Lethal Rider

Voice. She had to find her voice. “Ah…” She cleared her throat. It wasn’t every day you spoke to an angel dressed in expensive slacks and a silk shirt that matched his eyes. “Fine.” Fine? Dolt.

“And the baby?”

Her hand fell automatically to her belly. “Hungry.”

Cocking his head, Reaver eyed her stomach. “He won’t let me touch you.”

“The baby seems to be a bit protective.”

Reaver’s jewel-like eyes flicked up. “Not the baby. Thanatos.”

“I—what?”

“Not that I would touch you. I’m just saying. He’s as protective of you as the child is.”

Her mouth fell open again, but she snapped it shut and shook her head. “Thanatos hates me.”

“He might tell himself that, and he might even believe it,” Reaver said. “But it’s not true.”

She sighed. “For an angel, you’re sort of…um…”

“Naive?” His smile got wider. “Trust me, I spent enough time with demons to not be naive about anything ever again.”

Could Reaver be right about Thanatos? Between his fits of being angry with her, he did have moments of … well, she could almost call it tenderness. Tenderness that always made her lower her guard when she should be not only raising it, but fortifying it. But what if Reaver was right? Could he get past what she’d done to him? Could she get past it?

The answer to those questions came quickly. The pain she’d caused was a monumental hurdle they’d never clear. No amount of revenge he extracted from her was going to ease her guilt or heal his wounds.

No, Reaver wasn’t right about Thanatos. She met his gaze steadily, too mentally exhausted from the day’s events to keep circling around whatever the angel had come for. “Forgive me, Reaver, but why are you here?”

“To the point. I like that.” His voice was soft, but firm. “I’m here because technically, I can’t help the Horsemen with anything that relates to the Apocalypse. But I can help them with other things.”

“Other things?”

“Relationships.”

She barked out a laugh. “Thanatos and I don’t have a relationship.”

“You’re about to be parents. That’s the most intimate relationship there is.”

Maybe for normal people. But there was nothing normal about Thanatos or the way this child had been conceived. “This baby belongs to Kynan and Gem. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“I know what the plan was,” Reaver began, “and Kynan and Gem would be wonderful parents to your son. But you and Thanatos together would be even better.”

Regan nearly choked. “We’d kill each other.” Besides, she knew nothing about being a mother, and the baby deserved better. And what would happen when he got older and learned what she’d done? He’d hate her. He wouldn’t want her. An awful sorrow clawed at her, and she had to force herself to speak without a hitch in her voice. “Trust me, the plan with Gem and Ky is for the best.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I—”

Reaver held up his hand, the simple but commanding gesture shutting her down instantly. “I know the arguments. I know the reason for giving the baby to Ky and Gem was to keep it hidden from enemies. But I also know Thanatos. He doesn’t let things go easily.”

Great. Just great. She didn’t know what to say to that, but it turned out she didn’t need to say anything. Reaver moved to the door.

“Take care of yourself, Regan. And be…gentle… with Thanatos.”

“Gentle?” There she went gaping again. “He’s a five-thousand-year-old warrior named Death. I can’t think of anyone who is in less need of kid gloves.”

A small smile ruffled the corners of Reaver’s mouth. “Of all the Horsemen, he’s the one most in need.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” He opened the door. “Be safe.”

Be safe. She was living with a man named Death, his evil brother Pestilence was trying to kill her, The Aegis was under attack and its members were walking around with prices on their heads. Safe seemed like a pipe dream right now.

Everything was falling apart. Her friends were dead, her guilt about what she’d done to Thanatos was raging, and now that Pestilence knew she was pregnant, her baby was in terrible danger. Regan sucked air, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

Didn’t work.

She pinged around the room like a ricocheting bullet, her mind a whirlwind as she tried to focus on something to alleviate her racing mind. When her gaze lit on a scattered collection of tiny pewter soldiers on Than’s dresser, that focus sharpened into a plan.

She fell on the little soldiers like a cat on a flock of chicks.

“They’re out of order,” she whispered, as she grouped the toys into trios, all perfectly spaced an inch apart. Next, she hit the wardrobe, where she rearranged Than’s clothes by color… which was easy, considering most everything was black. She spaced his hangers so there was an inch between each, and then she lined up the boots, running shoes, and flip-flops at the bottom of the wardrobe.

The bed. The bed was off-center in the room. And it was facing the wrong direction. The headboard needed to be beneath the window.

She shoved at it, but the thing must have been made from solid logs. She marched over to the door, whipped it open, and as suspected, there was a vampire standing guard a few feet away.

“What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter?” What kind of scary vampire name was that? His accent, Russian, she thought, was scarier than his name. And his slicked-back blond hair. Whatever. “I need your help,” she said crisply.

“I can get Thanatos.”

“I just need help moving the bed.”

He looked at her like she was a nutcase, but he shoved the giant thing where she wanted it. “The dresser, too. It needs to go three inches to the right.” She got another you’re insane look, but he moved the dresser.

When he finished, he hightailed it toward the door. He moved fast, too fast for her to shift out of his way, and his arm slammed into her shoulder on his way past. The next thing she knew, he was sailing through the air. At least, he was until the wall interrupted his flight and he crumpled to the floor.

“Oh, crap.” Regan started toward him. “Sorry. That hasn’t happened to any other vampires.”

Peter came to his feet, fangs bared. Fangs … wait, they were big, but not super-sized.

“Are you a daywalker?” she asked.

“Fuck no.” The way he said it, as if it was an insult, was curious.

“The one who tried to stop me from leaving earlier … is he a daywalker?”

“Was he, you mean? Yes, he was.”

Okay, well, that answered the question about whether or not Thanatos had killed him. But why would day-walkers be able to touch her, but not the common night-walkers?

“I should thank you,” Peter said. “He was a bastard. But watch your back, slayer. There are daywalkers who aren’t as thrilled about his demise as my night brethren and I are.” Peter left, this time giving her a wide berth. He might not be a scary vampire, but he was smart.

Regan pondered the new information and the fact that Peter had helped her by giving her a warning as she went to work on the drawers—dresser drawers, bathroom drawers… everything she could find. She didn’t come up with any reasonable explanations for the difference in the baby’s reaction to the vampires, but hey, Thanatos got his socks folded properly and his toothpaste tube rolled so there were no dents.

She set her sights on the window next… a window that was narrow, filled with thick, medieval-style glass. The bubbles in it, unevenly spaced and multiple sizes, were going to give her seizures. She couldn’t fix it, but she could hide it. Oh, it would still bother her, but hopefully if it was out of sight, she’d be okay.

She grabbed one of Than’s T-shirts from a drawer and stuffed it into the recessed sill against the window.

But when it fell, wadded up and wrinkled onto the bed, to the exact spot on the mattress where she and Thanatos had had sex, it struck her that no, nothing was ever going to be okay again.

Once everyone was out of his keep, Thanatos considered his next move. The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare whirlwind, and unfortunately, he had a feeling that the nightmare was only just beginning.

Pestilence had managed to outsmart all of them, and if they couldn’t stop him, Than wouldn’t have a chance to enjoy fatherhood. And he definitely wanted to be a father. It was something he’d never thought he’d be, and as furious as he was with Regan for using him to get pregnant, he was just as thrilled that she was pregnant.

It was so f**ked up. Her betrayal was giving him what he’d most wanted in life. Even more f**ked up was the fact that he was stung by her betrayal, but still so damned possessive. He’d come uncorked when he’d seen Regan with Decker, and his inner caveman had done a cock-blocking, chest-pounding, you-mine bunch of bullshit with some growls and threats thrown in for good measure.

Then he’d compounded his stupidity by bringing sex into the situation again. But dammit, he’d been pissed when she’d begged to go back to The Aegis. She was pregnant, and it was his job to take care of her. He’d missed so much that he should have been a part of, and all he wanted was these last few days.

On his arm, Styx bucked, sensing Than’s agitation and still restless after months of inactivity. “Styx, out.”

The stallion materialized in the middle of the room and did a playful crowhop before looking around for his Jolly Ball. Styx loved to fling the thing around by the handle, especially inside the keep, where his aim—for breakable objects and vampires, was impressive.

Than left him to find his toy and went in search of Artur, whom he found in the kitchen, supervising the final touches on dinner.

“Sire.” Artur inclined his head in greeting. “I hear Styx. Shall I take a beer to him?”