Eternal Rider (LD1) by Ione Larissa

Author:Ione, Larissa [Ione, Larissa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Brothers, Paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Paranormal Romance Stories, FIC027120, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, General, Demonology
ISBN: 9780446574495
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 2011-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

When Pestilence was Reseph, he had, for the most part, avoided Sheoul. He’d descended into the demon realm to hang out at the Four Horsemen, but other than that, it had been too depressing. Reseph had liked parties and vacations and surfing. If it got the adrenaline pumping, the females purring, and the alcohol flowing, he was so there.

Reseph had been a pussy of epic proportions.

Pestilence ran his tongue over the sharp point of a fang as he crossed the threshold of his Sheoulin dungeon… which wasn’t actually in Sheoul. Technically, it wasn’t a dungeon, either. When his Seal had broken, he’d gained a massively cool ability… he could turn areas of the human realm into land claimed in the name of hell. Now, in the basement of the Austrian manor he’d commandeered, demons who normally couldn’t leave Sheoul could hang out in the human world and enjoy luxuries they’d never known, which included the ability to torment humans.

And they’d turned the basement into a Disneyland of torture and misery.

Reseph would have been mortified. Pestilence was orgasmic.

Pained screams and moans joined laughter and pleasurable grunts. The mouthwatering scent of blood and lust teased Pestilence’s nostrils, mingled with the stench of death, bowels, and charred bone and flesh. All kinds of earthly and demonic creatures hung from various hooks and chains on the walls and from the ceiling, and different species of demons skittered around, some of them playing, others performing tasks Pestilence had given them.

Starting an Apocalypse required a lot more help than he would have thought.

A graceful, elflike demon carrying a spiked club crossed the room when he saw Pestilence. A Neethul slave trader, Mordiin was Pestilence’s right-hand man, his ruthlessness and uncanny ability to sense fallen angels making him indispensable.

Mordiin had located the two Unfallen that were currently chained down here. Mordiin had found them wandering the human realm, minding their own business, and Pestilence had grabbed them. Instead of destroying them, as he’d been doing to keep Ares’s agimortus from being transferred yet again, he’d dragged them here.

Oh, they were still going to die, but first he had special plans for them.

“My lord,” Mordiin rumbled. “We have destroyed four more hellhounds.”

“Good work. Only what, a few thousand left to go?” He hated those fucking things. They were the one weapon that could be used against him, and he wanted them gone. Even Chaos, whom Pestilence had convinced to work with him. Once that mutt rendered Ares immobile, Pestilence was going to kill him. Double-crosses were part of being evil, after all.

“Slaughtering the hounds took a heavy toll on us,” Mordiin said. “We lost several good fighters, more than we lost in the capture of the fallen angels.”

Pestilence snorted at that. Demons were a dime a dozen. “Keep killing the hellhounds, but capture one alive. And tell me you’ve finished with the other tasks.”

Mordiin inclined his head, and his white hair fell forward, catching on his pointed ears. “Your message has been prepared. The structure is built and ready for delivery.

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