Thanatos’s chest was tight, his skin twitching as he paced the length of the great hall. His vampires had tried to bring him food and drink, had asked him if they could fetch him books, groom Styx—and currently, one of them was kneeling, exposing the throat that he’d slit by his own hand.

“Take it, sire.” Artur, his oldest daywalker and the one who had been with Thanatos for over forty-five hundred years, watched him expectantly.

Fuck. “I’ve already fed.”

“Then let me do something,” Artur begged, his willingness to serve going into hyperdrive. Than’s absence must have done a number on him. “Would you like me to tend to Regan?”

No one was going near Regan. Not even his most trusted servant. It was an irrational decision maybe, but right now Than was feeling pretty damned irrational. He yanked Artur to his feet. “If you want to do something for me, clean up the mess you made on the floor.”

The vampire nodded. “Right away.” He actually looked happy to have something to do. No doubt they were all hanging out in the kitchen, waiting nervously for Thanatos to explode.

He was close. Which was why he’d gotten away from Regan, who was one hell of a fuse.

He stopped in front of the fireplace and braced his fists on the mantel as he stared into the dancing flames. His mind was whirling in a stir of a thousand thoughts, and he couldn’t focus. It seemed like every time he captured one, it led to another, and another. There was too much in his head, from the baby to Regan to The Aegis, to his siblings, to … everything.

It didn’t help that his body vibrated with all the deaths around the world. He felt it all, like a million knives carving his muscles beneath his skin. And alongside the tremors that made him want to gate himself to the scenes of death and kill whoever was still standing was a spiraling storm of need that intensified in Regan’s presence.

Always before, when he was worked up from death and destruction, his instinct had been to kill. The dark desire was still there, a throbbing, malevolent urge, but he also wanted sex. He wanted to drop Regan to the floor and drill into her until he didn’t have the energy for violence.

She’d awakened something in him the night she’d taken him, and there was no putting it back to sleep.

The sound of footsteps rang out… heavy ones, which meant Ares had arrived. And he was armored. More footsteps, softer, but with the distinct click of hellhound claws on stone.

Drawing his sword, Than swung around. “Keep the mutt away from me, brother.”

Ares’s expression was stony. “Where is Regan?”

“Go to hell.” The hellhound, a shaggy black beast that, only about half-grown, was still the size of a wildebeest, bared its teeth and crept forward. “I said, keep Hal away.” The last thing he wanted to do was fight the hound. If he hurt Cara’s beloved mutt, she’d have his ass.

“Then you need to go back to Greece with me.”

“So you can lock me down again? Not happening.”

“It’s for your own good.” Ares’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if keeping his brother prisoner was no big deal. But then, Ares had always been a soldier, trained from birth to do anything and everything to win a battle at any cost… even if the price was his brother’s life. Ares was fully prepared to put an end to Pestilence and had been from the beginning, so holding Than captive had no doubt been easy for him.

“My own good?” Than gritted out. “I spent eight months trapped inside my own head, going insane with boredom.”

“That’s why we gave you a TV. Movies. Music. Limos and Cara read to you—”

“You think that’s enough? Do you know how many episodes of Jersey Shore you can watch before you want to gouge out your own eyes? I do, and it’s probably a lot fewer than you’d guess.” Than breathed deeply and paced, because the alternative would end in a lot of blood … both his and Ares’s. “What were you thinking?”

“We were thinking it would keep you from going atomic.”

“You wanna see atomic?” Than snarled and brought his fist down on the trestle table, putting a seismic crack in the ancient wood. “You kept a big secret from me, Ares. A secret the size of a baby.”

Ares paled, which was pretty damned satisfying. “Than…what did you do?”

Nothing much. I threatened to kill the mother of my child and half the Aegis Elders. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Where is she?”

Gripping his sword so hard his hand hurt, Than ignored the question. “Why didn’t you tell me? For months, you and Limos sat at my bedside. And not once in that time did you say anything like, ‘Hey, by the way, you’re going to be a father,’ or ‘Yo, you knocked up the Guardian.’ Would have been good to know.”

Ares blew out a frustrated breath. “Dammit, Than. That’s not something you say to someone who can’t react. You’d have laid there with no way to ask questions and with who knows what going through your head.”

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back.

Flickering light from the fire danced in Ares’s dark eyes, obscuring any telltale hints of what his brother was thinking. “The plan was to wait to rouse you until the baby was born. At that point, we were going to decide what to tell you.”

“Decide what to tell me?” Thanatos frowned, and then sucked in a harsh breath as realization dawned. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?” He felt the ground shift beneath him as the magnitude of Ares’s and Limos’s betrayal rocked him. “You weren’t going to tell me I was a father.”

“Yes we were, but the rest of the plan isn’t about you.” Ares held up his hands in a soothing gesture that was so not soothing. “If Pestilence finds out about Regan’s pregnancy, the child’s life will be in danger.”

Son of a—Okay, yeah, there was that. He’d been out of his mind for a while there, but Ares was right. “Pestilence would love to hurt me through a child.”

“More than that,” Ares said. “We think the baby is your agimortus.”

Of course. Than had spent the last months wondering why his Seal hadn’t broken and trying to figure out what would break it. And now the warmth he felt when he was near Regan made sense. He was feeling his agimortus.

“How did you get free?” Ares asked. “You weren’t due for another dose of hellhound venom for a couple of hours.”

Thanatos glared at Hal, and he swore the mutt smiled. “I felt a pull that seemed to neutralize the effect of the venom. Turns out it was the baby.” Than nearly stumbled over the baby word. So… foreign. “I didn’t know what it was until I got to Aegis headquarters and found Regan. There were demons loose, and she and the baby were in danger.”

“So you sensed the child?”

“Apparently.” The sense had dulled now that the immediate danger had passed, but inside, he definitely vibrated with an awareness that had been with him for months but that he hadn’t been able to identify. “You’ve always been able to sense your agimortus. Must be why I can feel the baby.” He gnashed his teeth, frustrated by pretty much everything that had happened today. “By the way, I saw Hades. He said Reseph has his sights set on destroying Azagoth and Sheoul-gra.”

“Not much we can do about that. We’ve got enough on our plates in the human realm. Underworlders are on their own. Now, where is Regan?” Ares repeated.

“She’s safe. That’s all you need to know.”

“Shit,” Ares muttered. “You need to return her to The Aegis. That’s the only way she’ll be safe.”

“You think I can’t protect her?”

“Your temper—”

“My temper is under control,” he roared, and yep, that display surely convinced Ares.

Ares smoothed his hand over the hound’s head, calming the beast. What a huge change, given that only a year ago Ares had been gunning to destroy every hellhound in existence.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked quietly.

Uh-oh. “Remember what?”

“The reason we incapacitated you in the first place.”

Than’s stomach turned over. He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t. The scorpion started stinging his neck, letting him know that what he’d done was poison to his very soul. “What … shit, what did I do?”

“You nuked the island, almost killed Arik, and very nearly damaged Reaver and Limos permanently.”

Thanatos’s mind spun with confusion. “What island?” The look on Ares’s face said it all, and Than stumbled back a step. “No. Not this island. Oh, Jesus. How … how bad?” Than asked, but deep down, he knew. Vampires were immune to his death blasts, but few others were.

“Angels intercepted the shockwave, but they couldn’t save many. You left few alive.”

It all came back in a rush, a broken dam releasing so many memories. The thousands of the souls in his armor went crazy, evidence of what he’d done.

If a million angels descended on him right now and cast a million lightning bolts at him, the punishment wouldn’t be enough. If it went on for centuries it would n’t be enough.

“I was so angry at Regan … at her betrayal. The Aegis f**ked us over, and then Reseph…” Thanatos had been riding Styx hard, chasing Regan across the frozen tundra, and Reseph…no, Pestilence …had come out of nowhere, had beaten Than to a bloody pulp and nearly killed Styx. If not for Cara, the stallion would be dead.

“That’s why we didn’t want to tell you about Regan and the baby. We mentioned her name once, outside the bedroom door. You must have overheard, because you let out a mini death wave that killed two of my Ramreels.” Ares’s voice warbled, just a little, but for him, that was a major show of emotion. “We didn’t know what you’d do if we actually tried to talk to you about her.”

“Shit, Ares. I’m sorry.” Thanatos rubbed his sternum, but it didn’t relieve the heavy crush of guilt. “Why did The Aegis do it? Regan claims she didn’t drug the wine—”

“She didn’t. The Aegis is still at the heart of it, but no, Pestilence arranged for the wine.”

“How?”

“He replaced Atrius with a doppelgänger. We found the doppelgänger dead.”

Which meant that Atrius was dead, too. Doppelgängers and the being they were created to replace shared life forces. Damn it! Atrius’s sense of humor had lightened up the keep, and he’d been instrumental in keeping the rivalry between the nightwalker and daywalker vamps in check. Than would miss him.

“So Pestilence must have killed Atrius after the deed was done.”

“Or one of your staff killed the doppelgänger, but they all denied it. We tested the rest of your staff to make sure no one else was a doppelgänger.” When Than lifted a brow in question, Ares expounded. “We pulled a fang from each vamp. They all grew back.”

A fang removed from a doppelgänger wouldn’t be replaced. Than scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Speaking of fangs—”

“Don’t.” Thanatos cut off his brother. “Don’t go there.”

“I am going there, Than,” Ares growled. “Reseph grew fangs when he turned into Pestilence. You grew fangs after your nuclear meltdown. Or after sex with Regan. Something’s up, and I’m not letting it go.”

“You have to. I won’t discuss it.” Ares was so wrong about when Than had gained his fangs, but Than couldn’t tell his brother that he’d had them since they were cursed as Horsemen. It was a secret he was forbidden to share, even with his own siblings. He changed the subject, although he knew Ares wouldn’t be deterred for long. “Do you think Regan is lying about being drugged, too?”

If Regan had truly drunk the wine instead of merely pretending, as he’d suspected, then much of his anger was misplaced. He hadn’t been able to stand up to its aphrodisiac properties; a human stood no chance. And if she was telling the truth about losing control of her gift that incapacitated him … shit. Now he didn’t know what to think.

“I believe her about the wine, but she did come here to seduce you.”

A sickening feeling came over him. “To get pregnant. But why… wait. Don’t tell me. I’m going to get it from the source.”

Six

Your life is now mine.

Wrapping herself in the blanket at the end of Than’s bed, Regan sank down on the mattress and concentrated on staying calm. It wasn’t easy. She’d been in countless life-or-death situations, had nearly died twice, but she’d never been as close to panic as she was now.

All those other times, she’d never truly feared for herself. She’d feared more for her colleagues or for innocent bystanders, but even then, the fear had never interfered with her ability to think or fight. On the contrary; the fear had given her an edge. Now it was paralyzing, because all she could think about was the baby.

“Breathe,” she murmured. “Just breathe.”

She inhaled slowly for the count of three and then released the breath with the same count. It was a trick an Aegis doctor had taught her to combat her obsessive-compulsive attacks…attacks like this one, where she’d get something stuck in her head. It would play over and over, like a skipping record, until she either powered out of it, found a distraction, or found a ritual to ease her mind.

Right now, her ritual was to breathe, but it would only work temporarily. The moment she stopped counting, the panic would resurface, and a newer, worse thought would pop into her head, something completely out there, like if she didn’t bounce a ball five times in a row, the baby could die.