Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [45]
“Oh, they ogle,” he drawled. “They’re just more subtle about it.”
Whatever. “Why did you bring me here?”
He began to prowl the length of the room, his long strides eating up the floor, his severe expression frozen in concentration. “To protect you from my brother.”
“Your brother? He’s the one trying to kill me?”
“He was the male on the white horse, and he’s not the only one who wants you dead. Half the underworld will be after you. That’s why you need to be here. My brother can find the island, but few others can. He’ll suspect that I brought you here, but he’ll have no specifics—I’ve had the island cleaned of vermin and bats, and my Ramreels have hawks chasing birds out of the airspace.” At what must have been a questioning look on her face, he added, “My brother can communicate with disease-carriers and use them as spies.”
Eew. So that was why Ares had asked if she’d seen any rats. “Your brother sounds charming.”
There was a long pause, silence that was filled only by the strike of his boots on the floor. “He used to be.”
Somehow she couldn’t picture the psychopath on the demon horse being charming. “Maybe it’s time you told me exactly who you and your brother are, because frankly, I’m having a hard time processing any of this.”
He shook his head. “Knowing isn’t going to make it any easier.”
“Is it really going to make it harder?”
“It’s not going to be easy to believe.”
“Ah… hello.” She gestured in the direction the ram-horned demon had gone. “After what I’ve seen, you could say you’re Darth Vader, and I wouldn’t be surprised.”
One corner of his generous mouth tipped up in a smile before settling back into a firm, forbidding line. But for that one second, she actually felt herself drawn to him the way she’d been when she’d first seen him on her porch.
“My brother’s name is Reseph,” he said roughly. “Was Reseph. He’s now the being you might recognize as Pestilence, first Horseman of the Apocalypse.”
Okay, she’d been wrong about not being surprised. Doing her best to not hyperventilate, she sat in stunned silence for a moment. Brother. Ares’s brother was Pestilence. She finally managed to speak, but the sound was more of a croak. “And that makes you…?”
“War. Second Horseman of the Apocalypse.” The demon, Vulgrim, arrived with a bottle of water, which Ares brought to her. “Drink.”
Numbly, she did as he bade. The cold water relieved her parched tongue, and she downed half the contents before his hand came down on hers and gently nudged the bottle away. The word “gentle” seemed odd when paired with him, but right now, all that frightening power was contained, and even the hard-cut angles in his face, the forbidding set of his mouth, had become less severe.
“Easy, female,” he murmured. “You’re going to shock your system.”
Too late. She couldn’t be much more shocked than she was right now. “It doesn’t taste like flowers.” Wasn’t she the queen of moronic statements today. He eyed her as if she was feverishly insane and he could catch the crazy virus. “You said it was orchid water.”
He frowned, silently repeated what she’d said, and then he laughed. And wow, he was downright beautiful when he did that. “Orc-water. I had Vulgrim add an orcish herb that’ll help you relax.”
She should be pissed that he’d drugged her, but the orc stuff must already be working, because she just didn’t care. In fact, an effervescent warmth was spreading through her veins, and her muscles grew pleasantly relaxed. “So what now?”
“We have to find your hellhound before Pestilence does. If he knows you’ve bonded to it, he’ll torture it to kill you.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, his flexing biceps testing the limits of his T-shirt sleeves’ strength. “You were in York to find the mutt, were you not? Do you know where he is?”
“Not exactly. But in one of those dreams, I saw the name of a street. Newland Park Drive.”
“Then I’ll start the search there. No doubt Pestilence already has his minions combing the city.”
Don’t ask… don’t ask… “Why does he want to kill me? Why would the underworld