by Larissa Ione
“Give up the human, and I’ll call them off,” Reseph called out.
“Fuck you.”
“Incest, brother?” He shrugged. “Well, hell, I’ve tried everything else since my Seal broke…”
Ares hurled his sword, catching Reseph in the jaw. Teeth, flesh, and blood sprayed into the air, and Ares leaped onto Battle before his brother could recover. The ghastbats bit and stung, and he was half-blind from a claw in the eye, but he managed to open a Harrowgate. It sliced a dozen of the little fucks in half, and then Battle catapulted them into it, and they came out near the entrance of his manor house.
Guards charged toward them, swords drawn to destroy the creatures that were still clinging to Ares and the stallion. Battle stumbled, and Ares swung down, relieving the horse of his weight. While the Ramreels were dispatching the ghastbats, Ares led Battle into the house via the arched entrance to his great room.
Battle limped, trailing blood and bumping into walls and furniture. Aw, fuck, the horse was blinded.
Thanatos jogged into the great room from the kitchen. “What the hell happened?”
“Our brother happened,” Ares growled.
Than let out a low whistle. “Reseph did this?”
“Not Reseph. Pestilence. He’s more powerful than ever, and if there was any question left in you before, I can assure you that he’s no longer our brother.”
Ares waited for Thanatos to argue about not giving up on Reseph, and for a heartbeat, his brother’s expression was glacial, a hard challenge. And then Battle began to tremble, and with a crash, he went down.
“Shit!” Wiping blood out of his eyes, Ares sank to his knees and shouted for Vulgrim. “Get towels, water. Needle and thread.”
He assessed the massive, gaping wounds through which muscle, tendon, and bone erupted. Battle looked as if he’d been tenderized by a troll’s giant spiked mallet, and his pain was gutting Ares more than any blade Pestilence could wield. He was stronger than a normal horse, his supernatural connection with Ares giving him similar regenerative powers… but he could die if his wounds were severe enough. Limos had lost her first mount a hundred years into their curse, when a demon had sheared its head clean off. Her replacement had been a gift—one she’d been unable to refuse—and now she was stuck with a carnivorous hell stallion with a disposition that would make a hellhound seem friendly.
Behind him, Ares heard footsteps, too light to be any of the demons, and the constant vibrations that alerted him to worldwide conflicts became muted.
“Oh, my God.” Cara darted toward them.
“Than, get her out of here.”
She skirted Thanatos, twisting out of his reach with surprising nimbleness. “What’s going on?” She kneeled beside Ares. “Dear… Lord.”
Ares didn’t have the time or patience for this. She’d probably start crying or screaming or some crap. He also didn’t need her presence draining him. “Go to the bedroom and stay there.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” He stared incredulously. No one disobeyed his orders.
“I told you not to order me around.” Cara rolled up the hockey jersey’s sleeves in blatant defiance of his command. “I can help. I’ve been working with animals for years.”
“Then help.” Cursing irritably, he flicked his thumb over his throat and rid himself and Battle of their armor, which had softened already, and then he gripped her wrist as she reached for Battle’s flank. “But he isn’t your usual animal.”
“Why,” she muttered, “am I not surprised?”
Thirteen
Palms damp with cold sweat, Cara prayed she wouldn’t regret this. There was a real possibility that her gift would surface… and morph into something that killed instead of healed. Then Ares would kill her.
Nonchalantly, she wiped her hands on one of the rags the demons had brought.
“Do you need anything else?” Thanatos flicked his thumb over one of the many tattoos on his throat, and his armor melted away, replaced by black jeans, black shirt, and a black, long neoclassic coat that buttoned from the neck to the waist and then flared open to allow for movement. For him, apparently, black wasn’t a color; it was a lifestyle. “I can raid a veterinarian’s office.”
Tempting as it was to send him to Dr. Happs’s place to steal stuff, Cara shook her head and reached for the pile of towels. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
“No kidding?” Ares applied pressure to one of the worst wounds, a massive laceration that was oozing dark blood. “You learn that in Vet Med 101?”
“Sarcasm isn’t the way to get me to help.”
“He’s… my horse,” Ares said roughly, and she got it; he was hurting for the animal, and his fear was putting an edge on his already teetering temper.
She’d give him a pass on his less-than-polite behavior. The agimortus tingled, and her healing gift surfaced. Nu-huh. No way. Concentrating, she kept it at bay… worked so hard at it that her blood thundered in her ears and her breath burned her throat. Before, she’d been able to control it, but it seemed like the agimortus gave her gift a mind of its own. Her hands shook as she ran them over the stallion, probing for the worst of the damage. The horse groaned and kicked, and suddenly, blood sprayed in a geyser from his thigh.
“Shit!” Thanatos lunged to cover the gusher, but Cara beat him to it, and his hand came down on hers.
Unbidden, a blast of her healing gift ripped down her arm and into the horse. Instantly, the blood flow slowed, and before her eyes, the most minor of the injuries sealed. Than jerked away from her, and she rocked backward, as shocked as he was. Her ability had never shot through her so strongly before.
Not the healing ability, anyway. The killing ability… she didn’t want to go there.
“I…” She sucked air, giving herself a second to gather her thoughts.
Ares’s eyes narrowed, which must have hurt, given the cut that ran from the middle of his forehead to the base of his left eye. “That’s why the hellhound gave you Hell’s Kiss. You healed him. You didn’t just remove the bullet… you have a gift.”
Thanatos pegged her with those yellow lasers. “You’re a totem priestess.”
“A what?”
“One who communicates with animals.” Thanatos’s voice was laced with what she could only call awe. “I was raised among druidic people, and totem priests and priestesses were revered. Today’s humans call them animal psychics. They sometimes have the power to heal. Can you make it work with nonanimals?”
Oh, it works with nonanimals, all right.
Twenty-six years of buried secrets had built like steam in her chest, and now it was as if a fissure was forming at the epicenter, right over her heart. She’d denied her abilities for so long, even as she’d used them. That there was a name for what she was made it real. Personal. Throat closing up, she leaped to her feet and backed away.
“Cara?” Ares kept his hand on the horse, but his big body twisted around, his gaze tracking her.
“I don’t… I don’t know if I can control it. The agimortus made it stronger and less predictable.” She swallowed dryly. “And it has an… evil side I don’t understand.”
Ares swore, a nasty, base curse. “I don’t give a shit if it’s shot out of the devil’s ass. Battle is in pain and he could die. If you can help him, do it.”
Battle groaned, and her heart clenched. How could she not do something? The argument with herself wasn’t a new one. When she’d been a teen working in her father’s veterinary practice, he’d begged her not to use her ability, for fear that the ultraconservative township would find out and brand her unfairly. And he’d been right.
He’d also been afraid of it, something she knew only because she’d overheard him talking to her stepmother.
“I’ve killed with it.” God, her stomach clenched with revulsion at those words—words she’d never spoken out loud.
“A human?” Ares smoothed his hand over Battle’s shoulder.
“
Yes.”
“Huh.” Thanatos shifted, giving her a glimpse of a wicked-looking dagger tucked into his boot. “That was rarely spoken of in my time. Anyone who used the ability to kill was shunned as being evil. In fact—”
“Thanatos…” Ares’s warning tone shut his brother up. He turned to Cara. “I don’t care about the human. Make your choice. Help, or go. Battle doesn’t have time to wait for your mental breakdown to end.”
Harsh. But Ares was right, and it was the kick in the pants Cara needed. With a nod, she went back to Battle, placing herself at his head. His eyes were swollen shut and bleeding, and this was much worse than anything she’d dealt with in the past.
“Hey, boy. I’m going to help you. Is that okay?” She didn’t know if he’d understand the words, but animals usually understood the sentiment.
Closing her eyes, she opened herself to his thoughts. They came in a rush, a blast of concern for Ares. Even as torn up as the horse was, he was worried for his master.
She felt eyes on her as she focused her energy. Cool air from the fan overhead diffused the heat that always made her feel sunburned when she was doing this, and she welcomed it as she ran her hands over Battle’s body. Healing waves closed his wounds, but it wasn’t long before his pain became hers. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her breaths became brief gasps between swells of agony.
It went on for an eternity. Someone called her name. The voice was distant, an echo inside her skull.
Cara!
Groggily, she opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor with Ares crouched over her, his hands on her shoulders, his expression pinched with concern. He was still wearing the leather pants and tee he’d had on earlier. Battle stood next to her, his velvety nose nuzzling her throat.
“What happened?” she croaked.
“You passed out.” He reached up to pat Battle’s shoulder, where a wide scar split the brown, blood-caked hair. “He’s better, obviously. The scars will be gone by tomorrow. Now, why did you faint? Is that normal?” When she didn’t reply, because she was still processing everything, he shook her gently. “Answer me.”
So demanding. She was beginning to recognize a pattern; when he was worried, frustrated, or angry, he went into command mode. She tried to sit up, but when she fell back, Ares caught her, his muscular arm slipping behind her back to prop her up. His hand lingered on her hip before pulling away.
“I’ve never fainted before, but Battle was so big and the injuries were so severe.” She shuddered, nearly falling over again when a wave of nausea crashed through her. Once again, Ares’s arm went around her, and this time he left it firmly in place. Grateful for his support, she sank into him. It was weird, leaning on someone, but instead of making her feel weak, it gave her a sense of security.
Thanatos crouched in front of her, forearms braced on his knees. He’d taken off his coat to reveal a T-shirt, and now that she could see skin… wow. Intricate tattoos extended from his fingertips to where they disappeared under his shirt sleeves, and then up his neck to his jaw. Sans armor, he was lankier than Ares, but his lean build was no less powerful. He was a tiger to Ares’s lion.
The scorpion on his throat writhed as he spoke, the stinger appearing to jab him in the jugular. “You take the victim’s pain into yourself when you heal, don’t you?” She nodded, and Thanatos reached out to cup her cheek. “And what about when you kill? Is it the opposite? Do you get off on it?”
“No,” she gasped, jerking away from him, her body trembling. Dear God, how did he… oh, God, he knew. He knew that as horrifying as killing the man had been, there had been an underlying… high. A rush of power so evil it felt as though her soul had been permanently bruised.
She’d never even admitted it to herself. Not really. Not until now.
“Enough.” The warning in Ares’s voice was unmistakable. “She just saved Battle’s life. Now isn’t the time to grill her.” Ares folded her protectively against his chest. “Don’t touch her again, Than.”
“I only meant to help.” Thanatos shoved to his feet and stalked away, and Cara got the impression his feelings were hurt.
“I’m sorry.” She rested her forehead against Ares’s breastbone. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and your brother.”
“That?” Ares’s palm caressed her back in slow circles. “That was nothing. Relax.” With each slow pass of his hand, she did just that, shoving Thanatos’s question and the ugly truth back into the locked box where she’d kept it for so long. “Are you hungry?” Her stomach rumbled in answer, and he chuckled. “Food it is.”
Huh. Save a man’s horse, and he got all nice. She’d have to remember that, the next time she came up against an immortal warrior-type. Which got her thinking. “Wait.” She pulled back to look at him. “You’re immortal… so do you need to eat?”
“Yes. And sleep. I wouldn’t die from lack of either, but both Battle and I can weaken or rage out.” He frowned. “Speaking of which…” His fingers tugged at the hem of the hockey jersey, lifting it up to expose her abdomen.
“Hey!” She grabbed his wrists before he revealed much more. “What are you doing?”
“Checking the agimortus. Remember that I said it will fade with time?”
Right. It was a virtual hourglass. A big, fat lump of dread plopped into her stomach, and suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore. “I’ll do it.” Her hand shook as she hooked the neckline and pulled it out. But she couldn’t bring herself to look down.
Ares knew, and as gently as if her hand were a hummingbird, he eased it away. The rasp of his knuckles was barely a whisper on her skin as he took the hem, but it made her heart beat faster, and when the cool air kissed her breasts, her pulse went out of control with both trepidation and excitement.
For a long time, he didn’t look. He remained focused on her face, the intensity in his black eyes taking her breath. His lips parted, just barely, and she wondered what he’d do if she leaned in and kissed him.
Abruptly, his gaze dropped. His harsh inhale was the only sound in the room. Even Battle, who had been snorting in the background, went silent. Ares’s lids grew heavy, his nostrils flaring.
“You are magnificent.” His voice was rough, raspy, and she forgot all about the mark that was a countdown to her death.
Ares tugged the shirt down, and with great care, he lifted her. In his arms, she felt small, feminine, and safe. Yes, he had a duty to keep her alive, but all this time it had been about protecting the agimortus, not her. Now she sensed a shift in him, as if he’d suddenly seen the person instead of the object on her chest.
Battle came forward and pressed his forehead into hers.
“You’ve made a hell of an impression,” Ares said, his words still scraping gravel. “Battle hates everyone.” He shouldered the beast out of the way. “Leave her alone, you big lunk.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Ares didn’t spare her a glance as he strode across the room. “To bed.”
The way Cara went taut when Ares announced his intentions was both amusing and insulting. He planned to put her to bed, not bed her. Not that he didn’t want to. The altercation with Pestilence had taken the edge off, but the desire to lose himself in female flesh was still burning like a pitch-soaked torch.
And with Cara in his arms, it wasn’t just any female flesh. He wanted the human even more than before. What she’d done for Battle, knowing the cost to herself and after everything she’d been through recently, earned both his gratitude and his respect. She’d had a hellish introduction to his world, but after a shaky start, she was pulling it together.
How many humans could have accepted as much as she had in so little time? Hell, it had taken Ares decades to come to grips with the reality of the paranormal realm.
Though it was clear that Cara wasn’t as new to it as she wanted to believe. The power she wielded was obviously something she’d been dealing with for a long time, so she’d had an inkling, even if it had been buried, that there was more t
o life than what most humans knew. And with Battle out of danger, he was curious about the human she’d killed.
But he couldn’t ask about it now. She was too weakened from the healing, and she would have enough to deal with when she discovered that the agimortus had faded. Just a shade, but when every change was another shovelful of grave dirt, it was a blow.
He’d covered his reaction, had let himself admire her perfect breasts, her flawless skin, her narrow waist, and in a heartbeat, he’d felt a wrenching reversal in his emotions. It shouldn’t have happened—he’d cut himself off from tender feelings a long time ago. But something about this woman was hell on his instincts, and he liked it as much as he cursed it.
Caring about her would be stupid. Either she was going to die soon, or she’d transfer the agimortus and still die. If Pestilence learned that Ares cared about her even a little, he’d kill her solely to cause Ares pain. Besides, just being close to her was a drain on his strength and senses, so what would full-on sex do?
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m going to do nothing more threatening than tuck you in.” He scowled at the blood on her hands, arms, and legs. “You stained my jersey.”
She sniffed. “With your horse’s blood.”
“You have my thanks. And Battle’s heart, I think,” he added wryly.
Her fragile smile made his own heart skip a beat. Pale and exhausted as she was, she was still beautiful, and her weight felt good in his arms.
Fierce admiration swelled in his chest as he set her gently on the bed. He could admire her without caring about her, right? But the way he’d torn into Thanatos, telling him to never touch her again, had nothing to do with admiration. He’d hated the sight of Than’s hand on her, and Ares, who had never been jealous in his life, had wanted to rip his brother apart.
Yeah, this woman was definitely hell on his senses.
