Lethal Rider

by Larissa Ione

  “Are we really going to do this again?” Thanatos shifted slightly, making the tattoos on his bare chest writhe. They were amazing … layered on top of each other and yet each distinct. They’d been taken from his thoughts by a demon who imbued each with emotions so powerful that Regan hardly needed to use her psychometric gift to read them. Although when she’d used her tongue on them that once, all she’d felt was lust, and the memory dried her mouth so thoroughly she might as well have gargled with sand. “I told you what was going to happen.”

  She had to clear her throat to speak. “Because I owe you.”

  “Yes.”

  That he was right sat like a stain on her soul, and there was nothing she could do about it but snag the maternity nightgown out of the bag of clothes Limos had brought her, return to the bathroom, and throw it on. When she emerged, Than was in the same position, his eyes predatory, tracking her as she flipped off the light and used the dim glow of the embers in the hearth to guide her to the bed. The moment she climbed onto the mattress, his fingers circled her wrist.

  “You ready? Not that it matters.” His voice, sensual and as rich as dark chocolate, made her stomach clench with hunger that had nothing to do with food.

  “You really aren’t going to give up on this, are you?”

  “One thing you might as well learn about me now, considering you’ll be here for a while, is that I’m stubborn as hell and I never give up. In a contest of wills, I’ll win every time, Regan.”

  “Why?” she asked bitterly. “Because you’re a man and I’m a mere woman?”

  His fingers tightened on her wrist. “Have I ever given you the impression that I’m misogynistic?”

  Actually, no, he hadn’t. The whole “males must be better than females” shit was Regan’s issue, not Than’s. She’d had to fight for everything she got in The Aegis, including her spot in the Sigil, which had been a Males Only club for most of its existence.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no,” Than said. “So ask me again why I’ll win a battle of wills.”

  “Fine.” She jammed her feet under the covers. “Why?”

  “Because I’m immortal and you’re a mere human. I have an eternity to out-stubborn you.”

  “Oh, good. So it’s not the fact that I’m a woman that makes you feel superior—it’s the fact that I’m a human. I knew something mere would come into play.”

  She felt his amusement more than saw it. “You’re stalling.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He dragged her hand across the space between them and laid it on his crotch. “I’ll give you an out, Regan. All you have to do is ask me not to do this.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “That was a demand,” he said, his voice rough and dark. “I said ask. Very nicely.”

  A chill settled over her skin despite the roaring fire. “Beg, you mean.”

  When he didn’t reply, her first instinct was to yank her hand away, but her second, stronger instinct was to leave it there.

  He wasn’t hard.

  The realization… bothered her. Why would he want this so badly if he wasn’t turned on? Was it truly only to punish her? To get even? To have the satisfaction of hearing her plead?

  Following her first inclination, she started to pull away. Than’s grip loosened and his amusement washed over her again. He’d expected her to refuse, and by refusing, she’d play right into his hand—or her hand, as it were. He’d have more ammo to use against her, more reasons to make jabs about her sleeping with him only because it had been her job.

  No way. It was time for an injection of steel into her spine, and it was time for this Horseman to learn a little about expectations.

  She cupped him firmly, and to her amusement, his air of amusement left him. And when she began a slow, sensual massage, his entire body stiffened. Beneath her palm, his cock swelled.

  Ha! She supposed she shouldn’t feel too victorious—what man wouldn’t get hard if a woman was stroking him like this?

  Shifting onto one elbow, she unzipped his fly, and as his erection sprang out, he snared her wrist.

  “What are you doing?”

  She gripped him, and he hissed a breath through his teeth. “What you want me to do.” Feeling a measure of control she’d so badly needed, she slid her hand down his length, loving the velvety smoothness of his skin. “Seems to me you gave me a choice. Pleasure you or beg. I don’t beg.”

  She also didn’t know how far she could take this. If he wanted her to mount him the way she had that night… she suddenly couldn’t breathe. And yet, her hand was still moving, more evidence that her mind was very much divorced from her body when it came to this man.

  His groan rumbled through the darkness. “Regan…” His voice was tortured, the sound so deep and male that it eased her anxiety about full-on sex. Maybe this would be enough for him for now. She hoped so, because she couldn’t go any further, not with those memories lurking so painfully in her mind.

  He was so hot in her palm, steel and silk, and she took her time sliding her grip from the thick base to the broad head. Each stroke brought a raspy breath and a slow, seeking churn of his hips. Maybe this would be a step in the right direction for them. There had been so much hurt between them, and they could both use a positive encounter to begin to balance the negatives.

  She stole a glance at him, and in the fading halo of orange firelight, he was magnificent. Shadows created hard lines along his jaw and cheekbones while the light accented his full, lush lips as they parted to release a harsh breath. His lust-glazed eyes watched her with such intensity that heat licked her everywhere his fevered gaze came to rest on her body.

  A bead of moisture formed at the slit in his penis, and when she swiped her thumb through it and smoothed it over the cap, his lips parted more, revealing hints of glinting teeth. A sound escaped him—a low, desperate gasp that brought a thrill of excitement to her heart.

  Gently, she squeezed his shaft, eliciting another gasp of pleasure. More. She wanted more from him. This might have started as a power play between them, but now … oh, this was delicious.

  She pumped her fist down the length of him, to the broad base where the edge of her hand hit his zipper, then back up to the firm tip of the head. When she moved her hand down again, she worked her fingers to caress his sac, and he groaned. The sound of a male in ecstasy sent a visceral ache straight to her core, and wetness bloomed between her legs.

  She brought her hand back up, squeezing firmly and using her thumb to rub slow circles on the sensitive skin just under the head.

  “Stop.” Than caught her forearm and stilled her movements. “I’m going to come.”

  “Isn’t that the point of this?”

  He reached out, and she could have sworn his hand trembled as he lightly touched her face. “What do you want?”

  Was this a trick question? Would he refuse whatever she said? If that was his game, she supposed she could play.

  “I want to finish you,” she said, daring him to refuse this. “I always finish what I start.”

  His yellow eyes drilled into her, and he dropped his hand from her cheek. “Yes, you do, don’t you. No matter the consequences.”

  Ouch. Again. He was full of venom tonight. Unexpectedly stung, she averted her gaze, refusing to let him see how his words affected her. More roughly than she intended, she went back to stroking him. As if she’d struck a match to gasoline, he let out a hoarse cry and arched into her grip.

  His head punched back and his entire body strained with leashed power as she took the cue and pumped her fist harder, faster. He liked it rough, she thought, and for some reason, that knowledge made her dizzy with want. She crowded closer to him, desperate for more contact.

  “Regan,” he gasped. “I’m going to—” He broke off with a guttural shout as his body convulsed and wet, hot spurts splashed over her hand and onto his stomach.

  She kept up the hand action until he stopped her by putt
ing his hand over hers. For several heartbeats, he lay there, eyes closed and his fingers stroking her skin. The darkness between them settled into a comfortable calm, even though her heart was beating a mile a minute and her feminine parts coiled tight with unquenched desire.

  An odd pang in her gut unnerved her, coming so quickly on top of the arousal. The pang intensified, and the desire coursing through her shifted. Her stomach churned, and a burning sensation spread up her torso. She sat up with a wince as a massive cramp tore through her midsection.

  “Oh, no.” Thanatos grabbed her wrist as an oily, malevolent agony swamped her body, locking her muscles and turning every nerve ending into a live wire. “You aren’t running away from me again. I didn’t threaten to break your neck this time. Not until the eight and a half months are over, anyway.”

  There was a teasing note in his voice, but now was definitely not the time for that. Nausea bubbled up in her throat and icy sweat broke out over her skin.

  “Let me go,” she whispered. Blades of molten steel stabbed her in the eyes, blurring her vision so badly that Thanatos’s face became nothing but a smudge.

  “Why?”

  Bile soured her mouth. “Because I think…” She cried out as a lightning bolt of searing, twisting pain shot through her spine. “Oh, God, I think I’m dying.”

  Dying?

  “Regan!” Than leaped out of bed, catching Regan as she tumbled off the mattress.

  “Bathroom,” she gasped.

  He scooped her up and got her to the toilet just in time for her dinner to come back up.

  Her entire body shook, and her skin was hot and slick with sweat. She moaned between sharp, labored breaths as she braced herself over the toilet seat, her trembling arms threatening to collapse. A drop of blood plunked from her nose onto the toilet seat.

  Fuck. He went down on his heels next to her and swept her silky hair away from her face. “I’ll get help. Just … stay here.”

  Stay here? Where else was she going to go? Dolt.

  It took him five seconds to get to his cell phone and dial Underworld General, five more to bark into the phone that he needed Eidolon, and another five to get back to Regan who, in that fifteen seconds, had slid to the floor and was curled up in a ball.

  Shivers racked her body, made worse by her labored breaths. A rare terror made his motions jerky and he tore a blanket off the bed and wrapped her in it, which wasn’t easy, since she’d stiffened up as if her muscles had turned to cement.

  Feeling way too helpless, he sank down on the floor and dragged her into his lap, holding her to his chest to brace against the tremors. “Can you talk to me?” She was burning up, fire on his palm. “Hey, I need you to say something.” If she didn’t, he’d scream. Jesus, he was terrified.

  “Hurts…” Her spine bent impossibly back as she seized and cried out.

  “Is it the baby?”

  “No,” she gasped, and then scrambled away from him to vomit again. When she was finished, she collapsed, and he caught her, drawing her back against him.

  What the hell was this? A sudden flu? Or a pregnancy thing? He ran a massive list through his head, but as an ominous webbing of blue veins began to spread across her waxy skin and black splotches bloomed under her fingernails, he knew this was way out of his frame of knowledge.

  By the time Eidolon and a blond vampire medic arrived, Than hadn’t come up with anything that made him feel any better about this. All he knew was that she was in pain, and he’d do anything to change places with her.

  Eidolon, dressed in wrinkled scrubs that spoke of nonstop work shifts, tossed his medic bag on the floor and kneeled next to Regan. “What’s going on?”

  Regan tried to answer, but her teeth were chattering too hard to speak, so Than did it for her. “She said she was dying, and the next thing I knew, she was throwing up. She’s hurting and burning up, Doc.” He seized the demon’s wrist. “Help her.”

  Fear and desperation made his plea a command, but the doctor took it in stride, the markings on his arm—glyphs known as a dermoire—began to glow as he summoned his healing power.

  “I’m going to attempt to touch her. Shade warned me, but I’ve got to try. I brought Con in case.” The demon gripped Regan’s shoulder, and a split-second later, he exploded backward, landing in an awkward heap against the bathtub. “Son of a… fuck.” Groaning, he sat up as Con took his place at Regan’s side.

  “When did her breathing become labored?” Con asked.

  “Right after she threw up the first time.”

  Con nodded. “I’m going to take her pulse—” The vampire didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t even get more than a finger on her wrist before he joined Eidolon next to the tub. “Guess not,” he croaked.

  “Dammit,” Than breathed. Regan had said Peter, a nightwalker, hadn’t been able to withstand contact with her, either. He’d hoped Peter had been an isolated incident, but once it got out that only Than and the daywalkers could touch Regan, there would be questions he couldn’t answer. At least, he couldn’t answer them with the truth.

  Eidolon rubbed his shoulder and moved closer. “The raised veins, discolored fingernails, and nasal bleeding are indicative of a demon poisoning. Is it possible she ingested something? If so, we need to find out what. I have antidotes for most demon toxins, but we need to act fast.”

  “No one in my household would poison her.” Than closed his eyes, his denial sounding childishly vehement. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to think one of his vampires could have done this, but he also couldn’t waste time with denials.

  Nor would he deny that if someone did poison her, they’d suffer in ways that would make the horrors of Sheoul-gra look like amusement park rides.

  “She could have eaten something at dinner …” He trailed off, wondering why he wasn’t sick. Granted, poison didn’t affect him the way it did mortals, but he should still feel a twinge of discomfort. Unless…“The chocolate mousse. It was the only thing she ate that I didn’t at least taste.” Rage coiled like a venomous snake inside him, but as murderously pissed as he was, he gently eased her off of him.

  “Hurry, Horseman,” Eidolon said, his voice quiet but grave. “She and the baby are both in danger if I can’t touch her to help.”

  “Save… the baby.” Regan’s raspy voice was barely audible.

  “We will.” Than shoved to his feet, hating that he had to leave her. “We’ll save you both.”

  Regan peered up at him with dull, unfocused eyes, her beautiful brown hair fanning like spilled blood on the tiles. “Kill me. If I’m dead, you can get the baby out to help him.”

  She was serious. Dear… God, she really wanted him to kill her. “It won’t come to that,” he croaked. “Just hold on, Regan. Damn you, hold on.” He raced out of the room and into the kitchen, a black, inky fury pumping out of his very pores.

  The vampires scattered before the storm cloud of souls billowing around him. “Who made the chocolate mousse?” When several vamps exchanged wary glances, he fucking lost it, grabbing two of them by the throats and slamming them so hard into the wall that bits of stone rained down to the floor. “Who?”

  “Dariq,” one of them gasped.

  Than dropped them, whirling to Dariq, who had gone sheet-white and was slinking toward the door. Before Than could pounce, Dariq darted out of the kitchen.

  Snarling, Than produced his scythe and in one smooth movement, hurled it across the great room. Dariq dove for the front door, but the weapon caught him between the shoulder blades and pinned him to the wood.

  “What was in the mousse, Dariq?” Than crossed the room, aware that every vampire eye in the house was on him. He caught the scythe handle, but instead of yanking the blade free, he twisted it, reveling in the vampire’s scream. “Tell me, or the next thing I do with this blade is castrate you.” Actually, that was going to happen anyway, at some point.

  Dariq hissed, spitting blood. “Neethul mucosa.”

  Thanatos’s chest w
ent cold. That shit was fatal within minutes for most creatures. Than whipped his head around to Artur. “Tell Eidolon. Hurry!” Artur took off in a blur, and Than returned his attention to Dariq. “Why? Who else is involved?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Than watched for a reaction from the spectators, but so far, no one seemed unduly concerned that they’d be outted.

  “Not…saying anything…else,” Dariq growled, and he was so wrong about that.

  Than shoved his fist right through the male’s back and palmed a wet, smooth kidney. The organ no longer worked in the capacity it had when Dariq was human, but it still was a massive source of pain.

  “You will tell me, vampire. If I have to spend the next month doing nothing but making you scream, I will.” Thanatos squeezed the organ so hard his fingers punctured the slippery surface.

  Dariq’s shriek echoed off the castle walls, and the scent of his blood had Than’s fangs punching down like knives.

  “Tell me.”

  “F-uck…you.”

  Than leaned in close, so close his breath condensed on the vampire’s ear. “That’s fuck you, Bludrexe.” He ripped out the organ, relishing Dariq’s agonized bleats. Before the male even stopped making noise, Than dragged him down to the dungeon and hurled him into the cell Than had once intended for Regan. Now to get some answers—

  “Thanatos!” Artur leaped down the steps, landing in a lithe crouch at the base. “The doctor needs you. Hurry.”

  Shit. He slammed the cell shut and jabbed his finger at Dariq. “I’ll be back, and I promise you’ll spill your guts. Or I’ll do it for you.”

  Leaving the vampire sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood, Than sprinted to his bedroom, where Eidolon was filling a syringe. The doctor looked up as Than skidded to a halt at Regan’s side. She was pale, so pale. Even her lips were winter white, tinged with ice blue.

  “Just in time. This antidote, when it works, works in seconds. When it doesn’t work, it prolongs the inevitable.” Eidolon thrust the syringe and a rubber tourniquet in Than’s hand. “Inject this into her cubital vein. I’ll show you where and how.”