Reseph sat back against the palm tree, downed half his margarita, and wondered if he should take the hot blonde who was falling out of her swimsuit top into the water for a little below-the-waves action. Emmalee liked it the way he liked it… which was every way. But she got a little extra excited when there was a risk of getting caught, or when she knew someone was watching.

“Brought you a refill.”

He looked up as Limos poured more margarita-on-the-rocks into his glass from a pitcher. “Thanks, sis.” He popped his sunglasses up and scanned the crowd of around fifty, mostly humans. There were a few demons present, but as ter’taceo, they were disguised even to most other demons. “Wish Ares and Than were here.”

Li sighed, plopped down beside him, and took a huge gulp from her pitcher. “Than said he’d be here, but Ares…” She shrugged.

Yeah, Ares rarely came to these get-togethers, and when he did, he had to hang out on the porch and watch from afar. Getting too close to the action caused too many fights to break out. “Did you even invite him?”

“No.”

Ares probably knew about the party, but at least this way, he didn’t have to go through the torture of refusing.

“Is someone going to start up a volleyball game soon?”

One black eyebrow arched. “You feeling the need to beat up a ball?”

He waggled his brows. “I want to watch all the bouncing boobs.”

Limos slugged him in the shoulder. “You have not changed at all. Still the perverted playboy you were when you were human.”

Yeah, he’d been that. The “son” of a powerful Akkadian priestess who claimed a virgin conception by a god, Reseph had been raised to be a spoiled, irresponsible bed-hopper. By the time Limos had found him at the age of twenty-eight, he could have had fifty children by as many women. Fortunately, his priestess “mother” had been well-versed in mystical medicine… to the extent that Reseph suspected that she’d possessed some demon DNA in her background.

Thanks to skullwort, a demon herb that ended pregnancies in females and rendered males sterile for weeks at a time, he’d never had to deal with losing a child the way Ares had. Nor would he.

He could party all he wanted to.

A curvy brunette bent over and bared her br**sts to him, and nope, that never got old.

Limos just shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey.” He assumed his best offended tone. “I can’t help it if the females love me.”

“Whatever.” Rolling her eyes, Li shoved to her feet, brushed sand off her sundress, and gestured to the hog pit. “It’s time to carve. Make yourself useful.”

He grinned as she tromped away, feet kicking in the loose sand. Man, he loved his life. He really did. It sucked that his siblings didn’t have it as good as he did, though. They were lonely, either by circumstance or by choice, and though Reseph did his best to provide companionship, it wasn’t the same as being able to let loose with someone who wasn’t related.

Wishing he could do more for his sister and brothers, he stood, turned, and nearly bumped into a breathtaking redhead whose green eyes were windows to a good time. She gave him a naughty smile, took his hand, and gestured into the lush forest. Well, the roast pig needed to cool anyway, right? Right. Cracking a grin of his own, he led the female to a private little cove, where he took them both as close to heaven as he’d probably ever get.

Pestilence sat up with a hiss. Fuck, he hated sleeping. Hated how that sentimental idiot he’d been would leak into his dreams with memories of the good old days. Screw that. He was having so much more fun now. He winced at the tug in his groin, palmed his hard cock, and remembered he had a juicy little morsel of a human all chained up, tenderized, and ready, if not willing, to take care of the issue.

“My lord.”

Pestilence groaned at his Neethul lieutenant’s drawl and swung his legs over the side of the stone slab he slept on. He’d long since given up on beds, which got really f**king nasty when bloody, and he wasn’t one for those rubber piss-protectors. Much easier to hose off rock, and really, comfort wasn’t an issue, not when he only needed about an hour of rest a day.

“What?”

“Your brother is stirring.”

“Good. And Cara?”

“The human is as you left her.”

Which meant she was na**d and huddling in a cage. Excellent. Time to grab her and show Ares why it was much, much better to be on the broken side of the Seal.

Ares came to in a fog, his muscles taut, joints stretched. His first attempt to lift his head was an epic failure. He might as well have tried to lift a bowling ball with a rubber band. The second try met with success, even if it took effort to keep from dropping his chin to his chest again. At least his eyes worked, well enough to allow him to see that he was in a small room that was clearly a crude, underground prison cell. Rolling his neck, he looked up at his bound wrists. The rope that held them together had been hooked to an iron ring in the ceiling.

He frowned. Rope couldn’t hold him, so why would his brother even try? Smiling, he jerked his wrists.

Nothing happened. Okay, so the rope was definitely enhanced with demonic enchantments, but it still shouldn’t be able to hold him.

Unless Cara was nearby.

His gut twisted even as he became aware that the familiar draining sensation gripped him. She was definitely very close, and as long as she was, he was severely handicapped. Making matters worse, a copper ring circled his horse glyph, preventing Battle from being released.

A scream rang out, chilling his blood, and he had to force himself to breathe.

The door flew open, and Pestilence entered, shoving Cara, who was na**d and bruised, inside. She stumbled and fell to the straw-strewn dirt floor, and then she scrambled into a corner. Black, murderous rage scorched him from his skin to his bones.

“Bastard,” Ares roared, before he could stop himself. Breathe. Now was not the time to let his temper reign. He had to stay cool if he wanted to find the chinks in his brother’s armor.

“We’re all bastards, really.” Pestilence stripped off his muscle shirt, leaving him in leather pants. As Reseph, he’d spent more time in the nude than die-hard nudists did, and it seemed as though that quirk had survived the trip to the dark side. “Did I tell you I’ve been hanging with our mother? She’s a hoot. You should have seen what we did to Tristelle a few hours ago at Lilith’s temple. It was a real mother-son bonding thing.”

Fuck. That stupid fallen angel. Ares had tried to warn her.

“The tales about our mother were accurate.” Pestilence fingered the jagged edge of a dagger hanging on the wall. “She’s a real whore. She even tried to seduce me. Want to know if I let her?”

Ares’s stomach turned over. “I don’t care about our mother.”

“You will. She wants to meet you once your Seal is broken—which will happen shortly.” Ares felt the seconds ticking by in the pounding of his heartbeat as Pestilence swung around to Cara, who did her best to become part of the wall. “I’m going to have my fun with her first. Remember Flail and Saw? Yeah, like that. Except that humans bleed so much better.”

“Do not touch her!”

Pestilence shot Ares a glance dripping with false innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is she yours? You don’t want to share? After all we’ve been through?”

Ares’s mind clicked through his options, and came up with pretty much nothing. Pestilence had the wheel right now, and Ares was the jackass who’d been shoved in the trunk.

Ripping open his pants, Pestilence stalked over to Cara, and Ares’s cool evaporated and turned to scalding steam. He went crazy, kicking, jerking. Either the ceiling was coming down, or his arms were ripping from their sockets. Didn’t matter. He had to get to Cara.

“Human.” Pestilence’s fangs punched down violently. “Did Ares ever tell you how he was forced to watch what happened to his wife?” He grabbed Cara by the throat and lifted her. She struggled in his grip, clawing at his hands. “Violated, tortured, killed. Right in front of him.”

“Shut up,” Cara croaked. Her knee came up, catching Pestilence in the thigh, but he didn’t even flinch. Still, fierce pride welled up in Ares.

“Protective of Ares, aren’t we?” Pestilence murmured, and for a split-second, maybe less, Ares could have sworn he glimpsed yearning in his brother’s expression. Then the f**ker flicked a fingernail against her cheek, drawing blood, and Ares knew he’d been mistaken, had allowed sentimentality and the brotherly bond to color his thoughts.

Never again. “If you do this, brother, I will find a way to torture you for eternity.”

Pestilence shrugged. “After your Seal breaks, you won’t care. I’ll leave her corpse intact enough that you can get one last f**k out of her before we find Limos and Thanatos. Once we force our blood between their lips, their Seals will break, and we’ll ride together again.”

Helplessness would have brought Ares to his knees if he’d been standing. Plan. He needed a f**king plan. There would be no appealing to Reseph… he was clearly gone. Cara’s terrified gaze caught his, and he did his damnedest to convey a message. Fight him.

Pestilence slammed her against the wall and squeezed her chin roughly. “How talented is that mouth? Ares?”

This was the break they needed. Ares hoped she’d play along. “Very. You’ll not find a more clever tongue.”

Pestilence swiveled his head around, eyes narrowed. “And you’re telling me this, why? You want her to blow me?”

Hell no. Rage fogged his vision as that particular image burned into his brain. Through the growing fear that this might be a contest he wouldn’t win, he forced himself to relax, but he couldn’t clear the gravel out of his voice. “I would battle Satan himself to prevent it,” he admitted, because his brother wouldn’t buy anything less. “But I have no power. You’re going to kill her. My hope is that if she pleases you, you’ll make her death an easy one.”