“Wait.” At some point, she’d dug Arik’s dogtags out of her pocket, and now she held them as if his life depended on her firm grip. “His back is broken? As in, he’s paralyzed?”

“For now. We’ll fix it.”

The doctor sounded so confident, and she hoped to hell he could do what he claimed. Shade gripped Arik’s wrist, and his dermoire started glowing like his brother’s. She paced, worrying the dogtag chain and wearing down the hardwood floor. She tried not to look, but every time Arik moaned, she flinched, looked over, and ached at the sight of his pale, waxy skin and pain-pinched expression.

Twice she caught her Khe me Arik moself moving toward him, as if she could help, even if all she could do was hold his hand. Would he be comforted by her touch, or would she cause him more distress?

And why did she care? Sure, the scales on her shoulder blade were evenly balanced again, but this was still the first time she’d worried about how someone besides her brothers might react to her.

Frustrated by the direction of her thoughts, she concentrated on inane things, like planning her next nail color scheme. Would Arik like orange and lime?

Finally, Eidolon stepped back and wiped his sweat-dampened brow with the back of his hand.

“He’ll need to rest, and when he wakes up, make sure he gets food and liquids.” Eidolon pulled the bed sheet up to Arik’s chest. “Call me if something isn’t right.”

Shade removed the tube and catheter from Arik’s vein and tucked the empty IV bag and supplies into his duffle. “I’ll let Runa know he’s here. She’ll want to see him.”

“Of course. I’ll contact you when he wakes.”

“Limos.” Kynan plunked a coin into her empty palm. “I got this off one of the demons I killed. Who is Sartael?”

Sartael? Well, surprise, surprise. She held the thin slice of metal up to the light and studied the winged-skull symbol that was Sartael’s mark. “He’s a fallen angel who presides over lost and hidden things. There are also some obscure rumors about him being our father.”

Kynan cocked an eyebrow. “I thought your father was an angel named Yenrieth.”

“Yes, but he hasn’t been seen since Lilith got pregnant. Angels usually get a new name when they fall, and many say Yenrieth fell as punishment for impregnating a demon. According to some rumors, he became Sartael… who hasn’t been seen since after Lilith gave birth.”

“So why would a demon be carrying a coin with Sartael’s mark?”

“Apparently,” she mused, “he’s back. He would have imbued this coin with location magic. It would lead the bearer to Arik.”

“Is Arik still in danger of being found?”

“Now that he’s no longer in Sheoul, he’s safe from Sartael. Outside of Sheoul, Sartael’s powers are limited to locating demons and demonic artifacts.” She flipped the coin in her palm. “Arik will be safe with me.”

Kynan’s sharp gaze caught hers. “Ares tried to kill Arik before he was taken to Sheoul. How do I know he’ll be okay with you?”

Limos tried not to take offense, but she still snapped, “Because I wouldn’t have called for Eidolon if I wanted him dead.”

“And what about your brothers?”

“They don’t want him dead, either.” That particular untruth came easily, probably because she wished it were true. “You have my word Kynan gave a single nod and strode out with Shade and Eidolon. As the door closed, Arik groaned. The sound was a spear to the gut. She’d never been the type to offer comfort—she had no problem offering her opinion, but the desire to take care of another had never been part of her makeup.

She moved toward the bed, her steps tentative, as if she were approaching an injured bear and not an unconscious man.

“Arik?” Her voice was a froggy croak.

He groaned again, louder, his jaw clenched as though in unbearable pain. Maybe she should grab Eidolon—

His body tensed and trembled, and he tossed his head, the tendons in his neck straining as he opened his mouth in a silent scream.

Thoughts of grabbing the demon doctor went out the window, replaced by a sudden need to end Arik’s suffering. Hastily, she climbed into bed with him and used her body to control his thrashing. As gently as she could, she rested her head on his shoulder and put her hand on his chest. His heart pounded into her palm and drummed in her ear. This was the closest she’d ever been to a man—intimately, at least, and was her pulse supposed to match his like that?

It made her body hum and felt oddly… right… when she hadn’t even known there was something wrong.

Another moan dredged up from his chest, the sound of so much agony. He’d been physically healed, but mentally… she didn’t even want to think about what kind of damage had been done. He jerked, his muscles spasming so violently that his arms flailed.

“Shh.” Using a light touch, she stroked him, long, soothing passes through his hair, over his jaw, and down his throat. He settled down, his breathing even, the rise and fall of his chest becoming steady. “That’s it. Sleep.”

His hand came up, startling her as his fingers circled her wrist. She watched, breathless, as he put her palm against his lips in what she swore was a kiss. Confused by his tenderness and overwhelmed by the feelings it stirred inside her, she went completely still. No one had ever been so… she didn’t even know the word for it, that’s how foreign what he’d done was to her.

All she knew was that her Horseman name, Famine, was fitting. She’d always been starving for something she couldn’t name, because she hadn’t experienced it. Now she had.

A man’s touch. A man’s affection.

Now she was hungrier than ever, and that could only be a bad thing.

Seven

Warmth. Softness. Comfort.

Arik moaned at the luxury. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the black starkness of his cell, but instead, a palm-frond fan spun in lazy circles from a pearly-white ceilin Nng g, and an ocean breeze and warm sunlight streamed through open windows.

Dreaming. He was dreaming again. Man, he loved to dream. For just a little while, he could find peace and a small measure of relief from the constant starvation and pain.

Closing his eyes, he rolled… and bumped into a warm body. A warm female body. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. Her tropical scent, like suntan lotion and rum, filled his nostrils.

He should shove Limos out of the bed and flat on her ass. But this was a dream, she was hot, and this was the best he’d felt since he’d been tossed into the cell.

In a heartbeat, he had her tucked beneath him, his mouth on hers, and his h*ps cradled between her spread legs. She let out a squeal of surprise and indignation, but he silenced it with his tongue.

Ooh, and handy… he was na**d. Usually in these dreams, he had to strip.

Or let Limos do the stripping for him.

Her hands came up to his shoulders, almost tentatively, which struck him as odd, since in all the dreams before this, she’d been aggressive, a demanding tigress who either took what she wanted or made him work for what he wanted.

Now she was all timid kitten, which had to be a game.

Her palms slid lightly down his back, and yeah, game. Limos didn’t do light. She did in-your-face, scratch, bite, and kick, with a side of poison tongue.

Tongue… which was sliding against his, again, timidly, and damn, she was good at this sweet, innocent shit. Strangely, it was a turn-on, and he arched, putting his hard c**k firmly against her heat as he smoothed one hand over her waist. His groan mingled with hers, and her touch grew firmer, her tongue action more confident. He played along, letting her learn his mouth at her own pace, even though his body demanded that he take her the way he always did in these dreams.

Limos licked his lips, stroked his teeth with the tip of her tongue as her fingers dug in the muscles at the small of his back. He wanted to tell her to grip him harder, to let her nails score his skin, but this was so different from the other dream sex, so real, and yet so unbelievably tender that he just let it happen.

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered against her lips, his h*ps rolling despite his desire to take things slow.

He shifted so he could remove her shirt as he peppered her skin with kisses. She tasted like Heaven and hell, light and dark, sweet and spice. He licked and nuzzled her throat as he slid his palm up her flat belly to her chest. Again, this dream was different from the others in that her br**sts weren’t as large as before, were instead handfuls of firm flesh that fit his palms as if made for them. He flicked his thumb over a perky nipple and caressed the silky skin beneath it with trembling fingers. He felt like this was his first time with her, which was so f**king weird.

Limos’s legs came up so her knees caught him at his waist, and she tilted her pelvis to meet his rocking motions, the friction between them S be up building quicker than he’d anticipated. His shaft was so stiff it felt brittle, his balls so full of come he could explode, and when Limos’s hands dropped to his ass and pulled him firmly against her, he knew it was only going to take a sensual touch or a naughty word, and it would be over.

A growl ripped from his throat, and Limos responded with a sexy purr of her own, dragging her mouth down his chin, to his neck, and gave him a stinging nip. So good… it was so damned good. For the first time since he’d mounted her, he opened his eyes, wanting to see her gorgeous body. The sight laid him out. Her bronzed skin was flawless over muscles that flexed in her arms and stomach as she writhed. Her br**sts were two perfect swells that begged him to taste.

Unable to resist, he closed his lips over one, delighting in her throaty gasp of pleasure. Greedily, he sucked at her, drawing her warm flesh into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He swore he tasted the sun and wind on her skin, and it was the flavor of freedom, of lazy days and hot summer nights, of sex on the beach.

Sweat broke out over his skin as he tried to hold it together, but the way she was undulating beneath him, so sexy, so perfect, sent him over the edge. In a rough surge, he lunged against her, taking her mouth again as he pumped his hips, drilling into her with an insane need that was as foreign to him as it was critical.

“Arik,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t… can’t… oh, yes… right… there.”

He didn’t need her to tell him he had it right. Her reaction, the way she threw her head back, her mouth open, the soft, breathy sounds that escaped… yeah, he knew he was driving her crazy.

The orgasm boiled in his balls, ready to blow through his shaft. It hit him like a locomotive, slamming into him as she cried out in her own release. She was so hot, so wet around him…

Wait… he wasn’t inside her. The thought punched through the haze as he shuddered through the last of his cl**ax, as he felt the hot jets splash onto her belly and chest.

Arms quivering, he lifted his head and frowned down at her. Her violet eyes were sex-glazed, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen. She was everything every man dreamed of. Except, with horrifying clarity, he realized that this wasn’t a dream.

Holy shit, this was a nightmare.

Limos’s heart was still pounding, her body tingling from the first cl**ax she’d ever had with a male. Damn, what she’d been missing. She could only imagine how it would be with the male actually inside her. Especially if that male was one delectable human with a body made to pleasure a woman.

God, how beautiful Arik had been when he came, his rugged features softened by both the late morning sun streaming through the windows and by ecstasy, his muscles locked up and defined with pulsing, bulging veins beneath glistening skin. Hot spurts of his s**en had splashed on her belly, and though she would love to know what that felt like in her core, this truly was amazing. She’d made a man orgasm, and although she was one of the most powerful beings on th S bein e planet, what she’d done for Arik had given her more satisfaction than anything in her life.

She was intoxicated by what they’d done, her lips still tingling from his kisses, and she thought that had been the best part of the lovemaking. The affection she’d craved, that he’d shown her earlier when he’d kissed her palm, had flowed from the kiss like an electric current, energizing her and filling her belly with flutters.

Tentatively, she smoothed her fingers over his jaw. She wanted to express her regrets for what had happened to him. Wanted to tell him how amazing he was for surviving it.

All that came out was a croaked, “Arik.”

As if his name was a trigger, Arik exploded into action, scrambling off her and off the bed. “Shut up.” He stumbled backward, crashed into a dresser.

“It’s okay, Arik.” Limos sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” he asked, incredulous. “Safe? I’m in hell, you stupid demon.”

Okay, so she’d expected him to be angry about what happened to him, but stupid demon? Awkwardly, she grabbed for her shirt. “Listen to me—”

“Who are you?”

She blinked. He didn’t recognize her? He’d just done the humpty all over her, and he hadn’t even known who was beneath him?

Humiliation seared her cheeks as she wiped his now-cold s**en off her belly with a bed sheet and then jerked the shirt over her head. “It’s me, Limos.”

“Bullshit. Get out of my head.” His eyes were wild, he was panting, and through the heady fragrance of sex, she could smell his anger and confusion. “Get out now.”

She modulated her voice, trying to calm him. “Hey, what’s going on?”

He looked at her like she was the crazy one here. “You can’t trick me.” With a swipe of his arm, he knocked the vase of fresh flowers off her night stand. The glass shattered against the wall, and water and broken flowers spilled across the hardwood floor. “This shit isn’t real. I know I’m in my cell, and you’re really some hideous demon pretending to be… her.”