Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [40]
Ares cocked an eyebrow. “You have another explanation for the mark you now have between your breasts?”
Of course she didn’t have an explanation. If an alien spaceship landed outside the window, she wouldn’t have an explanation for that either.
“Who are you?” She took in his combat boots, black leather pants, and black AC/DC tee beneath a black leather biker jacket. “Why would you be riding a horse and wearing armor?”
“We can discuss it after I get you to safety.”
“Are you mad?” She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His hand sliced through the air in a silencing motion, and he stalked to the window. “Have you seen any rats?”
Her mind spun at the sudden shift of subject. “Rats?”
“Rodents that resemble large mice.”
“I know what rats are,” she gritted out. “Why?”
“They’re spies.” He peered through the curtains into the darkness. Thick fog diffused the yellow lamplight, creating an eerie glow on the street below. “Have you seen any?”
Rodent spies? The man might be hot as hell, but he was a loon. As inconspicuously as possible, Cara inched toward the door. “I didn’t see any furry little James Bonds.” When he leveled a flat stare at her, she added, “Yes, there were things scurrying in the shadows, but I saw a lot of weird stuff tonight.” More inching.
“You won’t make it.”
“Won’t make what?”
His voice was a curious mix of bored and amused. “You won’t make it to the door.”
Yeah? Well, she could try. She measured the distance, figured she could sprint the rest of the way, but she froze solid when his massive body went taut. “What is it?”
“I heard a horse.”
She swallowed, remembering the scary white stallion with the malevolent ruby eyes. “A… bad horse?”
“Pestilence,” he hissed. Wheeling around in a blur of motion, he came at her. “We’re out of here.”
He threw out his arm, and a strange doorway of light appeared in the center of the room. His hands clamped down on her arms, and just as an ear-shattering boom rocked the building and an explosion of heat and fire roared at them, Ares dove with her into the light.
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 cock 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