The Dark-Hunters (51 page)

Amanda couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be for the people killed by the Apollites—to lose both their life and their soul. “What happens to the souls that die?”

“They’re lost forever. That’s why we have Dark-Hunters. Their job is to try and find the Daimons and free the souls before they expire.”

“And they volunteer for this?”

“No, rather they’re drafted.”

Her frown deepened. “Drafted how?”

Julian took another drink of tea. His gaze fell to the floor and she saw a strange light in his eyes as if he were remembering something out of his own past. Something painful.

“When someone suffers a horrible injustice,” he said, his tone low, “their soul makes a scream so loud that it resonates through the halls of Olympus. When Artemis hears it, she goes to the one who cried out and offers them a bargain. For a single Act of Vengeance against those who wronged them, they will swear allegiance to her and fight in her army against the Daimon predators.”

Amanda breathed deeply as all the information swam in her head. “How do you know all this?”

Julian looked up and his gaze scorched her with its vivid intensity. “Because my soul made that sound the day my children died.”

She swallowed at the hatred and pain she saw in his eyes. It was so raw, she hurt for him. “Did Artemis come to you and offer you the bargain?”

“Yes, and I refused her.”

“Why?”

He looked away. “I needed vengeance against another god and I knew she couldn’t allow that.”

Amanda knew the story of Julian’s entrapment inside the book all too well. But what interested her more was Kyrian. “Kyrian traded his soul for vengeance against his wife, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “But don’t judge him too harshly.”

“I’m not,” she said honestly. She didn’t know what Kyrian had been through, but until she did, there was no way she would hold his decision over his head.

“Tell me, Julian, is there any way for Dark-Hunters to get their souls back?”

“Yes, but almost no one succeeds, and each test is unique to every Dark-Hunter.”

“Which means you can’t tell me how Kyrian might be freed.”

“Which means
I
have no idea how he might be freed.”

Amanda nodded until her thoughts went to another matter. “Do Dark-Hunters have to drink blood, too?”

“No. Since they began as humans, they don’t
have
to. Plus, if they had to worry about finding blood, it would interfere with their ability to track the Daimons.”

“Then why do they have fangs?”

“In order to effectively track and kill the Daimons, they were given the same animal characteristics. The fangs are part and parcel of what goes with it.”

That made sense to her. “Is that why the sunlight is deadly to Dark-Hunters too?”

“Sort of, but in the case of the Dark-Hunters it’s more a matter that they serve Artemis, the goddess of the moon, and are an anathema to Apollo.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“The gods seldom are.”

*   *   *

Hours later, Kyrian sat in his car, damning his treacherous thoughts.

He could still see Amanda. Hear the sound of her soft, gentle voice. Feel her body against his and her soft breast in his hand.

It had been so long since he’d wanted a woman like this. He thought he’d banished that part of himself the night he’d become a Dark-Hunter.

As the centuries passed, he’d felt only an occasional stirring for a woman, but he’d learned to control it. Learned to bury it.

Now those long-forgotten needs had been awakened by the touch of a temptress who was lethal to his well-being. Thoughts of her distracted him. Tormented him.

He wanted her in a way that bordered on desperate.

Why? What was it about her that he craved so much? He knew nothing about her except that she had a great sense of humor and held incredible grace under fire.

And yet he yearned for her as he had for no other woman. Not even his wife.

It made no sense.

Turning his car off, he got out and entered his house. He tossed the keys on the kitchen counter and paused. The house was completely silent except for a light, clicking noise coming from upstairs.

Kyrian walked through the dark rooms and up the ornate, mahogany staircase until he was upstairs, outside his office. Light spilled out from the closed door, across the Persian runner.

Silently, he turned the knob and opened the door.

“Nick, what the hell are you doing here?”

Cursing loudly, his Squire jumped out of his swivel desk chair.

Kyrian had to stifle a laugh at the sight of a six-foot-four human ready to kill him. Nick’s blue eyes snapped fire as his jaw, which was badly in need of a shave, twitched. Nick brushed his hand through his shoulder-length dark brown hair. “Jeez, Kyrian, would you learn to make some sound when you move? You scared the hell out of me.”

Kyrian shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you were going home early.”

Nick righted the chair and returned to sit in it, then scooted it back under the desk. “I was, but I wanted to finish up the research into Desiderius for you.”

Kyrian smiled. Nick Gautier might be a hotheaded, smart-mouthed pain in the ass most of the time, but he was always reliable. It was why Kyrian had chosen him to be a Squire and had initiated him into the realm of the Dark-Hunters. “Learn anything new?”

“You might say that. I’ve learned he’s about two hundred and fifty years old.”

Amazed, Kyrian arched a brow. To his knowledge, no Daimon had ever lived so long. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. Dark-Hunters keep going after him and he keeps killing them. It seems your little Daimon friend likes to make you guys suffer.” Nick returned to the computer. “There’s nothing in Acheron’s database about his exact modus operandi and when I talked to Ash earlier, he said he had no idea where Desiderius came from or who all of his targets have been. But we’re looking into it.”

Kyrian nodded.

“Oh, by the way,” Nick said, glancing over his shoulder, “you look like hell.”

“Obviously so, since everyone I’ve seen tonight has said that to me.”

Nick smiled until he saw what Kyrian was wearing. “Why aren’t you in your bad-ass, Daimon-killing clothes?”

Kyrian didn’t feel like going there. “Speaking of, I need you to buy me a new leather coat today.”

Suspicion clouded Nick’s blue eyes. “Why?”

“The old one has a hole in the shoulder.”

“Why?”

“I got attacked. Why else?”

Nick looked less than pleased by the news. “You okay?”

“Don’t I look okay?”

“No, you look like hell.”

There was no hiding from Nick. “I’m fine. Now, why don’t you go on and sleep in one of the guest rooms? It’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“I will in a little bit. I want to finish this up first. Besides, I’m in the middle of finding out what Sundown did to piss off Ash.”

Kyrian heard the “uh-oh” sound that alerted Nick he had a new instant message on the computer. “Tell Jess to lay off taunting Ash before he gets toasted.”

Nick frowned. “Jess?”

“Sundown’s real name is William Jessup Brady. I thought you knew that.”

Nick laughed. “Hell no. But I know a few Squires who would pay me lots of money to learn that.” His blue eyes turned speculative. “Rogue isn’t Rogue’s real name either, is it?”

“No. It’s Christopher ‘Kit’ Baughy.”

Nick made a delighted noise. “Now that one is really worth some serious cash.”

“No,” Kyrian corrected. “It’s worth some serious ass-kicking if Rogue finds out you know it.”

“Good point. I’ll tuck that in my blackmail folder for when I need a Dark-Hunter favor.”

Kyrian shook his head. The boy was incorrigible. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, night.”

Kyrian shut the door and headed down the long hallway to his bedroom. The large, lush room welcomed him with dark, peaceful colors that didn’t hurt his light-sensitive eyes. Nick had lit the three candles in the small wall sconce and the dull glow flickered against the burgundy wallpaper.

This room was Kyrian’s haven from the daylight.

He’d had the windows sealed and covered as soon as he bought the old neoclassical antebellum house. No Dark-Hunter ever willingly slept where daylight might accidentally find him.

Kyrian stripped off his clothes and lay down on the large bed he’d had since the fourteenth century, but his troubled thoughts spiraled through his mind.

Desiderius had eluded him and for the next few days, he would be out of Kyrian’s reach.

Damn. But there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing, except to wait and be ready when Desiderius emerged. At least he had the comfort of knowing Desiderius would come after him first.

It would give him time to keep Amanda and Tabitha safe.

Amanda.

Her name hovered in his mind, along with a mental picture of her bright blue eyes. His groin tightened instantly against the cool silk sheets. He growled at the deep-seated ache that burned through him.

“She is not mine,” he whispered.

And by all the gods on Olympus, she never would be, no matter how much the corner of his heart that remained might wish otherwise.

CHAPTER 6

Amanda moaned as she felt a warm, strong hand sliding over her bare stomach to her hip. Instinctively, she turned into the caress, her body instantly on fire with need.

Kyrian rolled her over, onto her back, and captured her lips with his. Her head swam at the contact. At the feel of all his strength and power. Never in her life had she felt anything better than his tongue on hers. Or his exquisitely hard body sinuously sliding against her.

She burned even more.

His kiss was fierce and hot, yet strangely tender. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the spicy scent of his skin and tasted the heat of his mouth.

She ran her hands through the silk of his golden hair, delighting in the way the waves curled around her fingers.

He pulled back and stared down at her with a powerful hunger that made her burn as those gorgeous muscles of his shoulders bunched and flexed under her hands. “I will have you,” he said fiercely, his voice possessive.

“And I will have you,” she said, smiling as she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips.

His devilish, fanged smile took her breath. With her cradled in his arms, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Amanda bit her lip as she stared down at his handsome face while she felt his hard, masculine body between her thighs.

Needfully, she rubbed herself against his long, hard shaft. He growled in response to her caress.

He swept a famished look over her, then reached up and cupped her breasts in his warm hands. She covered his hands with her own as he squeezed them gently.

“I could stare at you all night,” he whispered.

She could definitely relate because nothing would please her more than watching him move around naked for the rest of eternity.

That walk … that body …

It was more than a mere mortal woman could handle.

He lifted his hips, sending her forward.

Amanda caught herself with her arms. She leaned over him, her hair falling around her face to form a dark canopy over them.

“Now that’s what I want.” Kyrian reached up to cup her face and pulled her lips to his. His mouth teased hers as he gently sucked her bottom lip between his teeth.

Amanda moaned at the contact as he trailed his hand from her breast down her side and to the center of her body. “And this is what I want most.” He plunged two fingers inside her.

Amanda hissed in pleasure as his fingers teased her relentlessly. In and out and around they swirled, making a hot fire to consume her.

He pulled back from her lips. “Now tell me what you want.”

“You,” she breathed.

“Then you shall have me.” Kyrian moved his hands to her hips and pressed her body toward his erection.

Biting her lip expectantly, she longed to feel him inside her. To have his fullness stretch her body while they shared the most intimate of experiences.

She felt the tip of his shaft pressing against her core.

Just as she was sure he’d slide inside, the alarm clock went off.

Amanda came awake with a start.

Dazed, she glanced around the unfamiliar room and it took a full minute before she remembered she was asleep in the nursery at Grace’s house.

It had all been a dream?

But it had seemed so real. She swore she could still feel Kyrian’s hands on her body, his breath against her neck.

“Oh, it’s so not fair,” she groused as she got out of bed and turned off the alarm clock. It had just been getting
really
good.

How could it have been just a dream? Just a dream of a mysterious stranger who hid pain behind sarcastic quips and of eyes so dark and deadly they captivated her?

Trying her best to forget the intensity of her subconscious, Amanda wrapped Grace’s thick robe around her, then headed for the bathroom.

“Where did it come from?” Grace asked.

Amanda paused in the hallway as she heard Grace and Julian talking below.

“I assume Kyrian left it,” Julian said.

Yawning, Amanda went downstairs and found the two of them in the living room surrounded by shopping bags and boxes. Julian was already dressed for work in a pair of khakis and a sweater. Grace wore a blue maternity nightgown while Niklos pulled and shredded paper from a sack beside her.

“What’s all this?” Amanda asked.

Julian shrugged.

“You’re right,” Grace said as she found a note in one bag. “They’re from Kyrian.” She read the note and laughed. “All it says is, ‘Thanks for the Band-Aid.’” She handed the note to Julian.

Julian let out an exaggerated breath as he read the note. “It was customary in our time to bring gifts whenever you visited a friend. But I mean, damn, we didn’t leave this many.” He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the mountain of gifts. “Kyrian was always generous, but … damn,” he repeated. “I guess he came back last night and dropped them off while we were sleeping.”

Amanda was amazed. It looked like Christmas … at the Rockefellers’. She watched as Grace pulled out dozens of toys for the twins. Dolls for Vanessa, building blocks for Niklos. A train and a toy horse.