The Dark-Hunters (632 page)

Where he had his old strength back and no one could touch him …

Now he was there at long last. He had power. He had dignity. Most of all, he had a beautiful woman in his bed …

The very one who had cost him everything.

He hated her for that. She’d grown up without knowing her life had been paid for with more suffering than she could ever imagine.

He clenched his hand in her hair, wanting to hurt her for that. But he knew it wasn’t her fault. She’d been an innocent child.

It had been his own decision to ruin his life. He could have killed her as Zeus ordered and everything would have been fine.

For him.

“Were you worth my sacrifice?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open as if his words had reached her. The moment she saw him, she jumped with a loud gasp. He tried to pull his hand away, but her hair was wrapped around his fingers. She yelped as her movements pulled it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wondering why he bothered since it was her own actions that had hurt her, not his.

“What were you doing?” she accused.

“Nothing.”

Delphine frowned at his sullen, angry tone. His demeanor reminded her of a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Rubbing the sore place on her head, she stamped down her own anger. “Where do you keep going?”

“I went to see Deimos.”

She sat up as a shiver of excitement went through her. “Did you see M’Adoc? Is he alive?”

Jericho felt jealousy flare at the obvious concern and care she had for the leader of the dream gods. M’Adoc had never sacrificed for her. “No, I didn’t see him.”

She looked crushed, and it killed the satisfaction he wanted to feel. “Is Deimos all right?”

That was a matter of opinion. Personally, he’d never thought the god was all there, but that was a separate argument. “I’ve seen him look better. Still, he’s alive, even though Noir has carved him up pretty good.”

“And I suppose that made you happy.”

“No,” he answered honestly. “In spite of the fact I wanted to beat him myself, I don’t like seeing anyone tortured.”

“Not even Prometheus?”

He growled at her. “Why do you provoke me?”

Delphine paused at his question. Honestly, she didn’t know. It really wasn’t in her nature to go after people. Yet the moment he drew near, she wanted his jugular. How out of character for her. “You irritate me.”

“
I
irritate
you?
”

She nodded. “You have the power to save people and yet you intend to fight for Noir. That irritates me.”

He snorted at her words. “Give me one real, tangible reason why I should fight for a god who has already shown me how little regard he holds for me. For an entire pantheon that spent thousands of years attacking me.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” That sounded ridiculous even to her.

He arched one brow.

“Okay. So I admit it doesn’t make sense, but it is the best reason. You are a good man. I know it.”

He laughed bitterly as he moved to put his sword down on the dresser. His hand lingered on the sheath as if he were afraid to let go of it. And from this angle, she had a very nice view of his muscular back. Tall and handsome, he could easily take a woman’s breath away and he made her heart race.

“You know nothing about me,” he said simply.

“I’m willing to learn.”

He turned on her with anger again. “What game are you trying to play?”

She backed up on the bed. Not afraid of him, but concerned that she continued to irritate him even when she didn’t mean to. “No game, Jericho. I’m here. I’m your prisoner. Azura gave me to you naked and rather than attack me or hurt me,” she picked up a corner of the cloak that was still draped around her, “you covered me up. Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s innately cruel. I think there’s a lot more good inside you than just this.” She was willing to bet on it. “Why did you cover me?”

Jericho ground his teeth.
Because no one deserves to be shamed like that.
He knew from personal experience. But he would never say that out loud. He didn’t want her to know that he was weak where she was concerned. She’d be able to use that against him, and he’d had enough of the gods playing with his life. No one would ever have control over him again.

“Asmodeus?” he called.

He waited until the demon appeared.

“You rang, oh evil Minor Master?”

“I’m hungry. Where do we find food here?”

Asmodeus’s eyes widened as if he thought Jericho insane for even asking. “Truthfully, I don’t advise eating in this realm. I mean, you can if you want, but…”

“But what?” Jericho prompted after Asmodeus seemed to have sputtered to a stop.

He twisted his hands together. “We have certain demons who are motivated by the smell of food. They tend to get rather violent whenever they smell it. I personally wouldn’t be caught eating anything because I would end up dead. You might not. But you’d still have to fight them, and since some of them are rather ugly and really, really smelly, it might spoil your appetite. Then again, maybe not. Doesn’t spoil Noir’s. I think it makes him hungrier, especially when he guts them. Sick, but true.”

Asmodeus looked at Delphine, and his eyes widened again, this time in appreciation and interest. “Oh, hello, me lovely, we haven’t met.” He flashed her a charming smile as he kissed her tenderly on the hand. “Asmodeus, demon extraordinare, at your service. Any service you may require, especially those that involve nudity and adjoining body parts joining other people’s body parts.”

“Asmodeus!” Jericho snapped. “You don’t see her, do you hear me?”

He jumped back as if something had electrocuted him. “Completely blind, Minor Master. Hearing is intact.” He put his hands out as if feeling for furniture. “Is there anyone here besides the two of us? No? Good. I’m leaving now unless Minor Master has another preferably nonpainful task for me.”

“You’re dismissed.”

“Cool beaners.” Asmodeus vanished.

Delphine frowned at Jericho. “He’s not right, is he?”

“Yeah, I think Noir may have hit him on the head one time too many and way too hard.” He faced her. “So would you like to join me for something to eat?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve the entrails of demons, I might be persuaded.”

“Demon entrails have no appeal for me, either. Zeus’s are another matter.”

She wrinkled her nose at the mere thought. “Ew.”

He held his hand out to her.

Delphine hesitated, wondering if she should be doing this instead of finding a way to M’Adoc and Deimos, but she couldn’t get near them without Jericho. Maybe food would predispose him to a better, more amicable mood.

Against her better judgement, she took his hand in hers.

As soon as she did, he teleported them back to New Orleans, to a small dark alley at Exchange Place. It looked to be early evening, but it was hard to say for sure since time on earth moved differently than it did in other realms. What might seem like fifteen minutes in Azmodea might be a year on earth. A slight exaggeration, but …

She looked around the deserted alley that had closed and boarded-up shops. What a strange place to choose. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.

“What are we doing here?”

He changed his clothes into a pair of jeans, a black shirt and dark hair before he started toward the street. “Going to eat. What? You got Alzheimer’s?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, but I don’t see a restaurant around here.”

He gave her a “duh” stare. “If I put us inside the restaurant, people might scream and freak. Not to mention, it has a Web cam there that makes it even harder to just poof inside. Damn modern people and their wizard’s tools,” he said sarcastically. “I miss the days when we could just kill and roast a chicken, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “You really can’t help being an asshole, can you?”

“I probably could, but it’s not worth the effort. Gods forbid you might actually take a liking to me. Then where would we be?”

“I have no idea, but I might be willing to risk it.”

His eye turned dark. “You don’t ever want to see what’s inside me, Delphine. It’s not pretty.”

Delphine reached up to touch the scar that ran out from under his eye patch.

He caught her hand in a fierce grip. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

“No, you didn’t. Sorry.” She pulled her hand from his and watched as he walked stiffly to the street and toward a restaurant called Acme Oyster House.

Delphine followed even though her heart was heavy with guilt over eating while her brethren were suffering.

Win him over and you can save them.
What else could she do? So long as she lacked her god powers, she was at his mercy.

She winced as she finally understood the true horror of all he’d been through. It was so hard to be without the powers that had been a part of her almost the whole of her life. To be at the mercy of others. How had he stood it?

The world was terrifying like this. And it gave her a whole new appreciation for the humans who inhabited this place. Especially since they were the prey for so many more powerful beings.

She paused at the door while the hostess grabbed their menus and looked around at the gathered people. People who had no idea that Jericho was a god and she his prisoner …

The hostess seated them at a table in front of the window that looked out onto the street. Even though there were TVs playing and people talking, she could still hear the music from Bourbon Street, which was just a few feet away.

How she wished Deimos and the others could be here now and not in whatever holding cell Noir was using for them.

“Is something wrong?” Jericho asked.

She glanced at him and sighed. “I’m worried about my friends. It seems wrong to be eating while Noir is torturing them.”

Jericho set the menu down to give her a stern glare. “First of all, you don’t want me to get too hungry. Ever. I’m an even worse bastard than normal and having starved for centuries, I’m not about to deprive myself again when I don’t have to. Second, let me tell you something about your
friends.
Deimos held me down while I was branded and then took me to the human realm where I was left with nothing. No clothes, no money. Not a damn thing to call my own. Hence the aforementioned starvation.”

She cringed at what he described.

But he took no mercy on her. “A hundred years later, M’Ordant”—one of the leaders of the Oneroi who had been her mentor—“dumped me inside a Spartan prison camp and told the commander I was a traitor to their people. You don’t really want to know what the Spartans did to people they thought betrayed them. D’Alerian”—the third leader with M’Adoc rounding out the crew—“had me put inside a Turkish prison in the fifteenth century where I was impaled after being tortured for three weeks.” His face was stoic, but the pain in his eye was excruciating. “So you’ll have to excuse me if I have a hard time feeling too sorry for them right now. At least no one’s shoving a sharp spike up their asses.”

Her stomach shrank at the horrors of his past. “You were impaled?”

His expression turned to chiseled stone. “You know the worst part about impalement? You don’t die immediately. You hang on bleeding and aching as the spike works its way slowly through your body until it pierces some major organ. Pray to the gods you worship that you never know what that feels like.”

But he did.

She looked away, unable to cope with the emotions that filled her. How could they have done that to one of their own? Then again, they’d been even crueler to others for reasons every bit as petty. It was why she’d done her best to stay off all their collective radar.

Her throat tight, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

Jericho froze as he saw the sparkle in the cande-light. Without thinking, he reached out to touch her wet cheek. “Tears?”

She brushed his hand aside and wiped her cheek. “I’m sorry for what was done to you. I really am.”

Tears …

For him.

No one had ever cried for him before. And when she met his gaze, her hazel-green eyes glistened from the ones yet to fall. Something inside him snapped painfully at that. He made her feel pain. How could that be?

No, it wasn’t possible. It was another trick meant to weaken him. Ruin him.

He growled low in his throat. “What are you doing?”

She looked confused by his question. “Nothing. Sitting here.”

He grabbed her wrist in his hand. “Are you playing me?”

“Playing you how?”

He tightened his grip. “I swear to you if you’re trying to seduce me to your side, I will kill you. And it’ll take a lot more than fake tears to sway me.”

She snatched her hand away from his hold. “Are you really that cynical that you don’t think anyone could feel bad for the way you were treated?”

He didn’t answer.

Delphine was aghast at him and his inability to understand compassion. Dear gods, with the lack of emotions he had, he should have been an Oneroi himself. “Fine, then. I’ll be a total bitch since that’s all you can take.” She flipped her menu open and started reading.

Jericho wanted to be angry and offended, yet he somehow felt …

Wrong.

He actually had to bite back an apology.

For what? He’d spoken the truth. He didn’t want faked emotions that were designed to weaken him.

What if they weren’t?

What if she was being honest and they were real?

Don’t go there, fool. You know better. The very person who birthed you couldn’t feel pity or compassion for you. How could a stranger?

It was true. He was nothing to her, and she was …

His reason for suffering.

He glanced at the menu, then looked back at her. Her brow was furrowed as she read and a lock of blond hair fell into her eyes. Her gaze was completely focused on the food. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he had a desire to brush that stray piece of hair back into place.

What is wrong with me?

“How did you grow up?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Her scowl made a deep impression on her forehead. “Pardon?”