Rogue Rider (Lords of Deliverance) (34 page)

Maybe his siblings had been spot-on in their warnings about Reseph. What a fool she’d been.

Reseph had started toward her when she hit her knee, but now he stopped dead. “What?”

“Oh, no one told you the terms of the deal?” She strode up to him and poked him in the chest. Not that he probably felt it through the armor. “Yeah, that’s right. Sex. Once a year. If it doesn’t happen, I lose my mind and die, and you go back to being a drooling head case.”

“No,” he rasped. “Oh, no.” The sheer horror in his expression was like a bullet between the eyes. Not only did the man she’d loved not want to be tied to her, but he didn’t even want to have sex with her once a fucking year.

“You… you’ll screw demons… things with hooves and horns and tails, but the thought of being with me is repulsive to you?” She shoved at his breastplate with as much strength as she could muster. He didn’t budge an inch. “You
bastard
!”

“It’s not that. God, Jillian, it’s not that.” He wrapped his hand around hers the way he had so many times, and her heart bled in remembrance. “Pestilence is my demon half, and he still lives. He could still come back, and I will
not
put you at risk.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that excuse.” She jerked out of his grip. “Don’t you think he would have come back when
those guys attacked us outside the bar? Or when we found the demon in the barn?”

“The demon in the barn was there because of me.” He tapped his breastplate, and the noise sounded so hollow. “I put you in danger. Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t,” she snapped. Her Reseph would want to be here to kill the demons. Not make up lame excuses to stay away. “What are you going to do between yearly visits, Reseph? Are you going to just hang out by yourself because you’re afraid of hurting someone? You’re seriously going to take an oath of celibacy?”

He closed his eyes, and she snorted. “You know what? Don’t answer that.” She stalked out of the bedroom and to the front door. “Get out.” When he didn’t move, she shook her head. “You’re the lucky one in all of this. You have so many girlfriends that you won’t have to explain to anyone why once a year you have to sleep with yet another one. But me? I’m thinking that anyone I’m with isn’t going to understand why I have to fuck another guy—”

Reseph was on her in a flash, his eyes snapping blue fire and his teeth bared as he pushed her against the doorjamb. “
I will kill any male who touches you.
”

“Really?” Her voice was as flat as it was quiet. “You expect me to sit around and wait for those few minutes once a year when you show up?
If
you show up? Go to hell, Reseph. Go back to where you came from.”

He blinked, and the murderous light snuffed out of his eyes. Very gently, he moved her aside to open the door, and then, without a word, he took off, disappearing into thin air when he hit the bottom of the porch.

Reseph gated himself to Ares’s beach, where he stood, hands fisted, staring out at the sea as he tried to control his emotions. Cutting Jillian loose was the hardest thing he’d ever done. The thought of her being with another male gutted him, but she’d been right… how could he expect her to go the rest of her life without company while she waited for his yearly visit? And how was he going to survive those visits?

He heard Ares approach, and fuck; Reseph was not in the mood to talk, which was odd given how, pre-Pestilence, Reseph had never shut up.

“What happened with Jillian?” Ares’s voice rumbled over the sound of the waves lapping at the beach.

“It’s over.”

“She couldn’t handle it all?”

“Actually, I think maybe she could,” Reseph murmured. “But I don’t want her to have to.”

“Ah.” Ares picked up a shell and chucked it into the surf. “So how are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m a fairy princess,” Ares drawled.

The old Reseph would have shot a witty comeback at his brother, but that Reseph had been carefree and shallow, always sweeping bad shit under the rug. The male he was now would never do that again.

“Things would have been better for everyone if Deliverance had killed me.”

Ares blew out a long breath. “Yes, they would have.”

Ever the commander, Ares didn’t mince words or try to placate with false sentiments. He called it like he saw it, something that had annoyed the old Reseph. Yep, the old Reseph had been all about keeping everyone happy and the party going.

“I’ve got to fix things.”

“With who?” Ares crossed his arms over his chest. “With Jillian? With us? With the world? You can’t fix what Pestilence broke.”

“You’re saying the damage he’s done is irreparable?”

Ares’s gaze pierced Reseph like a crossbow bolt. “Some of it. Probably most of it.”

Reseph squeezed his eyes shut, so ashamed of everything he’d done. “What about the damage to my family? Is that irreparable?”

“We know it wasn’t you who did those things to us.”

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Reseph met Ares’s midnight eyes. “But?”

Ares swore, and Reseph knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “But Pestilence could come back, and what will you do to stop him?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Reseph said fiercely, but Ares’s doubt was as strong as Reseph’s.

“Really? You let it happen before. You let him torture and nearly rape and kill Cara. You worked with Lilith and Lucifer and the most powerful demons in Sheoul in order to destroy us all. Where were you? Did you even try to stop him?” Ares slammed his palm into Reseph’s shoulder. “Did you?”

Reseph couldn’t fault Ares for anything he’d just said. Reseph had tried to rear up and take back possession of his body, but Pestilence had been far too powerful.

“Well?” Ares shouted. All around, hellhounds were closing in, sensing Ares’s anger and preparing to rip Reseph to shreds.

“Do you honestly think I don’t go over every minute in my head, trying to figure out what cracks I should have exploited? That I wonder what else I could have done to stop him? I tried, Ares.”

“You didn’t try hard enough!”

Anger at the situation, at himself, at Pestilence, all boiled over, and Reseph snarled. “I know that! And I hate myself for it.”

“Dammit, Reseph.” Ares rounded on him. “It isn’t just that. You’ve never fought for anything. At the first sign of conflict or commitment or emotion, you check out. You’ve always taken the damned easy road, and it pisses me off.”

“Easy? You think any of this is easy? I’ve changed, Ares.”

“Yeah? You fell in love for the first time in your life, and when the time came to fight for Jillian, did you? Or did you take the easy path and let her go because you don’t want to do the hard thing and control Pestilence?” Ares
got in Reseph’s face, so close their noses almost touched. “Or did you let her go because you’re afraid to commit? Life’s too good with millions of hot females out there to fuck, isn’t it? How easy was it to walk away from the one female who has ever loved you enough to sacrifice a piece of her goddamned mind so you could turn around and go back to being the self-absorbed whore you always were? Do you care about Jillian at all?”

With a roar, Reseph slammed his fist into Ares’s jaw. His brother wheeled backward, and before he could regain his balance, Reseph tackled him. They went down in a tangle of punches and snarls.

“I love her!” Reseph shouted.

Ares had about twenty pounds on Reseph, and he used his weight to pin Reseph to the ground. “And I love Cara, but that didn’t matter to you when you tried to rape her!”

Oh… God.
Reseph sucked in a harsh breath and sagged bonelessly into the sand. “Fuck. Ah… fuck, Ares. I’m sorry.”

Ares shoved to his feet and jammed his hand through his hair over and over, swearing constantly. “Logically, we all know it wasn’t you. But the wounds are deep. We get it. We love you. But we can’t trust you.”

Reseph’s stomach plummeted. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’ll help you as best we can. But you need to go somewhere else. We can’t risk Pestilence returning and hurting our families.”

“He won’t.” But even as the words came, Reseph knew they were hollow. He wanted to believe he could control Pestilence, but the evidence said otherwise. He couldn’t blame his siblings for being concerned, but he wondered if the old Reseph would have. Now that Reseph had found
Jillian, he understood how powerful the need to protect someone was. Even if that protection was from yourself. Ares was wrong about the easy path shit. There was nothing easy about staying away from Jillian.

Still, Ares’s rejection stung. Bad. Even now, the hurt was welling up, threatening to overflow and morph into something that had been so familiar when his Seal was broken; horrific anger. Deep inside, Pestilence stirred.

Fuck.

“Reseph?”

“What?” His voice was hell-deep and warped. He had to get out of here before he proved Ares right and let Pestilence too close to the surface. But he’d use this rage, and he’d use it well.

“You need to level out, bro…”

Reseph ignored Ares and smiled as he opened a Harrowgate, because while he might not be able to repair the damage he’d caused to his family, he could take some measure of revenge for them.

It was time to give Pestilence a taste of his own medicine.

Underworld General Hospital, staffed by vampires, were-creatures, and demons, came to a screeching halt when Reseph entered through the ER doors with a werewolf cub in his arms.

Probably because three months ago, Pestilence had gone on a rampage inside the hospital, butchering hundreds of patients and employees before grabbing an ex-angel staff member to torture. His rampage was still evident in the cracked walls, smashed equipment, and the dented furniture.

Laughter clanged inside Reseph’s skull; Pestilence’s satisfaction at what he’d done. Reseph had been battling the bastard all day, engaging in an internal struggle to keep the demon from clawing his way too close to the surface. Most of the time, maintaining control wasn’t difficult… the problems came when Reseph’s temper surfaced. Pestilence provided an extra shot of adrenaline,
more juice to fuel Reseph’s strength—both physical and mental. Things Reseph would never have been capable of before, like torture, were now far too easily considered.

But for the first time, Reseph could see the mental container he’d been kept in while Pestilence had been in charge. Now Pestilence was imprisoned inside, and Reaver’s assessment was accurate… the vessel was cracked, oozing Pestilence’s essence. How the hell was Reseph supposed to repair it?

“You son of a bitch.” Eidolon, head doctor and founder of UG, dropped the charts he’d been going over and came at Reseph like a bull, his eyes glowing with crimson fury. “How dare you set foot in my hospital.”

Waves of both fear and hatred radiated off of every person in the emergency department. Reseph felt their stares like lashes on his skin. He recognized some of them as Pestilence’s surviving victims, and there were far too many to count.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Reseph said, cradling the squirming toddler against his chest. “This cub needs medical attention.”

“What did you do to him?” Eidolon growled.

“I rescued him from a slave trader.” And damn, that had felt good. Reseph had gone through Sheoul like a blade through butter, slaughtering dozens of demons who had served Pestilence. Taking out the slave trader, a Neethul who had been Pestilence’s right hand, had been the most satisfying.

So far.

Since being relegated back to Sheoul after the Apocalypse had been averted, the Neethul, Silth, had gone back to his first love—slave trading. Reseph had found him
beating a werewolf cub who had been sold into slavery by his own parents.

Reseph, who had never possessed a cruel streak, had almost welcomed the cold stir of Pestilence deep inside, because it had allowed him to toy with Silth for a while. He’d relished questioning him about plans to bring Pestilence back, but the demon hadn’t known anything. No worries though, because Reseph had several more people to visit.

“Does he have a family?” Eidolon spoke through clenched teeth, his voice distorted with rage.