With a roar, he came at her, and though she danced out of the way with more grace than he’d anticipated, he managed to catch her arm and flip her. Again she surprised him, landing on her feet and then hopping immediately into another spin kick. But this time he was ready, and he laid her out with a sweeping kick of his own that caught her behind the knee. She hit the mat hard, and when his instinct screamed at him to kill her while she was down, he gnashed his teeth and stood his ground, allowing her to roll and pop to her feet.
“Nice to see you too, Horseman.” She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand… a hand sporting bloodied knuckles. “Are we sparring, or are you really trying to kill me?”
“Now,” he growled, “would normally be the time when I warn you to get away from me and lock yourself in a room. But I want to know what happened with the succubus.”
“Bitch freaked out when she saw me. Said it was her job to get you in bed. No idea what the f**k she was talking about, but she attacked me, and I defended myself. Sorry, did I kill your lover?”
He ignored that. “Is fighting her how you hurt yourself?”
“This?” She held up her hand. “Yeah.” She then did the worst thing she could have done, short of stripping na**d. She put her bleeding knuckles in her mouth.
Than’s fangs shot out of his gums, saliva surged over his tongue, and his skin broke out with sweat. Shit. He stumbled backward.
“Get. Out.” His voice, warped with dark need, didn’t sound like his.
“Thanatos, what’s wrong?” She approached him, her scent clouding the air. Blood and woman, both tantalizing aromas, had his desires warring with each other. At least the driving need to kill had taken a back seat to lust and hunger.
He shook his head, unable to speak, lest she see his fangs. They were his secret shame, foul tools he’d carelessly used during the years after his curse when he’d gone on a rampage. When he’d emerged from that dark time, he’d learned that he’d sort of… fathered a race, and it was something he wasn’t exactly proud of.
Since then, as long as he kept himself well fed on the vampires he kept here at his home, there were no problems. But lately he’d been distracted, and between the violence around the world and Regan driving him nuts, he hadn’t fed properly.
“Thanatos?”
He turned away so he could speak. “Now would be a good time to go.”
“Or?”
Closing his eyes, he inhaled, and his mouth watered. She smelled like battle and death, sunlight and honey, and his groin stirred. “Or—”
He didn’t remember moving. Had no idea how he found himself smashed against Regan, pinning her to the wall as he fused his mouth to hers. She was taut beneath him, her participation in the kiss dubious, but mixed with the scent of her fury was arousal, as s aight="0epure and sharp as his.
“Did you finish the book?” He palmed her breast through the sports bra. “Did you like what you read?”
Her hand dropped to cup him through his sweats, and he guessed that was a yes. Stinging, hot desire lashed at him, and his h*ps did an involuntary roll into her palm. This was stupid, was far more dangerous than any of the games he’d played in the past. With her, his control was limited, and in this state of mind, it was a brittle string ready to snap.
No penetration. Just remember… no penetration.
Fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as she deepened the kiss, turning it into one of dominance. She was still fighting, this Aegi warrior, and when she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, he was ready to throw down with her.
He dropped his hand to her waist and slid his fingers beneath the elastic band of her sweat pants to cup her ass and bring her up against him. Her moan joined his at the feel of his hard c*ck pressing against her core. She still managed to tunnel her hand into his pants, and at the first brush of her fingers on the tip of his cock, he nearly exploded.
Her warm hand closed around his shaft and began to stroke. The friction instantly made him mindless, as if her touch was magic, reducing him to a spellbound lump of clay. Normally he’d resist, unwilling to give up any control. Female demons had tried to seduce him for thousands of years, and some of them possessed seductive gifts or tricks, requiring him to be alert at all times.
But unlike the demons who’d tried to bed him, Regan hadn’t come to him for that, and it felt good to let himself go, even if just a little bit.
Bringing his hand around to her abdomen, he kicked her feet apart to spread her legs as he trailed his mouth over her jaw. She made a sexy, rumbling noise in her throat, and he latched his mouth onto the skin there, letting his fangs scrape lightly. He wouldn’t bite. Couldn’t. He hadn’t bitten a human in over a hundred years, a female one in over five hundred, and he wasn’t about to fall off that wagon again.
Shoving those thoughts away, he slipped a finger inside her and groaned at the silky wetness. She arched into him and squeezed his hard shaft, and he nearly lost it. Her firm strokes were heaven, and within seconds, he was rocking into her grip.
His own hand was coated in her juices, and she was rocking too, and she gasped when he slipped another finger inside her tight opening. Damn, she’d feel good around his cock, and he imagined that they were horizontal on a mattress instead of against a wall engaging in heavy petting.
The fabric of her underwear and sweats hindered his hand, and with a growl, he ripped the satin panties away, leaving the slightly looser sweats still hanging from her hips. He could deal, he supposed. Especially because she was panting now, riding his hand, and he was right there with her, walking the fine line between pleasure and frustration. All it would take to push him over the edge would be her thumb over the head… ah, yes. She’d read his mind. The light stroke ignited him, and at the same time, her cries rang out and the scent of her lust clouded his bralouontin. The cl**ax crashed over him, and he rode the waves as he worked her, and when she peaked again, so did he.
Balls pulsing, he pumped his hips, releasing another hot flow. So… good. So… damned… good…
Outside, the wind howled against the window, bringing him back into focus as his cl**ax waned. His legs were rubbery, and he thought that maybe the only thing holding him up was the wall and her arm around his waist.
Their labored breaths were the only sound in the room until she nipped his earlobe and whispered, “Let’s move to the bedroom to finish this.”
Finish? His c*ck sprang to life again, taking her words to heart. A thread of admiration for her stamina crept up on him, but at the same time, so did bitterness she didn’t deserve, but that she was going to bear the brunt of nevertheless.
He pushed away from her and tugged up his pants. “We are finished,” he said gruffly.
Confusion flashed in her eyes as she awkwardly adjusted her sweats and wiped her hand on a towel. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me make it easy for you.” He got up in her face so he’d be nice and clear. “This was a mistake. It won’t happen again. I’m not available, Regan. We’ll work together, but know that I’m counting the days until you’re out of my home and out of my life.”
He steeled himself against the hurt on her face, spun on his heel, and stalked out of the gym.
Twenty-four
Ares took the wedding news a lot better than Thanatos did. Ares merely looked contemplative as he lounged on his sofa with Cara and a sheltie-sized, newborn hellhound pup next to him, a baby Ramreel hopping around their feet playing climb-the-mountain on the hellhound lying on the floor. Arik had seen a lot of strange stuff in his life, but the domestic scene that involved baby goat demons and hellhounds was f**ked up with a capital F.
Also unsettling was the way Thanatos’s shadows flickered around him as he stared at Arik and Limos after they’d spilled the news. Arik had hoped the guy would still be at Underworld General so they could talk to the more level-headed Ares alone, but no such luck. Thanatos was healed of Pestilence’s attempt at a lobotomy and was as a**hole-ish as ever.
“Married.” Than’s fists clenched and unclenched, and Arik was pretty sure he was envisioning Arik’s neck in them. “Limos, you do realize that by breaking your contract with Satan, you could piss off the one being in the underworld who can imprison you? Possibly even destroy you?”
“He won’t do that,” she said, taking Arik’s hand as they sat on the couch across from Ares and Cara. “There’s nothing Satan has ever wanted more than to see hell on earth, and destroying me would screw up a lot of apocalyptic prophecies. Prophecies that favor us as his champions during Armageddon.”
“It’s a good plan,” Ares said, and Arik held his breath in anticipation for Than’s reaction. On the way over here, Limos said that generally, if Ares saw the value of a strategy, Than fell into step.
Fortunately, she was right, and the shadows surrounding Than melted out of sight. Still, his voice was gruff when he spoke. “How will you do this? Your contract states that ‘the daughter of Lilith shall be married by the blood of an angel no more.’ What does that mean?”
Limos, in a short, flirty orange and purple sundress, leaned back against Arik, getting all cozy, and damn, it felt good. Felt right. “I asked Gethel about that. She said it’s part of angel mating ceremonies. An ‘angel no more’ will bind us with his or her blood. Can I have a margarita?”
Ares gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m out of margarita mix. And I’m assuming an ‘angel no more’ is a fallen angel?” He flung his arm around Cara, who snuggled against his chest. “Where are you going to find one of those? No True Fallen would risk pissing off Satan by marrying his fiancé off to someone else, and Pestilence killed all the Unfallen a couple of months ago.”
Limos palmed Arik’s denim-clad thigh, and naturally, Thanatos zeroed in on that, his pale eyes flaring gold. She was going to get him drowned again. “Arik’s got that one covered.”