Immortal Rider
Page 40
“That if she got pregnant, the child would save the world.”
She patted the sofa next to her, and he sank down onto the velvety cushion. “And you’re certain she slept with him.”
“Yes.” As he’d been battling his brother, Than had confirmed it.
“You’re responsible for this.” Thanatos’s blade caught Pestilence in the ear, slicing it in half. “You convinced the Aegi to f**k me.”
Conquest lunged, paying Than back by ripping off a piece of Styx’s ear. “Was it good, Than? Was it worth waiting five thousand years for?”
Thanatos’s eyes had filled wihad fillth pain that had nearly given Pestilence an orgasm right there. He loved his siblings’ suffering. “Yes.”
“Did her womb quicken?” Lilith asked.
He shrugged. “Probably. Harvester says there’s still hope, but—” He broke off on a harsh breath. Hope. “The child. The child is our hope. The prophecy isn’t about Than’s virginity, his innocence. It’s about his innocent. A child.” Harvester, that sneaky angel, had known, hadn’t she? While she couldn’t help directly, she’d done it through the suggestion about the scroll. Now he felt a little bad about everything he’d done to her.
Okay, no, he didn’t.
“Brilliant.” Lilith palmed his thigh, her eyes, so like Limos’s, bright with excitement. “The child is the key to his Seal.”
Smiling, Pestilence fell back against the cushions and got rid of his armor. His mind was always clearest when he was na**d. Clearer yet when he was coming.
And as mouths and hands covered his body, plans formed. When the first orgasm hit him, he knew what he had to do. He had to get his hands on that child.
That tender, sweet-fleshed child.
Thirty-three
The second Pestilence left her residence, Harvester’s knees failed. She hit the floor in a crack of kneecaps, and a heartbeat later, Reaver did the same, falling into a bloody heap. Though she was shaken, her muscles mush, she scrambled over to him.
Leave her alone.
Pestilence had stomped Reaver into hamburger, had caused enough damage that it would take days for him to recover. And yet, Reaver had found the strength to not only speak through the broken bones in his face, but to summon the last of his heavenly reserves, the tiny bit of power left in the stumps that used to be his wings, and he’d become a force to be reckoned with.
He’d protected her for some reason, and the shriveled black lump of coal that used to be her heart cracked. Just a little, no more than a tiny stress fracture, but still.
“Reaver?”
He groaned, a sound of soul-deep misery.
“Whine!” The werewolf hurried inside. “Marrow wine. Hurry.”
It wouldn’t help Reaver heal, but it would, at least, make his pain tolerable. Especially since, as per orders, she’d forced it down him often, creating an addiction that would render him all but useless as the end of days approached, and now he took it freely, craving it the way an opium addict chased the dragon.
The werewolf brought a bottle to her, and she lifted Reaver’s head, cradling it in her palm as she lifted the rim to his lips. “Here,” she murmured, wincing whven most of the liquid dribbled out the corner of his mouth.
He was too weak to drink, dammit. In this state, this far out of reach of the source of his heavenly powers, he could fall into what would amount to a coma. He would languish in that coma until someone carried him out of Sheoul, which meant he could be stuck here for all eternity if she—or anyone else—wished it.
“Come on, Reaver. Drink, damn you.” When he didn’t move, she turned to Whine. “Bring me some sugar. Honey if we have it. And a cup and spoon.”
Whine brought her back a small pot of honey, and she mixed a spoonful into the cup with the marrow wine. Angels were like hummingbirds, able to manufacture small amounts of life-giving energy from sugar. Taking his head again, she tilted his face upward and poured a little of the mixture into his mouth. This time, as it trickled into his throat, he swallowed.
“Good,” she whispered. “A little more.”
He drank, and before the full amount was gone, he’d gained enough energy to raise his head and hold her hand in place as he drank greedily.
“Master,” Whine said, and she was so grateful for Reaver’s reaction that she didn’t snap at her slave for speaking out of turn.
“What?”
“A message came while the Horseman was here.” He handed her a scroll—made from human skin.
She broke the seal with her teeth and allowed it to unroll. Reaver could go free. Relief washed over her. She’d hated having him here, hated the scorching glares he gave her, hated how he reminded her of what she’d lost.
His hand tightened on hers, and his eyes, which had been bloodshot, hazy with pain, brightened a little. The sugar was working, and as the aphrodisiac effects of the wine took hold, the blue of his eyes turned sensual, like a warm sea in the moonlight.
She sucked in a shocked breath; this was the first time she’d truly seen him as a sexual being. Oh, she’d appreciated him as a gorgeous male whose presence all but blotted out the sun. But now, whoa. His body hardened as the ecstasy took him, his head fell back, and his body arched. At his hips, a massive erection tented the seam of what remained of his tattered slacks.
Her own body heated as she watched him writhe in the kind of orgasm only the demon wine could deliver. Well, that wasn’t true… on the Other Side, in Heaven, the mating of two souls was like that. The Marrow wine had originally been created to simulate what fallen angels had lost when they were booted out of Heaven, and yes, it came close, was the second most incredible thing one could experience.
Her fingers itched to touch him, and she found herself reaching for his thick arousal. She just wanted to stroke it a little. She wanted to trace the outline against the fly of his pants, maybe slide the pad of her thumb over the tip, since it was nearly peeking out from under his waistband.
Liquid lust seeped between her legs, and Whine growled low in his throat, scenting her arousal and sparking his own. He hais own. d been there for her when she needed blood, sex, and someone to buffer her anger. At times she treated him harshly, but that was what was expected of her, and if she did any less, both Whine and she would pay dearly.
“Go,” she said, and though he hesitated, he obeyed.
His nature wouldn’t allow him to go far or to pleasure himself until he’d received her permission, which meant that if she needed him later, he’d be ready and willing.
Reaver moaned, his lips parting, eyes closed as pleasure took him. His h*ps pushed up and pulled back, a pumping motion controlling his body, and wetness began to spread along the fly of his pants as he came over and over.
He was beautiful.
Leave her alone. He’d saved her. He could have remained silent, let Pestilence violate her, torture her, but Reaver had risked his own safety. The knowledge rippled through her in a wave of gratitude that melded with her lust, and she lunged, prepared to take him in her hand—
His fingers snapped up to snare her wrist just before she touched his arousal. Gasping, she shifted her gaze to his face, where pleasure had etched itself into the set of his parted lips, his drowsy lids, his flushed skin. But behind all that were his sapphire irises, which glowed like hot coals.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for coming to my aid.”
“No female should suffer that.” A twisted smile curved his lips. “But I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Reseph.” His fingers closed so tightly around her arm that she cried out, feeling the bones in her wrist cracking. “You… the first chance I get… I’m going to kill.”
Thanatos stepped out of the Harrowgate in front of Ares’s house and dialed Limos on his cell. “Be at my Greenland Harrowgate in five minutes. And bring Arik.”
He was going to find out if Limos’s new husband had any knowledge of what Regan had planned. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised, given Limos’s revelations. Maybe she’d married someone as devious as she was.
Except… Thanatos was having a hard time holding onto that anger. He’d been pissed when she’d first admitted her deceptions, but he knew her too well to believe she didn’t regret her past. And if he could believe Reseph could be saved, then how could he forsake Limos?
Arik, however, was another story. Thanatos had wanted to believe in the human, but if he was in league with Regan…
Limos’s voice buzzed over the airwaves. “Than, I can’t. I’m just getting ready to take Arik to the R-XR—”
“Bring him!” In a fit of rage, he disconnected by hurling the phone against a stone pillar that rose up like a sentinel at the entrance to Ares’s garden. It exploded in a blast of plastic and electronic guts.
Dripping blood and melting snow, he stormed inhe stormto Ares’s house, only to be stopped by Ares’s chief Ramreel, Vulgrim. “My lord, you’re injured—”
“I know that,” he snapped. “Where’s Cara?”
“She’s… busy, sir.”
“Where’s Ares?”
Vulgrim cleared his throat. “Busy as well.”
Right. Than shoved past the demon and stalked to Ares’s bedroom, where he pounded on the door, leaving bloody smears on the white paint. “Open up!”
An erotic snarl echoed behind the wood. “Go away, Than.” Ares’s warning was loud and clear, but Than ignored it and slammed his fist into the door again.
“Styx is dying.”
There was a rustle of covers, thumps of feet on the floor, and more rustling. “One minute,” Cara called out.
Than paced, his muscles tense and twitching with a combination of worry over his horse, fury at his brother for attacking them, and intense hatred for Regan’s betrayal. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but they were all blending together in a caustic stew that threatened to release a shitstorm of violence. He wanted to kill. Destroy. Wreak havoc and kill, kill, kill. Only his concern for Styx kept him from going into a complete rampage, but he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen once the stallion was healed.
If the stallion died… he could guarantee that nothing would stop him.
Cara and Ares threw open the door and rushed out, Cara in jeans and sweatshirt, and Ares in armor. “What happened?”
“Our brother happened.” Than led them out of the house and gated them to the site of the battle.
Though he expected his stomach to turn over at the sight of Styx lying on the ice in a pool of blood like a harpooned whale, he hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. His horse had been injured before, gravely. But Pestilence and his stallion had delighted in making Styx scream, and Than swore he could feel the animal’s pain.
Another gate opened, the flash of golden light streaking out over what little snow hadn’t been spoiled by battle and blood. Limos and Arik stepped out, and if they were a happily married couple, Than would eat his Seal. They stood apart, Limos in turquoise jeans and a leather jacket, and Arik in military BDUs, a puffy green military-issue coat, and a weapons belt circling his hips.
“Dammit.” Cara sank next to the stallion, who was laboring to breathe.
Ares moved in front of Than, blocking his view. “What was the battle about?”
“I don’t know.” Than closed his eyes. “No, I know. He thought my Seal had broken, and when he realized it hadn’t, he went insane. He tried to kill Styx to hurt me.”
“Why would he think your Seal had broken?”
Kill. He breathed through the desire to go after every Guardian on the planet. “Because the f**king Aegis betrayed us, and he knew about it.”
“You aren’t making sense,” Ares said.
“Regan.” Just the name pissed him off, and he couldn’t stop the bloodthirsty growl that condensed in his throat. “She wasn’t sent to learn our history. She was sent to seduce me. She betrayed me. They betrayed all of us.” Anger singed his control as the caustic sludge that had been brewing spilled into his veins and ran like acid through them.
“Calm down, Than,” Limos said. “What are you talking about?”
“Regan.” Than started to pace in a futile attempt to outrun his rage. “That bitch!” He spun around to Arik. “What did you know about it, Aegi?” He got up in the human’s face. “Tell me!”
Arik’s expression shuttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’d appreciate it if you learned the definition of personal space.”
“Than.” Limos’s tone was the one she’d always used when she tried to bring Reseph down from a rare rage, but it wasn’t going to work with Thanatos, and he turned on her with a snarl.
“She f**king drugged me.” He needed to kill, and the souls in his armor screamed to be let loose. Soon. Very, very soon, he promised them.
Ares scowled. “When? With what?”
“After you left.” Than seethed at the memory. “She plied me with my favorite mead, spiked with something. Probably orc weed.”
“Oh, man.” Ares shoved his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get why you’re upset, but obviously, it didn’t work—”
“Yes, it did.”
Everyone froze. Everyone but Arik, who looked between them all, clearly confused.
Finally, Limos cleared her throat. “It couldn’t have.”
“I don’t get what’s going on. What’s orc weed?” Arik asked.
“It’s an aphrodisiac,” Limos replied. “Than, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She patted the sofa next to her, and he sank down onto the velvety cushion. “And you’re certain she slept with him.”
“Yes.” As he’d been battling his brother, Than had confirmed it.
“You’re responsible for this.” Thanatos’s blade caught Pestilence in the ear, slicing it in half. “You convinced the Aegi to f**k me.”
Conquest lunged, paying Than back by ripping off a piece of Styx’s ear. “Was it good, Than? Was it worth waiting five thousand years for?”
Thanatos’s eyes had filled wihad fillth pain that had nearly given Pestilence an orgasm right there. He loved his siblings’ suffering. “Yes.”
“Did her womb quicken?” Lilith asked.
He shrugged. “Probably. Harvester says there’s still hope, but—” He broke off on a harsh breath. Hope. “The child. The child is our hope. The prophecy isn’t about Than’s virginity, his innocence. It’s about his innocent. A child.” Harvester, that sneaky angel, had known, hadn’t she? While she couldn’t help directly, she’d done it through the suggestion about the scroll. Now he felt a little bad about everything he’d done to her.
Okay, no, he didn’t.
“Brilliant.” Lilith palmed his thigh, her eyes, so like Limos’s, bright with excitement. “The child is the key to his Seal.”
Smiling, Pestilence fell back against the cushions and got rid of his armor. His mind was always clearest when he was na**d. Clearer yet when he was coming.
And as mouths and hands covered his body, plans formed. When the first orgasm hit him, he knew what he had to do. He had to get his hands on that child.
That tender, sweet-fleshed child.
Thirty-three
The second Pestilence left her residence, Harvester’s knees failed. She hit the floor in a crack of kneecaps, and a heartbeat later, Reaver did the same, falling into a bloody heap. Though she was shaken, her muscles mush, she scrambled over to him.
Leave her alone.
Pestilence had stomped Reaver into hamburger, had caused enough damage that it would take days for him to recover. And yet, Reaver had found the strength to not only speak through the broken bones in his face, but to summon the last of his heavenly reserves, the tiny bit of power left in the stumps that used to be his wings, and he’d become a force to be reckoned with.
He’d protected her for some reason, and the shriveled black lump of coal that used to be her heart cracked. Just a little, no more than a tiny stress fracture, but still.
“Reaver?”
He groaned, a sound of soul-deep misery.
“Whine!” The werewolf hurried inside. “Marrow wine. Hurry.”
It wouldn’t help Reaver heal, but it would, at least, make his pain tolerable. Especially since, as per orders, she’d forced it down him often, creating an addiction that would render him all but useless as the end of days approached, and now he took it freely, craving it the way an opium addict chased the dragon.
The werewolf brought a bottle to her, and she lifted Reaver’s head, cradling it in her palm as she lifted the rim to his lips. “Here,” she murmured, wincing whven most of the liquid dribbled out the corner of his mouth.
He was too weak to drink, dammit. In this state, this far out of reach of the source of his heavenly powers, he could fall into what would amount to a coma. He would languish in that coma until someone carried him out of Sheoul, which meant he could be stuck here for all eternity if she—or anyone else—wished it.
“Come on, Reaver. Drink, damn you.” When he didn’t move, she turned to Whine. “Bring me some sugar. Honey if we have it. And a cup and spoon.”
Whine brought her back a small pot of honey, and she mixed a spoonful into the cup with the marrow wine. Angels were like hummingbirds, able to manufacture small amounts of life-giving energy from sugar. Taking his head again, she tilted his face upward and poured a little of the mixture into his mouth. This time, as it trickled into his throat, he swallowed.
“Good,” she whispered. “A little more.”
He drank, and before the full amount was gone, he’d gained enough energy to raise his head and hold her hand in place as he drank greedily.
“Master,” Whine said, and she was so grateful for Reaver’s reaction that she didn’t snap at her slave for speaking out of turn.
“What?”
“A message came while the Horseman was here.” He handed her a scroll—made from human skin.
She broke the seal with her teeth and allowed it to unroll. Reaver could go free. Relief washed over her. She’d hated having him here, hated the scorching glares he gave her, hated how he reminded her of what she’d lost.
His hand tightened on hers, and his eyes, which had been bloodshot, hazy with pain, brightened a little. The sugar was working, and as the aphrodisiac effects of the wine took hold, the blue of his eyes turned sensual, like a warm sea in the moonlight.
She sucked in a shocked breath; this was the first time she’d truly seen him as a sexual being. Oh, she’d appreciated him as a gorgeous male whose presence all but blotted out the sun. But now, whoa. His body hardened as the ecstasy took him, his head fell back, and his body arched. At his hips, a massive erection tented the seam of what remained of his tattered slacks.
Her own body heated as she watched him writhe in the kind of orgasm only the demon wine could deliver. Well, that wasn’t true… on the Other Side, in Heaven, the mating of two souls was like that. The Marrow wine had originally been created to simulate what fallen angels had lost when they were booted out of Heaven, and yes, it came close, was the second most incredible thing one could experience.
Her fingers itched to touch him, and she found herself reaching for his thick arousal. She just wanted to stroke it a little. She wanted to trace the outline against the fly of his pants, maybe slide the pad of her thumb over the tip, since it was nearly peeking out from under his waistband.
Liquid lust seeped between her legs, and Whine growled low in his throat, scenting her arousal and sparking his own. He hais own. d been there for her when she needed blood, sex, and someone to buffer her anger. At times she treated him harshly, but that was what was expected of her, and if she did any less, both Whine and she would pay dearly.
“Go,” she said, and though he hesitated, he obeyed.
His nature wouldn’t allow him to go far or to pleasure himself until he’d received her permission, which meant that if she needed him later, he’d be ready and willing.
Reaver moaned, his lips parting, eyes closed as pleasure took him. His h*ps pushed up and pulled back, a pumping motion controlling his body, and wetness began to spread along the fly of his pants as he came over and over.
He was beautiful.
Leave her alone. He’d saved her. He could have remained silent, let Pestilence violate her, torture her, but Reaver had risked his own safety. The knowledge rippled through her in a wave of gratitude that melded with her lust, and she lunged, prepared to take him in her hand—
His fingers snapped up to snare her wrist just before she touched his arousal. Gasping, she shifted her gaze to his face, where pleasure had etched itself into the set of his parted lips, his drowsy lids, his flushed skin. But behind all that were his sapphire irises, which glowed like hot coals.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for coming to my aid.”
“No female should suffer that.” A twisted smile curved his lips. “But I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Reseph.” His fingers closed so tightly around her arm that she cried out, feeling the bones in her wrist cracking. “You… the first chance I get… I’m going to kill.”
Thanatos stepped out of the Harrowgate in front of Ares’s house and dialed Limos on his cell. “Be at my Greenland Harrowgate in five minutes. And bring Arik.”
He was going to find out if Limos’s new husband had any knowledge of what Regan had planned. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised, given Limos’s revelations. Maybe she’d married someone as devious as she was.
Except… Thanatos was having a hard time holding onto that anger. He’d been pissed when she’d first admitted her deceptions, but he knew her too well to believe she didn’t regret her past. And if he could believe Reseph could be saved, then how could he forsake Limos?
Arik, however, was another story. Thanatos had wanted to believe in the human, but if he was in league with Regan…
Limos’s voice buzzed over the airwaves. “Than, I can’t. I’m just getting ready to take Arik to the R-XR—”
“Bring him!” In a fit of rage, he disconnected by hurling the phone against a stone pillar that rose up like a sentinel at the entrance to Ares’s garden. It exploded in a blast of plastic and electronic guts.
Dripping blood and melting snow, he stormed inhe stormto Ares’s house, only to be stopped by Ares’s chief Ramreel, Vulgrim. “My lord, you’re injured—”
“I know that,” he snapped. “Where’s Cara?”
“She’s… busy, sir.”
“Where’s Ares?”
Vulgrim cleared his throat. “Busy as well.”
Right. Than shoved past the demon and stalked to Ares’s bedroom, where he pounded on the door, leaving bloody smears on the white paint. “Open up!”
An erotic snarl echoed behind the wood. “Go away, Than.” Ares’s warning was loud and clear, but Than ignored it and slammed his fist into the door again.
“Styx is dying.”
There was a rustle of covers, thumps of feet on the floor, and more rustling. “One minute,” Cara called out.
Than paced, his muscles tense and twitching with a combination of worry over his horse, fury at his brother for attacking them, and intense hatred for Regan’s betrayal. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but they were all blending together in a caustic stew that threatened to release a shitstorm of violence. He wanted to kill. Destroy. Wreak havoc and kill, kill, kill. Only his concern for Styx kept him from going into a complete rampage, but he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen once the stallion was healed.
If the stallion died… he could guarantee that nothing would stop him.
Cara and Ares threw open the door and rushed out, Cara in jeans and sweatshirt, and Ares in armor. “What happened?”
“Our brother happened.” Than led them out of the house and gated them to the site of the battle.
Though he expected his stomach to turn over at the sight of Styx lying on the ice in a pool of blood like a harpooned whale, he hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. His horse had been injured before, gravely. But Pestilence and his stallion had delighted in making Styx scream, and Than swore he could feel the animal’s pain.
Another gate opened, the flash of golden light streaking out over what little snow hadn’t been spoiled by battle and blood. Limos and Arik stepped out, and if they were a happily married couple, Than would eat his Seal. They stood apart, Limos in turquoise jeans and a leather jacket, and Arik in military BDUs, a puffy green military-issue coat, and a weapons belt circling his hips.
“Dammit.” Cara sank next to the stallion, who was laboring to breathe.
Ares moved in front of Than, blocking his view. “What was the battle about?”
“I don’t know.” Than closed his eyes. “No, I know. He thought my Seal had broken, and when he realized it hadn’t, he went insane. He tried to kill Styx to hurt me.”
“Why would he think your Seal had broken?”
Kill. He breathed through the desire to go after every Guardian on the planet. “Because the f**king Aegis betrayed us, and he knew about it.”
“You aren’t making sense,” Ares said.
“Regan.” Just the name pissed him off, and he couldn’t stop the bloodthirsty growl that condensed in his throat. “She wasn’t sent to learn our history. She was sent to seduce me. She betrayed me. They betrayed all of us.” Anger singed his control as the caustic sludge that had been brewing spilled into his veins and ran like acid through them.
“Calm down, Than,” Limos said. “What are you talking about?”
“Regan.” Than started to pace in a futile attempt to outrun his rage. “That bitch!” He spun around to Arik. “What did you know about it, Aegi?” He got up in the human’s face. “Tell me!”
Arik’s expression shuttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’d appreciate it if you learned the definition of personal space.”
“Than.” Limos’s tone was the one she’d always used when she tried to bring Reseph down from a rare rage, but it wasn’t going to work with Thanatos, and he turned on her with a snarl.
“She f**king drugged me.” He needed to kill, and the souls in his armor screamed to be let loose. Soon. Very, very soon, he promised them.
Ares scowled. “When? With what?”
“After you left.” Than seethed at the memory. “She plied me with my favorite mead, spiked with something. Probably orc weed.”
“Oh, man.” Ares shoved his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get why you’re upset, but obviously, it didn’t work—”
“Yes, it did.”
Everyone froze. Everyone but Arik, who looked between them all, clearly confused.
Finally, Limos cleared her throat. “It couldn’t have.”
“I don’t get what’s going on. What’s orc weed?” Arik asked.
“It’s an aphrodisiac,” Limos replied. “Than, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
