Marmalade… God, he was hungry.

So, no, he hadn’t been overly fond of the third Horseman of the Apocalypse.

Still wasn’t. Because of her, he’d been dragged to Sheoul, the demon realm deep in the earth, stripped na**d, and tortured within an inch of his life. Repeatedly. And the weird thing was that all the demons who held him captive wanted was for him to say her name. Her freaking name.

What. The. Hell.

So far, he hadn’t broken. Well, he’d broken, but the creepy-ass demons of unknown species kept a Seminus demon around to heal him so he wouldn’t die and they could keep breaking his bones and peeling off his skin. They’d even tried sleep deprivation, starvation, and getting into his head to make him think he was somewhere much more pleasant so they could trick him into saying her name. He’d been subjected to every torture and violation known to man. And then some, ’Mhmons were creative as fuck.

But they wouldn’t tell him why they wanted him to speak her name, and though it would be so easy to let it slip, to finally free himself of the torment, he couldn’t. Anything important to the evil bastards wasn’t good for mankind. And Limos had been pretty adamant as he’d been dragged down here, his skin shredding like he was being scraped over a cheese grater. Don’t say my name, Arik! No matter what they do to you, don’t speak my name!

Right. What if her name caused a worldwide earthquake or put a fissure in the earth that released all demons from Sheoul? And the thing was, Arik wasn’t sure how specific he had to be, so he hadn’t called Limos by any name. Not Li, her nickname, or Famine, the name she’d go by if and when her Seal broke.

Fitting that her name would be Famine, cuz he was famished.

His stomach grumbled, and he threw his hand over his abs as he thought about Limos, hoping like hell her Seal was safe. Apparently, breaking her Seal involved finding some ancient, tiny bowl engraved with a set of scales. Once found, a Horseman had to drink from it. Drink… he’d give his right nut for a drink…

He swept his hand up and down his sunken-in belly, knowing his thirst and hunger were the least of his worries, because man, if her Seal broke, humans would truly understand the meaning of hell on earth. The Horsemen weren’t evil—they were, in fact, half-angel, half-demon, and in a constant walk-the-line mode. But if their Seals broke ahead of the biblical prophecy timeline, they would turn evil and lead the way to Armageddon.

Arik had already gotten a taste of what that would be like: Before he’d gotten his ass handed to him in battle by his brothers and sister, the first Horseman of the Apocalypse, Pestilence, had caused death and destruction everywhere he went. Now Arik’s captors indicated that Pestilence had regrouped, reassembled his forces, and was back to trying to facilitate the breaking of his siblings’ Seals so the end of days could finally begin.

What an asshole.

A rock dug into Arik’s butt, and he shifted, only to get poked by something else… the bone of some unfortunate previous cell inhabitant, probably. Still, he wasn’t about to lie down. Spiny hellrats had a charming habit of eating your face while you were asleep. At least if he was sitting up he could punt them across the cell.

Thanks so much for this, Limos.

How the hell could a single kiss get him into this mess? It wasn’t as if he’d forced himself on her. Yeah, he’d kissed her, and for one steamy, lingering heartbeat, she’d kissed him back. And then she’d flipped the hell out.

Though he wasn’t sure why she’d freaked, he did know that Limos was responsible for every drop of his spilled blood. She’d said he’d pay for kissing her, and his captors confirmed it, relished telling him how “his lover’s” lack of self-control had been his downfall, how her selfishness was at fault and it was because of her that he was being tortured.

They’d even given him an out; speak into a recorder and beg Limos to helpem"imos to him, and when she came to rescue his ass, they’d grab her and let him go.

“Your worthless human life for hers. She’ll take your place in chains. You’ll have the satisfaction of knowing she’s getting what she deserves. You must want revenge.”

Man, those demons had read him like a damned gun owners manual. He wanted payback, but not like that. He wouldn’t allow a female, even one like Limos, to suffer at the hands of these fucks.

So he’d refused the offer that was, no doubt, a lie anyway. Which had led to a sledgehammer to both ankles. When he refused again, the sledgehammer had moved up to his knees. His next refusal had earned him a broken pelvis, but thankfully, he passed out and didn’t have to refuse anymore.

“You’re a fool,” his torturer, the one with the deceptively classy English accent, had told him later. “You’re going to die down here, and it will be Limos’s fault.”

Arik was fully aware of that fact. But the knowledge didn’t stop him from dreaming of him and her na**d. Sometimes they were on a beach, both covered in suntan oil as he moved against her. Sometimes all he did was kiss her hand as he looked into her exotic eyes. Other times, he had her against the wall or was taking her from behind as she clung to a palm tree. His favorite erotic dream was the one where she was on her back in the ocean surf, and he was kneeling between her legs, tonguing her wet heat and tasting the salt water and her tropical cocktail essence.

She’d always smelled like coconuts and pineapple.

Man, he was starving.

And what was that saying? Right. Revenge was a dish best served cold…

Limos was not in a good mood. She had, in fact, been in a bad mood for weeks.

But she faked being happy really well, and right now, she was working toward an Oscar nomination.

The Hawaiian sun beat down on her as she swung her h*ps to the beat of Maroon 5’s latest, her gaze fixed on a tall, dark male perched at the portable bar she set up for her beach parties. His eyes drilled into her hungrily as he sipped his margarita, and when he casually adjusted the erection in his black shorts, she knew she had him.

Slowly, provocatively, she moved toward him, putting extra sway in every step. Her bare feet sank in the warm sand, giving her legs a workout, and she knew the male was appreciating every flex of her toned muscles. The hot pink flowing miniskirt drew his attention, and his gaze darkened when a breeze flipped it up to reveal, very clearly, that she wasn’t wearing panties. Her flat stomach, pierced with a gold ring, became the next object of his appreciative scrutiny, and she watched as his eyes roved upward to the barely-there bikini top that covered about as much as two Band-Aid strips.

On her shoulder blade, the set of scales that had been tattooed there when she was only a few hours old began to wobble as the right side, the evil side, and the leftt nand the side, the one that measured the good half of her, warred.

When she was a few feet away, she smiled, gave him a come-on-big-boy look, and sauntered up the steps of her beach house. Of her two homes, this was the public one she used for parties that were frequented by humans—both locals and celebrities who flew in just for her big bashes. But this get-together was a small one, attended by only a couple dozen ter’taceo. She’d intentionally invited the demons, who could easily pass as humans, in order to lure this particular male. He was cautious, overly paranoid, and if she’d invited him directly, he wouldn’t have come.

Instead, she’d chosen her guests with surgical precision—friends of his, demons with particular tastes who virtually guaranteed that he’d be lured by the promise of lurid, grotesque fun as night settled in.

He knew exactly who she was, but no way could he know what she wanted from him. No way could he know that Thanatos’s intel had fingered him as one of Arik’s torturers.

She slipped inside the house and mounted the stairs to the bedroom, smiling when she heard the door close softly behind her. At the top of the stairs, she untied her top and tossed it over her shoulder, leaving a seductive trail for him to follow.

Inside the bedroom, she circled a wicker chair angled so she could look out at the rolling surf and waited for “Rhys” to enter. His demon name, Xenycothylestiranzacish, was… yeah. She used his human name.

He filled the doorway, sexual menace rushing at her like a deadly rogue wave. In the human world, he was a corporate raider of some kind. In the demon world, he was a master of torture, a hobby that leaked into his relationships with women, and Limos wondered how many missing prostitutes could be traced to him.

“What’s your game, Horseman?” His deep, English-accented voice was the cherry on his sexy sundae, and she remembered how, centuries ago, she’d had a major crush on him. But he’d known she was betrothed to the Dark Lord, and he wasn’t stupid enough to go near her. She wasn’t that stupid either, and she never had been that stupid.

Until Arik.

Damned human. How dare he tempt her like that? How dare he kiss her and make her want him?

The kiss had doomed them both.

Now she was in a race against time to rescue him before he sealed the fate she’d been running from for thousands of years—marriage.

There was also that pesky Seal-breaking fate she had to deal with, but right now, she had to concentrate on the most immediate problem, which was finding Arik.

“I have no game,” she purred, running a purple-lacquered nail over the back of the chair. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I succumbed to lust and gave my affections to a human.”

Rhys’s expression gave nothing away. “I heard.”

“Well, that means that until he says my name while in the throes of agony, I can enjoy mtup can enyself.”

God, she hoped Arik could continue to withstand whatever torture the demons holding him were putting him through. A wash of admiration warmed her from the inside, because she didn’t know if she could survive a month of torture, and Arik was a fragile human. She’d always sensed strength in him—it had been one of the things that had drawn her to him, besides his sense of humor—but she would never have guessed at the depth of that strength.

“And by enjoy, you mean…” Rhys trailed off as he prowled toward her, his bare chest, well-oiled and glistening, drawing her gaze.

Most females would lift their skirts right now. Limos had other plans, and Bones, her hell stallion who was currently decorating her right forearm as a tattoo-like glyph, writhed in anticipation.

“I mean that once Arik breaks, I’m going to be stuck bedding the same demon until the end of time. So playtime is now or never.”

“Somehow,” Rhys said casually, “I can’t imagine that the Dark Lord will appreciate you coming to him less than intact.”

She blinked innocently. “Intact? Of course I’m going to go to him a virgin.” An ocean-scented breeze wafted through the room, caressing her skin, and she joined in, stroking her fingers over her nipple. “But I can do everything else. Don’t you think he’d reward you well if I came to him knowing how to use my mouth?”

She nearly gagged at that thought, and not just because the idea of sucking the devil’s dick horrified her. She’d never wanted to do that to any male. Women who claimed to like it had to be lying.

Rhys stepped closer. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh, come on,” she cajoled. “It’s just a little touching.” Before he could protest, she gripped him by the shoulders, spun him, and planted him in the chair. Next, she straddled him so she was on his lap, facing him, her palms splayed on his smooth chest. “Touch me.”

For a long, breathless moment, she thought he was going to dump her on her ass. His hands came down on her thighs and squeezed hard enough that a human woman would screech from the pain. But Limos wasn’t human, and she didn’t screech.

“If we do this,” he said in a deadly, cold voice, “you do what I say. My rules. Understood?”

She made her eyes go all wide and frightened. “Y-yes.” She even threw in a token tremble of her bottom lip for good measure. Meryl Streep, you ain’t got nothing on me.

Rhys’s smile was pure malevolence, something she’d been raised to appreciate during the twenty-eight years she’d spent in Sheoul, growing up under the thumb of a twisted, evil demon mother. If Limos were still that person, she’d be panting right now.

“Good.” He took her right hand in his palm and trailed a finger over the black lines that formed the horse tattoo on her forearm. She could feel his touch in the corresponding parts of her body, and she hated it. Bones hated it too, had never like to be touched by anyone other t snyone othan her, and he came to life on her skin, snapping his sharp teeth viciously. Rhys jerked his hand away, but not quickly enough. A tiny bead of blood formed on the tip of his finger. “Bastard.”

“He’s a little temperamental.” That was an understatement. Of all her siblings’ mounts, Bones was the most… unique.

Limos’s first stallion, a normal warhorse like her brothers’, had been killed, and her fiancé had sent Bones as a gift she couldn’t refuse. Now she was stuck with the carnivorous hell stallion, and though he’d grown on her, she didn’t call him out unless absolutely necessary. He was too hard to control, and he hated everyone including, sometimes, Limos. Well, he loved Ares’s wife, Cara, but only because she’d saved his life.

Rhys’s hands slid under her skirt, and both revulsion and anticipation rippled through her. She’d fantasized about Arik’s hands doing the same thing. Her fantasies, as she pleasured herself nightly in her bed, all involved Arik.

They also involved the absence of her chastity belt—which was why her thoughts were pure fantasy.

Only one person could remove the polished pearl chain that circled her h*ps and fell between her legs, connected in the front and the back to the hip loop. In truth, it was beautiful, a priceless piece of jewelry that would make her feel sexy if not for its nasty little secret.