Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [72]
“This is more than a side-effect of healing Battle, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. Is it the agimorbid-thing?”
“Agimortus,” he corrected, though by this point, since she’d said it right before, he suspected she was deliberately mispronouncing it just to annoy him. Too bad he found it to be sort of endearing. Endearing. Holy hell. “Likely. Or The Aegis could be hurting the hellhound.”
“Hal,” she said, the sea-storm in her eyes gathering strength again. “His name is Hal.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The idea of naming a hellhound as if it were a dainty lap yapper irritated the hell out of him. He wiped water out of his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I have to rinse first.” Cara dragged her fingers through her hair. The action exposed the swell of her breasts, the deep cleavage between them, and for all of the water, his mouth went dry. “Full of shampoo.”
“I’ll help.”
“I’ll manage on my own.” She shifted, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of honey-colored curls at the juncture of her thighs, and oh, hell, he didn’t need to see that. Didn’t need to see the imprint of the agimortus on her chest, either, but at least that cooled him down a little.
“This isn’t negotiable. I can’t let you fall and break your neck.” At her horrified expression, he gnashed his teeth. “I’m old enough to have seen it all a million times over. Stop being a child.”
“Well, I’m not old enough to have shown it off a million times over. So stop being an ass.”
Impossible woman. “Would you feel better if I were as exposed as you?” He peeled off his soaked shirt and started to unzip his pants.
“No!” She grabbed his wrist. “Really, it’s okay.”
She looked like a cornered cat as he gently lifted her to her feet. God, her skin was soft. Smooth. Her body… yeah, he wasn’t supposed to look, but shit, she was built like the women of his time—of his human time. They’d been lush, with curves that signaled that they were fertile and built to bear a warrior’s lust and his offspring.
His body hardened, primed for that thought. So much for cooling off.
“I can stand on my own—” Her legs gave out, and he caught her, tucked her against him. “Or not.”
He wrapped one arm around her waist and held her so her breasts were pressed to his chest and her belly cradled his erection.
If the way her face flamed red was any indication, she’d noticed his state of arousal. And the way her eyes darkened said she liked it.
Fourteen
This had to be the weirdest thing that had ever happened to Cara. Which was saying something, considering that she was bonded to a hellhound, had been imprinted with a mystical symbol that made her a target for assassination, and she’d traveled instantly from England to Greece.
Now she was naked and in a shower, being propped up by a walking, talking legend. And said legend had an erection. She’d read somewhere that normal, healthy men got up to twenty erections a day. Um… yep, Ares was definitely healthy.
“Can we hurry?” She pressed her body as tightly against him as she could. The closer she was, the less he could see of her.
Not that being plastered to him wasn’t nice. Ares was a rock-solid mountain of muscle, and she couldn’t help but stroke his skin as she clung to him. And God, she wanted to lick the droplets of water that glistened on his powerful shoulders.
“Tilt your head back.” His command was just that; an order, spoken gruffly. Yet his hold was tender.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t appreciate being barked at,” she sighed.
His hand came up to her chin, and he lifted her face. His eyes were hooded, unreadable. She thought he was going to say something, but instead, he tipped her head under the stream of water. His palm was a light caress on her forehead and scalp, his ministrations deliberate, careful, as if he was afraid his touch would hurt her. In a way, it did. Her heart pounded crazily, almost painfully. No one had ever been so attentive with her.
And how could someone so comfortable with killing,