Rogue Rider lod-4

by Larissa Ione

  Jillian really did not like the vibe she got from these guys. “I’ve told you all you need to know.”

  “Then you won’t mind if we set up on your property to keep an eye out for him,” Juan said, and it wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, I do mind.”

  Stacey shoved past Jillian. “What’s this about? If Jillian is in danger—”

  “We’re all in danger,” Lance interrupted. “Every day that Horseman and his kin are loose puts the world at risk.” He glared at Jillian. “Or maybe you don’t remember all the news coverage of the plagues and massacres. Maybe you don’t remember the hordes of evil spawn swarming like locusts across entire continents.” His lips peeled back in a sneer. “Maybe you don’t remember being attacked by demons, Ms. Cardiff? Harboring one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse isn’t some petty offense. It’s a crime against humanity that will earn you a place at the wrong end of an executioner’s blade. Remember that. If you see him again, we’ll expect a call.”

  Lance and Juan headed back to their truck, leaving Jillian spitting mad. How had he found out about her attack? Granted, hospital records probably weren’t hard to get hold of, but that meant they’d been digging into her past. And how dare they threaten her?

  “What a dick,” she muttered as she slammed the door closed. She turned to Stacey, who looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Stace?”

  Stacey blinked her glazed eyes. “Oh my God. It’s real.” She licked her dry lips. “I didn’t believe you, but unless the demon experts are on the same drugs you are… oh, holy shit. You were… you were sleeping with one of the Four Horsemen of the fucking Apocalypse.”

  “Um… yeah.”

  Then Stacey, who had never fainted in her life, passed right on out.

  Thirty-three

  Limos couldn’t stop grinning. She’d smiled for the entire rest of the beach party, and during cleanup, and now that everyone was gone and she and Arik were alone in their house, she was still grinning like a fool.

  “I’m glad you got a happy baby-daddy ending,” he said, as she came out of the master bathroom. “I still can’t believe Reaver is your father.”

  “I think he’s still in shock, too.” She opened up the sliding glass door between the bedroom and the deck and stepped outside into the warm evening breeze. “Did you see how he looked at Logan after it sunk in that the baby was his grandson?”

  Arik followed her out, coming up behind her to cage her against the railing as they looked out over the ocean. “Yeah. He couldn’t stop staring.” He nuzzled the back of her neck, and pleasant shivers skittered over her skin. She loved when he did that. “It’s weird to think of him as a grandpa, though. He looks like he’s in his early thirties. Thirty-five at the most. Can’t believe he’s so ancient. Dinosaur ancient. Like, pre-wheel old.”

  “Funny, Arik. Very funny.” She squirmed around to pop him in the shoulder. “We might be as old as dirt, but that only means we’re much wiser than you.”

  He grinned, and she got all weak-kneed, the way she always did when he smiled. “Whatever you say, old lady.”

  “Oh, you are so not getting any tonight.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” It was totally an idle threat and he knew it, even laughed when she ducked out from under his arms and stomped into the bedroom.

  She was definitely getting him into bed, especially since he’d spent the entire day sneaking up to her at every opportunity to whisper erotic things in her ear. He’d told her what he was going to do to her when they were alone, how he was going to do it, what body part he’d do it with… all in excruciating detail. She’d been so worked up by the time the party was over that she’d all but run into the house, dragging him behind.

  Then he’d gotten a phone call from Decker, which had allowed her to cool down, but only a little. She switched on the ceiling fan and stripped out of her bikini—slowly, so Arik would be tortured for as long as possible.

  She loved the way his eyes darkened and his entire body went taut, and as she stepped out of the bikini bottoms, a low growl rumbled through his chest. With a sassy flip of her hair over her shoulder, she sauntered back into the bathroom and closed the door.

  “Told you you weren’t getting any,” she called out.

  She heard the unmistakable zing of a zipper, and then, “I’m getting some right now.” His voice was low and rough, and heat built between her legs at the conjured image of him stroking himself.

  Okay, enough teasing. She needed him at her sex. Mouth or cock, she didn’t care.

  She started to turn the doorknob and then duh, remembered the reason she’d come back into the bathroom in the first place. She turned to the toilet… and stopped breathing.

  “Arik?” she croaked.

  He burst through the door, his expression fraught with worry. “What? What is it?”

  With a shaking hand, she grabbed the little white stick on the back of the toilet. “It’s… us.” She looked up at him, her entire body trembling now—with joy. “We’re going to be parents. I’m pregnant. I’m finally pregnant!”

  Arik grabbed her in a huge bear hug and lifted her off the ground, his whoop of laughter ringing in her ear. This was the perfect ending to a perfect day. She’d learned that her father was a man she’d already loved like a dad, and now the man she loved as a husband was going to be a father.

  And she finally had everything she’d ever wanted. Five thousand years of waiting had definitely been worth it.

  * * *

  Reseph stood at the tiny gravesite on the island of Steara in Sheoul. He used to visit yearly, but it had been a long time since he’d been here.

  Guilt and grief wrapped around his heart like barbed wire, digging in more with every beat.

  Reseph was so damned weak. For five thousand years he’d believed he was impervious to pain and emotional entanglements. He’d kept the females at arms’ length, and he’d done his best to never let family conversation get too serious. Couldn’t let his brothers and sister wallow in misery or loneliness, right? Yep, he’d thought he was doing it for them. To help them.

  But then he’d sat in Jillian’s barn loft and watched her take care of the animals like some kind of pathetic stalker, and he realized that everything he’d done had been to keep him from having to think too hard on his own feelings.

  Because the thing was, the old Reseph would have either shoved Jillian out of his mind by now, or he’d have popped into the barn, all smooth talk and smiles, and charmed his way back into her bed. Not back into her life, but her bed.

  He’d been such a bastard. He’d hated being alone so much that he’d filled his life with parties and females. So many females. For all the companionship, he’d been cold and alone, just the way Jillian had found him in the snowbank. That had been his life. Reaver had known exactly how to make that clear to him, hadn’t he?

  But now the only thing Reseph wanted was to gather her in his arms and stop her tears.

  Between trips to Sheoul to destroy the demons who had helped Pestilence do so much damage and visits to various disaster relief organizations to make donations, he’d checked in on her three times over the last three days. While he was happy to see that she was as strong as ever, handling the chores and the snow just fine, there was a sadness about her. This morning, when Fang-Doodle followed her out to the barn and cried pitifully from on top of a bale of hay, Jillian had broken into tears.

  “You miss Reseph, don’t you, buddy?” she’d said to the cat. “Me too. But he once said that when something’s gone, it’s gone.”

  Reseph had wanted to pop out of the khote and take that back, but he’d sat, paralyzed, as she pulled the little bird he’d carved out of her pocket and broke it in half before tossing it in the trash.

  Jillian, who held onto everything, including a ring from a guy who didn’t deserve to be breathing, had tossed Reseph’s gift.

  “Guess that includes people, too,” she’d whispered.

  She was done with him. R
eseph had felt as though his entire body was imploding under the weight of his agony.

  How could he have said that? Because you lived by that rule, asshole.

  It took him several hours to go through his entire life, to find the event that had started it all. It was probably fair to say that there were a lot of events, but one in particular stood out, and it filled him with shame.

  The little grave at his feet contained a human who shouldn’t have died and who, if Reseph had been more watchful, wouldn’t be condemned to eternal suffering in hell.

  Sinking to his knees, he bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Ariya. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you the way I should have. I can’t make it up to you, but I can make it up to someone else. And I’ll never miss your birthday again.”

  He bent forward and pressed a kiss into the headstone he’d carved himself. A sense of peace fell over him, and he could almost believe that his baby sister had given him her blessing.

  He’d failed Ariya, but he wouldn’t fail Jillian. He was going to fight for her the way he should have from the beginning.

  Thirty-four

  Jillian pulled the pickup next to the house, and even before she shut off the engine she became aware of a presence nearby. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as if she was being watched. If those Aegis assholes were spying on her, they were going to see the business end of her shotgun.

  Cursing, she hopped out of the truck and stomped to the front of the house. As she opened the door the fresh scent of fir tree hit her. Light spilled from the living room, a familiar multi-colored glow, and as she stepped inside, she saw the Christmas tree lit up in the corner. Beneath it, piled high, were dozens of wrapped presents.

  A lump formed in her throat and butterflies flitted in her belly, and when she sensed movement behind her, the butterflies went crazy. “Reseph,” she whispered.

  “Merry Christmas,” he replied softly. “I know it’s early, but we never had the chance to get the tree we talked about.”

  “Because you got your memory back.” She turned slowly, bracing her heart. Didn’t work. The sight of him made the stupid organ jerk painfully against her ribs. God, he was as gorgeous as ever, standing there in jeans and a black thermal Henley, his hair falling in lush blond waves to his shoulders.

  “I miss you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to make it up to you.”

  He wanted to make up to her the fact that he didn’t want to be tied to her? Not a chance. “I don’t want to hear it. I want you gone, and I don’t want to see you for another eleven and a half months.”

  “I’m not leaving.” His expression hardened. “Not until I’m finished with what I have to say.”

  “Then you’ll be talking to the wall, because I’m not interested.” She started for the bedroom, intent upon shutting him out here, but she hadn’t gone two steps when she found herself backed against the front door, Reseph’s hands on her shoulders, his mouth on hers. Oh, it felt good to be like this again. So good she wanted to weep with relief… and with anger.

  “I’ll talk to the wall,” he said against her lips. “I’ll talk to a window, the fireplace; hell, I’ll talk to the fucking carpet. But eventually I’ll get to you, and you will listen.”

  “I hate you.” She thrust her hands into his hair and kissed him back. Hard.

  He captured her lower lip in his teeth and then laved the gentle bite with his tongue. “I love you.” A buzz of both pleasure and pain at his words and the stinging nip rushed through her.

  “You hurt me.” She tore open his jeans and took him in her hand. His hard length jerked in her grasp, and he moaned. She loved that sound. Loved that she could make him need her.

  “Jillian… stop.” He captured her wrist and forced her to stop stroking.

  “Dammit,” she snapped, shoving at his chest, although it was like trying to move a brick wall. “You said you wanted to make it up to me. This is what I want. You hurt me. You made me love you. You made me promises, that you liked this life and wanted to be with me, and then you yanked it all away.”

  “I know.” He sounded like he’d swallowed sand. “That’s why I’m here. But we need to talk first.”

  “Talk? You? Mr. Who Doesn’t Love Casual Sex?” She shoved at him again. And again. As if pushing him was going to bring back all the happiness they’d shared. When he didn’t budge, she changed tactics and ripped off her sweatshirt. She went for her jeans, but this time Reseph grabbed both her hands.

  A rough sound erupted from his throat. “Jillian, stop it.” She looked up and nearly swayed at how his eyes glinted with shards of lust. “I’m on the edge right now. Being here with you is making my sex demon half rage. I want to mount you so bad. Throw you against the wall and pound into you until the roof comes down on top of us.”

  A powerful punch of arousal made Jillian’s body quiver at Reseph’s words. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t want it like this, and neither do you.”

  “You have no idea what I want,” she yelled. With a snarl, she shimmied out of her jeans. “I wanted you to fight for me instead of against me. I wanted you to trust yourself as much as I trusted you. I wanted you to want to be tied down.”

  A shadow of shame crossed his face, but in an instant it was gone, replaced by that intense, dangerous lust that had always permeated their lovemaking.

  “I made mistakes,” he growled. “But I’m here now.”

  “Well, give the man a medal,” she ground out, and before she even finished her sentence, he’d hauled her off her feet and braced her high up on the wall. His mouth was on hers in a demanding, almost brutal kiss. A raw, animal noise came out of him as he dug his fingers into her bottom to lift her and lower her onto his erection.

  He entered her in a hard, powerful surge, and then he was pounding into her the way he’d said, his hips jackhammering against her. Ecstasy rolled through her, her orgasm hitting her so fast her mind spun. She thrashed against Reseph, loving how he wasn’t sparing her mouth, her back as it scraped against the wall, or her sex as he pumped into her in a ruthless, delicious onslaught.

  His pace picked up, but how that was possible she had no idea. He jerked wildly, his body shuddering, and another climax ripped through her as his hot semen splashed inside her. A shout tore from his throat, and they both convulsed, swamped by pleasure.

  When the shuddering and panting waned, Jillian’s muscles turned to water, and very gently, Reseph eased her feet to the floor.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, shoving himself away.

  She blinked, brain fuzzed out and not functioning yet. “What’s wrong?”

  He zipped up and then snatched the blanket off the back of the couch and handed it to her. “Condom. Forgot to protect you again. I want to know if you’re pregnant.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he’d do if she were, but she was suddenly too tired to fight. “I’m not from the last time.” She’d started her period the day after she’d returned from Greece, and she’d been strangely sad about it. And God, how bizarre was it to think she could have been impregnated by one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

  He watched her wrap up in the blanket, the lights from the Christmas tree glittering in his eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice was gravelly. “I was too rough with you.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think that would be possible.” The air crackled with instant tension as that night in the airport parking lot got between them. Dammit. She quickly pretended she didn’t notice the taut strain in the room. “Where have you been staying? I’ve worried about you.”

  “In an old hunting cabin in Switzerland.”

  “So far away,” she mused.

  Twisting around, he straightened the silver garland wrapped around the tree. “Not when all I have to do is step through a gate to be anywhere in the world in seconds.”

  “True,” she said. “But I thought you hated the snow.”

  Reseph s
miled. “I’ve learned to like it, I think. Reminds me of you.”

  A dull ache began to pound in her chest, because she wasn’t ready for this “talk” yet. Her emotions were too raw. “But you don’t like to be alone.”

  His shrug was halfhearted. “Without my family and you, I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

  “Your family turned you away?” She’d hoped that with the return of his sanity, his siblings would welcome him back.

  “They had no choice, Jillian. If Pestilence returns, I could turn on them.”

  This again. She gathered the blanket more tightly around her. “That wouldn’t happen.”

  “We can’t guarantee that.”

  She felt like screaming in frustration. “God, Reseph, how can I have faith in you, but you don’t?”

  Reseph turned away from her, and his voice went low. “I’ve had to spend a lot of time alone, Jillian. And it turns out that I don’t like myself very much. Now I know why I surrounded myself with people. I was shallow and vain, and I couldn’t let myself get attached to anyone.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “I went to Sheoul today to visit my sister’s grave.”

  Grave? She understood loss far too well, and she drifted closer to him. But was it for his comfort, or hers?

  “You have another sister? A Horseman?”

  “Human.” He kept fiddling with the tree, rearranging ornaments and lights. “My real mother, the sex demon, abandoned me with a human female who raised me as her own. Of course, she wasn’t much better than the demon mom. My human mother left me alone to fend for myself so much that I think I was malnourished for the first twelve years of my life. Almost died in a fire once, because there was no one around to save me. I’m still not sure how I got out if it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t know she wasn’t my mother until I was an adult.”

  “That’s when you were cursed to be a Horseman, right?”

  “Yeah.” He moved a red bulb next to a blue one. “My human mother gave birth to a girl a year before our curses.” Affection drenched his voice. “Ariya was great. The one thing that really made me happy. I didn’t see her as much as I should have… I was always out drinking and whoring. And then, after our curses, we all kind of went insane for a while.”