Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [44]
Nine
Cara stood there like a deer in headlights, her mind spinning, her heart pounding. “I think I need to sit down after all.”
Her feet were leaden as she moved over the marble floor to a thick throw rug, on top of which sat a huge coffee table designed like a chessboard. She knocked over two game pieces the size of soda cans as she sank down in an overstuffed leather chair.
“You like chess.” Her voice was hollow, her observation plain moronic.
“Yes.”
“You’re good at it, then?” Another moronic statement. She was discussing something as mundane as chess when Ares was talking about fallen angels, demons, and her death.
He righted the pieces. “No one has ever beaten me.”
“Remind me not to challenge you to a game,” she muttered.
“It would be wise not to challenge me to anything.” He swung toward one of the exits on the far side of the room and shouted for someone named Vulgrim.
His arrogance, while probably justified, irritated her, and she welcomed the annoyance. Anything was better than being afraid and confused. But before she could say anything, a hulking creature with ramlike horns and a broad snout stalked into the room, his hooves clacking on the floor. He—at least, she thought it was a he—wore some sort of leather tunic over chain mail that must have something else underneath it, or his thick, tan fur would have gotten pinched in the links.
She’d thought nothing could possibly freak her out more than she already was, but she assumed her best imitation of a stone statue, trying to be as invisible as possible as Ares spoke to the thing.
“My lord?” the thing rumbled.
Ares inclined his head. “Vulgrim, bring orc-water for the human. Instruct the others that she is to be given anything she wants.” He slid her a meaningful glance. “Except freedom. She is to be guarded with your lives.”
Orc-water? Surely he said orchid-water. Like rose-water. Only with orchids. God, she wanted to laugh like a maniac right now, because there was a monster in the room, and she was thinking about flower water. She eyed Ares and revised her thought. There were two monsters in the room.
Vulgrim bowed, wheeled around crisply on his hooved feet, and disappeared down the hall.
“What—” she cleared her throat to get rid of the humiliating hoarseness “—what was that?”
He peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Ramreel demon. I have thirty on staff as servants and guards. They won’t harm you.”
Of course not. Because why would demons harm her? “Do all demons look like goat-things?”
He inhaled deeply, as though gathering patience to answer her questions. “There are as many species of demons as there are mammals on earth, though many appear as human as you and I. We call them ter’taceo. You’ll be able to sense or see some of them now that you’re part of this world.”
She remembered the man who had come out of the pub in York, the one who had turned into a hideous creature for a few horrific seconds. Something furry darted across the room, and she forgot the pub guy. “Is… that thing behind you a demon?”
Ares swiveled around, a broad grin softening his rugged features. “Yep.” He made some purring noises, and the beagle-sized thing, a miniature, roundish, bushier version of Vulgrim, sprinted over on four legs. She watched, amazed by Ares’s unexpected tenderness, as he gave it an affectionate tickle. “Go home, Rath. Your father is probably worried.” The little goat-thing bleated and bounced away, and Ares smiled until he turned back to her. “Vulgrim’s grandson. He’s only a few months old, and curious as hell. Mother is dead.”
Man, she had a bazillion questions for him, but she didn’t even know where to start. Maybe the reason she was here would be a good place. She settled back in the chair, and when Ares’s gaze raked her boldly, she brought her knees up to her chest and arranged the ruined pajama top to keep herself covered, though at this point, she supposed it didn’t matter. He’d already seen it all.
“Polite men don’t ogle,” she snapped, because dammit, he’d seen