The Dark-Hunters (768 page)

Soulless. There was nothing in them except the promise of a brutal death and a pain so profound that those eyes alone would traumatize anyone with an ounce of self-preservation.

Given his massive size, he would have been intimidating on his worst day. Couple that with the burgundy-and-gold spiked armor caked in blood, and the real snarl on his face, and he would send the devil himself to the nearest corner to cower.

Help me …

Lydia wanted to take a step back from him, but the wall was right there, stopping her. She had no retreat. The only way out was through
him.

Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen. Not even a Mack truck would be able to move him.
It would be like trying to run down Godzilla. She let her breath out slowly, waiting for him to attack.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Solin growled from where he was chained down on the table. “I swear to the gods, I’ll gut you from asshole to appetite if you so much as breathe on her.”

That succeeded in making one of the demon’s finely arched brows shoot up into a mocking expression. “We’ve already ascertained that there’s nothing you can do, except stain my armor with your blood.” He turned that brutal steel gaze back to her. “Who and what are you?”

Dead
would be the most obvious answer.
Just let it be quick.
She didn’t want to linger in misery. Not for anything.

And everything about the demon said he would enjoy watching her suffer.

He started forward as if to attack her. “Answer me, damn you!”

Who would have thought he could get any scarier?

She’d rather face Freddy Krueger thirty minutes after she’d swallowed three sleeping pills than confront this overwhelming mountain of demon power.

Lydia gripped her dagger hard in her hand and pressed herself against the wall, trying to teleport out.

She couldn’t.

I’m trapped.
Something blocked her powers and held her here like an insect trapped inside a science jar.

The demon was almost on her. “Speak, woman,” he growled low. “Now!”

“She can’t.”

Solin’s words brought him to an abrupt stop. He narrowed his gaze on Solin’s bleeding body. “Explain.”

“She’s mute.”

The demon twisted his lips into a mocking smirk. “You lie.”

“I have no need to lie. She’s never been able to say a single word, so you can’t torture her for anything useful. Not unless you can read minds or sign language.”

Seth paused to consider the veracity of Solin’s words. Was he lying?

Why would he?

Why not? It was what people did. Many times for no reason whatsoever, and any time they thought they were under assault and wanted to protect their own worthless asses. If he knew nothing else about humanity and the gods, he knew that one simple fact.

No one could be trusted. Ever.

Still, he was curious about her presence. Why would anyone in their right mind come to this forsaken hell realm?

There was only one reasonable explanation he could think of …

“What is she to you, dream god?”

Solin refused to look at her. Instead, he glared at Seth with a strength of spirit that would garner respect if Seth was capable of giving such to another. “Nothing. Just a Dream-Hunter sent in to rescue me.”

This time he knew Solin lied. And he was through bleeding and suffering because of the bastard’s steadfast refusal to give him what he needed to free them both. Rage ripped through him as he turned and went to finally kill the imbecile once and for all.

Little did Solin know, this would be a mercy killing.

As he raised his sword to remove Solin’s head, the frightened little mouse launched herself at him with everything she had. The weight of her small body slammed into his with more force than he would have thought her capable of. Grabbing his wrist, she actually tried to disarm him. When that failed, she stabbed him in the arm so deep, she buried the dagger’s blade in all the way to the hilt.

Seth would have mocked her for the assault had he not been so stunned. No one had had the balls to openly attack him when he was unfettered since before his confinement.

What the hell?

She punched his throat—something that would have worked on anyone else. But too many centuries of being tortured had numbed him to physical pain.

Curling his lip, he raised his arm to backhand her.

“Don’t you dare!” Solin strained so hard against his chains that every muscle in his body bulged.

Seth frowned at the dream god’s violent reaction. Solin hadn’t fought like that in weeks. If sheer strength of will could sever chains, Solin would have easily broken free.

He’d been right with his assessment. The woman meant something to Solin …

No, he realized as he saw the murderous rage in Solin’s eyes while the god cursed Seth’s being and parentage. She meant
everything
to him.

This is priceless.

Seth grabbed her hands, spun her around in his arms, and pinned her against his body so that she faced Solin. Furious, she fought him like a lioness protecting her pride.

Interesting …

Solin broke off into a string of more profanity as he tried even harder to reach them.

Very
interesting.

He was willing to die to protect her.

I finally found the key.
She was the tool to break Solin once and for all. The gods had finally taken mercy on him and thrown him a bone. A slow smile curved his lips.

Until she slammed her head into his jaw with enough impact that it flashed him back to his centuries of torture. It took everything he had not to break her in half. In that one moment, all he could taste was her blood. It was all he wanted.

Kill her and Solin is useless. He’ll never talk then.

That knowledge was the only thing that saved her life. But she wouldn’t be breathing much longer if she kept this up. In fact, his control slipped even more as she sank her teeth into his hand and bit him until he bled.

Flashing them out of the interrogation hole, he took her to his room. There, he flung her away from him.

She twirled about twice before she caught herself. Her black hair settled down around her shoulders into a silken mantle as she fell into a crouch like some deadly predator about to go for his throat.

He glared at her. “Don’t.”

Lydia froze at that one word that promised her an excruciating death if she disobeyed. Still, she remained in position, ready to attack if he took even one single step toward her.

His cold gaze held hers prisoner as he reached to his arm and jerked her dagger free of the wound she’d given him. She’d been able to drive it between the armor plates and knew from the blood on her own hands that she’d succeeded in wounding the beast.

But other than the bloody dagger he dropped to the floor, he showed no sign of it. He didn’t even grimace from the pain. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

I am so screwed.

Who was he?

What
was he?

He wiped the blood on his hand across his armored breastplate as if it were nothing. It left an ominous, bright red smear that didn’t quite blend in with the burgundy. “You can’t kill me, Greek. All you can do is piss me off. I suggest, if you want to keep breathing, you don’t do that.”

Forget screwed. This went so far beyond that it wasn’t even measurable. This was screwed on steroids.

What am I going to do?

Die, no doubt.
But not without one hell of a fight.

Seth saw the sanity return to her eyes. Feline topaz eyes that literally glowed with her intrepid spirit. He’d never seen anything like them. And they were what had told him Solin was a liar. The Greek Dream-Hunters, those who protected sleepers from nightmares and other predators of the unconscious, all had vivid blue eyes.

Never had he seen eyes akin to hers.

“Can you speak?” He wanted to know if Solin had lied about that as well.

She shook her head slowly.

At least she could understand him. That was something. Not much, but something.

She started moving her hands in a graceful dance. It was beautiful to watch. And it took him a minute to realize it was her language.

“I don’t understand you.”

This time she flicked her nails at him. That gesture of obscenity, he got. “Back at you.”

Now she moved her hands rapidly and with obvious anger. No doubt she was cursing him as much as Solin had.

Damn, she was beautiful. Not in a classic, perfect way, like a goddess or demon. Her eyes were too large for her oval face. So much so, they almost overwhelmed it. And her nails were ragged as if she chewed on them from a nervous habit.

But her lips …

Plump, full, and bright pink, they were perfection. The merest thought of them, stirred his body into total rebellion. It made him ache to possess the very thing he should be killing.

No wonder Solin was so protective of her. If she was his woman, he’d kill anyone who came near her, too. How could you not? It was a primal instinct to protect the things that mattered to you.

Not in your case.

True. He was an animal who cared for nothing except himself. It was all he knew. He didn’t live life. He endured it. Noir had driven that point home and nothing would ever dislodge it again. His entire existence was basic survival. There was no higher functioning in his mind. None. He did what he was told.

He had no other choice.

And right now, he had a god to break.

“You will stay here,” he told the woman. Then he returned to question Solin for what would hopefully be the last time.

*   *   *

Lydia stopped moving as she found herself alone. Where was the demon?

More to the point, where was she?

Like the rest of the realm she’d been in, the room was dark, with the only light coming from that eerie blue tubing on the ceiling that strangely reminded her of blood. A damp chill clung to the air, making the place even more depressing.

The strangest part though, was the absence of a door. Not a single trace of one. Nor a window either. She walked around the room, double checking. Sure enough. The only way in or out was teleportation. Something she still couldn’t do.

Damn it!

Trapped, she saw a large canopied bed in the far corner. Fur blankets were draped over it, but it didn’t appear to be slept in. In fact, it had a layer of dust over it. The walls were the same damp stone that made up the hallways she’d been down.

There was a fireplace, but no fire to chase away the deep chill in the room that cut all the way to her bones. Next to that was a large, extremely neat, Baroque wood desk. A laptop, of all weird things, rested on top of it. That was the only personal item in the room.

Curious, she walked over to it, intending to turn it on. But the instant she touched it, the top slammed down, barely missing her fingers.

What the devil?

She tried to open it, but it refused. It was as if the thing was alive and knew she wasn’t supposed to use it. Yeah …

But at least she wasn’t being tortured.

Yet.

What am I going to do?

Pick up her dagger, which she did, and wait. She grimaced at the amount of blood on it. It looked like she’d hit an artery. And he hadn’t even reacted to her stab. Obviously, he was an immortal. One who liked to be in pain.

I am so dead.

What else would he do with her, other than kill her?

The obvious answer to that terrified her even more than the thought of dying.
I won’t be raped.
She might not be able to kill him, but she could geld him and that she would definitely do if he laid a hand on her.

With that thought foremost in her mind, she went to the corner and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Now she was ready for him and she would renew their battle whenever he returned.

*   *   *

“Where’s Lydia?”

Seth paused at Solin’s belligerent tone. So that was the woman’s name.

Lydia. It was pretty … like a song. But he wasn’t a poet.

He was death, and she was nothing but a pawn to get what he needed. Narrowing his gaze, he went to the table that held Solin in place by chains. All too well, he knew how much it hurt to be pinned that way.

How humiliating. There was no worse feeling than to be at the mercy of someone else and to not be able to fight back or even protect yourself. To lay there with no clue as to when the next round of torture would begin.

To have no dignity.

No hope of escape …

Deep inside, a part of him felt sorry for Solin.

Don’t you dare!
his mind snarled at him. It was that very thing that had gotten him punished to begin with. And if he didn’t get what he needed, he would be there again.

No one ever came for you.
He must never forget that. No one had ever tried to help him. He’d never had a single ounce of compassion from anyone.

Not even his own mother. The memory of her brutality was as fresh today as it’d been when he was child, cursing her for intentionally leaving him to die.

Unprotected.

Alone.

But Lydia had come for Solin. She’d risked her life trying to help him. Jealousy plowed through his heart. What about Solin was so special and deserving that he warranted such concern and loyalty? Such personal sacrifice?

How dare you proclaim that pathetic backwash as my divine offspring! How dare you name him after me, you bitch! You both sicken me. Get it out of my sight before I gut you both.
Those had been the last words his father had said to him. It was what everyone since had seen him as. Nothing but worthless garbage to be used and discarded.

Walked over.

And that set fire to his temper.

He closed the distance between them and grabbed Solin by the hair. His nostrils flaring, he forced Solin to meet his gaze. “Tell me what I want to know or I’ll kill her.”

Solin looked down at the blood on Seth’s armor. “How do I know you haven’t already?”

Seth sneered at the question. It was his own blood staining his armor, not Lydia’s. Blood brutally taken from him because he had yet to break the Greek.