“As in… souls?”

“His armor collects them. Every time he kills a demon, human, or animal, the soul is sucked into his armor.”

Her horror penetrated his own softened armor. “Oh, my God. They’re trapped with him?”

“For a time. When he gets angry or goes into battle, or if he calls them out, they have a shot at freedom, but only if they kill something.”

“Does the victim’s soul replace the shadow after it earns its freedom?”

“No.”

“Can he get different armor?”

Ares shook his head. “None of us can. It’s part of us, like our horses and our curses.”

“What’s Limos’s curse?”

Ares turned to Cara, his breath catching at the sight of her standing there in the breeze, her lips rosy, her silky hair blowing around her shoulders. It was hard to believe she’d lifted his heavy ass off the ground, especially given the dark crescents under her eyes. She looked exhausted, and at the same time, so very alive that he had to remind himself she was dying, no matter how strong she appeared to be.

They die. You love them, and then they die. That’s what’s going to happen to you, Cara. You’re going to die, and then I’m going to— God, he couldn’t believe he’d lost it like that. He never exposed himself, but Cara had dismantled his defenses, and he wondered how much of it was due to his proximity to the agimortus, and how much of it was just… her.

He had to clear his throat to continue. “Limos becomes a danger to herself. When she’s drawn to famine of any kind—a lack of food, medicines, water—she falls into a deep depression and becomes self-destructive.” It had always taken Reseph to get her out of it.

“And Reseph?”

“He was drawn to disease, plague. He would… become that disease. In order to rid himself of it, he had to kill someone with it. If he didn’t, he’d spread the disease wherever he went. Now that he’s Pestilence, he can cause whatever disease he wants, more potent and faster-spreading than its natural counterpart.” His cell buzzed, and he checked it, cursed at the note from Kynan.

Where are you? You’d think Horsemen would be a little more prompt.

Hard to believe, but Aegi had actually gotten more annoying over the centuries.

Smiling tightly, he took Cara’s hand. “You ready to do this?”

“Yep.” Cara’s big eyes took him in… she looked like that damned Puss-in-Boots cat in Shrek, all cute and heart-melting. The way she’d looked when she’d told him that she saw more in him than a killing machine. But how could she? No one had seen him as more than that. Even Ares’s sons had looked up to him as a great warrior they wanted to be like when they grew up.

He made a disgusted noise. As much as he really wanted to take her in his arms, he couldn’t. They were at war, and she still needed a lot of toughening up if she was to survive. You’re one to talk. You’re softening as much as your armor when she’s around.

“Ares,” Cara said, just as he opened his mouth to summon Battle. “Who did you lose?”

“What?”

“You said humans die.” She squeezed his hand, might as well have squeezed his breath out of his lungs. “Who died?”

Damn her. He didn’t want to answer, but words spilled out of his mouth. “My wife. My brother. My two sons.” When those Puss-in-Boots eyes went liquid, he ended it, right then and there. “Don’t you pity me. Don’t you dare.”

Her chin came up. “Don’t you tell me how to feel.”

Okay, so he wanted her to toughen up, but her bravery might just veer into foolhardy territory with the wrong person. “You know I could crush you.”

“I know you won’t.”

“Why, because I need to protect you?”

“No.” She poked him in the breastplate. “Because you gave me a pillow.”

He blinked. This female’s logic was whacked, as Reseph would have said. “You’re gambling your life on a pillow?”

“I don’t doubt that you’ll do what you have to do to save the world. You’ll make hard choices. But you don’t grab a pillow for someone you would have no problem killing.” She snagged his wrist and flicked her finger over the lines that defined Battle’s flank, and Ares sucked air at the sensation of his h*ps and ass being caressed. “You going to let him out or not?”

On his arm, Battle kicked, as if hearing her. Shit. “Battle, out.”

Battle appeared, and wouldn’t you know, instead of nudging Ares in greeting, he nuzzled Cara. “Hey, buddy,” she purred, and the stallion rubbed against her even more. Stupid horse.

“Come on,” Ares growled. “Cara, I’ll help you up—”

Battle kneeled. He f**king kneeled. Cara shot Ares a taunting grin and climbed into the saddle. Battle went back up on his hooves, and as Cara scooted forward, Ares swore Battle smiled, too.

Muttering obscenities, Ares swung up onto the horse, wrapped one arm around Cara’s waist, and opened a Harrowgate. “I’m going to materialize a few blocks from the coordinates.” He inhaled, took in her clean, floral scent, and instantly, his body reacted in a way that only happened when he was heading into a conflict. His heart pounded, his adrenaline surged, and damn, he wanted to throw down with her. If I want to have sex, it’s not your place to tell me I can’t handle it. He stifled a miserable groan. “I don’t want to leap into a trap. I also want Battle available if there’s trouble.”

Especially since being this close to Cara meant that his armor and weapons would be all but useless. Sort of like his brain.

“Trouble?”

She was trouble. “I don’t trust Aegi. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find Pestilence lurking.”

“You have a real fun family, you know that? I thought mine was odd.”

Battle started toward the gate, but Ares tugged on the reins. She’d said she was alone, with no one to care if she lived or died. Why had he not asked about family before? Maybe because he was a callous bastard who’d forgotten what it was like to be human.

“I thought you said you had no family.”

“My mom died of cancer when I was young, and my dad passed away a couple of years ago.” Cara twisted around so she could see him, her eyes taking on the color of the water around his island, and he wanted to dive in. “I have an older stepsister from my dad’s second marriage, but we fought a lot, and I haven’t seen her or my stepmom since the funeral.”

“And you said you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“If I had, you wouldn’t have touched me in the shower.”

Inexplicably pleased by that, he urged Battle into the Harrowgate. The stallion stepped out into a foggy evening that came straight out of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Fitting, seeing how they were fetching a hellhound. Car lights sped toward them, and Cara yelped.

“They’re going to hit us!”

“We’re on another plane. We’re not only invisible to humans, but we’re formless.”

“I thought you made it so people froze.”

“I can do that, too. Or I can enter the world and exist just as humans do.”

“But then they can see you.”

“Yes, but I told you my presence makes people want to fight.”

“And I told you that I can completely understand that,” she said, and he had to smile. He smiled even wider when she leaned into him. Even through his armor he could feel her heat. He wanted to feel more of her. Less of her. Dammit, he didn’t know what he wanted, and he’d never been indecisive.

Losing the teenage-crush grin, he spurred Battle into a canter, and they rode to a country estate that wasn’t visible from the road. The property was fenced by a low stone wall, and Ares would bet his left nut that the perimeter was warded against evil or supernatural creatures. No ward affected him, but certain ones could propel him out of the khote.

Not that he was worried about it. His concern was about traps. He wouldn’t put it past The Aegis to want to contain both him and Cara in the name of “keeping them safe.” The Aegis always did have an overblown sense of its power and abilities, thinking only they were capable of making the big decisions. Those egotistical bastards would suck their own dicks if they could.

Ares guided Battle around the perimeter, and though he located concealed stones etched with protective, magical symbols, he found no evidence of a trap. With a command, he released the khote.

“I felt that,” Cara murmured. “We’re visible now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. No doubt we’re being watched.” As they approached the wrought iron gate, it creaked open. “Definitely watched.”

An eerie howl drifted through the mist, and Cara sat forward in the saddle, which shifted her ass firmly against his groin, and he bit down on his tongue. Holy Heaven, he burned for her.

“It’s Hal.”

The reminder that they were going to rescue a hellhound she was bonded to turned his inner fire down a notch.

Ahead, a vine-choked manor materialized out of the fog. Outbuildings dotted the grassy field behind it, and in front, standing at attention, were a dozen or so humans, including Kynan. A cage had been placed on the drive, centered on top of a salt pentagram.

Instant, raw hatred scoured Ares’s veins, as if they ran with hot sand instead of blood. Every bone in Ares’s body wanted to slaughter the thing and send it to Chaos in pieces—the way Ares had found his brother and sons.

Stomping his hooves, Battle tossed his head. He hated hellhounds as much as Ares, and the hostile vibes being thrown off by the Guardians weren’t making the stallion any calmer.

“Easy, boy,” he murmured. “We’re not going to fight today.” Too bad, too, because Ares was as juiced as his horse, though he had to credit Cara for some of that. He brought Battle to a halt ten yards from the Guardians.

“Ares.” Kynan stepped forward. Most of his crew were watching with awe, but they also were wary, their fingers flexing as if preparing to go for the weapons tucked in their leather shoulder harnesses. That would be a huge mistake. He swept his hand behind him. “These are our Yorkshire cell Guardians.”