The Dark-Hunters (133 page)

Ignoring the gaping hole in the shirt, Zarek pulled his black undershirt on over his head. He was sure it’d been Jess who had shot him. Shotguns were the cowboy’s weapon of choice. His only consolation was the thought that Jess was aching from it as much as he was. Unless Artemis had lifted her ban. Then the bastard would feel nothing but satisfaction.

“It wasn’t a gun wound,” he lied. “I just fell.”

“No offense, but you’d have to fall off Mount Everest to have those kinds of wounds.”

“Yeah, maybe next time I’ll remember to take my climbing gear with me.”

She scowled at him. “Are you mocking me?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I just don’t want to go into what happened.”

Astrid nodded as she tried to discern more about this angry man who couldn’t seem to speak without growling at her. Awake, he was far from pleasant.

He’d been near death when Sasha had found him. No one should be so badly beaten and shot, and then left for dead as he had been.

What had the Squires been thinking?

She was amazed the rogue Dark-Hunter could stand at all even after four days of rest.

Such treatment was inhumane and unbecoming of those who had sworn to protect mankind. Had a human found Zarek, his cover would have been even more blown by their carelessness, and the humans would have learned of his immortality.

It was something she fully intended to report to Archeron.

But that would come later. For now, Zarek was up and moving. His immortal life or death rested completely in her hands and she intended to test him fully to see just what kind of man he was.

Did he have any compassion left inside him or was he just as empty as she was?

Her job was to be the epitome of the things that drove Zarek to anger. She would push him to the heights of his tolerance and beyond to see what he would do.

If he could control himself with her, she would judge him safe and sane.

If he lashed out to hurt her in any way, she would judge him guilty and he would die.

Let the tests begin …

She ran through her mind what little she knew about him. Zarek didn’t like to talk to people. He didn’t like the rich.

Most of all, he hated to be touched or ordered about.

So she decided to press his first button with idle conversation.

“What color is your hair?” she asked. The seemingly innocuous question made her memory flash to the way it had felt under her hand as she had bathed the blood from it.

His hair had been soft, smooth. It had slid sensuously through her fingers, caressing them. From the feel of it, she knew it wasn’t too short or too long, but probably fell to his shoulders when styled.

“Excuse me?” He sounded surprised by her question and for once didn’t growl the words at her.

He had a beautiful voice. Rich and deep. It resonated with its Greek accent, and every time he spoke, it sent a strange chill through her. She’d never heard any man who had a voice so innately masculine.

“Your hair,” she repeated. “I was wondering what color it is.”

“Why do you care?” he asked belligerently.

She shrugged. “Just curious. I spend a lot of time alone and though I don’t really remember what colors look like, I try to picture them anyway. My sister Cloie gave me a book once that said every color had a texture and feel. Red, for instance, it said was hot and bumpy.”

Zarek frowned at her. This was an odd conversation, but then, he’d spent enough time alone to understand the need to talk about anything to anyone who would stand still long enough to bother. “It’s black.”

“I thought so.”

“Did you?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She nodded as she rounded the bed and came a little too close to him. She stood so close that their bodies almost touched. He felt an odd impulse to touch her. To see if her skin was as soft as it appeared.

Gods, she was beautiful.

Her body was lithe and tall, her breasts a perfect handful. It’d been a long time since he had last screwed a woman. An eternity since he had been this close to one without tasting her blood.

He swore he could taste hers now. Feel her heartbeat pounding against his lips as he drank from her while her emotions and feelings poured into him, filling him with something other than numbness and pain.

Even though drinking human blood was forbidden, it was the only thing that had ever given him pleasure. The only thing that buried the pain inside him and allowed him to experience hopes, dreams.

The only thing that allowed him to feel human.

And he wanted to feel human.

He wanted to feel
her.

“Your hair was cool and silky,” she said softly, “like midnight velvet.”

Her words made his cock tighten with need and lust.

Cool and silky.

It made him think of her legs sliding against his. Of the delicate, feminine skin that would cover her buttocks and thighs. The way they would feel against his legs as he pounded himself into her.

His breathing ragged, he imagined what it would be like to peel her tight, faded jeans down her long legs and spread them wide. To run his hand through her short, crisp hairs until he could touch her intimately, stroking her until her sweet juices coated his fingers as she murmured in his ear and rubbed herself against him.

What it would be like to lay her down on the bed behind her and sink himself deep inside her warm, wet heat until they both climaxed.

To feel her mouth on his body.

Her hands groping him.

She reached out to touch him.

Unable to move from the force of his fantasy, Zarek stood perfectly still as she placed her hand on his shoulder. The smell of woman, smoke, and roses permeated him and he felt a desperate need to bend down, bury his face against her creamy skin, and just inhale her sweet scent. To sink his fangs into her soft, tender neck and sample the life force inside her.

Unconsciously, he opened his lips, baring his fangs.

The need for her was almost overwhelming.

But not nearly as demanding as the desire to touch her body.

“You’re taller than I thought you’d be.” She traced the curve of his upper biceps. Chills rushed over him as he hardened even more.

He wanted her. Badly.

Bite her …

Her wolf growled.

Zarek ignored it as he continued to stare at her.

His affairs with women had always been kept brief and hurried. Never once had he allowed a woman to face or touch him while they had sex.

He’d always taken his women on all fours from behind, furious and quick like an animal. He’d never wanted to spend any time with them other than what he needed to sate his body.

Yet he could easily envision taking this stranger into his arms and screwing her, face to face. Of feeling her breath on his skin as he rode her slow and hard all night long and drank from her …

He didn’t speak as she skimmed her hand down his arm and he couldn’t imagine why he didn’t shove her away from him.

For some reason, she held him immobile with her touch.

His heavy groin burned with vicious need. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was turning him on on purpose.

But there was an innocence in her touch that told him she only wanted to “see” him. There was nothing sexual in this.

At least not from her end.

Zarek stepped away from her and put a good four feet of distance between them.

He had to.

One more minute and he would have her naked on that bed and at his mercy …

Not that he had any mercy for anyone.

She dropped her hand and stood still as if waiting for him to touch her.

He didn’t. One touch and he would be the animal everyone thought he was.

“What’s your name?” The question was out before he could stop himself.

She offered him a friendly smile that made his groin jerk. “Astrid. And yours?”

“Zarek.”

Her smile widened. “You
are
Greek. I thought so by your accent.”

Her wolf circled around her feet and sat down next to her to eyeball him. It flashed its teeth threateningly.

He was really beginning to hate that animal.

“Can I get you anything, Zarek?”

Yes, crawl naked into that bed and let me ravish you until dawn.

He swallowed at the thought and his groin tightened even more at the sound of his name on her lips.

He couldn’t have been any harder if she had been stroking him with her hand.

Her mouth …

What was wrong with him? He was on the run for his life and all he could think of was sex?

He was being a total idiot.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m all right.”

His stomach rumbled, betraying him.

“You sound hungry to me.”

Starving, to be honest, but right then he was craving a taste of her a lot more than he was craving food. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Here,” she said, reaching out for him. “I might be blind, but I can cook. I promise that unless Sasha has moved things around in the kitchen, I haven’t poisoned my stew.”

Zarek didn’t take her hand.

She swallowed as if nervous or awkward, then dropped her hand and headed out of the room.

Sasha growled at him again.

Zarek growled back and stamped his foot at the annoying pooch, who looked like it wanted nothing more than to tear his leg off.

He caught an unfocused look of censure on Astrid’s face as she paused in the doorway to turn back toward them. “Are you being mean to Sasha?”

“No. I’m just returning his greeting.” The wolf’s ears were still laid back as it darted out of the room. “Rin Tin Tin doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

She shrugged. “He doesn’t like anyone much. Sometimes not even me.”

Astrid turned and headed down the hallway with Zarek behind her. There was something very ominous about this man. Deadly. And it wasn’t just the strength she had felt in his arm as she touched it.

He oozed an unnatural darkness that seemed to warn everyone, even the blind, to stay away from him. That was most likely what Sasha reacted to. It was extremely disconcerting.

Even frightening.

Maybe Artemis was right. Maybe she should judge him guilty and just go on home …

But he hadn’t attacked her. At least not yet.

Astrid led him to the breakfast counter where she had three bar stools. Her sisters had placed them there earlier when they had come to visit and warn her about her latest assignment.

All three of her sisters had been extremely unhappy that she had decided to judge Zarek for her mother, but in the end, they’d had no choice except to let her do her job.

To their eternal consternation, there were some things not even the Fates could control.

Free will was one of them.

“Do you like beef stew?” she asked Zarek.

“I’m not picky. I’m just grateful to have something warm I didn’t have to cook myself.”

She noted the bitterness in his voice. “You do that a lot?”

He didn’t answer.

Astrid felt her way to the stove.

As she neared the pot, Zarek was suddenly there, grabbing her hand and pulling her back. He’d moved so fast and silently that she gasped in startled alarm.

His speed and strength gave her pause. This man could really hurt her if he chose to, and given what she had in store for him, that was a very sobering realization.

“Let me do that,” he said sharply.

She swallowed at the unwarranted anger in his tone. “I’m not helpless. I do this all the time.”

He released her. “Fine, burn your hand then, I don’t care.” He moved away from her.

“Sasha?” she called.

Her wolf came up to her side and leaned against her leg to let her know where he was. Kneeling down, she took his head in her hands and closed her eyes.

Reaching out with her mind, she connected with Sasha’s until she could use his eyesight as her own. She saw Zarek as he made his way back to the counter and she had to force herself not to gasp.

Afraid that his looks might sway her opinion about his character before she had a chance to interact with him, she hadn’t used Sasha before this to see him.

Now she knew how right she’d been.

Zarek was incredibly handsome. His long, black hair was sleek, hanging just past his wide shoulders. The black turtleneck he wore clung to a body that rippled with finely toned muscles. His face was lean and well sculpted. The planes of it, even while covered in whiskers, were a study in perfect male proportions. Yet he wasn’t pretty, he was darkly handsome. Almost sinister looking except for his long black eyelashes and firm lips that softened his face.

And when he took a seat, she got a spectacular view of a well-shaped butt covered by leather.

The man was a god!

But what struck her most as he sat down and stared at the counter was the deep sadness in his midnight eyes. The haunted shadow that hovered there.

He looked tired. Lost.

Most of all, he looked terribly lonely.

He glanced at them and frowned.

Astrid patted Sasha’s head and gave him a hug as if nothing unusual had happened. She hoped Zarek wouldn’t have any idea what she’d been up to.

Her sisters had warned her that this particular Dark-Hunter would have extreme powers such as telekinesis and refined hearing, but none of them knew if he could sense
her
limited powers.

She was only grateful that he wasn’t telepathic. That would have made her job infinitely more complicated.

She stood up and went to the cabinet to get a bowl for Zarek, and very carefully, she ladled the stew into it. Then she took it to the counter, not far from where Zarek had been standing.

He reached out and took the bowl from her. “You live alone?”

“Just me and Sasha.” She wondered why he’d asked that.

Her sister Cloie had warned her that Zarek could turn violent with little provocation. That he had been known to attack Acheron and anyone else who came near him.

Dark-Hunter rumor said that his exile in Alaska had been caused by his destroying a village he’d been responsible for. No one knew why. Only that one night he’d gone mad and murdered everyone there, then razed their homes to the ground.