Immortal Rider

There was no reason to fear the angel. None whatsoever, but something so deep inside Pestilence that he couldn’t reach it was as terrified as a small child in the face of his angry father.

He raised his chin in defiance and somehow managed to sound nonplussed as he said, “Now you’ve gone and ruined the mood.” He swiped his fingers over his throat, locking his armor into place again. “Another time, then. The moment the Apocalypse starts, I’m going to use you until your screams no longer amuse me and your skin no longer contains your organs.”

With that, he strode out of Harvester’s house, hoping like hell no one noticed the trembling in his knees. What the f**k was that? He hadn’t been afraid of anything since his Seal had broken. Cursing viciously, he popped a Harrowgate and came out at the black arches that led to his mother’s place. She was inside the temple-like structure, lounging on a sofa in the middle of an orgy. As usual. The sight calmed him down, but only a little.

“My son,” she purred, crooking a finger for him to come to her. “You look upset.”

He kicked at a humanoid male who had sunk to his knees in front of him, and moved through the writhing mass of bodies. “My plan failed.”

“The Aegi didn’t take Thanatos’s virginity?”

“She did. But his Seal didn’t break.”

Lilith blinked, and her lithe body undulated as she sat up. She wore a thin, filmy skirt, but she was topless except for a necklace with an emerald the size of a duck egg sitting between her ample br**sts. “What was it you made The Aegis believe in order for them to send the female to Thanatos?”

“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…