Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [125]
“We’re not using that on Reseph,” Than said, and Ares’s hand jerked so hard he nearly dropped the weapon as he rounded on his brother.
“Damn you, Thanatos. This is my decision. He fucked with my woman, and I will do what I have to do.” So much for the “She’s not my mate” bullshit Eidolon had called him on. He’d fought against his feelings, but every general worth his salt knew when it was time to lay down arms and surrender. It was time.
Than’s expression was somber, his voice as subdued as Ares had ever heard it. “Does that include killing the human?”
“Limos,” Ares said, in a voice as cold as the winters where Thanatos lived. “Get him out of here before… just get him out of here.”
Li dragged their brother out of the room, but not before Than had cast Ares an apologetic glance. Despite Ares’s anger, he knew his brother wasn’t being a dick. Reseph had been their brother for five thousand years. They’d known the human for a few days. The math added up to saving the family if they could.
Ares would probably feel the same if the situation were reversed. And, though Ares’s strategic mind was scrambled this close to Cara, even he understood that there was risk in trying to end Pestilence. Cara… no risk.
Except to Ares.
“Ares.” He took a deep, bracing breath and turned to Cara. Her gorgeous eyes were those of a warrior, and far too full of knowledge. “What did Thanatos mean by ‘killing the human’?”
Ares had never wanted to beat his brother more than he did right then. Pain sliced through his hand; he’d gripped the dagger so hard that it had cut through the leather and into his skin.
“Ares. Tell me.”
Tension flared in the sudden silence. “There’s a way out of this,” he began, as he twined his fingers with hers. “There’s a way to ensure my Seal can’t be broken until one of the others is. If I kill you with this dagger, my Seal remains intact, and Pestilence will have no way to turn me.”
“Until another Seal breaks.” Cara didn’t hesitate. “Kill me.”
Ares stepped back. “No,” he whispered desperately. “I can’t.”
“You have to.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “You know you do. Ares, I’m dying. It’s happening. You have a chance to stop the Apocalypse, or at least delay it while you find a way to stop your brother.”
“Cara…”
“But not here. Take me home. And make love to me one last time.”
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah.”
Pestilence was seriously pissed off. Funny how, when he’d been Reseph, he’d rarely gotten angry. Oh, no one wanted to be around when he finally did blow his stack, but it didn’t happen often. Reseph had been such a… insert something wimpy here, because Pestilence was too pissed off to come up with anything clever or even crass.
He looked down at the bodies at his feet—three of his minions who had allowed Ares and the human whore to escape. One of them had dared blame Pestilence… he was missing a few organs, unlike the others, who had merely suffered broken necks.
“The best leaders don’t terrorize their underlings.” Harvester nudged one of the bodies with her foot while looking pointedly at Pestilence. “Ares always had the respect of his army. And their loyalty.”
Steam built in his skull at her taunt. Fucking Harvester. Fucking Ares. How he wanted both of them to suffer. For now, though, he would have to be patient. Casually, he pushed off the post he was leaning against and stared at the bloody battle taking place in the pit below. The hellhound pup was ripping into a khnive, a creature about the size of the hound, but resembling a skinned opossum. The khnive’s claws raked the hellhound, tearing a massive gash in its side. It was a blow delivered in desperation, and the khnive gave a final, gasping breath as it bled out through a gaping throat wound.
“Don’t give the hound time to heal. Throw something else in there. Something big.”
At his side, David, his Aegis spy-slash-gofer, nodded, his glazed eyes bouncing in his head. “Yes, my lord.”
Pestilence rolled the vial of saliva they’d extracted from the hellhound between his palms. “Have you arranged for the venom delivery device?”
David dug a small