The Dark-Hunters (67 page)

He arched a brow at the ordinariness of the scene. For some reason, Daimons liked to travel in fours or sixes.

They had the poor human man cornered against an old, rundown building.

Something about the human seemed strangely familiar to him.

The stench of the garbage was pungent as the man tried to hand the Daimons his wallet. “Take it,” he said, his voice wavering. “Just don’t hurt me.”

The tallest Daimon laughed. “Oh, we’re not going to hurt you, little human. We’re going to
kill
you.”

Kyrian stepped off the roof with his arms spread for balance. His black coat fluttered in the wind as he fell three stories down to the alley below.

He landed in a silent crouch behind them.

“Did you hear something?” one of the Daimons asked, looking around.

“Just the sound of a human heart pounding.” The tallest Daimon grabbed the man.

“Or,” Kyrian said, rising slowly to his full height. He pulled his coat back and placed his hand over the hilt of Talon’s
srad.
“The sound of four Daimons about to die.”

As they stepped away from their victim, he recognized the human. It was Cliff.

Cliff recognized him at the same instant.

“You!” he roared. “What are you doing here?”

Damn you, Fates,
Kyrian thought. The last thing he wanted to do was help the man who had hurt Amanda. She had told him the whole story of her ex-fiancé. Right down to Cliff’s harsh criticisms of her family. The man didn’t deserve his help.

Damn you, Code.

Out loud Kyrian said, “It would appear I’m saving your life.”

“I don’t need your help.”

The four Daimons turned to look at Cliff, then burst out laughing.

“You heard him, Dark-Hunter,” the Daimon leader said. “He doesn’t need your help. So, go on. Go away.”

More tempted to leave than he ought to be, Kyrian let out a slow breath. “Yes, but you know, sometimes you just have to save them even when they don’t want to be saved.”

The tallest Daimon attacked. Kyrian tossed the
srad,
but before it could make contact with the Daimon, Cliff grabbed the Daimon and whirled him away. “Now, I’ll show you who’s bad.” He punched the Daimon who just stood there, laughing at him.

The
srad
bounced off the wall, breaking into two pieces.
Moron!
If not for Cliff’s bullshit heroics, the Daimon would be dead.

Forcing himself, Kyrian ran to get between Cliff and the Daimon before the Daimon struck. He barely made it. As it was, he ended up being kicked into Cliff’s flabby body.

The two of them fell to the ground. Rolling with the fall, Kyrian got to his feet in one swift move while Cliff struggled on the ground.

Kyrian fought the urge to roll his eyes at the weakling. “Would you run already?”

Cliff blustered as he gained his feet. “I’m just as capable of fighting them as you are.”

Kyrian growled low in his throat at the imbecile. For one thing, Cliff was barely six feet tall while the Daimons were Kyrian’s height and over. Cliff had the body of a couch-warrior and the Daimons were well-honed and ready to kill.

Oh yeah, Cliff was a big threat.

Before he could move, two Daimons rushed him. Kyrian caught the first one with his boot and obliterated the Daimon into dust. The other slashed out at him with a sword.

Kyrian flipped up and backward, coming to rest on the fire escape above them.

“Hey!” Cliff said. “How did you do that?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer before the other three Daimons started up the ladder after him. Kyrian jumped back to the alley.

The Daimons followed.

Kyrian braced himself for them. As soon as the leader drew near, Cliff came running up beside him with a long two-by-four. He swung to hit the Daimons at the same time the Daimons moved for Kyrian.

Caught between the two, Kyrian couldn’t maneuver. As a result, Cliff’s board caught him across the back of his head.

Pain shot through his skull as he staggered back.

With a shake of his head, Kyrian recovered his senses a second before two Daimons grabbed his waist and knocked him to the ground. They grabbed his arms and spread him out. Panic set in the instant they held him there as his old memories surged through him.

“We found his vulnerability,” one of the Daimons said. “Tell Desiderius that with his arms spread out, he goes nuts.”

They might have found it, but none of them would live long enough to reveal it.

Roaring with rage, Kyrian brought his legs up over his head and flipped himself up between them. His fangs bared, he stabbed one Daimon and then the other.

The remaining Daimon took off toward the street. Kyrian tossed the other
srad
straight into the Daimon’s back. He evaporated.

Kyrian turned to see Cliff gaping at him.

His face ashen, Cliff’s eyes rolled back in his head an instant before he passed out.

Disgusted, Kyrian went to check on him. His pulse was fast, but stable. “What did she
ever
see in you?” he asked as he pulled out his cell phone and called an ambulance.

*   *   *

Hours later—once he was sure Cliff would live—Kyrian made his way into his house.

Still no Desiderius to be found. Anywhere.

Damn.

He stopped at the kitchen door to watch Amanda curiously. It was almost five
A.M
. and she appeared to be making soup and sandwiches.

How very odd is this?

She moved around the kitchen like a graceful nymph, completely unaware of his presence. She hummed a gentle tune, “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Grieg if he wasn’t mistaken. What a strange choice.

He’d never seen a more beguiling woman in his life. She wore a silk dorm shirt that gave a hint of transparency, yet completely concealed her body from his view. The light blue color was a perfect complement for her pale skin and auburn hair.

His body reacted instantly to the sight of her, growing hard and hot.

The more he watched her, the more he wanted her.

She poured the soup into mugs, then dipped her finger into the soup to test the warmth.

It was more than an immortal man could take.

Moving like a shadow, he came up beside her and caught her hand.

She looked up with a gasp until she registered his identity. Smiling at her, he guided her finger into his mouth where he swirled his tongue around it, tasting the soup and the woman.

“Delicious,” he breathed.

A blush covered her cheeks. “Hi, honey, how was work?”

He laughed out loud at her Donna Reed impersonation. “Been watching
Nick at Nite
again?”

She shrugged coyly. “I thought you might like to come home to a hot meal for once. It must get lonely to have nothing but an empty, dark house to greet you.”

More so than she would ever know. He stared down at her, at those parted lips that beckoned him. It had been centuries since anyone greeted him when he returned. Centuries of untold loneliness and solitude.

Loneliness and solitude that had vanished the instant he woke up in that abandoned factory and had looked into those wide, intelligent blue eyes that seared him.

Amanda was completely unprepared for Kyrian’s next actions. He kissed her like a man possessed. His tongue stroking and delving as his hands roamed her back, then cupped her derriere.

It still amazed her that she allowed him to handle her like this, and yet she didn’t mind it in the least. She’d never thought of herself as a particularly sexy person. Not until she met him.

When it came to Kyrian, she couldn’t get enough.

She wanted him around her all the time. Wanted to hold him, touch him, be with him.

If she could, she would handcuff herself to him forever.

Without breaking from the kiss, he slid his hand beneath the bottom of her shirt, seeking her wet heat that throbbed for him. She moaned as he touched her, as his fingers slid and teased her mercilessly. Heaven, how this man made her yearn for him.

“Kyrian, your soup,” she said breathlessly.

He pulled back, his breathing ragged, his lips swollen from tasting her. “It’ll wait.”

There was something more untamed than usual about him tonight. Something wild and wicked. He carried her to the table and laid her across the top of it.

His eyes hot and hungry, he stood between her legs and looked down at her. “Now here’s a banquet fit for a king.”

And then he fell on her. Amanda gasped at the fury in his questing hands that seemed to be all over her at once. His touch electrified her. Satisfied her and left her craving more.

As he kissed her insane, she reached down between their bodies and unzipped his pants so that she could touch him. He was already rock-hard and throbbing and when she cupped him in her hands, he moaned against her lips.

He amazed her. This immortal warrior who needed no one and yet he was so tender in her arms. This man who trembled as she stroked his shaft and cupped him gently in her palm.

Kyrian couldn’t think with her hands on him. All he could do was smell her, taste her.

He wanted her completely.

Wild with desire and unable to think past the moment, he pulled her hands away from him and drove himself into her.

Amanda groaned at the incredible feel of him deep inside her. He was so thick and hard. She felt so wonderfully full. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rocked his hips hard and slow against hers.

“Oh yes, Kyrian,” she moaned, arching her back.

He ran his hand over her gauze-covered body, and cupped her breasts in his hands as he continued to thrust into her.

They made love without any hurry. Amanda writhed at the power of his thrusts as he nibbled her throat, scraping her skin with his fangs. Closing her eyes, she again felt that incredible bonding with him. They were one.

He trembled in her arms and whispered her name against her lips, making her quiver with desire.

And when the world shattered, she swore she could see colors everywhere.

Kyrian watched her climax, felt her body clutching his. Gods, how he yearned to satisfy himself, but he didn’t dare. Already he felt his powers waning. Powers he needed to keep her safe.

Grinding his teeth, he reluctantly withdrew from her.

He straightened his clothes in silence, but his entire being ached. Pressing the heel of his hand against his jeans, he tried to loosen the fabric that bit into his erection.

It was useless.

Amanda felt sympathy for him as she watched his stiff, awkward movements. How could he satisfy her and not take pleasure himself? It had to be sheer torture for him.

Yet he said nothing about it.

As he ate in silence, her heart wept for him. Her poor warrior.

And in the back of her mind came the little voice warning her that no matter how much she might want him, they could never have a relationship.

*   *   *

Amanda woke up a little after three in the afternoon. She got up, showered, and dressed while Kyrian continued to sleep.

Goodness, the man was handsome. He had one arm raised up around his head and looked more like a little boy as he slept than an immortal dark warrior.

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his parted lips. He reached for her, catching her about the neck. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe.

“Kyrian?” she whispered, trying to get loose. “Honey, you’re making me turn blue.”

He paid no attention. It took her a full three minutes before she was finally able to extricate her head from his arms.

“Okay,” she breathed as he turned onto his side. “Remind me not to do that again.”

Amanda pulled the covers over him and tiptoed from the room.

She found Nick in the living room downstairs wearing a pair of Rollerblades as he zipped from one end to the other, sorting papers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He paused and shrugged. “Kyrian gets pissed when I use my skateboard in the house.”

Amanda laughed. “Okay. But I imagine he’s not fond of the skates, either.”

“Probably not, but damn, this place is huge and I need to get from point A to point B without wearing my legs out.”

She laughed again. Nick was infectious once you got used to him.

He turned a tight circle and skated to the kitchen. Before she could get halfway through the living room, he returned with a glass of orange juice for her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him. “What’s the word on Rosa?”

“Miguel said she’s better. She was up watching
Wheel of Fortune
when I called.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, Kyrian will be happy.”

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded behind her. Terrified it was Desiderius bursting in, she whirled around to see a huge pile of gold and diamonds on the floor where a twelfth-century hand-carved table used to be.

“Oh man,” Nick said with a disgusted look. “Kyrian really liked that table, too. Boy, is he ever going to be pissed.”

“What is
that?
” Amanda asked, getting up to go look at the king’s ransom in gold bars and diamonds.

Nick sighed. “It’s payday.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “Artemis hasn’t caught on to the fact that she could just wire the money into her Dark-Hunters’ accounts. So, once a month we end up with a wad of gold and diamonds somewhere weird. It was a real bitch the time it landed in the pool.”

“No kidding,” Amanda said, awed by the amount. “Someone could get hurt.”

“That ain’t no lie. It’s what killed Kyrian’s third Squire.”

She turned to look at him and quickly learned he wasn’t joking.

“So, what do you do with all that?” she asked.

He smiled. “I get to play Saint Nick. There’s a Squire in town who will convert it into currency. From there most of it goes to charities. Two percent of it is funneled into a Squire’s fund that takes care of the families of Squires who die in the line of duty or Squires who retire, and another two percent goes to a research facility that makes nifty toys for the Dark-Hunters.”

“How much does Kyrian keep for himself?”