by Larissa Ione
When it works? Than’s heart pounded so hard against his ribs it hurt. Regan was motionless, her chest barely rising with her breaths. “This usually works, right?”
“Usually,” Eidolon said, but Than didn’t like the doubt in his voice. He also didn’t like that the doctor lowered his voice to say the rest. “That’s a nasty toxin she was dosed with. The good news is that its effects on the baby should be minimal, so if…the worst happens…we have a good chance of saving him if we can deliver him quickly.”
Meaning that if Regan’s agony and life was prolonged by the antidote, Than might still have to kill her to save the baby. “It won’t come to that.” Holy shit, it had better not come to that. “Tell me how to do this.” Than followed the doctor’s instructions, and as he pulled the needle free of Regan’s vein, she moaned.
“Than?”
He tossed the syringe aside and gripped her hand. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes clung to his, brighter than they had been. “I’m sorry.”
“Not this again,” he murmured. “Not now. We don’t need to talk about it—”
“Not that. About your vampires.” Color spread into her skin, and the cherry tint that made her lips so luscious infused them once again. “I’m sorry someone betrayed you.” The sincerity and pain in her voice put a lump in his throat. Dammit, he was softening toward her, wasn’t he?
Kill me. If I’m dead, you can get the baby out.
Yes, he was.
He couldn’t.
“I guess it’s no surprise that you recognized betrayal before I did.” The words were sharper than he’d intended, and pain flashed in her eyes before she closed them, effectively shutting him out and withdrawing into herself. And damn her for making him regret his harsh words. Damn him for saying them. And damn this entire fucking situation.
Eidolon stood. “Can I have a word with you outside?” The demon didn’t wait for an answer. He strode out of the bathroom and bedroom with the arrogance of someone who expected to be followed.
Once in the hallway, Than crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there a problem? Did the antidote work?”
“It did. The clearing of the discoloration under the fingernails indicates complete reversal of poisoning. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Eidolon pegged him with serious black eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but that female in there is carrying your child, and she’s had a number of close calls. She’s fragile physically, and probably emotionally. Quit being a dick.”
Than clenched his fists at his sides to keep from knocking the demon’s teeth out. “You have no idea what she did to me.”
“And I don’t give a shit. As a doctor, my concern is her health, and the health of the baby. As a father, my concern is the health of the world. I’m not saying you have to forgive her, or make her your mate or put a crown on her and call her Stallion Queen. I’m saying you need to keep from stressing her out until the baby is born. After that, take your revenge, kill her, do whatever the fuck you Horsepeople do. But if you want a healthy baby, get your head out of your ass and don’t make things worse for her.”
“You Seminus demons have a hell of a lot of balls to talk to us the way you do,” he growled.
Eidolon smirked. “You have no idea.” The doctor nodded at the bedroom door behind him. “Regan should be fine after some rest. Do a better job keeping her safe, because from what I’ve seen and heard, you’re not so good at it. Tell Con I’m heading back to UG.”
Thanatos really did not like that doctor, and if he wasn’t the best hope for Regan and the baby when the time for the birth came, Than would kill him for what he’d just said. Asshole.
The fact that Eidolon was spot-on in his assessment only made it worse. Not so good at it. Yeah. Than’s own words came back at him as if they’d been launched from a slingshot. I’ll keep you safe. He’d promised Regan, and he’d failed. Then he’d compounded his failure by kicking her while she was down.
Down because of you, dickhead.
Than opened the bedroom door and was surprised to see Con walking toward him, medic bag slung over his shoulder. “E left?” When Than nodded, Con gestured to the bed, where Regan was curled up, the covers bunched around her feet. “She made it to the bed herself and conked out the second her head hit the pillow. Someone will call you in the morning to check on her.”
“Thanks, man.” Than grabbed Con’s arm as he prepared to leave. “Hey, do you have a vampire working at the hospital who can walk in the daylight?”
One blond eyebrow shot up. “Never even heard of one.”
“Bullshit.”
Con lowered his voice and shifted his silver gaze to the bed. “You really going to make a big deal of this right now?”
No, he wasn’t. Regan and the baby were more important than a random daywalker with UG connections. For now.
Taking Than’s silence as a no, Con clapped him on the back and strode out, leaving Than alone with Regan and his guilt. He moved to her, noting the steady rise and fall of her chest, the soft snores that fell from her parted lips.
One hand was tucked under the pillow, and the other rested over her belly as if she was trying to protect the baby even in her sleep. She was so adamant about giving the child up, but clearly, she cared. Goosebumps prickled her skin, and he drew the covers up to settle over her shoulders. With a soft sigh, she tucked them under her chin and curled into a tighter ball.
“I’m sorry I’m such a dick,” he muttered. “You just … you piss me off sometimes. I want to hate you, but I can’t.” He didn’t know what he wanted to do with her. Well, scratch that. Right this minute he wanted to climb into bed with her. To tuck her against him and protect her the way he should have been doing.
No doubt she’d hate him more than she already did if she woke up in his arms. And dammit, why was he thinking like this? He couldn’t let himself grow attached. What if she betrayed him again? His temper was too volatile, his fuse too short. And honestly, the anger he was holding onto was starting to worry him. He’d never been a load of laughs, but he’d also never been intentionally cruel … especially not to women.
So yeah, he didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but one thing was certain: Until he found out the extent of who was involved with wanting Regan dead and why, he wasn’t leaving her alone. As much as he wanted to release some fury by paying a visit to Dariq, he couldn’t do it until he got some extra protection for Regan.
Which included protection from himself.
So instead of climbing into bed with her or torturing the vampire who’d betrayed him, he texted Ares and Limos and fetched the dagger he’d relieved her of on the day he’d brought her here. Then he settled himself in the corner chair, crossed his legs at the ankles, and closed his eyes. He’d slept in worse places. He’d survive.
Whether or not he’d survive Regan … that was the question.
Fifteen
The screams reached Reaver’s ears first. Then, as he got closer to the closed door at the very center of the abandoned nuclear power plant, he heard the moans.
Gethel was behind that door, torturing who knew how many demons for who knew what reasons. Right now, Reaver didn’t give a crap what she was doing or why. The three realms—Heaven, human, and Sheoul—were at war, and Reaver had never been above doing what was necessary to win.
He threw open the metal door, and Gethel, standing in the center of the gym-sized room, turned to him. Her white tunic was splattered with blood, and in her hand was a treclan, a glowing spike that was effective only against other angels, including those of the fallen variety.
Which meant that the naked female on the table, her face and body partially hidden by Gethel, was some sort of angel.
“Reaver.” Gethel’s wings flared out before folding against her back, a show of dominance. Angels had hierarchies, and the high-level ones liked to flaunt their status whenever possible. The high-ranking pricks also rarely tucked the
ir wings away, as if they needed to remind everyone that they had them.
Reaver generally kept his hidden, but he flapped them in defiance, letting the sapphire-tipped white feathers whisper against the air.
Gethel’s mouth ruffled in amusement. “I wonder if you were so rebellious before you fell.”
He tucked his wings away. “I’m going to throw out a wild guess and say yes.” And it was a guess, given that he didn’t remember anything before the event that caused his fall thirty years ago, and the weird thing was that no one else remembered him, either.
His lack of a past left him at a distinct disadvantage when it came to the political maneuverings of his angelic brethren, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. He’d earn a place at the top of his Order, but he’d do it without resorting to games.
“I’m not here to chat. I want to know if you have any information on Wormwood.”
She arched an eyebrow. “The star?”
“The dagger. Pestilence wants it.”
She waved her hand. “It’s a silly relic that’s been attributed to angels and devils, saints and sinners. It’s just a dagger. If Pestilence wants it, he must think it has power. It doesn’t.”
Damn. “You sure?”
Gethel shot him an arrogant of-course-I’m-sure-you-peon look. “How is Regan?” Gethel ran a long finger over the smooth surface of the spike she was holding. “And the child?”
As the Horsemen’s former Watcher, Gethel kept up on Horsemen business, and as an angel invested in the fate of the world, she kept up on prophecy and minor things like a baby who could bring about the end of human existence. Sometimes Reaver thought she was a little too involved, but then, he supposed he wouldn’t be able to easily step back from people he’d known for thousands of years either.
“They’re both fine. And since Aegis Headquarters has been compromised, they’ll be staying with Thanatos until the baby is born.”
She tapped the spike against her chin as if deep in thought. “Do you find it odd that Pestilence just happened to trace Thanatos’s movements at the right time to find headquarters?”
Yes, actually, he did. The Horsemen could cast a gate to take them to the last place a sibling had gone to, but by all accounts, Thanatos hadn’t been at headquarters for long. Pestilence would have had maybe a five minute window in which to trace Than to headquarters.
“Why?”
Gethel’s gaze locked on him, and her voice lowered, as if she were letting him in on a secret. “I believe it was Harvester who told Pestilence to trace Thanatos to Aegis Headquarters.” She turned back to her gruesome work, and Reaver drew to a shocked halt at the sight of Harvester strapped to a table, her body impaled by five treclan spikes. “But I don’t think she’s going to admit to it. She also won’t tell me who ordered her to hold you prisoner nine months ago.” She jammed a sixth treclan into Harvester’s pelvis, and the scream that came out of the fallen angel’s mouth made the entire building quake.
As much as Reaver wanted revenge, this wasn’t the way.
“Why are you doing this? You aren’t the Horsemen’s Watcher anymore.”
Black storm clouds passed over Gethel’s expression, disappearing almost as fast as they’d blown in. “This goes beyond Watcher business. Her treachery is expediting the Apocalypse.”
Bullshit. This was personal somehow. “And? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Gethel summoned another spike. “Harvester and I have … history. But trust me, she knows exactly what this is about.”
Reaver wondered how much trouble he’d get into if he popped Gethel a good one. “Do you have permission to kill her?” As the Horsemen’s evil Watcher, Harvester was in a protected position, subject to execution orders only by mutual consent from agents of both Heaven and Sheoul.
“Unfortunately, no.” Gethel said. “I have to release her when I’m finished.”
“Release her now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You said yourself you won’t get anything from her. Release her.”
Gethel rounded on him. “She tortured you. Held you so Pestilence could maneuver The Aegis without interference. Because she kept you out of the game, Regan is pregnant, and the Apocalypse may be only days away. Yet you want this evil…thing…released?”
“I want you to release her because I want to be the one to make her suffer. Her suffering, and her death, when ordered, will come at my hands. No one else’s.”
For a long moment, Gethel stared at him, her eyes burning into him as if trying to see all the way to the truth. Which was that yes, he wanted revenge against Harvester, but they would battle it out as equals. She’d been horrible to him, but she’d also been oddly … tender at times, as if she’d regretted her actions. He wouldn’t afford her the same tenderness, but neither would he torture her while she was helpless.
Finally, Gethel shoved the spike into his hand and flashed away in a huff. Harvester, her eyes too swollen to open to more than mere slits, shuddered so violently that the table shook.
Holy hell.
Warring with the side of himself that wanted to leave her to rot and the side that wanted to relieve her suffering, he tugged free five of the treclan spikes, leaving the last to hold her in place while he unbuckled the straps that secured her arms and legs to the table. Once those were removed, he yanked the last spike from her shoulder.
Before he could stop her, Harvester rolled off the table and landed in a heap on the floor. As he came around the table, she dragged her body toward a dusty desk in the corner of the room. When he reached for her, she scrambled beneath the desk and curled into a ball.
“Fallen.” Reaver used the derogatory nickname for fallen angels as a command, putting an edge on it to piss her off and bring her back to her normal nasty self.
Instead, she cried out at the sound of his voice, and her entire body began to tremble. Gethel had done a number on her.
Sinking down on his haunches, he reached for her. “Harvester?” This time, his voice was softer, but she still flinched, and he drew his hand back.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She hissed. “Why not?”
“Because it looks like Gethel has done enough already.”
“She’s not … right.”
“If she is right, you’ll be destroyed for helping Pestilence.”
“No, I mean …” A tremor racked her and her gaze turned haunted. “Never mind.” Her voice was a raw rasp, shredded from screaming. “You must be loving this.”
Strangely, no, he wasn’t loving this. He wished he could, and maybe if she’d launched herself off the table and freaked out on him, he would have. But he disliked seeing anyone as powerful as Harvester reduced to a helpless puddle.
“Come out. I won’t hurt you.”
“As if you could,” she shot back, but the shivers traveling over her skin negated her bravado.
“So defiant,” he murmured.
A tangled lock of hair had fallen across her face, and without thinking, he reached to brush it back. The moment his fingers touched her, she curled up even tighter, her hands coming up to shield her head, but not before he saw a single tear form in one eye.
That one tear took Reaver down hard. Harvester could be faking her pain and fear, trying to play it all up to gain his sympathy, but he doubted it. She was truly afraid for her life.
“What was Gethel talking about when she said you knew exactly what this was about?”
Harvester flinched, a barely noticeable tightening of her muscles, but Reaver didn’t miss it. “Nothing,” she rasped. “Leave me. If you’re not going to kill me, go away.”
She didn’t want him to see her in this state, exposed, weak, and terrified. Reaver couldn’t blame her. “I’ll go,” he said, standing. “But Harvester? Fuck with me again, and next time, I won’t stop Gethel. And if I find out that you were in any way involved in trying to break Thanatos’s Seal or leading Pestilen
ce to Aegis Headquarters, I’ll be the one holding the treclan spikes.”
The baby woke Regan with a series of kicks. No doubt he was annoyed by her growling stomach. She was just happy the little pony was kicking. Last night had been terrifying, and as she’d writhed on the floor, all she could think about was the baby. Had he been in pain? Had he been afraid?
And when she’d told Thanatos to kill her in order to save the baby, her one regret was that if she died, she wouldn’t have ever been able to hold her son.
Her son. Dear God, she couldn’t afford to think like that. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to do what was best and give him to someone who could keep him safe.
The baby rolled, and a warmth settled into her heart. Had her mother felt Regan moving around inside and smiled every time, the way Regan caught herself doing? Or had her mother been afraid of the baby conceived with a demon-possessed Guardian? Had it been easy for her to give up Regan? Because for the first time, Regan was imagining handing over the child… and already her eyes were stinging. Could she actually do it?
If Thanatos was able to destroy Pestilence, Regan wouldn’t have to give up the baby, though. Right? Maybe she and Thanatos could… could what? Share custody? Not likely. He wasn’t exactly the sharing kind.
A buzz started up in her brain as her OCD switch flipped on. Everything was so out of her hands right now, and she had no idea how to harness even a little control.
Breathe. Count. Breathe.
The baby jammed a foot in her ribs at the same time her stomach growled, breaking her concentration. Cradling her midsection in an attempt to still both the baby and her rumbling gut, she opened her eyes. Even though she’d known where she was, her heart sank a little. She’d never again wake up in the room she’d kept at Aegis Headquarters. Then again, maybe that was a good thing. When The Aegis moved to their new location, maybe this time she’d take an apartment of her own.
Of course, if Thanatos had his way, a move wasn’t going to happen for another eight months.
