Sin Undone

“Good. I’ll play with both of you.” The female, who looked like a cartoon devil, traced a long, black nail over the stallion tattoo on Ares’s forearm. “I love this.” The horse was as much a part of him as his organs, whether Battle was on his skin or under his seat, and Ares stiffened at the sensation of both his arm and scalp being stroked. Any contact with the glyph sent a shock of sensation to the corresponding parts of Ares’s body, which could be a real pain in the ass. Or it could be inappropriately pleasant…


Ares spun his mug down the length of the bar top and slid his queen into striking position. Triumph sang through him, filling that space in his soul that was always hungry for victory. “Checkmate.” The bartender cursed, the Sora laughed, and Ares got to his feet. At over six and a half feet tall, he dwarfed the demon, but that didn’t faze her, and she plastered the entire length of her tank-topped, miniskirted body to his. Her tail swished on the cobblestone floor and her black horns swiveled like pointy satellite dishes, and if her gaze grew any hotter, his breeches were going to get real uncomfortable.

He despised his reaction to demons, had never truly warmed up to females who didn’t at least appear to be human.

Some grudges lasted a lifetime. “I’m outta here.” Despite the chess coup, his unease was becoming an itch under his skin, the way it did when a global war escalated. Unable to remain still any longer, he flung a gold Sheoulin mark at the three-eyed bartender. “A round for the house. Give the females something to do while they’re waiting for my brothers.” Who were late, as usual.

Gently, but firmly, he dislodged the Velcro demon and strode out of the tavern and into perpetual twilight. Muggy, hot air that reeked of sulphur filled his lungs, and his boots sank into the spongy terrain that defined the Six River region of Sheoul, the demon realm in the Earth’s core.

Battle writhed on his skin, impatient to run. “Out,” Ares commanded, and a heartbeat later, the tattoo on his arm turned to mist, expanding and solidifying into a giant blood-bay stallion. Battle nudged Ares with his nose in greeting—or, more likely, for sugar cubes.

“You forgot this.” Always ready to live up to his name, Battle bared his teeth at the Sora, who stood in the tavern doorway, her tail wrapped around the hilt of a dagger, which she dangled playfully. The blatant invitation in her sultry smile told Ares that she’d plucked the weapon from him herself, but he knew that. He didn’t leave weapons behind. Ever.

Of course, he never got shit lifted, either. The female was good. Real good. And even though he wasn’t normally into demons, he had to admire her talent. No wonder Reseph liked this one so much. Maybe Ares would make an exception to his no-demons-that-look-like-demons rule…

Grinning, he started toward her… and stopped dead. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in warning. With a furious scream, Battle reared up, and from out of the forest of shadowed trees, a buffalo-sized hellhound leaped through the air. Ares shoved the female out of the way, a stupidly protective instinct left over from his failed family days… and fuck, he needed to get his head out of his ass because he’d almost ended up between snapping jaws.

Ares and his sibs were immortal, but hellhound bites were poisonous to the Horsemen, causing paralysis, and then the suffering really began. He dove to the ground as Battle struck out with a powerful hoof, hooking the other animal in the ribs and sending it tumbling into the tavern door. The fucking hound recovered so quickly that Battle’s blow might as well have been a flea bite, and it targeted the Sora, who scrambled backward on her hands and knees. Her terror was palpable, like little whips on Ares’s skin, and he had a feeling this was her first experience with a hellhound.

Hell of a way to pop that cherry.

“Hey!” Distract. Rolling to his feet, Ares drew his sword. Provoke. “I’m over here, you piece of shit mongrel.” Terminate.

Anticipation gleamed in the hellhound’s crimson eyes as it swung around, melting into an inky blur of evil. Ares met it head-on, with three hundred pounds of armored weight behind his blow. The satisfying crunch of steel meeting bone rent the air. An impact tremor shot up Ares’s arms, and a massive jet of blood spewed from the hound’s chest.

A bloodcurdling snarl ripped from its throat as it launched a surprisingly effective counterattack, slamming one huge paw into Ares’s chest. Claws raked his breastplate, and he flew backward, plowing into a stone summoning column. Pain lanced his upper body, and then the hellhound was on him, its jaws snapping a millimeter away from Ares’s jugular.

Foul breath burned Ares’s eyes and frothy, stinging saliva dripped on his skin. The beast’s claws tore at his armor, and it took every ounce of Ares’s strength to keep the hound from ripping out his throat. Even with Battle striking at the canine’s body, the creature did its damnedest to get a mouthful of flesh.