The Dark-Hunters (138 page)

“Sasha?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Don’t move.” Zarek’s deep commanding voice shivered down her spine.

The next thing she knew two strong arms lifted her up from the floor with an ease that was truly terrifying. He cradled her against a body that was rock hard and lean. One that rippled with every move he made as he walked her away from the den.

She put her arms around broad, masculine shoulders that stiffened in reaction to her touch. His breath fell against her face, making her entire body melt.

“Zarek?” she asked tentatively.

“Is there anyone else in this house who can carry you that I need to know about?”

She ignored his sarcasm as he carried her to the kitchen and set her down on a chair.

She missed his heat instantly. It brought an odd ache to her chest that she neither expected nor understood.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He didn’t respond. Instead, she heard him leave the room.

A few minutes later, he returned and dumped something into the trash can.

“I don’t know what you did to Scooby,” he said, his tone almost normal, “but he’s off in a corner lying down on a sweater and growling at me.”

She stifled the urge to laugh at that image. “He’s being bad.”

“Yeah, well, where I come from, we beat things that are bad.”

Astrid frowned at his words and the underlying emotion they betrayed. “Sometimes understanding is more important than punishment.”

“And sometimes it’s not.”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Zarek turned on the water in the sink. It sounded as if he were washing his hands again.

Strange, he seemed to do that a lot.

“I got up all the glass I could find,” he said over the sound of the rushing water, “but the crystal vase on your table shattered pretty badly. You might want to wear shoes in there for a few days.”

Astrid was strangely touched by his actions and his warning. She got up from her chair and crossed the floor to stand next to him. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could feel him now. Feel his heat, his strength.

Feel the raw sensuality of the man.

It shivered through her and down her body, enticing her with desire and need.

A foreign part of her ached to reach out and touch the smooth, tawny skin that beckoned her with the promise of primal heat. Even now she remembered the way his skin had looked. The way the light had played on it.

She wanted to pull his lips to hers and see what he tasted like. See if he could be tender.

Or would he be rough and forceful?

Astrid should be shocked by her thoughts. As a judge, she wasn’t supposed to have this kind of curiosity, but as a woman, she couldn’t help it.

It had been a long, long time since she’d felt desire for a man. Deep down there was even a part of her that yearned to find in him the goodness that Acheron believed in.

That was something she hadn’t wanted to do in centuries either.

Zarek’s kindness was unwarranted. “How did you know I needed you?”

“I heard the glass break and figured you were trapped.”

She smiled. “That was very sweet of you.”

She had a feeling he was staring at her. Her flesh warmed considerably at the thought. Her breasts hardened.

“I’m not sweet, princess. Trust me.”

No, he wasn’t sweet. He was hard. Prickly and strangely fascinating. Like a wild beast that needed to be tamed.

If anyone could ever tame something like him.

“I was attempting to give you some clothes,” she said softly, trying to regain control of her body, which didn’t seem to want to respond to common sense. “There are more sweaters in the bottom of my closet if you’d like to borrow them.”

He scoffed at that as he turned off the water and ripped a paper towel off to dry his hands. “Your clothes won’t fit me, princess.”

She laughed. “They’re not mine. They belong to a male friend.”

Zarek couldn’t breathe with her so close to him. All he had to do was lean down ever so slightly and he could kiss her slightly parted lips.

Reach out and he would touch her.

What truly scared him was just how much he wanted to touch her. How much he wanted to press his body to hers and feel her soft curves against the hard male lines of his.

He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.

Closing his eyes, he was seared with an image of the two of them naked. Of him placing her up on the counter in front of him so that he could screw her brains out. Of sliding in and out of her heat until he was too tired to stand.

Too sore to move.

He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin sliding against his. Her breath on his flesh.

Most of all, he wanted her scent on his skin. To know what it felt like to have a woman who didn’t show fear or contempt of him.

In all these centuries, he’d never screwed a woman he hadn’t paid for. Most of the time he hadn’t even had that.

He’d been alone for so long …

“Where’s this male friend of yours?” he asked, his voice strangely thick as he thought of her with another man. It hurt in a way it shouldn’t.

Sasha came into the room to stare at them and bark.

“My friend died,” Astrid said without hesitation.

Zarek arched a brow. “Died how?”

“Mmm, he had parvo.”

“Isn’t that a dog’s disease?”

“Yes. It was tragic.”

“Hey!”
Sasha said to Astrid.
“I resent that.”

“Behave or I will give you parvo.”

Zarek stepped away from her. “Do you miss him?”

She glanced in the direction of Sasha’s bark. “No, not really. He was a bit of a pain.”

“I’ll show you pain, nymph. Just you wait.”

Astrid bit back a smile. “So are you interested in the clothes?” she asked Zarek.

“Sure.”

She led him to her room.

“You are so evil,”
Sasha snarled.
“Just wait. I will get you back for this. You know that comforter you’re so fond of? It’s toast. And I wouldn’t use my slippers again if I were you.”

She ignored him.

Zarek didn’t speak as she took him into her room, which was decorated in soft shades of pink. It was all feminine and soft. But it was the scent in the air that made him ache.

Roses and wood smoke.

It smelled like her.

That scent made him so hard and stiff, he hurt. His cock strained against his rough zipper, begging him to do something other than look at her.

Against his will, his gaze lingered on her bed. He could just imagine her lying there asleep. Her lips parted, her body relaxed and naked …

The pale pink covers wrapped around her bare limbs.

“Here you go.”

He had to force himself to drag his gaze from the bed to the closet.

She stood back to give him access to the men’s clothes that were folded neatly in a wicker laundry basket. “You can take whatever you want.”

Now there was a loaded statement if he ever heard one. The only problem was that what he wanted most was definitely not in that basket.

So Zarek thanked her, then dug out a black sweater and gray turtleneck that shouldn’t be too small for him. “I’ll go change in my room,” he said, wondering why he bothered. She didn’t care if he left the room or not. It wasn’t as if she could see him or anything.

At home he walked about half-naked most of the time.

But that wasn’t civilized, was it?

Since when are you civilized?

Tonight, it appeared.

Sasha barked at him as he left the room, then the wolf ran into the room to bark at Astrid.

“Hush, Sasha,” she said. “Or I’ll make you go sleep in the garage.”

Ignoring them, Zarek made his way to his room to put on the fresh clothes.

He shut the door and set the clothes aside as he stood there feeling very peculiar. It was just clothes she offered him. And shelter.

A bed.

Food.

He looked around the elegant, expensively furnished room. He felt lost here. Unsure of himself. Never in his life had he experienced anything like this.

He felt human in this place.

Most of all, he felt welcome. Something he didn’t even feel around Sharon.

Like all the others he had known over the centuries, Sharon did what he paid her to do. Nothing more, nothing less. He always felt as if he were intruding any time he came near her.

Sharon was formal and cool, especially after he had ignored the pass she made at him. He always sensed there was a part of her that was scared of him. A part of her that would watch him, especially whenever her daughter was around—as if she expected him to go wild on them or something.

It had always insulted him, but then, he was so used to insults that he had shrugged it off.

But he didn’t feel that with Astrid.

She treated him as if he were normal. Made it easy for him to forget the fact that he wasn’t.

Zarek dressed quickly and went back to the den where Astrid sat sideways on the couch reading a book in braille. Sasha was resting on the couch at her feet. The wolf lifted its head and stared at him with what appeared to be hatred in its wolfish gray eyes.

Zarek, who had retrieved the paring knife from the kitchen, grabbed another piece of wood.

“So how did you end up with a wolf as a pet?” he asked, sitting in the chair nearest the fire so that he could toss the wood shavings into the hearth.

He didn’t know why he talked to her. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered, and yet he found himself strangely curious about her life.

Astrid reached down to pet the wolf at her feet. “I’m not really sure. Much like you, I found him lying hurt and I brought him in and nursed him back to health. He’s been with me ever since.”

“I’m surprised he let you tame him.”

She smiled at that. “I am, too. It wasn’t easy to get him to trust me.”

Zarek thought about that for a minute. “‘You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a little distance from me—like that—in the grass.’”

Astrid’s mouth opened in shock as Zarek continued quoting one of her favorite passages. She couldn’t have been more stunned had he thrown something at her. “You know
The Little Prince?
”

“I’ve read it a time or two.”

More than that for him to be able to quote it so unerringly. Astrid leaned up again to touch Sasha so that she could look at Zarek.

He sat catty-corner from her while he whittled. The firelight played in his midnight eyes. The black sweater hugged his body, and though black whiskers covered his face, she was again struck by how handsome he was.

There was something almost relaxed about him as he worked. A poetic grace that warred with the hard cynical twist of his mouth. The deadly aura that enveloped him tighter than his black jeans.

“I love that book,” she said quietly. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

He didn’t speak. He just sat there with his piece of wood held carefully in his hand as his long, tapered fingers moved gracefully over it. This was the first time the air around him didn’t seem so dark. So dangerous.

She wouldn’t call it peaceful exactly, but it wasn’t as sinister as it had been before.

“Did you read it as a child?” she asked.

“No,” he said quietly.

She cocked her head, watching him as he worked.

He paused, then turned to look at her with a frown.

Astrid let go of Sasha and sat back.

Zarek didn’t move as he watched her and her pooch. There was something very strange here: every instinct he had told him so. He stared at Sasha.

If he didn’t know better …

But why would a werewolf be in Alaska with a blind woman? The magnetic fields here would be hard on either an Arcadian or Katagari male who would have a difficult time maintaining a consistent form while the electrons in the air played havoc with their magic.

No, it wasn’t probable.

And yet …

He glanced from them to the small anniversary clock on the mantel. It was almost four in the morning. For him it was still early, but not many humans kept his hours. “You always stay up this late, princess?”

“Sometimes.”

“Don’t you have a job you need to get up for?”

“No. I have family money. What about you, Prince Charming?”

Zarek’s hand slipped at her words. Family money. She was even more loaded than he had suspected. “It must be nice not to have to work for a living.”

Astrid heard the bitterness in his voice. “You don’t like people who have money, do you?”

“I’m not prejudiced against anyone, princess. I hate everyone equally.”

She had heard that about him. Heard from Artemis that he was coarse, unrefined, rude, and the most obnoxious jerk Artemis had ever known.

Coming from the Queen of Obnoxious, that was saying something.

“You didn’t answer my question, Zarek. What do you do for a living?”

“This and that.”

“This and that, huh? Are you a vagrant, then?”

“If I said yes, would you make me leave?”

Though his tone was level and emotionless, she sensed that he waited for her response. That there was a part of him that wanted her to throw him out.

A part of him that expected it.

“No, Zarek. I told you, you’re welcome here.”

Zarek stopped carving and stared at the fire, her words made him tremble unexpectedly. But it wasn’t the flames he saw, it was her face. Her sweet voice resonated deep inside a heart he thought was long dead.

No one had ever welcomed him anywhere.

“I could kill you and no one would know.”

“Are you going to kill me, Zarek?”

Zarek winced as memories tore through him. He saw himself walking among the bodies in his devastated village. The sight of them with their throats bleeding, their homes burning …

He was supposed to protect them.

Instead, he had killed them all.

And he didn’t even know why. He didn’t remember anything except the rage that had possessed him. The need he’d felt for blood and atonement.

“I hope not, princess,” he whispered.

Getting up, he returned to his room and locked the door.

He only hoped she would do the same.