand came down on hers and gently nudged the bottle away. The word “gentle” seemed odd when paired with him, but right now, all that frightening power was contained, and even the hard-cut angles in his face, the forbidding set of his mouth, had become less severe.

“Easy, female,” he murmured. “You’re going to shock your system.”

Too late. She couldn’t be much more shocked than she was right now. “It doesn’t taste like flowers.” Wasn’t she the queen of moronic statements today. He eyed her as if she was feverishly insane and he could catch the crazy virus. “You said it was orchid water.”

He frowned, silently repeated what she’d said, and then he laughed. And wow, he was downright beautiful when he did that. “Orc-water. I had Vulgrim add an orcish herb that’ll help you relax.”

She should be pissed that he’d drugged her, but the orc stuff must already be working, because she just didn’t care. In fact, an effervescent warmth was spreading through her veins, and her muscles grew pleasantly relaxed. “So what now?”

“We have to find your hellhound before Pestilence does. If he knows you’ve bonded to it, he’ll torture it to kill you.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, his flexing biceps testing the limits of his T-shirt sleeves’ strength. “You were in York to find the mutt, were you not? Do you know where he is?”

“Not exactly. But in one of those dreams, I saw the name of a street. Newland Park Drive.”

“Then I’ll start the search there. No doubt Pestilence already has his minions combing the city.”

Don’t ask… don’t ask… “Why does he want to kill me? Why would the underworld want me dead?”

“Why?” Ares’s voice was so deep it vibrated all the way to her insides, and oddly, she liked the sensation. “Because the underworld is full of demons.” He looked down at his arm, where the horse tattoo seemed to move, as though a breeze was fluttering its mane. She recalled seeing his real stallion shift into smoke and turn into that tattoo, and yep, that was one more thing to ask him about. “Most demons who live in the human realm like things the way they are now. But the ones who are stuck in Sheoul want out, so they’re joining Pestilence’s cause to kill you. And Pestilence wants you dead because your death will break my Seal.”

“And that’s bad?”

He laughed, but this time the lack of humor in it chilled her blood, which already felt sluggish, thanks to the orc stuff. “Bad? Cara, your death will bring about the Apocalypse. Utter destruction. The end of the world as we know it. So yes, your death is bad.”

“That would be a bummer.” At some point, she’d grasped his hand. She should be mortified, because she was stroking his palm lightly with her fingers. But she’d also just said that her death causing an Apocalypse would be a bummer, so what the hell? “Orc-water is awesome.”

One brown eyebrow shot up. “I think Vulgrim might have made it a little strong.”

“Oh! Speaking of strong… the vodka. I didn’t drink any vodka, did I? That night I took care of Hal and you kidnapped me.”

His long fingers curled around hers, and her entire body went all liquid and warm. “I staged it after I wiped your memory. I wanted you to think you had a reason for not remembering what happened.”

“Might have worked, except I don’t drink. Ever.” She sat forward. “Can I have more orc-water?”

His lips quirked as he pushed the bottle out of her reach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Probably not. Especially since her eyelids were starting to feel heavy. But her insides had gone in the opposite direction. They were positively dancing, doing a jig with her hormones, which seemed to have awakened from a deep sleep since meeting Ares. “You smell really good. And you’re extremely handsome. Your face is a little cruel, though.” His scowl proved her point. “Your brother was scary. You’re scary, too. Are you evil?”

“Not yet. But that’s why we have to keep you alive, Cara. If you die, I’m going to go very, very bad.”

“Like when you kissed me? That was bad.”

“It wasn’t a kiss. And it wasn’t bad.” He sounded so put out that she smiled.

“Your mouth was on mine.” Her vision had begun to blur, but she could see his lips clearly. They were so perfect. And if she remembered right, they were also very firm, but smooth. She reached out, touched the pad of one finger to his lower lip.

His mouth parted on a harsh inhale, and something fluttered in her stomach. Maybe the orc-water. Slowly, she traced his lips with her finger, and yes, they were soft. Velvety. She wanted to feel more of them.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind a voice screamed that this was wrong, but she was sleepy, loopy, and a little bit… horny. “I’ll show you,” she murmured, as she angled her body forward. “Will show you what a kiss is.”

He reared back, but she caught his mouth with hers, and he locked up as if she’d hit a switch. A giggle rose up in her, but it never made it past her lips. Nope. They were too busy mashing themselves against Ares’s.

She had never been the aggressor in any relationship. Had to be the orc-water. She slanted her mouth over his, the way she remembered him kissing her. His tongue had swept out, traced the seam of her lips, so she did the same.

“This,” she whispered, “is what you did to me.”

A needy, masculine sound rumbled in his chest, a cross between a moan and a growl, and then Ares was on her. He pressed her into the chair, his body crushing hers, his hips cradled between her spread thighs. Again, the voice deep in her skull screamed that this was a mistake, but her body was relaxed, languid, and after the hell of the last couple of days, all she wanted to do was forget.

Ares planted his fists against the armrests and pushed his upper body off Cara. Ah, damn. That shit was not cool. She’d been drugged, was drunk on orc-weed, and he’d known the instant she’d touched his mouth with her finger that he should stop her.

Instead, he’d been curious to see what she’d do. He hadn’t thought she’d kiss him. And when she had… it had been the sweetest kiss he’d experienced in, well, ever. Her mouth had been hungry, her tongue slick and hot, and it had lit a fire inside him he’d thought had been long since doused.

And when her fingers dug into the back of his neck, the fire had flamed out of control. His warrior instincts had demanded that he move in, go on the offensive, and conquer. He had her under him in a heartbeat, his body hard, straining, his mouth tasting willing, sexed-up female.

Now he was covering her, his arousal pressing against her core, his chest tight with uneven breaths. And she was asleep.

Get off her, dumbshit.

The back of his neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, and he whipped his head around to the source. Vulgrim stood in the doorway between the dining area and the great room, his tiny, piggish eyes bright with speculation and curiosity. No doubt. Ares rarely brought females here. And when he did, they didn’t spend time making out in the living room. They weren’t usually drugged to unconsciousness, either.

Yeah, this looked real good.

“What?” he snapped, as he shoved off Cara. He resisted the urge to explain that this wasn’t a roofie-in-the-drink thing. Ares could have any female he wanted. He didn’t need to drug them, and it wasn’t his servant’s business, even if he had done it to have sex with the human.

“I see you’re… busy,” Vulgrim said, his usually flat voice dripping with amusement. “I’ll clean up later.”

“Do that. And tell Torrent to keep a better eye on Rath.” Not that he minded the little furball in the house, but if Pestilence found the baby Ramreel by himself… God, Ares didn’t even want to go there in his thoughts.

He scooped Cara into his arms. Her top splayed open, the ripped-off buttons and torn fabric completing the perverted fuck-her-while-she-sleeps scenario. Excellent.

“I hear Rohypnol is even better than orc-weed, sir,” Vulgrim called out as Ares carried her down the hall.

“I have a torture room in the dungeon,” Ares shot back, and he was only half-kidding. Damned demon.

Problem was, the demon wasn’t half as afraid of Ares as he should be, and as much as Ares wanted to regret allowing Vulgrim and family into Ares’s inner circle, he couldn’t. He didn’t like demons, but Vulgrim was different and had been since the day Ares had rescued him from certain death as a kid.

In his arms, Cara stirred, snuggled against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his neck. A curious warmth filtered through him, something he couldn’t quite identify, but it was… nice.

There is no room for tenderness in our world. Warriors fight. They fuck. They kill. That is all. His father’s voice—the voice of the human male who had raised him—still clanged around in Ares’s skull after all this time. As a toddler, Ares had been beaten for showing too much kindness toward animals and slaves. His gentle side had literally been battered out of him by the time he was ten. He’d gotten the message loud and clear. Don’t get attached to anyone or anything, because possessions were easy to lose, power was fluid, and living things died easily.

No shit. He’d forgotten that lesson eventually, and his family had paid for his failure. In blood.

Cara began to snore, delicate rumblings he tried to find unattractive. Not cute. Nope, not cute at all. He told himself that over and over as he carried her to one of his five bedrooms, choosing the master suite. It had a bathroom, the biggest bed, and in the corner, a chair where he could sit and watch her if he needed to. It also sat at the edge of the cliff and boasted the best view, best sea breeze, a patio, and was nearly inaccessible from the outside.

He laid her on the mattress, had to peel her fingers off his neck, and did his best to avert his gaze from her gaping shirt as he drew a sheet over her. Okay, maybe not his best. Ah, hell, the effort was pathetic. He needed to get her new pajamas. Immediately.

With a soft sigh, she curled on her side and snuggled into the sheets. A twinge of jealousy pricked at him. He didn’t remember ever nestling into a bed like that—it was such a human thing to do. But then, even when he’d believed he was human, he’d felt disconnected, as if he didn’t belong. He’d gone through the motions of getting married, having a family, and enjoying life, but he’d always known deep down that something wasn’t right. That he was meant for something bigger, and he didn’t need or deserve human comforts or feelings.

He realized he’d been hovering over Cara, lost in his thoughts, his hands cradling her head because he had no pillows on the bed, his fingers stroking her smooth cheek. Hissing, he jerked away with such force that he threw himself off balance and had to catch himself on the chair before he landed on his ass. Son of a bitch. Both the stumble and the drifting thoughts were clumsy, uncharacteristic, and as much as he wanted to blame the agimortus… okay, yeah, he’d blame it. No way was a woman making him addled, no matter how beautiful she was.

Snapping himself back into warrior mode, he assigned guards to the patio, the roof, and within sight of each of the windows. Once he was satisfied that nothing, not even one of Pestilence’s rats, could sneak into the room, he texted Limos and Thanatos. Both arrived within an hour, and he met them in the great room.

“Tell me you have the human,” Thanatos said, by way of greeting.

He was dressed for battle in his demon-bone plate armor, and his boots boomed like thunderclaps as he strode across the floor. He’d pulled his pale hair back with a leather thong, but the two thin braids on either side of his temples tapped loosely against his face as he walked. In his hand was an icy can of Mountain Dew. He was addicted to the stuff.

Limos entered behind him in orange board shorts, a yellow, orange, and blue Hawaiian print tank top, and floral flip-flops. She even had a yellow flower tucked into her black hair. She was such a girl.

“Hey, bro.” She patted Ares on the chest as she walked past him. “What’s up?”

“I have the human. She’s sleeping.”

“Good.” Than tossed back half his soda. “Are you having trouble with her?”

More than you know. “If you’re asking if she’s combative in my presence, no.”

“What about the effect the agimortus has on you?”

Ares clenched and unclenched his fists. Of everything he’d been saddled with when he’d been cursed to be a Horseman, the loss of powers and potential weakness was the one that chafed the most. “When I fought Reseph in York, my armor and sword failed, but I haven’t needed to make use of any of my skills since grabbing Cara.”

Liar. His reflexes had been slow in the hotel, the proximity to her dulling his ability to sense impending danger. But he couldn’t admit his failings, not even to his brother and sister. He could list all the logical arguments—that it wasn’t his fault, that it wouldn’t have happened with anyone else, yadda-yadda. But bottom line? It was humiliating.

Li shot him a skeptical look, as if she wanted to offer him supernatural Viagra for his agimortus issues, but wisely, she kept her trap shut. “How’s she dealing? She can’t be happy to suddenly be the underworld’s most wanted dead.”

“She’s dealing about as well as she can.” He moved to the wet bar near the fireplace. Tequila had a way of replacing the raw burn of shame with its own brand of fire. “For now, at least.”

“Is she showing signs of weakness?” Li’s violet eyes lit up as Ares ducked behind the granite counter. “Yes, please. Something fruity.”

“You want an umbrella, too?” She flipped him the bird. One of these days, his sister would learn to like proper drinks, not sugary girly crap. “No weakness that I can tell yet. The bond with the hellhound is going to keep her strong for a little while. We need to find the animal, though, because if it dies, so does she. I have a place for us to start—a street in York, and we can go door to door if we have to. We also need to hunt for a fallen angel so Cara can transfer the agimortus, and we’ll have some breathing room.”

Limos sighed. “I’ll go home and pack some things. You need at least one of us here to help you protect the girl.”

“Good. I’ll go after the mutt. Than, you hunt for an Unfallen. I’d start at the Temple of Lilith. I found Tristelle there.” Ares hoped she had been stupid enough to stay.

“Done.”

“I hope so. She said that there were only a dozen or so fallen angels left. They’ve all either been killed by Pestilence or entered Sheoul to escape his blade.” When Than let out a raw curse, Ares couldn’t agree more. “Any other news?”

Thanatos tossed his can into the garbage. “Reseph tried to convince one of my vamps to slip an aphrodisiac into my drink.”

“Ares is quite fond of the orc-weed,” Vulgrim called out from the kitchen, and yeah, there was a set of chains in the dungeon with his name on them.

Limos scowled. “What did your demon say?”

“Nothing,” Ares muttered. He lobbed an ice cube at Than, who was frowning, clearly trying to puzzle out what the Ramreel was blabbing about. “Obviously, Reseph’s plan didn’t work?”

“I suspected he’d try to get to me through my staff, so I warned them that I had a stake waiting for anyone who betrayed me.”

Li studied her alternating pink and yellow nails. “You’d better avoid the Four Horsemen pub. Apparently, Reseph stopped in and promised an eternal place at his side after the Apocalypse to anyone who could get you on your back. The females are already looking for chains that can hold you. There are even a few males who plan to get in on the action.”

“Nice.” Thanatos’s eyes glinted like canary diamonds.

Ares splashed rum in the blender for Limos’s girly drink. “Do you see now that we have to destroy him?”

“I said no.” A brief flicker of shadow darkened the area around Than’s feet. “We’ll find another way. Reaver offered to help.”

Limos rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I hear that,” Than muttered. “But technically, he won’t be helping. He suggested bringing representatives from The Aegis to meet with us.”

“Meet with us? They probably want to kill us.” Limos had had a nasty run-in with a group of Aegi a couple of hundred years ago, and they’d informed her that killing Horsemen would prevent the Apocalypse. Somehow, they’d known about the effects of a hellhound bite and had shot her with an arrow coated in hound saliva. They’d kept her paralyzed for a full week before Reseph rescued her, and though what they’d done to her couldn’t match Ares’s own experience with hellhound paralyzation, it had still taken her weeks to shake it off.

Yeah, Aegi were, technically, the good guys, but they were definitely not friends.

Ares added fresh strawberry daiquiri mix and ice to the alcohol. Yuck. “If they are still up on our vulnerability to hellhound bites, we could be walking into a trap.”

“Or they could help us,” Than said. “I hate to agree with Reaver, but at this point, we can’t afford to turn down any offer of assistance. Besides, they might be able to help us get our hands on Deliverance before Reseph gets the dagger.”

“I don’t like it.” Limos tapped her foot, making her flip-flop slap on the floor.

Ares considered their options, and unfortunately, they didn’t have many. “We need to talk to them, but we’ll do it on our terms. Than, tell Reaver we’ll meet with them at your place.”

“What,” Limos said, “a whole freaking squad of them?”

Ares shook his head. “There are three of us, so we’ll allow no more than three of them. Cara will be with us, and I can’t risk her safety.”

“How will they get there?”

“That’s Reaver’s problem.” Ares flipped on the blender.

“I still think this is a mistake,” Limos said, after the noise stopped.

“Li, we’ve been searching for your agimortus for thousands of years, with no success. If we haven’t found it by now, we never will. But The Aegis has assets we don’t. We don’t have a choice. Reseph has the backing of evil now, including their resources. If he finds your agimortus before we do—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. But I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, but—” A scream cut Ares off.

Cara. He tore off down the hall, Than and Li on his heels. He burst through the double doors into the bedroom, where Cara was sitting up in bed, her eyes wild, face drawn. Her fingers clutched the sheet so tightly to her chest that her knuckles were white.

“Ares,” she gasped, and then her mouth dropped open at the sight of Than, his sword in hand, and Li, who had armored up in her Croix viper-skin samurai-style tunic and breeches. Ares had, at some point, suited up as well, and his armor creaked as he strode across the room.

“These are my siblings.” Instinctively, Ares scanned every inch of the room before putting his back to the wall next to each window, where he peered out into the night. His Ramreels were standing at attention, undisturbed. “What happened?”

“Someone took Hal.” Cara inhaled raggedly. “They hurt him.”

Thanatos sheathed his weapon, the slice of a blade sliding into its housing cutting through the tension in the room. “Hal?”

“The hellhound she’s bonded to,” Ares explained, his voice as sharp as Than’s sword. “Who took him?”

Cara tugged the sheet up to her neck, her gaze darting between Thanatos and Limos. “There were six of them. Five men and a woman. He didn’t want to go. They jabbed him with spears… he was inside the cage and couldn’t get away.” A tear squeezed from her eye, and he had the absurd urge to wipe it away. It was a feeling he shouldn’t experience while wearing his armor, but being this close to Cara had turned the hard leather to supple doeskin, and emotions that would normally be blocked were annoyingly close to the surface.

“Can you tell us anything about what they looked like?” Than propped himself against the dresser, getting too comfy in the bedroom for Ares’s liking as he grilled Cara. “Their weapons? What they were wearing?”

Cara replied, but to Ares. “Jeans, mostly. Some were in leather. One had a crucifix and a bottle of liquid.”

“Holy water,” Ares muttered. “What else?”

She reached up to her throat, fingered where she’d been bleeding when Ares took her from the Guardians the other night. “They had the same weird, S-shaped things that cut me. They have blades on each end. One is gold, the other is silver.”

“Stangs,” Li snarled. “Aegis weapons. Fucking human scum.”

“Dammit,” Ares breathed. “Thanatos, talk to Reaver and set up that meeting with the Aegi now. We’re going to get some answers, and we’re going to get that damned hellhound away from them before they kill it.”

Limos’s amethyst eyes glittered. “They won’t kill it right away. They’ll experiment on it first.”

“And I’ll weaken while they do it.” Cara’s eyes lifted and clung to his until he felt as if he was drowning in them. Willingly, the way a human male could be lured to his death by a water nymph. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.” He could sugarcoat the rest, but she already knew. And he’d never sugarcoated anything in his life. “You’ll weaken until you die and trigger the end of the damned world.”

You’ll weaken until you die and trigger the end of the damned world.

Cara wondered how many times she’d have to hear that before it truly sank in that the fate of mankind rested with her.

Blindly, she reached for Ares’s hand, not knowing fully why. Maybe because the guy with the pale yellow, hawklike eyes and an eyebrow piercing was staring at her and the raven-haired, violet-eyed woman had snarled about human scum, and right now Ares was the only ally she had.

If he could truly be called an ally.

She slid covert glances at the newcomers. The guy wasn’t as broad in the shoulders as Ares, a little slimmer all over, and his hair was much lighter and longer, but the similarities in the commanding way they held themselves, their angular features, and their intense expressions were striking. The girl was one of those women Cara had always hated; flawless skin, long, black lashes framing stunning eyes, and drop-dead gorgeous without a touch of makeup.

“So this is your brother? And sister?” Another Horseman And a… Horsewoman?

“That’s Thanatos.” Ares gestured to Yellow Eyes. “The female is Limos. They won’t hurt you.” Reaching down, he tugged the sheet up to cover her exposed chest. He shot a glance at his brother and sister. “Could we get a minute?” He sounded irritated, which was nothing new, Cara supposed.

“Yeah.” Thanatos eyed her, and she suddenly felt very naked under the sheet. A growl-like noise rumbled out of his throat, and his voice went deeper. Rougher. “I need to… go. I’ll summon Reaver.”

“And I need to pack a few things if I’m going to babysit your human.” Limos adjusted the flower in her hair, and with a swipe of her fingers over her throat, the armor disappeared, leaving her in shorts, flip-flops, and a Hawaiian print top.

This situation just kept getting weirder and weirder. Strangely, Cara wasn’t freaked out by things that would have had her hyperventilating a couple of days ago. Just yesterday, actually.

A moment later, she and Ares were alone, and she peered around the sparsely decorated bedroom. “How did I get here? I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“I gave you a mild sedative.”

Mild? It felt more like he’d clobbered her with a bottle of whiskey. She rubbed her eyes, but it did little to clear away the sleep-haze. She realized she was still holding his hand, but she didn’t let go. In fact, she squeezed harder, needing an anchor. He stood there, looking vaguely confused, as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. He might still be a virtual stranger to her, but he was the most familiar thing around.

“For being here.” Idly, she smoothed her thumb over his. His hands were so rough, and yet, for all the times he’d manhandled her, he’d never hurt her. “Your brother and sister scare me.”

“They should.”

She sighed. “You really aren’t very good at giving comfort, are you?”

“I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid.” His tone was completely void of sympathy.

“No kidding,” she mumbled. “So why do they hate me? Your brother and sister.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Right,” she said dryly, as she studied a scar in the web between his thumb and forefinger. How odd. If he was immortal, why would he have scars? “I must have slept through the warm hugs.”

Ares peeled her hand away and stepped back, flexing his fingers as though trying to rid them of her touch. “They don’t trust you. You’re human. Easily corrupted and brainwashed. Weak of mind and body.”

Weak. The word was a spear through the heart, completely obliterating the mild annoyance at the reminder that she’d been drugged without her knowledge. She’d been weak once, but she’d spent two years building herself back up. Therapy. Weightlifting. Self-defense classes. Not that any of her training had come in handy when she’d been attacked by the demon-slayer people. Fear had taken over, and in the midst of the terror, she’d forgotten most of what she’d learned about self-defense.

Well, she remembered now.

The mark between her breasts throbbed as she swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood, not caring that her pajama top had fallen open. “I might not be some sort of biblical legend warrior guy, but I’m not completely helpless.”

“Against the beings in my world, you are.” His gaze raked her, pausing a little too long on her chest, and a sound broke from his lips, a whispered curse, she thought. “So you’ll listen to me and do what I say.”

“So that’s it? You drag me to your island, drug me, shove me in a room, and hold me prisoner?”

“That about sums it up.” He pivoted on his heel and started toward the door. “Go back to sleep so you can contact your hell mutt. We need to find out where The Aegis took him.”

Oh, no. She would not be held against her will again. Fury and frustration at her helplessness, her situation, and Ares made something inside her snap, and she launched herself. He spun and caught her easily as she struck out, and in a heartbeat, she found herself backed into the wall, his body pinning her, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other cupping her chin so she couldn’t so much as turn her head.

“I am the only thing standing between you and death,” he said through clenched teeth, “so I’d be a little more grateful if I were you.”

“Are you completely delusional?” She wriggled, but she might as well have been trying to move a boulder. “You want me to be grateful? Okay, how’s this? I’d be grateful if you’d find someone else to transfer this… this… agiwhatever to. I’d have been grateful if you had protected the fallen angel who had it so he didn’t need to give it to me. And I’d be really grateful if you released me.” She struggled more, and this time, his big arms bucked under her struggles, and after a brief flash of surprise in his expression, his grip grew firmer.

“Listen to me carefully, Cara.” His voice had gone quiet. Chillingly quiet. “Don’t ever use violence against me. Violence… excites me. You do not want to be part of that.”

His dark gaze narrowed, his jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought she’d gone too far. After all, she didn’t know anything about the Horsemen beyond what she’d seen in the movies, read in books, or heard in Bible school so many years ago, and none of it was very flattering. Her heart pounded as her anxiety level rose, and then a subtle shift in his expression made her heart pound for a different reason.

He’d softened. Even his grip had loosened, and yet, he somehow had gotten closer. The brand between her breasts drummed, and as she studied the pulsing vein in his temple, it occurred to her that the rhythm was the same as her own.

She became achingly aware of a dozen different sensations, including erotic energy radiating off him, and though the room was already warm, his weight, his heat… sent a fluid surge of lust to her very center.

And his mouth… she remembered putting her lips on him. Yes… when they’d been in the room with the ram-demon thing. They’d been talking, she’d had some water, and then… then she’d felt funny. A sudden clarity made her pulse roar in her ears.

“You said you put a sedative in the water!”

“I did.”

“Then why did it make me…” Heat blasted her cheeks.

“Horny?” he finished. “Orc-weed is an aphrodisiac for some species. For others, like humans, it’s a sedative. For you, apparently, it’s both.”

“Oh, isn’t that wonderful,” she snapped. “And you keep this date-rape drug handy… why?” Probably not the smartest thing to say to a man who was three times her size, and whose name was War, but she was tired of being a victim. Of being helpless. Helpless…“Oh, my God, you didn’t—”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, and was it wrong to notice again how good he smelled? Like leather and horse, warm sand and rich spice. “I wouldn’t have had to. You molested me on your own.”

“Because you drugged me!”

He shrugged, a slow roll of one massive shoulder. “Would have happened eventually. Females always yield to me.”

Yield? What. A. Jerk. “Female what? Demons?”

His thumb stroked her cheek, and she hated herself for liking it. “I prefer human females, but—” He gnashed his teeth so hard she heard the crack.

“But, what?” she pressed. “They’re too smart to put up with your crap?”

“I make them combative.”

“Well, gee, with your personality, I can’t imagine why that would be.”

Something sad flickered in his expression, but then it was gone, replaced by that ruthless cruelty again. “It’s my curse. When I’m around humans, they want to fight.”

She squirmed in his grip. “You think?”

His smile was both sensual and wicked. “This is normal fighting. You seem to be immune to my effect.”

“Really? Because you seriously piss me off.” He did other things to her, too, things he shouldn’t, but it seemed that when it came to him, her body and brain were divorced.

“Yeah. Really.” Amusement glittered in his eyes. “If you weren’t immune, you’d be insanely pissed for no reason, and you wouldn’t have any moments of rational thought.”

She wasn’t feeling very rational right now, that was for sure. “Am I the only human who isn’t affected? Is it because of the agimoney thing?” The mark grew hotter, and an intense energy spread over her skin and seeped into her veins, where it seemed to circulate through her entire body.

“Agimortus. And yes. Though Guardians are immune as well. They wear enchanted jewelry to ease the effect. I’m the reason they started enchanting their bling in the first place.”

He seemed proud of that. “Good for you.” She frowned, remembering how she’d thrown Sestiel across the York street so easily. “What else does the agitatus do that I should know about?” Yes, she knew she was pronouncing it wrong, but she was out of her element, and she wanted to have control over something, even if it was one little word.

“Nothing.”

“Is it possible that it could somehow make me stronger?”

“Why?”

“Because… I can’t really explain it, but I feel like I could lift an extra hundred pounds.”

His face darkened. “It’s killing you, so if anything, you should be weaker.”

God, how she hated that word. “Well, I’m not weaker. Now, tell me if there’s another way I can get rid of it besides transferring it to an angel.”

“There isn’t a way.”

“Do you have a computer? Books?”

He regarded her as if it was a trick question. “Why?”

“It’s called research, ancient biblical legend guy. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing. Maybe there’s something you’ve overlooked about getting rid of the agithing and getting unbonded to hellhounds.”

One eyebrow crawled up his forehead. “On the internet?”

She sniffed. “You can Google anything.” She ignored his snort. “Can you release me now?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned into her, and whoa… he had an erection to go with that low, husky voice. Her brain wasn’t sure if she should be seriously nervous or seriously aroused, but her body had made up its mind. Heat built between her thighs, her breasts tightened, and her breath quickened. “Will you promise to do what I say? Because here’s the thing. You die, the world ends. You listen to me from here on out, because you’re nothing but a… a—” He scowled as if searching for the right word, and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a snarl. “A pawn. You’re nothing but a pawn in this game, and I play to win.”

A pawn? A goddamned pawn? So much for the arousal. She’d concede that she needed him, and that without him, she was lost in this world. But, according to him, she was, right now, the most important human on the planet.

“I’ll listen to you, but you need to treat me with a little respect. Because it doesn’t sound like I’m a pawn. Sounds like I’m more of a queen.” A vein in his temple began to throb, and she grew bolder, the sense of power emanating from the mark on her chest filling her with the mettle she’d lost after the break-in two years ago. Lowering her voice to a tense whisper, she nipped his earlobe. “Checkmate.”