Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [64]
Battle leaped out and onto the squishy ground. Ares let the stallion have his head, and Battle, who knew exactly where they were going, took off at a dead run. This was why he’d chosen to use a stationary gate instead of a summoned one—the horse needed to let out some energy, and so did Ares.
Battle’s hooves pounded the ground with massive force, sending powerful shocks up his legs and shoulders, and into Ares’s body. Ares loved this, the rush of the charge, and the only way it could be better was if he was charging into a bloody fray.
Dammit, Cara had worked him into a frenzy, and now his blood pumped hotly through his veins, his adrenaline felt like nettles in his muscles, and his vision sharpened as his body primed for a challenge. The Neethul females would give him a fight, blood would be drawn, and teeth would find flesh.
A shiver of desire went through him. Would Cara give him all that? When he was at his most jacked up, would she give him the battle he craved? Images of him taking her against a wall, on the rocky cliffs, in the temple ruins that littered his island sifted through his mind. In some of them, she was scratching, clawing, biting, even as she screamed with pleasure. In others, she was caressing his shoulders, kneading his muscles, kissing her way down his body.
What would that be like? There’d been no tenderness in any sex he’d had since his wife died. Even with Nera, it hadn’t been a love match. There’d been passion, but no true tenderness. So why the hell was he picturing all the gentle crap with Cara?
With a nasty snarl, he reined Battle to a halt in front of the tavern. He didn’t bother to call the stallion to him. Right now, they were both too worked up, and the writhing marking would only distract and infuriate him. He flung open the door… and walked into the biggest crowd of females he’d ever seen hanging around the pub.
Immediately, he was surrounded, had hands, paws, and hooves all over him. He didn’t like it. In fact, he nearly turned around and got the hell out of there. But there was a malevolent tang in the air that made his scalp and his skin crawl. Something was off. Very, very off.
He captured the closest female, a slinky, humanoid succubus, by the arm. “What’s going on?”
“Pestilence is here.” The succubus’s pupils dilated and constricted like a cat’s. “He’s hotter than ever, now that he’s got that evil aura.”
Ares’s breath hissed through his teeth. “Where?”
The female rubbed against him, a purr rumbling in her throat. “Out back with Saw and Flail.”
Ares scanned the room, focused on the back door, and bellowed, “Make way!”
Instantly, the demons backed away from him, and as he stalked toward the rear of the pub, they scattered like fish before a shark. As he reached for the door, he paused. The Sora female, Cetya, was sitting on a bench, head bowed, shoulders slumped, her normally bright red skin washed out to a grayish brick color. And her tail… what the fuck? It was in a knot.
“Hey.” He hooked her chin with a finger and tipped up her face, was startled by the tears streaming down her cheeks. “What happened?”
“He’s not the same,” she whispered. She flicked up her tail, her pain obvious in her wince.
“Reseph—Pestilence—did that?” Ares spoke sharply, his already unstable temper wobbling.
Cetya nodded, and his temple throbbed with rising fury. Reseph had never been sadistic. Even when his demon side surfaced, which was rare, women had never been the targets of his rampages.
“Go to Underworld General. They’ll fix your tail—”
“My sister worked there,” she said numbly. “She died.”
“I know you miss Ciska, but you need to go or your tail will die. And stay away from my brother from now on.”
He slammed out of the tavern and into a black forest partly concealed in reddish mist. Silently, Ares