Immortal Rider

  Thanks so much for this, Limos.

  How the hell could a single kiss get him into this mess? It wasn’t as if he’d forced himself on her. Yeah, he’d kissed her, and for one steamy, lingering heartbeat, she’d kissed him back. And then she’d flipped the hell out.

  Though he wasn’t sure why she’d freaked, he did know that Limos was responsible for every drop of his spilled blood. She’d said he’d pay for kissing her, and his captors confirmed it, relished telling him how “his lover’s” lack of self-control had been his downfall, how her selfishness was at fault and it was because of her that he was being tortured.

  They’d even given him an out; speak into a recorder and beg Limos to helpem"imos to him, and when she came to rescue his ass, they’d grab her and let him go.

  “Your worthless human life for hers. She’ll take your place in chains. You’ll have the satisfaction of knowing she’s getting what she deserves. You must want revenge.”

  Man, those demons had read him like a damned gun owners manual. He wanted payback, but not like that. He wouldn’t allow a female, even one like Limos, to suffer at the hands of these fucks.

  So he’d refused the offer that was, no doubt, a lie anyway. Which had led to a sledgehammer to both ankles. When he refused again, the sledgehammer had moved up to his knees. His next refusal had earned him a broken pelvis, but thankfully, he passed out and didn’t have to refuse anymore.

  “You’re a fool,” his torturer, the one with the deceptively classy English accent, had told him later. “You’re going to die down here, and it will be Limos’s fault.”

  Arik was fully aware of that fact. But the knowledge didn’t stop him from dreaming of him and her naked. Sometimes they were on a beach, both covered in suntan oil as he moved against her. Sometimes all he did was kiss her hand as he looked into her exotic eyes. Other times, he had her against the wall or was taking her from behind as she clung to a palm tree. His favorite erotic dream was the one where she was on her back in the ocean surf, and he was kneeling between her legs, tonguing her wet heat and tasting the salt water and her tropical cocktail essence.

  She’d always smelled like coconuts and pineapple.

  Man, he was starving.

  And what was that saying? Right. Revenge was a dish best served cold…

  Limos was not in a good mood. She had, in fact, been in a bad mood for weeks.

  But she faked being happy really well, and right now, she was working toward an Oscar nomination.

  The Hawaiian sun beat down on her as she swung her hips to the beat of Maroon 5’s latest, her gaze fixed on a tall, dark male perched at the portable bar she set up for her beach parties. His eyes drilled into her hungrily as he sipped his margarita, and when he casually adjusted the erection in his black shorts, she knew she had him.

  Slowly, provocatively, she moved toward him, putting extra sway in every step. Her bare feet sank in the warm sand, giving her legs a workout, and she knew the male was appreciating every flex of her toned muscles. The hot pink flowing miniskirt drew his attention, and his gaze darkened when a breeze flipped it up to reveal, very clearly, that she wasn’t wearing panties. Her flat stomach, pierced with a gold ring, became the next object of his appreciative scrutiny, and she watched as his eyes roved upward to the barely-there bikini top that covered about as much as two Band-Aid strips.

  On her shoulder blade, the set of scales that had been tattooed there when she was only a few hours old began to wobble as the right side, the evil side, and the leftt nand the side, the one that measured the good half of her, warred.

  When she was a few feet away, she smiled, gave him a come-on-big-boy look, and sauntered up the steps of her beach house. Of her two homes, this was the public one she used for parties that were frequented by humans—both locals and celebrities who flew in just for her big bashes. But this get-together was a small one, attended by only a couple dozen ter’taceo. She’d intentionally invited the demons, who could easily pass as humans, in order to lure this particular male. He was cautious, overly paranoid, and if she’d invited him directly, he wouldn’t have come.

  Instead, she’d chosen her guests with surgical precision—friends of his, demons with particular tastes who virtually guaranteed that he’d be lured by the promise of lurid, grotesque fun as night settled in.

  He knew exactly who she was, but no way could he know what she wanted from him. No way could he know that Thanatos’s intel had fingered him as one of Arik’s torturers.

  She slipped inside the house and mounted the stairs to the bedroom, smiling when she heard the door close softly behind her. At the top of the stairs, she untied her top and tossed it over her shoulder, leaving a seductive trail for him to follow.

  Inside the bedroom, she circled a wicker chair angled so she could look out at the rolling surf and waited for “Rhys” to enter. His demon name, Xenycothylestiranzacish, was… yeah. She used his human name.

  He filled the doorway, sexual menace rushing at her like a deadly rogue wave. In the human world, he was a corporate raider of some kind. In the demon world, he was a master of torture, a hobby that leaked into his relationships with women, and Limos wondered how many missing prostitutes could be traced to him.

  “What’s your game, Horseman?” His deep, English-accented voice was the cherry on his sexy sundae, and she remembered how, centuries ago, she’d had a major crush on him. But he’d known she was betrothed to the Dark Lord, and he wasn’t stupid enough to go near her. She wasn’t that stupid either, and she never had been that stupid.

  Until Arik.

  Damned human. How dare he tempt her like that? How dare he kiss her and make her want him?

  The kiss had doomed them both.

  Now she was in a race against time to rescue him before he sealed the fate she’d been running from for thousands of years—marriage.

  There was also that pesky Seal-breaking fate she had to deal with, but right now, she had to concentrate on the most immediate problem, which was finding Arik.

  “I have no game,” she purred, running a purple-lacquered nail over the back of the chair. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I succumbed to lust and gave my affections to a human.”

  Rhys’s expression gave nothing away. “I heard.”

  “Well, that means that until he says my name while in the throes of agony, I can enjoy mtup can enyself.”

  God, she hoped Arik could continue to withstand whatever torture the demons holding him were putting him through. A wash of admiration warmed her from the inside, because she didn’t know if she could survive a month of torture, and Arik was a fragile human. She’d always sensed strength in him—it had been one of the things that had drawn her to him, besides his sense of humor—but she would never have guessed at the depth of that strength.

  “And by enjoy, you mean…” Rhys trailed off as he prowled toward her, his bare chest, well-oiled and glistening, drawing her gaze.

  Most females would lift their skirts right now. Limos had other plans, and Bones, her hell stallion who was currently decorating her right forearm as a tattoo-like glyph, writhed in anticipation.

  “I mean that once Arik breaks, I’m going to be stuck bedding the same demon until the end of time. So playtime is now or never.”

  “Somehow,” Rhys said casually, “I can’t imagine that the Dark Lord will appreciate you coming to him less than intact.”

  She blinked innocently. “Intact? Of course I’m going to go to him a virgin.” An ocean-scented breeze wafted through the room, caressing her skin, and she joined in, stroking her fingers over her nipple. “But I can do everything else. Don’t you think he’d reward you well if I came to him knowing how to use my mouth?”

  She nearly gagged at that thought, and not just because the idea of sucking the devil’s dick horrified her. She’d never wanted to do that to any male. Women who claimed to like it had to be lying.

  Rhys stepped closer. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Oh, come on,” she
cajoled. “It’s just a little touching.” Before he could protest, she gripped him by the shoulders, spun him, and planted him in the chair. Next, she straddled him so she was on his lap, facing him, her palms splayed on his smooth chest. “Touch me.”

  For a long, breathless moment, she thought he was going to dump her on her ass. His hands came down on her thighs and squeezed hard enough that a human woman would screech from the pain. But Limos wasn’t human, and she didn’t screech.

  “If we do this,” he said in a deadly, cold voice, “you do what I say. My rules. Understood?”

  She made her eyes go all wide and frightened. “Y-yes.” She even threw in a token tremble of her bottom lip for good measure. Meryl Streep, you ain’t got nothing on me.

  Rhys’s smile was pure malevolence, something she’d been raised to appreciate during the twenty-eight years she’d spent in Sheoul, growing up under the thumb of a twisted, evil demon mother. If Limos were still that person, she’d be panting right now.

  “Good.” He took her right hand in his palm and trailed a finger over the black lines that formed the horse tattoo on her forearm. She could feel his touch in the corresponding parts of her body, and she hated it. Bones hated it too, had never like to be touched by anyone other t snyone othan her, and he came to life on her skin, snapping his sharp teeth viciously. Rhys jerked his hand away, but not quickly enough. A tiny bead of blood formed on the tip of his finger. “Bastard.”

  “He’s a little temperamental.” That was an understatement. Of all her siblings’ mounts, Bones was the most… unique.

  Limos’s first stallion, a normal warhorse like her brothers’, had been killed, and her fiancé had sent Bones as a gift she couldn’t refuse. Now she was stuck with the carnivorous hell stallion, and though he’d grown on her, she didn’t call him out unless absolutely necessary. He was too hard to control, and he hated everyone including, sometimes, Limos. Well, he loved Ares’s wife, Cara, but only because she’d saved his life.

  Rhys’s hands slid under her skirt, and both revulsion and anticipation rippled through her. She’d fantasized about Arik’s hands doing the same thing. Her fantasies, as she pleasured herself nightly in her bed, all involved Arik.

  They also involved the absence of her chastity belt—which was why her thoughts were pure fantasy.

  Only one person could remove the polished pearl chain that circled her hips and fell between her legs, connected in the front and the back to the hip loop. In truth, it was beautiful, a priceless piece of jewelry that would make her feel sexy if not for its nasty little secret.

  Rhys’s hands drifted higher, and she feigned a moan as she arched so her breasts touched his chest and she could covertly slip her right hand around the back of the chair to the dagger she’d taped there.

  “You are an eager little slut, aren’t you?” he murmured.

  “I have a lot to learn before I take my place at my husband’s side.” She nipped his earlobe, wishing it were Arik’s. “Maybe you have friends who could join us?”

  “When I’m through with you, perhaps.”

  Disgusting hellswine. “Hurry.”

  His hand came down hard on her ass. “What did I say? My rules.”

  Jesus, he hit hard. Her butt cheek stung like a son of a bitch, and didn’t it figure that somehow, he’d missed touching her chastity pearls. “Sorry.”

  “Not yet, but you will be.”

  What a douche. She held her breath, fighting a shudder at his touch. She’d rather a snake crawled up her skirt.

  He massaged her butt, his fingers biting deep into her flesh. She gripped the hilt of the dagger. The sound of his quickening breaths filled the room as he slid his palms around, his thumbs dipping between her thighs. There was a pause, as though he was trying to decide if he really wanted to go there.

  Please, please go there. She rocked her hips, hoping he’d take it as a sign of desperate horniness rather than impatience.

  “Whore,” he whispered.

  Dickweed, she thought.

  He moved to cup her intimately, and finally, her chastity protection kicked in. Each of the pearls turned into a razor-sharp little spur, stabbing into her skin and most sensitive flesh. Excruciating agony ripped through her, but by some miracle, she didn’t make a sound. Didn’t need to. Rhys’s screams would have drowned her out anyway.

  Blood gushed—hers, but mostly his, as three of his fingers fell, severed, to the floor. Awesome. His species of demon was one that was damned hard to injure, weakening only if they lost a body part.

  In a pained rush, she wrenched him to the floor, where she put the tip of her dagger under his eye. “Okay, asshole. Tell me what I want to know, or you lose more than your fingers.”

  “Bitch.” Rage blackened his voice. “You cocksucking cum-slut!”

  Limos shoved the blade into his eye. She had no patience when her privates hurt so bad. The spurs around her hips and between her legs had morphed back into pearls, but even as quickly as she regenerated, the injuries hadn’t healed yet.

  The demon screamed again, blood and ocular fluids squirting from his ruined socket. She shifted the knife to his other eye.

  “My rules,” she said, mocking him. “And my rules start with not calling me a cocksucking cum-slut or anything else disgusting and disrespectful.” She squeezed her thighs, crushing his ribs. She’d done that to Arik once. Poor guy. “Feel me?”

  “Yes,” he gasped.

  “Good. Because, hello, I’m a legend. I deserve a little reverence. Now, tell me where they’re keeping Arik.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tsk-tsk.” She squeezed her legs harder, enjoying the crackle of breaking bones as he shouted out in pain. “I know you’re one of his torturers. So let’s try this again, and you’ll answer, unless you’ve really had your heart set on getting a guide dog. Where is he?”

  “As much as I fear your wrath, I fear your betrothed’s more. If I so much as whisper a word, I won’t make it more than a step beyond the hellmouth’s gate before I’m torn to pieces.”

  “Take a look at the fingers on my floor. I’m already tearing you to pieces.” She pricked the skin beneath his good eye, and a drop of blood welled up. “Where. Is. Arik?”

  The demon laughed, and a chill shot up her spine. “If the human only knew how desperate you are to find him, he might have taken me up on my offer.”

  “And what offer was that?”

  He sneered. “The human worm refused to make a trade. You for him. Even after I tenderized his lower body with a sledgehammer, he wouldn’t deal.”

  Limos could hardly breathe through her rage. And her shock. Arik had been given an out, and he hadn’t takes aadn’tn it? He’d protected her, someone he wasn’t related to? Who would do that? And why?

  “You couldn’t have taken me, let alone held me.”

  “We’d have set a trap so the Dark Lord could have caught you, because yes, you’re right. We couldn’t have held you for torture. But the human didn’t know that, and he still didn’t deal. And that is why the human race will lose in the Apocalypse. They are sentimental. Weak. Pathetic.”

  “Weak?” she spat. “He didn’t play ball with you after you smashed his legs, and you call him weak?” She slashed the blade across his cheek, opening it up to his teeth. “Where is he?”

  Rhys hissed, spraying blood. “It matters not, Horseman. Truly.”

  “And why is that?” she ground out.

  “Because if he hasn’t broken by now, he won’t. The order has been handed down. He’ll be executed tomorrow. He’ll be dead in twenty-four hours.” He grinned. “The honor will be mine.”

  “Wrong answer, asshole.” Limos slammed the dagger through his good eye, gave it a twist, and sent the blade straight into his brain. The demon jerked, his body spasming wildly. “That was for Arik.”

  She leaped to her feet, her mind working furiously.

  Hellmouth’s gate. Her breath caught as Rhys’s casual mention pierced her fog of fury. Thoug
h very few humans knew about them, there were six hellmouths on Earth, passageways through which humans could enter Sheoul—usually dragged there by demons. Could Arik be near one of them?

  God, she hoped so, because right now, it was all she had to go on. And she had to hurry, because if Rhys was right, Arik had only hours to live.

  Three

  Kynan Morgan freaking loved being immortal. Yeah, he bore a lot of weight on his shoulders because of it, weight in the form of the crystal pendant around his neck. But immortality was worth bearing that little piece of Heaven—literally, Heaven. Given the choice, he’d make the same decision to be charmed by angels in order to protect the pendant.

  Today, as he surveyed the half-dozen injured demons lying on the floor of the underground Las Vegas pub where he and his new fellow Aegis Elder, Decker, had beaten them into submission, he was more grateful than ever for the charm. The gray-green reptilian bastards hadn’t been able to lay a finger on him, which was great, seeing how their fingers were coated in a sticky acidic substance that bonded them to you like Superglue while they dissolved your flesh.

  Decker was currently peeling himself out of his black BDU pants, which were attached to one of the creature’s hands. Just the hand… since Decker had amputated it from the demon’s arm with his KA-BAR.

  “Mother. Fuck.” Decker got h1emis pants caught on his combat boots and did some kind of crazy dance as he tried to extricate himself. “God… damn, these demons are nasty.” He tossed the pants away and made a sound of disgust. The vampire bartender, one of the few people who’d remained in the pub when the fighting started, laughed, but shut up when Decker flashed a wooden stake at him.

  “I’m just happy you’re not a free-ball kind of guy.” Kynan winced at Decker’s Dale Earnhardt Jr. boxers. “Not that what you’re wearing is much better.”

  Decker drew his Aegis sword from the sheath at his back, and hacked off one of the demons’ heads. “Some of us aren’t all charmed up the ying-yang.”