Eternal Rider (41 page)

“Don’t say it,” he growled. “Don’t. Even. Say it.”

“We lost him,
tesmon
,” Vulgrim said. “My son is gone.”

After the news about Torrent, Ares dismounted, gathered Cara to his chest, and carried her to the bedroom. He didn’t say a word, and neither did she. He started the shower for her, but when he began to strip, she asked for a moment alone. He needed time with Vulgrim, and though he protested, he finally relented, leaving Limos outside the door.

She washed carefully, her aches and pains slowing her down. Pestilence had worked her over pretty good during the hours before he captured Ares, and that last punch to the face had hurt like hell. She hoped his balls were throbbing as much as her jaw was. The bastard.

Ares returned as she stepped out of the shower, halting in the doorway. Her heartbeat had stuttered, almost painfully. The intensity in his bloodshot eyes froze her to the floor.

“You saved Vulgrim’s life.” His voice was strained.
“You killed for him.” He crossed to her in three strides and hauled her against him. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

“Ares,” she whispered, “there wasn’t any other option. I don’t regret it, and I’d do it again.”

He let out a ragged breath, scooped her up and took her to bed. As he laid her down, his gaze mapped and logged every one of her cuts and bruises, and smoldering anger joined his grief. “You need a doctor.” He swallowed. “And the
agimortus—”

“I know.” It was dusky pink now, much lighter than it had been before Pestilence grabbed her. She patted the mattress. “Lie with me.”

“I need to shower first.”

She waited while he cleaned up, and then he joined her in bed, where, when he discovered her small gift, he stared at her. “A pillow?” He ran his hand over the silk cover, and she swore she saw a slight tremor in his fingers. “When? How?”

She braced herself on an elbow and watched him. She’d never tire of looking at him, of admiring his deeply tanned skin, his chiseled features, the ropey muscles that bunched and rolled as he moved. “After we rescued Hal. While you were fighting the demons with the Guardians. I asked Vulgrim to get a pillow for you.” She put her hand over his. “It’s not much, but I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve to be comfortable when you sleep, Ares.”

He grabbed her, had her tucked up against him so fast she didn’t know what hit her. He said nothing, just held her, and instinct told her that was what he needed right now.

She drifted off, exhaustion and adrenaline crash making for a fine Valium. And if she could communicate with Hal…

She woke an hour later. She hadn’t dreamed of Hal, and Ares was gone.

Instantly, she leaped out of bed, only to have her legs go wet noodle on her. She caught herself on the chair, sparing herself a nasty fall. Damn, she was getting weak. Her entire body ached, and at some point, her skull had become a giant juicer, turning her brain into a throbbing, liquid muck.

As quickly as she could, which meant she was turtle-slow, she dressed in a pair of olive-drab capris that were a lot looser than they used to be and a blue button-down blouse that didn’t match; right now, fashion wasn’t her biggest concern.

Barefoot, she padded out to the great room, where Ares was standing in front of the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel, head bowed so deeply his chin touched his chest.

“Ares? Are you okay?”

He didn’t look up, but he did let out a bitter laugh. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine.”

Now he lifted his head, and she drew a startled breath at his red-rimmed eyes and his drawn expression. “You were taken prisoner, beaten, forced to kill, nearly forced to…” He trailed off, shook his head. “You are
not
fine.”

No, her time with Pestilence had not been pleasant. But she’d survived. She’d even fought him without breaking down into a screaming, bawling puddle. “I think,” she said softly, “that I should be the one to determine that.” She moved toward Ares, but he stepped away. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at the ceiling fan, which was whirring madly. “I failed you. I failed Torrent.”

“There’s nothing you could have done for him. And maybe you don’t remember, but you got me away from Pestilence.”

“
Bull. Fucking. Shit
.” The venom in Ares’s voice made her recoil. “
You
got us out of my brother’s cell. I hung there like a slab of beef in a butcher’s locker.”

“I couldn’t have gotten away without you.” The
agimortus
etched into her chest joined the throbbing in her head, as if it wanted in on the conversation. “We did it together. And none of this would have happened if I’d transferred the
agimortus
in the first place.” She should have done it, and she’d regret that decision for the rest of her life… short as it might be.

“Stop blowing smoke up my ass!”

“Why are you acting like this?” She reached for him, but he wheeled away, jamming his hands through his hair and leaving them there as he began to pace.

“What did he do to you?” His voice was flayed raw. “Before he brought you into the cell.”

“It’s not important, Ares.” At his smoky growl, her heart skidded to a stop. “Oh… you think he raped me.”

“Did he?” Still raw, as if his throat was bleeding.

“Would it matter?”

“Yes.” This time, his voice was dead.

She shivered. Even though the men who broke into their house hadn’t gotten the chance to rape her, Jackson could never see past what
might
have happened. Though he’d never said it, not outright, anyway, he’d viewed her as damaged goods. As ruined. Spoiled. When she’d touched him, he’d shrunk away, found some way to avoid intimacy
with her. They hadn’t made love even once after that night.

“So… if he raped me, would you think differently of me?”

Ares’s head snapped back as if he’d been sucker punched. “No. Never.” He regarded her from under the forbidding line of his dark brows, his gaze steely. “It matters because Pestilence tormented you while I was helpless to protect you. He knew exactly where to hit me, knowing I’d been through it once before with my wife. If he violated you on top of all that, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“He didn’t, Ares.” God, her heart was breaking for him, and she didn’t know how to help except to reassure him. “I swear. He was too concerned with capturing you so you could watch.”

Closing his eyes, he let out a long, relieved breath. But he still backed away when she reached for him.

“Ares, don’t. Please don’t pull away from me.” This was Jackson all over again, but this time, it was much worse. Afraid of how Jackson would respond to knowing about her ability, she’d never given herself fully to him, had always held a part of herself away. But she’d bared everything to Ares. He’d made her stronger, while Jackson had only dragged her down.

He said nothing. Wouldn’t even look at her. Not even as he strode from the room.

“You are a selfish piece of shit.”

Ares jerked to a halt just inside his walled garden. “Excuse me?”

Limos came around from behind him and parked herself in his path. “Cara was tormented at the hands of our brother—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Every single second of it was replaying in his head, and the only breaks he got in the show were when memories of Torrent popped in.

After Vulgrim and his mate, Sireth, Ares had been the first to hold Torr after his birth. Ares had watched the little guy learn to walk, had nearly come out of his skin while watching him negotiate rocky cliffs, had taught him to spar.

Vulgrim’s pain now was Ares’s, and for someone who had sworn to not allow emotion into his life, it felt as if Ares was drowning in it.

“Yeah, and you’re making what Pestilence did about you. You, not her.” Limos jammed her hands on her hips. “You feel helpless, impotent, because you couldn’t protect your female. So to punish yourself for your guilt or your inadequacy or whatever, you’re pulling away from her. Pestilence tortured her, but you aren’t a hell of a lot better, because you’re doing the same damned thing.”

He wanted to tell Limos to go fuck herself, but she was right. He’d been convinced that Jackson was an asshole for how he’d treated Cara, and then Ares had gone and repeated one of the most painful times of her life.

The stone path that wound through the gardens became his racetrack as he started walking. Could he outrun his asshole self? Not likely.

The slap of Limos’s bare feet fell into a steady beat behind him. “Hey, I’m sorry about Torrent.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to a halt. “I know how much you cared for him. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Watch over Vulgrim and Rath. Pestilence knows how to hurt me.” Overhead, a hawk drifted on a thermal, looking for prey. “Our brother is stronger than ever. He caught me off guard and bested me after I got myself free of the war. How did you get away from the starvation camps?”

“I alerted the media. Once they got wind of it, it was all over. I have a love-hate relationship with modern times, but today is true love.”

“Where’s Thanatos?”

“Gathering intel on where Pestilence might be building his army. When you took out those commanders and caused a cease-fire, it freed Than. He’s putting his time to good use before Pestilence’s plagues get worse. As it is, humans are starting to panic.”

No doubt they were. He’d seen this so many times… humans were like freaking sheep who panicked at the first sign of trouble, buying up supplies, moving to isolated areas, building bomb shelters, taping windows. Humans imagined there was an Apocalypse around every corner.

This time, they were right.

Shit, he had to throw the king of Hail Marys. “Stay with Cara.”

“Where are you going?”

He opened a Harrowgate. “To our mother.”

“What?” Li snared his arm. “Why? Are you insane?”

Probably. Lilith was one of the few beings who was more powerful than him. She’d kept Limos captive, and if she got hold of Ares, she could very well hold him until Pestilence broke Ares’s Seal.

“Lilith and Pestilence tortured Tristelle to learn where Unfallen are hiding. I’ll give Lilith anything she wants if
she’ll tell me where to find one.” He had to save Cara. Desperation was a lava flow in his veins.

“There are no more Unfallen.”

Li and Ares whirled to Reaver, who stood just off the path near a fish pond, his expression as angry as Ares had ever seen it. “What do you mean, there are no more?” Ares ground out.

Reaver’s blue eyes swirled with storm clouds, and lightning flashed in the pupils. “Just what I said. Either they have gone to Sheoul, or Pestilence has destroyed them. My brethren are gone, and we’re out of time.”

All the emotions Ares shouldn’t be feeling—panic, fear, anger—distilled into poisonous fury, and Ares lost it. He didn’t think. He reacted. Snagged Reaver’s expensive-ass jacket by the lapels and slammed the angel into an olive tree. “
You lie.
”

“
You failed.
”

A five-bazillion jolt blast of pissed-off angel hit Ares like a freight train, throwing him a dozen yards across the gardens and through a pillar. Stone crashed down on him, he was pretty sure he’d be pissing blood soon, and he leaped to his feet with a roar.