The Dark-Hunters (776 page)

He didn’t smile with his lips, but his eyes did. She’d never seen him look like that. Like a poor kid at Christmas who’d received everything on his list. “I’ve never heard anything like this.”

“It’s OneRepublic. ‘Come Home,’ from their album
Dreaming Out Loud.
”

“I swear I only understand about half of what you say.”

She smiled at him. “I get that from a lot of people.” She watched as he closed his eyes and listened to the lyrics of one of her favorite songs. He was so close now that her hand itched to touch those dark red curls and feel them wrap around her fingers.

But she knew he wouldn’t approve. Nor would he let her.

Frowning while he explored her playlist, she couldn’t get past the harsh bruise on his cheek and the sight of his abused lips. Against all sanity, she wanted to get him away from this place. To show him that the world wasn’t what he thought it to be.

That he could be happy.

She was desperate to teach him to smile and to laugh. To give him real sunlight. Not some flat picture whose only warmth came from the electrical charge of a power cord.

Most of all, she wanted to protect him—like that made any sense given the size of him compared to her. He was so powerful and strong, and yet vulnerable in a way she’d never dreamed possible.

He actually jumped in startled alarm when the next song, Sevendust’s “Never,” started playing.

“Sorry about that. I should have warned you. That one’s a little heavy.” She reached to turn it down, but he stopped her.

“I like it.”

She barely understood his words. Her attention was focused on how good his rough hand felt against her skin. And how much she’d like to feel his touch somewhere else on her body.

Seth recognized the lust in her gaze as she stared at his lips. He ached to taste her again.

But he was in enough pain for one day. The last thing he wanted right now was to have his back clawed again. Or his lips ripped open.

If only he could convince his body of that. It still wanted a piece of her even if it meant being ravaged.

I am such a sick bastard.

Suddenly, she opened her mouth and yawned. Then she yawned again. “Goodness. I’m so sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I understand.” He moved away from her. “You may take the bed. I won’t bother you in it.”

“What about you?”

What about him? A thousand years of torture had ruined his ability to close his eyes for any length of time. “I don’t sleep much.”

“Why not?”

Because he didn’t like being weak. Sleep left him open to attacks from creatures other than Noir and Azura. Cowards who would only come out when they thought they were safe. He despised them most of all.

She waited expectantly for his reply.

Instead, he conjured her a warm nightgown and held it out to her. “Here, woman.”

Lydia was touched by his gift. Mostly because she knew how rare it was for him to do this. “Thank you. And by the way … my name is Lydia. Not woman.”

He nodded and stepped away from her. “Sleep in peace, Lydia.”

She felt a knot in her stomach at the sound of her name on his lips. With his accent, it sounded more like Lah-deeah. And all she wanted to do was rise up on her toes and kiss him.

If only she could.

Taking the white cotton gown, she went to the bathroom to change.

When she came out again, he’d dusted off his bed and turned the covers down for her. For a man who didn’t believe in any sort of kindness, he certainly was showing a lot to her.

But that just made it all the more special. Such things didn’t come naturally for him. He had to make an effort to think of them.

As she walked past his desk and went to the bed, he glanced askance at her, but made no comment. He was still playing her music while he looked at more pictures of sunlight.

Her poor demon. Soon she would be gone from here, back home. And he would be …

She choked back a sob at the thought of them torturing him. “Good night, Guardian.”

“Good night,” he said without looking at her.

She slid beneath the covers and tucked her arm underneath the pillow so that she could watch him. As promised, he didn’t disturb her at all. He was too consumed by his small window that showed him a world he couldn’t visit.

Blinking, she wanted to stay awake for a little while longer, but she’d been through too much for that. All too soon, she was adrift in her other realm.

Seth knew the moment Lydia was asleep. Her breathing leveled out and her body went completely limp.

Only then did he dare look at her. One hand dangled over the side of the bed while her black hair spread out over her and the pillow. But the cutest part was her toe that peeped out from beneath his furs.

I hope Solin knows what he has in you.

Obviously, he did. Why else would he have fought so desperately to save her?

A part of him wished that Solin would fail. If he didn’t return with the key, Seth could keep her.

But for how long? Sooner or later, Noir or Azura would find her here and when they did …

He couldn’t even think about what they’d do to her for being here, and to him for concealing her presence from them.

No, Lydia would have to go home. And his life would go on as it ever had. He winced as he accidentally brushed his tongue over his damaged bottom lip.

Nothing ever changed. He’d had his one shot at freedom and look what had happened.

Still …

Heartsick, he got up and went to the bed so that he could stare down at her angelic features. Before he could stop himself, he leaned over and placed his cheek against hers. The softness of her flesh made him hard and aching for something he knew he could never have. He inhaled her exquisite scent, treasuring it above all.

“My name is Seth,” he whispered in her ear, knowing she couldn’t hear him. Even so, he wanted her to know.

He’d kill to hear her say it.

Just once.

Breathing her in, he placed a kiss to her cheek, then pulled back.

He finally understood why Solin was willing to die for her. It now made total sense now. Beauty and spirit like hers should be cherished and protected. And he hoped that nothing ever tarnished their loyalty to each other. That would be the greatest tragedy of all.

I won’t spoil her for you, Solin.
No one deserved to know that pain.

Seth returned to his desk and turned the music off. He didn’t want to see or hear anything else he couldn’t have. There was no need in torturing himself when he had so many others willing to do it for him.

*   *   *

Solin looked around at the faces of the men and women who’d once been his bitterest enemies. Now they were joined together to fight a common enemy, again.

They’d done it one time before, when his brother Arik had been under attack. But that was years ago and now the consequences were even higher.

His clutched his hand around his iPhone, grateful Lydia had written to him. But there was no way he would leave her there.

Not with that animal.

However, getting into Azmodea was proving extremely tricky. They had an emergency call in to the Hellchaser overlord, Thorn. If anyone could sneak them in under Noir’s nose, it was the entity who shared that realm with him.

While Thorn wasn’t the most reliable or kindest of creatures, he did hate Noir as much as they did.

Solin had no doubt that Thorn would help and back them.

Hang on, baby. The cavalry’s coming.

And his first order of business was to pin the Guardian’s testicles to Noir’s forehead.

CHAPTER 8

Lydia woke up with the strangest sensation. Never in her life had she not dreamt. But not a single dream had come to her last night. When the Guardian had said he’d stripped her powers, he wasn’t kidding.

He didn’t even know she had that one.

Did he?

Stretching, she rolled over to find him at his desk where he’d been when she fell asleep. Still dressed in his loose black clothes, he’d pulled his chair around so that he faced the bed and his back was to the wall. But he wasn’t paying her any attention.

Instead, he held an old-fashioned leather-bound book in his lap with one large, graceful, masculine hand. He leaned back in the chair with his arm propped on the desk and his undamaged cheek resting on his fist. His insanely long legs were stretched out before him, and crossed at the ankles. She smiled at the unexpected sight of his well-shaped bare feet. They were so cute and she’d never thought that about feet before. Normally, they grossed her out.

How strange that the sight of them succeeded in making him seem like any man, anywhere.

Well, not
any
man. Men this handsome were few and far between. Men this good-looking and ripped were even rarer. And finding one with his body, hair, and eyes was like finding a unicorn. In fact, she’d never seen a man with red hair who wasn’t freckled or pale-skinned—not that there was anything wrong with that. It was just what you expected whenever you met a natural redhead, male or female. But there wasn’t a single freckle anywhere on his body and even though he hadn’t seen daylight in who knew how long, his skin was tanned and tawny.

Gah, even bruised and scarred, he made her mouth water.

How could that pose be so incredibly sexy? So lickably luscious?

With the one hand he had on the book, he turned the page without looking up.

She smiled at the sight of all those unruly auburn curls. Shirley Temple had nothing on him. And yet they still managed to be unbelievably masculine. More than that, she really, really wanted to play with them.

And as she studied his features, she noted that the bruise around his blood-filled eye had turned an ugly shade of dark purple. He had another new bruise on his ear that had been bleeding the night before. The handprint was also more pronounced today, as were the swollen, fresh bite marks on his neck.

She wanted to weep at the sight of them. Yet there he sat, so used to them that he didn’t even comment on the pain they had to be causing him.

I’m so sorry I stabbed you.
He was so not what she’d thought him to be when they first met. How could she have misjudged him so?

But then it wasn’t entirely her fault. In spite of the legion of beatings and insults he’d endured, he carried himself as fiercely and confidently as any warrior or king. He exuded so much power and authority that no one would ever suspect he was Noir’s punching bag and, from what she’d seen last night, most likely Azura’s bootie call boy-toy.

But then maybe that was his shield. His way of not letting other people know his shame.

It kept them at arm’s length, and in this hellacious place, it probably kept others from hurting him, too. That thought made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

If only he’d let her.

Clearing her throat, she finally spoke. “Did you not sleep at all?”

He shook his head, but didn’t elaborate. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet. I need to be awake for a few before I eat.” Sitting up, she frowned at the closed laptop. “You stopped researching?”

“There was nothing to be found and I got tired of trying to decipher a writing form that makes no sense to me.”

But he’d been so happy when she’d gone to bed … at least she thought it was happy, looking at all the pictures and listening to her music. Now he was back to that solemnity that seemed to be hardwired into his DNA.

She slid off the bed and went to see what he was reading, but she couldn’t understand
his
alphabet. It definitely wasn’t Egyptian, but it kind of looked like it. “What is that?”

“Bilgames.”

Whoa … that was a new one on her. “What people spoke Bilgames?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Well, at least she wasn’t the only one in the room lost. “What kind of language is Bilgames? Where does it come from?”

“It’s not a language. It’s the name of the story.” Then his features relaxed as if a thought had occurred to him. “I think your people know it as Gilgamesh.”

“Oh…” Now she knew how he’d felt last night when she kept using computer jargon. She had half the puzzle. But the other half was even more intriguing. “What language is it written in?”

“Akkadian.”

Holy snikes. She was floored by his disclosure. She didn’t know much about history, but she was extremely old and that predated her living knowledge … In fact, she’d barely heard of it, it was so old. “And you can read that?”

His eyes snapped fire at her. “I’m not
that
stupid, nor am I illiterate.”

“Obviously not. No one who can read something that complicated in an alphabet that is basically scribbled nonsensical lines could ever be called stupid.”

That seemed to soothe him. “It’s not that hard.”

“For
you.
If you’re as lost looking at my alphabet as I am with this one … it says a lot.” She continued to study it, but it was like trying to read Braille. “So are you Akkadian?”

“Egyptian.”

“Really? You don’t look Egyptian.”

He arched his brow at that comment. “Been there a lot have you?”

“Well … no. But I’ve seen pictures. They’re usually dark-skinned and certainly not redheaded.”

“Shows what you know. We traded extensively with many nations and had people who came to live in Upper Egypt from all over the known kingdoms.”

“You’re feisty in the morning, aren’t you?” she teased. But it did explain why his skin tone was so dark, given his blue eyes and red hair. “So you can read hieroglyphics then?”

“Of course.”

“I bet you’re a hoot in a museum. Have you ever walked past a mummy, looked down, and said, hey Uncle Imhotep, how you doing?”

He didn’t show even a glimmer of amusement. “A museum?”

That was what he fixated on? “Never mind. What other creepy old languages do you read?”

“Greek and Sumerian.”

“What about Latin?”

He frowned. “What’s Latin?”

Her stomach lurched. Did he predate Rome? That was probably the most terrifying thought imaginable. Because if he did, he’d been locked away here for more than three thousand years. “You know Rome, right?”