Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [116]
He would destroy Pestilence for this.
Almost imperceptibly, Cara shifted, and just before her mouth made contact, she cranked her wrist so viciously that Ares heard the tear of flesh. Lightning quick, she dove toward Ares as Pestilence swung at her, blood flowing between his legs and a screech ripping from his throat.
“The bracelet,” Ares yelled. “Move it off Battle!”
Cara scrambled to her feet and ran to him, barely avoiding Pestilence’s second grab. She leaped, but her fingers only brushed the copper ring. “I… can’t… reach!”
“Climb me. Hurry.” He raised one leg, and she hopped on, straddling it as she shoved the bracelet up. “Out!”
Pestilence grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to the floor as Battle formed behind him. Cara screamed, flailed, kicked out. Pestilence’s fist slammed into her jaw, and then he was smashed into the floor by Battle’s giant hooves. The horse struck over and over.
“My power… it won’t work on your brother.” Stumbling, Cara came to her feet. Her voice was mushy, her words floating on blood, but her eyes were determined. Why he’d ever thought her weak, he had no idea.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Battle’s handling it. I need you to look for a lever.”
She limped around behind him, and through the sound of the beating Pestilence was taking, he heard shouts outside the door. Pest’s reinforcements.
“Hurry, Cara…”
“Got it!”
Something metallic clicked, and he dropped to his feet, hands still bound by the length of rope. She dashed over, her fingers making quick work of the knots. The door burst open, and demons swarmed inside. Ares threw a Harrowgate, using it as a weapon to shear two of them in half. “Battle!” The stallion whirled, stood still while Ares threw Cara into the saddle and then swung up.
Pestilence’s body was ruined, his throat and face crushed, but he staggered to his feet and heaved a spiked club. It bounced off Ares’s back, but the pain was forgotten as Battle charged the swarm of demons, plowing through them like a wrecking ball, and leaped through the gate.
The second the horse’s hooves hit island sand, Ares whipped off his shirt and tugged it over Cara’s head, shielding her nakedness from his staff, who were running to meet them.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled, her entire body shaking as the adrenaline rush that had gotten them out of there began to take its toll on her.
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Pressing kisses into her hair, he wrapped his arms around her, desperate to feel her warmth, her vitality, all the things she could have lost at his brother’s hands. “He should never have gotten that close to you.”
“Not that.” She stared at the Ramreels stampeding toward them. “I’m so sorry, Ares.” The scent of misery billowing from her set off his internal alarms.
The demons surrounded them, all sporting injuries. Vulgrim was there, limping, one horn sheared off. In his arms, he held a squirming little Rath. But Torrent wasn’t with him.
“My lord.” Vulgrim bowed. And when he unfurled to his full seven and a half feet, his red, watery eyes made Ares’s gut plummet.
“Don’t say it,” he growled. “Don’t. Even. Say it.”
“We lost him, tesmon,” Vulgrim said. “My son is gone.”
Twenty-two
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