The Dark-Hunters (58 page)

“Then how do you know so much about—”

“I could hear them while they lived. Feel them, the same way you can open your heart to Tabitha and tell when she’s troubled.”

She stiffened at his words. “How did you know about that?”

“I told you, I can feel your powers.”

A shiver went down her spine and she wondered if she could hide anything from him. “You are one scary man.”

A strange light darkened his eyes. “I’m not a man. I gave up my humanity when I crossed over.”

He said that, but she knew better. He might not have a soul, but the man had a good heart and was nothing if not humane. “Why did you agree to be a Dark-Hunter even though you never took your revenge against Theone?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

With those few words something inside her melted. Perhaps it was the loneliness in his voice, the calm acceptance of his fate in his eyes. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she knew she couldn’t just walk back into her old life and forget this man.

She’d seen too much of his goodness. Too much of his pain. And God help her, the more she learned about him the more she wanted him.

Wanted him in a way that defied explanation. They’d barely met and yet there was something that bound them together.

Amanda looked up at those tormented eyes that studied her with hunger and heat. He was what her mother had called the “missing half.” It was the term her mother used to describe her father. The term Selena used when she spoke of Bill.

For the first time in her life, Amanda understood. And having found it with him, she knew she couldn’t just let it go.

Not without a fight.

Unaware of her thoughts, Hunter turned and led her back into the house. He showed her to a bedroom suite on the bottom floor. “You can sleep in here. I’ll bring you something more comfortable to wear.”

Amanda wandered around the lush bedroom. The king-sized plantation bed looked like something out of an old movie. The dark green paint would have made a small room look tiny, but in this massive space, it gave it a quaint, homey feel.

Hunter returned a few minutes later with a black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that would swallow her whole. “Thanks,” she said, taking them from him.

He stood before her, his eyes searching hers.

To her surprise, he lifted his hand and ran his finger down her jaw. His short fingernail gently scraped her flesh, sending chills through her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was amazed at how much she wanted his kiss.

But he didn’t kiss her. He just stared at her with those dark hungry eyes.

Then he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and she barely bit back a moan at how good he felt. How good he smelled. The air between them was rife with tension. With mutual desire and need. The force of it took her breath and made her both weak and strong at the same time.

Just when she was sure he’d kiss her, he pulled away. “Good night, Amanda.”

Her heart pounding, she watched him go.

*   *   *

Kyrian cursed himself with every step he took toward his office. He should have kissed her. He should have …

No, he’d done the right thing. There would never be anything between them. Dark-Hunters could take women for a few nights, but they were forbidden to become seriously involved with them. The danger was just too great.

It made the women vulnerable to the Daimons, and it made the Dark-Hunter weak. Made him cautious, and in this line of work, caution got you killed.

It had never bothered him before.

Tonight, the pain was almost enough to break him.

He hated these feelings inside him. Hated needing her. He’d long ago banished his emotions and he preferred to live that way; in a safe cocoon free of turmoil.

“I have to get her out of my mind.” He entered his office and went to log on to the Dark-Hunter.com Web site.

His instant messenger program was blinking with incoming messages and as always, his e-mail was filled with notes from other Dark-Hunters. Technology was a wonderful thing. Being able to communicate with each other was a true godsend. It made dealing with the long nights more bearable and it allowed them to exchange important information.

Kyrian sat in his black leather chair and double-clicked the flashing icon. It was a note from Acheron.

Nick called, said Desiderius had kicked your butt. You okay?

Kyrian clenched his teeth, then typed in a response. “I’m going to kill him for that. I’m fine. Desiderius is down a bolt-hole. What do you know of him?”

He’s the one who took out Cromley a few years back, so you’re dealing with a major power. I talked with Cromley’s Squire and he said Desiderius took a tremendous amount of pleasure from messing with Cromley’s head. D. ended up killing Cromley in a manner best not mentioned. Personally, I wish D. would come after me, I need a good dance partner. My Daimons have lame legs.

Kyrian laughed at Ash’s dry wit. The man truly had no patience for lame Daimons. “Talon said they’re using astral blasts. Have you ever come across that?”

In eleven thousand years, I can honestly say
 …
hell, no. This is a first. I’ve called in the Oracles and they are communing with the Fates. But you know how they are. I’m sure it’ll come back as “When the sky is green, and the earth turns black, the Daimons will give you lots of flack. To kill the great awful one you seek, you’ll have to find something unique.” Or some bullshit like that. I really hate Oracles. If I wanted to play mind games, I’d buy a Rubik’s Cube.

“I don’t know, Ash, you’re pretty good at that. Sure you don’t want to take up an Oracle position?”

Picture this, General, my middle finger is extended all the way up, and aimed right at you. Now let me work. I have Daimons to track, Dark-Hunters to antagonize, and women to seduce. Talk to you later.

No longer in the mood to talk, Kyrian logged off the Dark-Hunter site. He opened his e-mail, but he didn’t really want to read it, either.

What he wanted was beyond his ability to claim.

Against his will, he wandered down the hallway, then down the stairs.

Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself outside Amanda’s room. He pressed his hand against the dark wood door and splayed his fingers. Closing his eyes, he could see her sitting in bed, her long legs bare beneath his T-shirt.

Fire pounded through his blood. He could feel her pain at the loss of her house. Feel her fear as she thought of Desiderius hurting her sister, and her worry over Tabitha’s roommate.

Worse, he could sense the tears she was holding back. She was so strong. So capable. He’d never known a woman like her before.

His dream from the morning tore through him. He could still feel her in his arms.

“I want you.”

He’d give anything to hear her say those words for real. To see her look at him as if she could devour him.

Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was to kick open the door and make love to her. To have her touch him. Hold him.

Welcome him.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

His heart heavy, he forced himself to leave her.

He had work to do.

*   *   *

Amanda glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Normally she would be fast asleep by now. But to Hunter the night would still be young.

She wondered what he did during the wee hours. Surely he didn’t kill Daimons every night. There weren’t that many of them, were there?

Before she realized what she was doing, she got out of bed and wandered through the enormous house. She didn’t know where Hunter was. He hadn’t bothered to show her his room while he had given her the tour.

But her instinct told her his room would be upstairs. Probably as far away from hers as possible.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard something odd outside. It was a strange whooshing noise.

Backtracking, she found her way to the dark game room. There was no light, but the moon and stars were so bright outside that she could see a shadowy figure in the atrium. Her first impulse was to call for Hunter; she paused.

There was something very familiar about that figure. Walking closer to the French doors, she recognized Terminator and Hunter. Hunter was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He was tossing a baseball into a net-covered frame that bounced it back to him.

As soon as he threw the ball, Terminator would give chase, then the dog would bound back to Hunter.

She smiled at the sight. Hunter patted Terminator, then returned to tossing the ball.

She started to leave, but couldn’t. Instead, she cracked open the door.

Hunter turned instantly. The forgotten ball rebounded and caught him on the head. He hissed as he rubbed his head and Terminator chased after the baseball.

“Did you need something?” he asked, his voice sharp.

I need you to kiss me.

She swallowed. “I just didn’t know where you were.”

“Now you do.”

The ice was back in his voice. This wasn’t the Hunter who had been with her a short time ago, this was the Dark-Hunter who had awakened in the factory with her. Guarded. Distant.

And it cut through to her heart. It wasn’t just the lump on his head from the baseball making him snappish; his old barriers were back in place. He was pushing her away.

Taking the hint, she nodded. “Yeah, well, good night.”

Kyrian watched her leave. He’d wounded her. He could sense it and he hated himself for it.

Call her back.

But to what purpose?

There could never be anything between them. Not even friendship.

Grinding his teeth, he went back to his pitching. As he worked out, he tried to focus on Desiderius. Tried to will the Daimon into his grasp.

It was useless.

Amanda was still with him. It was her face he saw when he closed his eyes. Her scent that permeated his senses.

If he didn’t banish her from his thoughts, he would get himself killed. And if he died, Desiderius would go after her.

Growling, he threw the ball against the net. He twirled around to catch it on the rebound, but before his hand made contact, a fierce pain slashed through his skull.

Kyrian cursed. He put the heel of his hand over his right eye, and as he struggled with the pain, an image tore through him.

It was Desiderius.

As the image sharpened, he froze. With amazing clarity, he saw Desiderius kill him.

And he heard Amanda weeping.

CHAPTER 8

After Amanda fell asleep, her dreams drifted for a time like a bizarre, twisting kaleidoscope coalescing without shape or form. Foreign images, people, and places twirled and tumbled in her mind until her head swam from them.

After a while, they became more focused and she could see them clearly. Unknown people greeted her as she walked past them.

It seemed so incredibly real; like a forgotten memory more than a dream. Even though she’d never seen these people before, she knew them by name. Knew things about them only a friend would know.

She heard the sound of men laughing and celebrating. Felt a strange mixture of joy and sadness as she became aware of a faded red tent filled with soldiers wearing ancient armor.

“You were brilliant,” an older soldier said, clapping her on the back. She recognized him as her second in command. A man she relied on and one who worshiped her. Dimitri had always looked to her for guidance and strength.

He had a fresh, open wound down the left side of his face, but his old gray eyes sparkled. Though his armor was covered in blood, he appeared remarkably unhurt. “It’s a pity Julian wasn’t here to see this victory. He would have been proud of you today, Commander. I can guarantee all of Rome is weeping this night.”

At that moment, she realized the dream wasn’t about her.

She was Kyrian …

Kyrian’s face was smudged with sweat, dirt, and blood, his long, leather-bound hair tousled. He had three long, thin braids that fell from his left temple down to the middle of his chest. The man was simply gorgeous and completely human.

His dark green eyes shimmered from victory and he had the carriage of a man who had no equal. Of a man destined for greatness.

Kyrian raised the goblet of wine in his hand and addressed the men in his tent. “I declare this victory for Julian of Macedon. Wherever he is, I know he’s laughing at Scipio’s defeat.”

A loud cheer roared from the men.

Kyrian took a drink, then looked to the older soldier beside him. “It’s a pity Valerius wasn’t there with Scipio. I was looking forward to facing him, too. But no matter.” He lifted his voice so that all the men gathered inside could hear him. “Tomorrow, we march on Rome herself and we’ll bring that bitch to her knees.”

The men shouted their agreement.

“On the battlefield, with a sword in your hand, you are invincible,” the old man said in an awed tone. “By this time tomorrow, you will be ruler of the known world.”

Kyrian shook his head. “Andriscus will be ruler of Rome tomorrow. Not I.”

The old man looked aghast, then he leaned close to Kyrian’s neck and lowered his tone so that only Kyrian could hear him. “There are those who think he is weak. Those who would support you if you decided—”

“No, Dimitri,” Kyrian said, cutting him off gently. “I appreciate the thought, but I swore to lead his army for Andriscus and that I shall do until the day I die. I will never betray him.”

The look on Dimitri’s face showed his confusion. He wasn’t sure if he should applaud Kyrian’s loyalty or curse it. “You’re the only man I know who would turn down the opportunity to rule the world.”

Kyrian laughed. “Kingdoms and empires don’t bring happiness, Dimitri. Only the love of a good woman and children do that.”

“And conquest,” Dimitri added.

Kyrian smiled even wider. “Tonight, at least, that appears to be true.”

“Commander?”

Kyrian turned toward the voice behind him to see a man cutting a swath through the men in the tent.

The soldier held out a sealed letter. “A courier brought this. It was discovered on a Roman messenger earlier today.”