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Chased by demonic flames of infernal fire, Ares hurled himself and Cara out of the Harrowgate and into his great room.
Shit, that was close. Too close. His instincts should have warned him sooner than they had, but thanks to his limitations when in close proximity to the agimortus, he’d been hobbled like a brood mare waiting to be mounted by a randy stallion.
Heat seared his ankle, the fingers of fire nearly closing on him before the gate sealed. Ares hit the marble floor on his shoulder, rolling to take the brunt of the fall. Cara clutched him tightly, preventing her limbs from flailing and striking the hard surface.
Unlike the last time he’d had her on the ground, this time she ended up on top of him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his neck. She smelled like flowers and vanilla, and it probably wasn’t appropriate to notice, but it had been a long time since he’d had a woman’s soft body wrapped up with his.
The erection that popped in his pants was even more inappropriate, especially given that they’d almost had their skin seared off like suckling pigs in one of Limos’s Hawaiian barbecue pits.
Oh, yeah, great time to throw wood, asshole.
“This nightmare really bites,” Cara muttered against his throat, and he hoped to hell she wasn’t saying that because she felt his hardening c**k prodding her.
Ares pushed her off him and came to his feet. She sat there in her pink flannel pajamas that were spotted with puffy white sheep. Ares hated pink. And soft, fluffy crap. It was a miracle this woman had survived even the human world—she wouldn’t last five minutes in his. Though he had to give her credit for a couple of sharp comebacks and trying to sneak out of the hotel room.
He’d have had her pinned to the wall before her fingers touched the door handle.
“It’s not a nightmare,” he barked, and no, he didn’t feel bad at all when she flinched. She needed to toughen up, and fast. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Then maybe you could tell me what’s going on.” Her chin came up defiantly. Good girl. “You said you brought in the dog. You said you were visiting cousins—”
“I lied.” He crouched beside her, waved his hand in front of her face, and unlocked the memories he’d buried in her brain.
She gasped, her eyes going wide as she scrambled backward. “What did you do? Oh, my God, what… who are those men in my house?” She grabbed her head, the memories hitting hard, a flood of data that would lock up even the most advanced computer.
“They were human warriors.” He moved toward her, slowly, herding her in a pink, fluffy cloud toward the corner. “Demon slayers. I suspect they were tracking the hellhound you treated.” He practically spat that last part, unable to believe anyone would help one of those nasty-ass things.
“That’s what they kept saying. Hellhound.” She peered at her bare feet, her sandy brows pulling into a frown. “Wait. The man who came out of thin air in my office. He took Hal, and later, I saw him in the dream.” Her hand went to her chest. “He’s the one who gave me this mark.”
“His name was Sestiel. He was a fallen angel.”
“F-fallen angel?” She swallowed, licked her lips, and naturally, his gaze was drawn to her mouth. She might be soft, but when it came to females, sometimes soft was desirable. “Why did he want a… hellhound?” She stumbled over the word, licked her lips again. He wished she’d stop doing that. “Um, Hal.”
“He took the hound because proximity to them can mask a fallen angel’s whereabouts.” They were also an effective weapon against the Horsemen, but she didn’t need to know that. “I think he was hoping he could tame it and get it to bond with him. He must not have known that it had already bonded to you.”
“Bonded?”
Cold, stale hatred fisted Ares’s heart. “Hellhounds are vile, evil creatures. They live to slaughter and maim, and they feel no remorse. So whatever you did to him, saved his life or something… it made him grateful.” The very idea made Ares ill. He’d rather eat ghastbat guano for the rest of his life than be bonded to a grateful hellhound. “You’ve been dreaming about him, except they aren’t dreams. Hellhounds can communicate through the bond using astral projection. You go to him while you’re sleeping, but it can be dangerous, because in that dream world, angels and demons can capture you, keep you with them until your physical body dies.”
Cara backed up a little more. Her eyes had gone unfocused, her brain swamped with information beyond the scope of anything she could possibly understand. “And you—you grabbed me from my house. You kidnapped me.”
“I saved your life,” he pointed out. “The Guardians were going to torture and kill you.”
She buried her face in her hands, and then her head snapped up, her cheeks mottled with red. “You kissed me!”
His gaze dropped once more to her mouth, those lush lips he’d sampled. She’d tasted of mint and hellhound then, and he wondered about her flavor now. “It wasn’t a kiss, human, so don’t get excited.”
She sputtered in outrage. “I don’t know what putting your lips on someone else’s mouth means for your people—whatever they are—but humans call that a kiss.”
“Congratulations, then. You made out with a hellhound.” He raked his gaze over her body, which, though hidden under oversized pajamas, was curvy. He’d never forget the unintentional strip show she’d put on before getting into the shower. “I would avoid that in the future. Hellhounds f**k what they kill. Usually while they’re killing it. No telling what they’ll do to someone they actually like.”
Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “You’re disgusting.”
He snorted. “I’m not the one who sucked face with a hellhound.”
A tremor rocked her, and for a brief—very brief—moment, he experienced the tiniest bit of remorse for taunting her, and he considered armoring up to counter it. Then she shot him a glare of utter revulsion, and so much for the rare pang of conscience. “Where are we?” When he didn’t reply within the two seconds she apparently allotted for an answer, she huffed. “Well?”
Impressive, how she could flip from looking as if she was going to collapse into a quivering puddle to demanding answers to her questions. “Greece. This is my house.”
“You mentioned Greece when you gave me your phone number,” she mused.
To her credit, she didn’t freak out again. Like any competent warrior, she surveyed her surroundings, taking note of the environment, and he had no doubt she’d logged every exit. Good girl. When she was done, she attempted to get to her feet, but he’d caged her between his body and the wall. He stood, offered her a hand, which she ignored.
So she was skittish and stubborn. Talk about a frustrating combination.
She scrambled to her feet on her own and slid along the wall to put a yard of distance between them. “This is all so crazy. Demons? Hellhounds? Fallen angels? Why am I involved in this? What did I do?”
Good questions. Too bad he didn’t have any good answers. “Wrong place, wrong time. When the hellhound gave you Hell’s Kiss—”
“He didn’t kiss me,” she ground out. “He’s a dog.”
“He’s more than a dog, and at some point, he licked you on the mouth. Do you remember that?”
Frowning, she nodded slowly. “I’d just helped him. He’d been shot and hit by a car. He healed remarkably fast once I removed the bullet, though.”
“Because he’s a hellhound. They’re hard to kill, but The Aegis shot him with an enchanted slug. He would have died if not for you. They don’t give their bond over to just anyone. You made a major impression, and he gave you his life.”
“Gave me his life?”
“Hell’s Kiss bonds your life forces. Any time you’re injured, you’ll draw from him and vice versa. You’ll both heal with supernatural speed. The catch is that if he’s injured, you’ll feel the drain on your energy. The more severely he’s hurt, the worse it’ll be for you. It’s possible that he could completely drain you to death.”
She tugged down one of her sleeves that had ridden up to expose her forearm. “Aren’t you the bearer of fun news.”
He shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, being bonded to a hellhound lengthens your lifespan.” At least, it would if she wasn’t hosting an agimortus, which would likely drain her faster than the hellhound’s life force could recharge her. “He must have been seriously grateful, because hellhounds are immortal, but by bonding to a mortal, he lost his longevity. He’ll still be hard to kill as long as you’re healthy, but when you die, so will he.”
She pondered that. “Are you immortal?”
“Yes. But with most immortals, there are ways to kill them—vampires will live forever unless they’re exposed to sunlight, beheaded, or staked in the heart. But I’m indestructible. I can’t be killed.” Except by Deliverance, the dagger forged specifically to take out the Horsemen.
“Vampires are real?” Cara wrapped her arms around her midsection as though trying to hold herself together. He hadn’t had the same luxury when he learned the supernatural world was real—his arms had been shackled behind his back as he watched his wife tortured and killed. “Okay, so how did my helping the… hellhound… get me involved in all of this?”
“I told you Sestiel took the hound to keep his own whereabouts hidden. He’d been targeted for assassination and needed protection.”
She looked down at her feet again, which were pale even against the white marble. “Why did someone want him dead?”
Now things were going to get tricky. He gestured to the black leather three-piece sectional sofa that Limos had made him buy. Because every guy needed to seat twelve full-grown men on a freaking couch.
“Sit. I’ll send for some food if you’re hungry.”
“I’m not hungry. I don’t want to sit down.” She crossed her arms over her chest in stubborn defiance. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
Ares was not accustomed to taking orders, and he made that clear with a firm, “You know what you need to for now.”
“Really?” An angry flush reddened her face to her hairline. “I know everything? You said before we left the hotel that I was in danger. What about the people at the B&B? Did it blow up? Is that what happened? Did people die because I’m the one in danger?”
“Cara—”
“Tell me! I’m still on the fence about how much of this to believe, so I need some answers, and I need them now.”
His feathers ruffled at her command, and okay, if she wanted it, she was going to get it, uncensored and uncut.
“Yes. Those people died because you were in danger. The B&B was engulfed in infernal fire.” Which was forbidden to use in the human realm, but no one was going to police Pestilence. “Spirits straight out of hell hunted down every human within range of the heat and burned them alive while sucking the souls out of their bodies. They would have been seared from the inside out. It’s a f**king hellish way to die, and worse, their souls are now trapped in hell with no hope of ever getting to Heaven.” Her sea-water eyes teared up, and although he had the oddest urge to try to comfort her, he went in a direction he was far more comfortable with; drill sergeant. “Listen up, human. It sucks that you got caught up in this, but you did, and you’re here. There’s a lot at stake, and you’re going to need to do some serious toughening up if you want to survive. A lot of people are going to die before this is over, so dry the tears and deal. Right now you’re the most important human on the planet, so act like it.”
“You bastard,” she rasped.
“Yes, I’m a bastard. Literally. And you are the recipient of Sestiel’s agimortus.” He closed the distance between them in two strides and tore open her pajama top, flinging buttons everywhere. Cara shrieked and tried to get away, but he caught her with one hand around the back of her neck. He jabbed his finger into her chest, over the symbol there, ignoring the way it seared his skin and watered down his muscles. “This is an agimortus. This is something that only a fallen angel is strong enough to bear.”
“Let go, you perv.”
Not happening. Not until he’d drilled his point home. “Think about what I’ve just said, Cara. Only fallen angels are supposed to be marked with this, and all you can think about is your exposed hooters?” And what nice hooters they were. It took every ounce of military conditioning Ares had not to stare. He was a bastard, but he wasn’t a sicko who got off on scaring women.
Cara shoved at his shoulders. “Get your hands off me, and I’ll ask the damned question you want me to ask.”
Stepping back, he watched with amusement as she yanked the shirt back together, the little sheep rippling angrily on the cotton candy flannel. “Go ahead. Ask. Prove you’ve got some brains in that pretty little head.”
“Jerk,” she spat. “I’ll play your game. So tell me, if only fallen angels can have this agimorty thing, why do I have it?”
Smart cookie. He’d have smiled if the answer wasn’t so dire. “Because fallen angels are currently on the endangered-species list. So the only other being Sestiel could transfer it to is a human. Unfortunately, humans can only bear it for a matter of hours, but because you are bonded to the hellhound, Sestiel must have wagered that you’d have a little more stamina.”
