On a Black Horse: An Apocalyptic Paranormal Romance (Revelations Book 3)

by Monica Corwin

  He laughed, “Obviously. A woman. Sanbra was a hellhound like me. The first other I'd seen since I was changed. I followed her, and she asked me to join the pack. I didn't think twice. I had always known something was missing, and with them I found a home. Unfortunately, that pack belonged to the Underworld. A fact she failed to disclose beforehand.”

  “Wait. Don't all hellhounds belong to the Underworld?”

  “Not necessarily, There're different versions, different realities, different planes, and hellhounds are usually the guards.”

  Katherine hadn’t known that. She'd always seen the hellhounds as something evil, a machination of Hel. Until now, Katherine hadn't fully committed in her mind to stay and help him. But now she wouldn't be able to bring herself to leave him vulnerable. “We shared our life stories, are we friends now?” she asked, jokingly.

  He met her eyes and they were cold like a winter morning on the beach. “I never said that.”

  It would seem even if she could get past her own bias, he wasn't so forgiving. She swallowed the hurt stinging in her chest and turned away before he could see it. It didn’t matter. She’d nurse him back to health and get the hell out of there.

  Chapter 6

  Regret wasn't an emotion Arwan considered often. However, since the moment Katherine walked in his house he started to regret everything that fell from his lips. She hadn't spoken to him since breakfast, aside from the occasional welfare check. Guilt beat inside his chest for how he spoke to her. After all, she was doing him the favor by staying. The crash of the ocean outside his window called him, he longed to go outside and sink his toes in the warm sand. An idea struck him and turned his head to catch a glimpse of Katherine, but she wasn't looking at him. She was tucked neatly in his old armchair with a book.

  “You should go outside,” he told her.

  She glanced up at him and then back down at her pages. “I don't need to go outside.”

  “The whole ocean is beyond the door. How can you not want to see that?”

  She shrugged and he realized he ruined the chance at building a rapport.

  “You have to be tired of staying in here with me all day.”

  “I won’t be here very long. So don't worry about my comfort.” Her tone dripped icicles, and he let the matter drop.

  Shifting in the bed, his wound stretched and itched inside the bandages. Thankfully, it was healing quickly. Katherine was right she could leave soon. He decided to try again to engage her in conversation. “What did your friends say about Baldir’s prophecy?”

  “That's none of your business.”

  “I'm pretty sure it is my business if it involves the hellhounds, and me in particular”

  She snapped the book shut, swung her legs over so they were flat on the floor, and stared him down. “They are hunting any hellhound who helped in Hel’s schemes.”

  Tension grew between them and he voiced what they both thinking. “Are they going to come for me?

  “To be honest, I don't know. I hope Baldir expressed the need for your safety but I can't be sure. Nor can I be sure they will heed his warning.”

  Arwan reached up and scratched around his bandages.

  “Are you in pain?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m itching like mad. And I really want a bath.”

  She stood up and laid the book on the chair, “I'll help you.”

  Arwan thought about it. He really needed a bath, but he wasn't sure he could handle her seeing him naked again. Usually, nudity didn't bother him. He'd run naked through forests and back alleys and it never mattered. Something about her aversion to him struck his ego. He didn’t harbor fantasies of seduction but her indifference grated on him.

  On second thought, a bath might be a good way to test her resolve. Plus, boredom set in ages ago and he would enjoy tormenting a Horseman. “A bath sounds great.”

  “Of course, that's what I'm here for.”

  She sat on the bed to help him to his feet. They’d developed a comfortable rhythm for his care. She deposited him on a side of the tub while she ran water. “How do you like it?”

  “Hot. Like windows steam hot.”

  She adjusted the temperature and helped him undress. He studied her while she tore away his bandages and tossed them in the trash. Not a blink out of place, or even a whisper of interest as his naked body came into view. He knew his flesh bore a lot of scars. From head to toe there was a network. A typography of his life written in his skin. She barely spared him a glance. Once she helped him into the tub she grabbed the soap and shampoo from a small caddy near the claw foot.

  Pouring a generous amount in her palm she waited while he dunked his head underwater. With the first pass of her fingers through his hair he almost groaned aloud. She scratched and rubbed every follicle. He was almost purring by the time she finished.

  “Now, rinse,” she directed.

  He dunked his head under again splashing some as he rubbed the soap out. When he resurfaced, she stared intently at the opposite wall projecting indifference. Why it mattered to him he couldn’t understand. A flash in his mind of her flushed and wet jolted him but he shook it away quickly, lest the bath become even more awkward. She handed him a soaped up loofah and waited, staring again straight ahead. He washed what he could reach and then handed it back to her before leaning forward. “I can’t get my back and that side.”

  She grabbed the poof and stepped behind the tub. She worked quickly and efficiently to his dismay. He considered splashing her with water to elicit a reaction from her. Her every action was perfectly controlled and he wanted something else. He wanted to see fire in her, passion if she was capable. Maybe all of the horseman were cold.

  When she finished he leaned back into the water and rinsed off the soap. She helped pull him up by the arms and got soaked in the process of wrapping a towel around him. He dried off briskly, the bathroom chilly since leaving the water.

  As he moved up to dry his chest he passed slowly trying to catch her eye. His body had been honed by years of running and fighting with his pack. His wide shoulders and chest were well muscled, his abs protruded in a six pack easily discernible, and his thighs and calves were strong. And yet, nothing from her at all. She took the towel almost jerking it from his hand and bent down to dry his feet and legs.

  “Are you a lesbian?”

  She sputtered coming face to face with his dick before standing up, she flushed red, “What?”

  “Are you a lesbian?”

  Her face glowed an even darker shade of crimson. “No, why?”

  “Well, you just gave me a bath and you appear completely unmoved by it.”

  She pursed her lips, anger flashing in her eyes. “First, you’re injured and I would never take advantage of that. Second, you made it very clear we weren’t going to be friends. Third, you’re part of a race of creatures I despise. Four, there is more to attraction than physicality. Finally, you’re not as hot as you think you are.”

  She threw the towel in his face and exited the bathroom in a huff. Once she left, he finished drying to the best of his ability and decided to chance walking alone back to the bed. It was a difficult task, as his injured side didn’t want to cooperate with the rest of him. He made it and she crossed the room over to bandage him up and help him dress. “I don’t want a shirt. I’m warm.”

  With a nod, she tossed the shirt on the bed and took her seat by the fireplace again. He turned on his good side and propped his head up onto his elbows. “I’m sorry.”

  The words hung in the air until she looked over at him, biting her lip. That wild hair fanned out of her ponytail around her head and part of him wanted to sink his fingers in it, to see if it was as soft as it looked. It couldn’t possibly be.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He sighed. “I apologize for being a dick to you earlier. I am well aware that you are doing me a favor. I will endeavor to be nicer to you.”

  “And…”

  He smiled at her audacity. “I�
��ll try not to entice you with my naked body again.”

  “How about you don’t try and just do it?”

  “Was that a Star Wars reference?” He couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  With a smile on her lips, her entire face transformed. There was an innocence to her he had yet to figure out. Almost as if he could smell her purity. It enraged and aroused him in equal parts. She’d been confusing him since the moment she walked in the door. “What else do you like?”

  “Umm…” she bit the edge of her nail as she considered. “Coffee, books, music, cooking.”

  “Well, I have the books covered, but that’s it. I’m sorry if you’re bored.”

  She shrugged. “Like I said, I shouldn’t be here too long.”

  “Right.”

  He lay back and stared up at the crossbeams of the roof. For two nights now she’d waited for him to go to sleep then snuck into his bed. And both of those night as soon as her breathing turned rhythmic he pushed the pillows separating them to peer at her in repose. She always looked so frail and fragile. How could such a tiny creature end the world? Let alone through Famine. Every time she caused him even a little discomfort her eyes wilted as if she might cry. It got to the point where he stopped reacting to her every touch. There were many things in life he could handle. Apparently dinner for a wild mythological beast was one of them, but handling crying lasses was not.

  The form of her hips and the long line of her neck as it angled sideways cradled by her hands was now imprinted in his mind. A strange realization sank in. He wanted her. Sexually. He hadn’t wanted anyone sexually in at least a decade. Why was she different? Because she didn’t want him? The fact they were enemies and hated each other deep down? He glanced over at her again. She changed clothes while he zoned out and now wore soft shorts and a long sleeve T-shirt. Her hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun. He licked his lips as he imagined taking it down and fanning it across his pillows. Shaking himself out of his fantasies he grabbed a book from the stack by his bed and settled in. Obviously, a few days spent with her would be nerve wracking.

  Chapter 7

  Katherine lay sideways across the chair her back against the stiff arm and long legs thrown over the opposite one. With a quick peek over the edge of her book she spied on Arwan. He’d laid out on his bed, as usual, but he was reading instead of sleeping. Before snuggling in Katherine hid the cover of her book under her arm and positioned herself so he wouldn’t be able to see it. While cleaning two days prior she noticed the man owned a first edition of The Great Gatsby. He also never shied away from speaking his mind, another thing she learned about him in the week she’d been cooped up in the cabin. She refused to let him catch the cover of her latest bad boy turned billionaire romance. Each page turned out steamier than the last, and Katherine feared his eyes on her. He’d look over and know. He missed nothing and remarked on everything. And the image of him naked was still freshly written into her brain. He thought her indifferent and she preferred to keep it that way. Although after his apology she found herself warming to him again. The last couple days had grown into a comfortable rhythm.

  She checked that he was immersed in his book before diving back into her own. The couple had made it to the shower, and oh boy. She stopped and peered over the cover again. He hadn’t moved an inch. She shifted her thighs closer together and squeezed the cover to her lap tighter. The hero sank to his knees and…

  “What are you reading?”

  Arwan’s voice cut through the scene in her mind but didn’t dampen the arousal spreading since page ten.

  Hoping she sounded nonchalant, she answered. “Oh nothing. A book I had in my bag.”

  She made sure he couldn’t glimpse the front.

  “Oh, and is he really a billionaire or a bad boy?”

  Heat flushed up her neck, and her ears had to be glowing red in the firelight. “I don’t judge you for what you read.”

  He grunted in amusement, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His stubble had grown in since she hadn’t shaved him. It made him more dashing and those full lips all the more luscious to look at. She shook herself. Obviously, she was still feeling the effects of her reading material.

  “You can judge me for what I read all you want. You see that green book up on the third case, second shelf from the top? Grab it for me.” He pointed toward the shelf.

  She eyed the book cases lining the wall in front of her until she glimpsed it toward the end. Carefully tucking her book into the crease of the cushion she shifted up, adjusted her shorts so he didn’t get a peek at her butt, and grabbed the book off the shelf. “What do you want me to do with it?”

  “Read it.”

  She carried it over and offered it to him. “I already have a book.”

  He refused, gently pushing it back toward her. “Well, try this one too. There are no rules saying you can only read one book at a time.”

  She sighed knowing it was pointless to argue with him. The outcome never involved her winning.

  “Fine.” She collapsed back in the chair and shifted until she felt that spot again.

  The cover of the book shone a scarlet red, a scandalous color, and the title gold inlay on the spine. A work of art.

  His voice broke her inspection. “You’ll want page 45.”

  Throwing him a look of skepticism she opened the book to page 45.

  “Read it out loud.”

  She wet her lips and cleared her throat, holding the book open in one hand, cradling the spine, the other parting the pages with her spread fingers. “There was nothing but obliterating sensation, thrilling and swelling, and the sound of…” She stopped and gaped at him. “Oh my God. I’m not going to read a sex scene out loud for you.”

  He chuckled now laying on his good side, head propped up on his hand. She peered at the title again. Atonement by Ian McEwan.

  “Didn’t they turn this book into a movie?”

  “I don’t get to the theater often.”

  Curiosity warred with her reticence for encouraging him. “How did you know what page?”

  He licked his lips and she found herself mesmerized by the action.

  “I know every page of every book in my house.”

  “Bull.”

  “Would you like to test me?”

  “Fine, but if I win I get a prize.” Her heart took a frantic beat and she couldn’t believe the words coming from her own lips. “If I win, I want a kiss.”

  He didn’t even consider it. “Done. I know you won’t win.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to kiss me.” She snapped the book shut and placed it carefully back where she got it. “Do it again.”

  “Top shelf, one case over. The book is the fourth from the left.”

  She grasped the thin paperback and pulled it from its compatriots. Cradling the soft covers in her palms she turned toward him. “Ok…”

  “Go to page 28, second paragraph.”

  She scanned her finger down and began reading.

  “Out loud.” The sharpness to his tone sent a shiver down her spine.

  She cleared her throat once more. “I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache…and I will not say that word.” Twisting the book, she angled the cover toward the fire’s glow. Arwan answered her unspoken question out loud. “Henry Miller’s, Tropic of Cancer.”

  “I’ve never that word out loud.” Her ears burned in embarrassment.

  “It’s just a word.”

  She considered it for a moment. “Words have power. You know that as well as I. Especially in our world.”

  “You’re right, words do have power. They have the power to thrill you. To set your heart beating. Each sentence can send shivers down your spine in fright, or light you up from the inside out.”

  She placed the book back on the shelf, sliding it carefully between two hardcovers.

  “Looks like I won,” he said.

  She smiled. “Fi
ne, but you didn’t name your prize.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it yet.”

  “And now?”

  A wicked smile twisted those beautiful lips. “Say the word.”

  She swallowed. “I can’t say that word.”

  He laughed and flinched. The wound on his bad side was healing well and no longer open. He must have pulled it a little. But he didn’t seem concerned so she let it be.

  “Stop baiting me and rest,” she told him, walking over to pull the covers up a little higher. His bare chest, tan, with a coat of hair across his pecs drew her attention but she looked away again, intent on smoothing the blankets.

  “Would you have held me to your prize if you won?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “Say the word, Kat.”

  His use of her nickname somehow shrunk the room to the pair of them. The heat from the fire and the softness in her body from her arousal ratcheting the situation way further than she ever experienced. A line from the book she just read, Atonement, came to her, and saw the words in her mind. “It did not surprise them how clearly they knew their own needs.”

  She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Cunt.”

  The word fell into the room like an explosion. The silence and crackling fire obliterated to make room for a new awareness. Something she had never felt before.

  “Very good.”

  His voice registered deeper, the accent clinging to her as if his own hands caressed the bare flesh of her arms. She took a deep breath and pulled herself away from him to take her place by the fire again. The books were getting to her. The emotions of being in this place, stuck with him for over a week. Not that he was any more difficult than Bianca when she was injured and surly, but she was so very aware of him in a way that she was never aware of Bianca.

  Her skin hummed and her heart beat a cadence in her ears. She settled into the chair, opened the book, and pretended to read. The words didn’t matter, all she could see in her mind was the way his eyes darkened and he moistened his lips as that naughty word left hers.

  Cabin Fever. The phrase popped into her head. That must be what was happening. She couldn’t be seriously attracted to him, could she?