Night Pleasures

"Oh no," Amanda said, rising on her tiptoes to stand nose to nose with Kyrian. She arched a brow and dared him with her eyes to deny her words. As she spoke, each word was short and clipped. "You are so wrong. I want my life back. I want it boring and I want it long."



Her spirit amused him as she emphasized the last word. She was spectacular when riled and he wondered just how long he could keep that color high in her cheeks. The fire in those lush blue eyes.



Better still, as her breasts rose and fell with the weight of her conviction, images of other things that would make her breathless flashed though his mind.



He wanted to keep her breathless. Wanted to taste her passion fully.



Kyrian's lips itched to kiss hers, his hands ached to touch her body until she cried out with pleasure.



Gods, but this woman tempted him as he'd never been tempted before. And he had once loved temptation in a way that defied explanation. Over the centuries, he'd forgotten that small personality flaw, but ever since he had awakened with her next to him, he had been painfully reminded of the mortal man he used to be.



Slowly, bit by bit, he could feel her breaking down the barriers he had built around himself, the numbness. He had distanced himself from his feelings for centuries. And though he'd had mortals he cared about during that time, none of them had ever touched him as she did.



It was so strange to him.



Why her?



Why now? Now when he needed clarity of thought to deal with Desiderius.



The Fates were once again toying with him and he didn't like it in the least.



He could feel his blood pounding through his veins as he stared at those moist, full lips. Already he could taste them. Feel her. Dear gods, how he craved her.



She, alone, awoke the hungry beast in him. The part of him that wanted to growl and devour her body inch by slow, studied inch, all night long.



But Amanda was human and he could offer her nothing of himself. His soul and loyalty belonged to Artemis.



Besides, Amanda had a right to her dream of normality. Her dreams of a home and family with an average man.



After having his own dreams so cruelly, vengefully stripped from him, he refused to do that to her now.



She deserved to have her long, full, and boring life. Everyone deserved a chance to obtain their heart's wishes.



He swallowed the lump in his throat that ached with desire for her and knew, in that moment, he had to banish her from his thoughts.



She could never be his.



Her destiny was to return to a family who loved her and to find a mortal man who could...



He didn't finish that thought. It was too painful to even contemplate.



"For your sake," he whispered, resisting the urge to touch her hair, "I hope that's true, but I'm afraid with the raw, untapped powers you have and with the vampire-hunting Tabitha does, it's not going to be possible to live your boring life for the next few days."



She broke eye contact with him. "I have no powers." Her voice was sharp, yet it lacked her earlier conviction.



He reached out and fingered her chin, seeking to comfort the trouble he saw on her face, the fears he didn't understand. Why wouldn't she acknowledge the gifts she had been given?



"You might not claim them, Amanda, but they're there. You have premonitions and telepathy. Projection and empathy. They're similar in many ways to Tabitha's, but your powers are a lot stronger than hers."



The vivid sapphire returned to her eyes. "You're lying to me."



Her accusation surprised him. "Why would I do that?"



She swallowed. "I don't know. I just know that I have no powers."



"Why are you so afraid of them?"



"Because..."



He cocked his head as her voice trailed off and she didn't finish her sentence.



"Because?" he prompted.



She looked up at him and the grief in her eyes took his breath. "When I was fifteen," she said in a hushed tone, "I had a dream." She blinked back tears as she gripped the counter beside her. "I used to have a lot of them back then. They always came true. In this one, my best friend was killed in a car wreck. I saw her. I felt her panic and I heard the last thoughts that went through her mind before she died."



Kyrian clenched his teeth at the pain he heard in her voice. Reaching out, he took her hand in his. Her icy fingers were shaking.



"When I saw her at school, I did everything I could to keep her from going home that day with Bobby Thibideaux. I even told her about my dream." Tears fell again. "She didn't listen. She told me I was stupid and mean and jealous because he liked her and not me."



She shook her head as she relived that day. "I wasn't jealous, Hunter, I just didn't want her to die."



He stroked her fingers, trying to warm her hand. "I know, Amanda."



"She got in the car with me screaming at her to get out. Everyone at school was staring at me, but I didn't care. Tabitha pulled me away so they could leave and everyone was laughing."



She licked her dry lips. "They weren't laughing the next morning when they found out the two of them had died on the way home. They called me a freak. For the next three years, no one wanted to be near me. I was that weirdo girl who saw things."



Anger flashed in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Tell me, what good are these so-called powers when they make people afraid of me? Why can I see things I can't change? What good is that?"



Kyrian had no answer for her. All he could do was feel her inner pain and turmoil.



"Don't you understand?" she continued. "I don't want to know the future when I can't stop it. I want to be normal," she insisted, her voice cracking on the last word. "I don't want to be like Talon or my grandmother and have dead people talking to me. I don't want to know what you're feeling. I just want to live my life like other people. Don't you ever want that?"



Closing his eyes against the unfounded agony that clenched his heart, Kyrian let go of the softness of her skin and stepped back from her. "It wouldn't matter if I did."



Amanda started at the look on his face. She'd wounded him somehow. "I'm sorry, Hunter, I didn't mean-"



"It's okay," he said slowly. He moved to stand by a chair and she watched the way he gripped the edge of it. Though he was trying hard to hide it, she could sense his pain.



"You're right," he said at last. "There are times when I do miss being able to feel the sunshine on my face. I miss so many things that I can't even begin to count them all. I have learned the best thing to do is to not torture myself with the memory of it." He looked up at her and the heat in his eyes scorched her. "But people like us have special gifts. We can't be normal."



Amanda didn't want to hear that. Her heart couldn't take that news. "Maybe you can't. But I can. I don't let myself feel those powers anymore. They are dead to me."



He laughed bitterly. "And you think I'm stubborn."



"Hunter, please," she said, hating the agony she heard in her tone. "I just wish it were the day before yesterday. I wish I could wake up and have all this be a nightmare."



In that moment, she felt something that scared her. It was just a quick twinge of the powers he referred to. And the sensation of it sliced through her as she heard his thoughts.



Wish you had never met me, you mean.



She moved toward him. "Hunter..."



He dodged her touch and went to the counter where the phone was. He picked the phone up and handed it to her. "Call Tabitha and tell her to stay at your mother's until Friday. She can come and go in the daytime, but after dark it is imperative that she stay indoors."



"She won't like that."



Aggravated fury smoldered in his midnight eyes. "Then have your mother tie her down. We're not dealing with regular vampires here. These Daimons have unlocked some exceedingly dangerous powers, and until Talon and I figure out what we're dealing with, she needs to lie low."



"Okay. I'll do my best."



He nodded. "While you talk to her, I'm going to change clothes."



Amanda watched as he walked out of the kitchen, her heart heavy. She didn't want him to leave her even long enough to change. She felt a peculiar urge to follow after him and help him shed those clothes...



Instead, she dialed Tabitha's cell phone.



"Oh, thank God you're all right," Tabitha said, her voice filled with tears. "The police just told me about the houses and I knew it was past time for you to be home."



Amanda's own eyes teared up, but she forced them back. Crying wouldn't accomplish anything. The houses were gone and all the tears in the world wouldn't bring them back. What she needed to focus on now was for all of them to survive Desiderius's wrath.



"How's Allison?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the fear.



"She's fine. Her mother's already at the hospital. I'm in the car on my way to see her even as we speak. No one knows what happened to Terminator."



"I have him."



Tabitha breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sis. I owe you big time. So, where are you now?"



It was the question Amanda dreaded answering. Tabitha was bound to go ballistic when she found out. "I'd rather not say," she hedged.



Silence.



It stretched for several minutes and all Amanda heard from the other end was the noise of traffic.



Tabitha was trying to read her.



Damn!



Tabitha said the word at the same moment Amanda thought it. "You're with that vampire again, aren't you?"



Amanda cringed. How did someone tell her sister, the vampire hunter, that she had a crush on a vampire and planned on spending the night in his home?



There was no easy way around that one.



Sighing, she tried to think of some way to explain it. "He's not a vampire... Exactly. He's more like you."



"Uh-huh," Tabitha said. "Like me how? He has breasts? He has a boyfriend? Or he just likes to kill things?"



Amanda ground her teeth. "Tabitha Lane Devereaux, don't be such a bitch. I know you don't like to kill things, either, and I don't want to play Twenty Questions with you. The guy who attacked me in your place is really scary, and not like the other scary things you play with. This is different. Hunter wants you to lie low and I agree."



"Hunter? Is that the same bloodsucking ghoul who threatened your life to me earlier?"



"He didn't mean that."



"Oh no? So you're willing to bet your life on it?"



"I'm willing to bet both our lives on it."



"You're friggin' crazy, you know that?"



"Watch your mouth, little girl. Unlike you, I know what I'm doing. I trust Hunter. And this guy Desiderius is seriously evil. Like Hannibal Lecter evil."



Amanda could just imagine Tabitha rolling her eyes as she made a disgusted snort. "I'm not afraid of either one of them."



"Maybe you need to learn a little fear. I for one am terrified."



"Then why don't you come home where we can protect you?"



Because I want to stay with Hunter . Amanda didn't know where the thought came from. But there was no denying it. She felt safe and protected with him.



He had yet to offer to take her anywhere else. She had no doubt that if she asked, he would let her leave, and yet...



She didn't want to.



But she didn't dare tell Tabitha that. Things were bad enough between them, so she offered her sister the only excuse she could think of. "I can't do that. Not while this thing is after me."



Tabitha cursed again. "How do I know this Hunter guy doesn't have you under some kind of mind spell?"



Amanda laughed at that as she recalled Hunter's words to her in the factory. "Because, much like you, I'm too stubborn for it to work. Besides, he's a friend of Julian Alexander. You trust Julian and Grace, don't you?"



"Well, yeah. Of course."



"Then trust their friend."



"Okay," Tabitha said reluctantly. "But my trust is wearing thin. I want you safe."



"And I want the same for you. Hunter said you're safe so long as it's daylight, but make sure you're in Mom's house once the sun sets and stay there. In fact, I don't think you should go to the hospital. You should probably go to Mom's right now."



"Allison is my best friend, I need to see her."



"What if you lead them to her? For all you know they're watching you already."



Tabitha growled low in her throat. "I don't like this. Not at all, but okay. You're right. I don't want to draw them to Allison. Mom can handle anything. I'll turn around at the next street and head to Mom's for the night. You call if you need me."



"Will do."



Amanda set the phone down and picked up her plate from the counter where Hunter had left it. She carried it to the small breakfast table that was set next to a large picture window. It looked out onto a beautiful, old-fashioned courtyard behind the house, complete with a rose trellis, Greek statuary, and sculpted shrubs. The area was lit by antique oil lamps that cast an eerie glow against the white stucco walls.



Amanda sat alone for several minutes until Hunter returned. He'd changed into a long-sleeved, black T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. He had the sleeves pulled up on his forearms and she saw the vicious cut that ran along his arm.



"Did the Daimon bite you or is that a knife wound?"



Hunter glanced at it as he sat down across from her. "Bite wound."



She went cold. "You need that tended, don't you?"



"No, the entire wound will be gone by tomorrow."



"Yeah, but don't such things turn you into a vampire?"



He laughed and gave her a droll stare. "Technically, I already am a vampire. As for turning, it's impossible unless you're an Apollite."



"So they can't bite humans and make them into vampires?"



"Bedtime story."



She thought about that a minute. "So where do all these misconceptions about vampires come from?"



He swallowed a bite of his food and took a drink. "Scared villagers mostly. Since the day Atlantis was sucked into the ocean, Apollites and Daimons have been persecuted. At one time, all the Greek city-states knew about the Dark-Hunters and we were revered. But as time went on and the Dark-Hunters became more solitary, we were mostly forgotten except in myths and legends. Acheron and the others liked it that way. Ash even went so far as to collect and hide the ancient writings that referred to us."



"Acheron?" she asked, cutting a piece of her chicken. "You keep mentioning him. Who is he?"



"He was the first Dark-Hunter chosen by Artemis."



"And he's still alive?"



"Oh yeah. I think he's in California this week."



She arched a brow at him.



Hunter smiled. "He travels to a new location every few days."



"How? Why?"



He shrugged. "I guess when you're eleven thousand years old, things get rather boring. As for how, he has a custom-built helicopter that can break the sound barrier."



Amanda digested the news and tried to imagine what this oldest Dark-Hunter must look like. For some reason, Yoda came to mind. Some small, gray-green-skinned ancient who walked around stooped over, spouting broken words of wisdom to the others.



"Have you ever met Acheron?" she asked.



Kyrian nodded. "We all have. He trains all the new Dark-Hunters and in a way he is our unofficial leader. There's also the theory that he's the hit man the gods call in to execute us when we step over the line of propriety."



She didn't like the sound of that at all. "Step over how?"



"Preying on humans, for one. We have a Code of Conduct that has to be followed. No revealing of our powers before the masses, no association with Apollites or Daimons, et cetera."



It was strangely comforting to know that they had such a thing, but also scary to think of one of these guys turning bad with the powers they possessed. "If Dark-Hunters are forbidden to hurt each other and you drain one another's powers, how can Acheron be an executioner?"



"He doesn't drain our powers." He took a drink of wine. "Ash was the guinea pig Dark-Hunter. Since he was the first, the gods hadn't quite got the kinks out of the system. So he has some... peculiar, shall we say, side effects."



Now she definitely pictured some mutant life-form. A little hunchback Dark-Hunter with a lisp.



"And just how many Dark-Hunters are there?" she asked.



"Thousands."



Amanda's jaw went slack. "Seriously?"



By the light in his eyes, she could see the answer.



"How often are new ones created?"



"Not often," he said quietly. "Most of us have been around for quite some time."



"Wow," she breathed. "So if Acheron is the oldest, who is the youngest?"



Kyrian frowned as he thought about the answer. "Offhand, I would say Tristan, Diana, or Sundown, but I would have to check with Acheron on it."



"Sundown? Nickname, or did his mother not like him very much?"



He laughed. "He was a gunslinger and that was the name they used on his wanted posters. The authorities claimed he did his best work after dark."



"Okay," Amanda said slowly. Now she pictured some Wild Bill Hickok character. Complete with bowlegs and shaggy beard and a wad of tobacco in his cheek. "I take it you Dark-Hunters weren't merchants or um..."



"Decent law-abiding folks?"



She smiled. "I wasn't implying you were indecent, but you have the gist of what I was going for."



Kyrian returned her smile. "Indecent" would certainly describe the thoughts in his mind that concerned his guest. "It takes a certain demeanor and passion to become a Dark-Hunter. Artemis doesn't want to waste her time or ours by picking someone incapable of hunting. I guess you could say we are all mad, bad, and immortal."



Her smile widened, showing just a very tiny hint of a dimple in her right cheek. How odd he'd never noticed that before. "Bad and immortal I will give you, but are you truly mad?"



"If by mad you mean insane, what then would you say?"



Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That you are definitely mad. But you know, I think I like that about you. There's something to be said for unpredictability."



Kyrian wasn't sure which of them was most surprised by her confession. She looked away quickly, her cheeks turning bright red.



She liked him ... The words evoked a truly juvenile response inside him. He felt a peculiar urge to run tell someone, "She likes me, she likes me."



Ye gods, what was that?



He was two thousand years old. Long past the age for such behavior.



Yet there was no denying the satisfaction and happiness he felt.



Awkward silence fell between them while they ate.



As she finished, Amanda did her best not to think about her house. All she'd lost. She would deal with that tomorrow. At the moment, she just wanted to get through the night.



"Tabitha is staying put," she said as she watched Kyrian take his plate to the sink and rinse it off.



"Good."



"You know," she said quietly, "you still haven't told me how you knew so much about my sister the night we met."



He put the plate and silverware in the dishwasher. "Talon and Tabitha have a mutual friend."



Amanda's eyes widened at that. A mole... who would have thought. "One of Tabitha's Zoo Crew?"



He nodded.



"Who?"



"Since this person spies for us, I'm not about to tell you who it is."



She laughed at that, then narrowed her eyes, trying to divine who it was. "I'll bet it's Gary ."



"I'm giving away nothing."



It was intriguing, but not nearly as much as the Dark-Hunter before her. Sighing, Amanda continued to eat and glance around the richly appointed kitchen while Kyrian put the food away. There was a marble breakfast counter that vaguely resembled a Greek temple. It separated the table where she sat from the rest of the kitchen. Three tall bar stools were set before it.



Everything was crisp and clean and enormous.



"This is a big house for one person. How long have you lived here?"



"A little over a hundred years."



She choked. "Are you serious?"



"There's no need for me to move. I like New Orleans."



She got up and took her plate to him. "You put down some serious roots, don't you? Where did you live before here?"



"Paris for a while," he said, putting the plate aside. "Geneva. London, Barcelona, Hamburg, Athens. Before that I wandered around."



She watched his face while he spoke. There was no telltale sign of his mood. He was hiding his feelings from her and she wondered if there was any way to draw him out. "It sounds really lonely."



"It was okay." Still no facial clues.



"Did you ever have friends in any of those places?"



"No, not really. I've had a few Squires over the centuries, but for the most part, I prefer solitude."



"Squires?" she asked. How strange. "Like in the Middle Ages?"



"Something like that." He looked at her, but didn't elaborate. "What about you? Have you lived here all your life?"



"Born and raised. My mother's parents immigrated from Romania during the Depression and my father's people were backwoods Cajuns."



He laughed at that. "I've known a lot of those."



"Living here for a hundred years, I'll bet you have."



Amanda considered the life Hunter must have lived. All the centuries of solitude, of watching people he cared about die of old age while he never changed. It must have been hard for him.



But along with that, his life must have had a few really neat perks.



"What's it like knowing you're going to live forever?"



He shrugged. "Honestly, I no longer think about it. Much like the rest of the world, I just get up, do my job, and go to bed."



How simple he made it sound. Yet she sensed something else from him. A deep-rooted sadness. Living without dreams must be excruciating. The human spirit needed goals to strive for, and killing Daimons just didn't seem like much of a goal to her.



She dropped her gaze to the counter and tried to imagine what Hunter had been like as a man. Julian had told her how they would drink after battle and how much Hunter had wanted children.



Worse, she remembered the way Hunter had looked holding Vanessa.



"Have you ever had any children?"



Intense pain flashed through his eyes for only an instant until he recovered his stoicism. "No, Dark-Hunters are sterile."



"So you are impotent."



He gasped indignantly and looked at her. "Hardly. I can have sex, I just can't procreate."



"Oh." She wrinkled her nose devilishly at him and tried to lighten the mood. "That was really a nosy question. I'm sorry."



"It's all right."



Hunter started the dishwasher. "Would you like a tour of the house?"



"House?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving brow. "If this is a house, then I live in a two-room shanty." Her breath caught as she remembered that she didn't live anywhere anymore. Clearing her throat, she pushed the thought aside. "Yes," she said quietly. "I'd like to see it."



Hunter led her through the doorway on her left, into a massively large living room. The walls, crown moldings, and medallions were absolutely gorgeous in their old-fashioned grace and elegance, but the furniture in the house was as modern as it could be.



The room was decorated for comfort, not to impress visitors. But then she imagined vampires didn't entertain guests too often.



A huge entertainment center lined one wall with a JVC component system, big-screen TV, double-decker VCR and DVD player.



Though there were lamps all around, the room was lit only by candles from three ornate sconces.



"You don't like modern light bulbs, do you?" she asked as Hunter moved to light a candelabrum.



"No," he said. "They're too bright for my eyes."



"Light hurts you?"



He nodded. "Dark-Hunters have eyes made for darkness. Our pupils are larger than yours and they don't dilate the same way. As a result, our eyes let in a lot more light than human eyes."



While he spoke, she noticed the floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with black shutters that would shield the house from daylight.



As she stepped around a black leather sofa, Amanda stopped dead in her tracks.



There was a coffin sitting in front of it.



"Is that..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Not while she held a gruesome image of Hunter lying asleep inside it every day.



Hunter glanced at it, then met her shocked gaze unblinkingly. "Yes," he said in a deadpan voice. "Yes, it is. It's my... coffee table."



He walked over to it, lifted the lid and pulled a remote out of it. "For the TV if you want to watch it tomorrow."



Amanda shook her head. Now that she noticed it, she saw there were all kinds of weird little vampire trinkets lying around. Miniature statues, small crossbows, even a vampire tarot deck on the mantel.



"Nick thinks it's funny," Hunter said as she picked up the deck of tarot cards. "Any time he finds something with a vampire in it or on it, he brings it here and leaves it for me to find."



"Does it bother you?"



"No, he's a good kid most of the time."



As he led her room by room through the old mansion, she began to get lost. "Just how big is this place?" she asked as they entered a game room.



"There are twelve bedrooms and it's a little over seven thousand square feet."



"Jeez, I've been inside smaller malls."



He laughed.



An elaborate pool table was set in the middle of the game room, along with a collection of arcade games and a big-screen TV with an entire array of game consoles lined up on a low coffee table in front of it. But what she found most peculiar was a pair of baseball gloves and a baseball on a drop-leaf table in one corner of the room. Amanda went over to them.



"I toss the ball around with Nick some nights," Hunter explained.



"Why?"



He shrugged. "It clears my head when I'm trying to sort through things."



"Nick doesn't mind?"



He laughed at that. "Nick minds everything. I don't think I've ever asked him to do something he didn't complain about it."



"Then why do you keep him around?"



"I'm a glutton for punishment."



Now it was her turn to laugh. "I would really like to meet this Nick."



"No doubt you will tomorrow."



"Really?"



He nodded. "Anything you need, you tell him and he'll get it for you. If he offends you in any way, let me know and I'll kill him when I get up."



There was a note in his voice that told her it might not be an empty threat.



Hunter opened the large French doors and led her into a glass-enclosed atrium. The ceiling was clear and showed a million stars flickering overhead and their shoes clicked idly on the tile floor.



"It's beautiful in here."



"Thanks."



She walked up to a large statue of three women in the center of the room. The piece was absolutely breathtaking. The youngest of them was lying on her side with a scroll while the other two were sitting with their backs to each other. One held a lyre while the other appeared to sing. But what amazed her most was the way they were painted. Each one looked real, and they bore a striking resemblance to Hunter.



"Is this from Greece?" she asked.



A painful look crossed his face as he nodded. "They were my sisters."



Her heart heavy, she studied them closely.



Hunter gently touched the arm of the one with a scroll. His brow furrowed ever so slightly while he gazed up at the life-sized statue of a girl in her late teens. The blue togalike dress matched her eyes perfectly.



"Althea was the youngest of us," he said, his voice a full octave deeper. "She was quiet and bashful, and she had a quaint stutter when she got nervous. Gods, how she hated it, but I thought it was sweet. Diana"-he indicated the one with a lyre who was dressed in red-"was two years older than me and had the temperament of a shrew. My father said we were too much alike and that is why we could never get along. And Phaedra was a year younger than me and had the voice of an angel."



Amanda looked up at the young woman dressed in yellow.



There was such delicate grace to his sisters. The sculptor had captured them as if they were in mid-movement. Even the folds of their clothes were realistic and dainty. She'd never seen such craftsmanship. They looked so real she half expected them to talk to her.



No wonder it hurt him so.



"You loved them a lot."



He nodded.



"What happened to them?"



He moved away. "They married and had long, happy lives. Diana named her first son after me."



A tenuous smile curved her lips that the one who had fought most with him had done such a thing. It spoke a lot for their relationship. While she looked at the women, she remembered what he had said about Althea in the car. She had shorn off all her long, wavy blond hair when she learned her brother was gone. They must have loved him as much as he loved them.



"What did they think of your transition into a Dark-Hunter?"



He cleared his throat. "They never knew. To them, I was dead."



"Then how do you know so much about-"



"I could hear them while they lived. Feel them, the same way you can open your heart to Tabitha and tell when she's troubled."



She stiffened at his words. "How did you know about that?"



"I told you, I can feel your powers."



A shiver went down her spine and she wondered if she could hide anything from him. "You are one scary man."



A strange light darkened his eyes. "I'm not a man. I gave up my humanity when I crossed over."



He said that, but she knew better. He might not have a soul, but the man had a good heart and was nothing if not humane. "Why did you agree to be a Dark-Hunter even though you never took your revenge against Theone?"



"It seemed like a good idea at the time."



With those few words something inside her melted. Perhaps it was the loneliness in his voice, the calm acceptance of his fate in his eyes. She didn't know exactly what it was, but she knew she couldn't just walk back into her old life and forget this man.



She'd seen too much of his goodness. Too much of his pain. And God help her, the more she learned about him the more she wanted him.



Wanted him in a way that defied explanation. They'd barely met and yet there was something that bound them together.



Amanda looked up at those tormented eyes that studied her with hunger and heat. He was what her mother had called the "missing half." It was the term her mother used to describe her father. The term Selena used when she spoke of Bill.



For the first time in her life, Amanda understood. And having found it with him, she knew she couldn't just let it go.



Not without a fight.



Unaware of her thoughts, Hunter turned and led her back into the house. He showed her to a bedroom suite on the bottom floor. "You can sleep in here. I'll bring you something more comfortable to wear."



Amanda wandered around the lush bedroom. The king-sized plantation bed looked like something out of an old movie. The dark green paint would have made a small room look tiny, but in this massive space, it gave it a quaint, homey feel.



Hunter returned a few minutes later with a black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that would swallow her whole. "Thanks," she said, taking them from him.



He stood before her, his eyes searching hers.



To her surprise, he lifted his hand and ran his finger down her jaw. His short fingernail gently scraped her flesh, sending chills through her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was amazed at how much she wanted his kiss.



But he didn't kiss her. He just stared at her with those dark hungry eyes.



Then he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and she barely bit back a moan at how good he felt. How good he smelled. The air between them was rife with tension. With mutual desire and need. The force of it took her breath and made her both weak and strong at the same time.



Just when she was sure he'd kiss her, he pulled away. "Good night, Amanda."



Her heart pounding, she watched him go.



Kyrian cursed himself with every step he took toward his office. He should have kissed her. He should have...



No, he'd done the right thing. There would never be anything between them. Dark-Hunters could take women for a few nights, but they were forbidden to become seriously involved with them. The danger was just too great.



It made the women vulnerable to the Daimons, and it made the Dark-Hunter weak. Made him cautious, and in this line of work, caution got you killed.



It had never bothered him before.



Tonight, the pain was almost enough to break him.



He hated these feelings inside him. Hated needing her. He'd long ago banished his emotions and he preferred to live that way; in a safe cocoon free of turmoil.



"I have to get her out of my mind." He entered his office and went to log on to the Dark-Hunter.com Web site.



His instant messenger program was blinking with incoming messages and as always, his e-mail was filled with notes from other Dark-Hunters. Technology was a wonderful thing. Being able to communicate with each other was a true godsend. It made dealing with the long nights more bearable and it allowed them to exchange important information.



Kyrian sat in his black leather chair and double-clicked the flashing icon. It was a note from Acheron.



Nick called, said Desiderius had kicked your butt. You okay?



Kyrian clenched his teeth, then typed in a response. "I'm going to kill him for that. I'm fine. Desiderius is down a bolt-hole. What do you know of him?"



He's the one who took out Cromley a few years back, so you're dealing with a major power. I talked with Cromley's Squire and he said Desiderius took a tremendous amount of pleasure from messing with Cromley's head. D. ended up killing Cromley in a manner best not mentioned. Personally, I wish D. would come after me, I need a good dance partner. My Daimons have lame legs.



Kyrian laughed at Ash's dry wit. The man truly had no patience for lame Daimons. "Talon said they're using astral blasts. Have you ever come across that?"



In eleven thousand years, I can honestly say... hell, no. This is a first. I've called in the Oracles and they are communing with the Fates. But you know how they are. I'm sure it'll come back as "When the sky is green, and the earth turns black, the Daimons will give you lots of flack. To kill the great awful one you seek, you'll have to find something unique." Or some bullshit like that. I really hate Oracles. If I wanted to play mind games, I'd buy a Rubik's Cube.



"I don't know, Ash, you're pretty good at that. Sure you don't want to take up an Oracle position?"



Picture this, General, my middle finger is extended all the way up, and aimed right at you. Now let me work. I have Daimons to track, Dark-Hunters to antagonize, and women to seduce. Talk to you later.



No longer in the mood to talk, Kyrian logged off the Dark-Hunter site. He opened his e-mail, but he didn't really want to read it, either.



What he wanted was beyond his ability to claim.



Against his will, he wandered down the hallway, then down the stairs.



Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself outside Amanda's room. He pressed his hand against the dark wood door and splayed his fingers. Closing his eyes, he could see her sitting in bed, her long legs bare beneath his T-shirt.



Fire pounded through his blood. He could feel her pain at the loss of her house. Feel her fear as she thought of Desiderius hurting her sister, and her worry over Tabitha's roommate.



Worse, he could sense the tears she was holding back. She was so strong. So capable. He'd never known a woman like her before.



His dream from the morning tore through him. He could still feel her in his arms.



"I want you."



He'd give anything to hear her say those words for real. To see her look at him as if she could devour him.



Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was to kick open the door and make love to her. To have her touch him. Hold him.



Welcome him.



But it wasn't meant to be.



His heart heavy, he forced himself to leave her.



He had work to do.



Amanda glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Normally she would be fast asleep by now. But to Hunter the night would still be young.



She wondered what he did during the wee hours. Surely he didn't kill Daimons every night. There weren't that many of them, were there?



Before she realized what she was doing, she got out of bed and wandered through the enormous house. She didn't know where Hunter was. He hadn't bothered to show her his room while he had given her the tour.



But her instinct told her his room would be upstairs. Probably as far away from hers as possible.



She was halfway up the stairs when she heard something odd outside. It was a strange whooshing noise.



Backtracking, she found her way to the dark game room. There was no light, but the moon and stars were so bright outside that she could see a shadowy figure in the atrium. Her first impulse was to call for Hunter; she paused.



There was something very familiar about that figure. Walking closer to the French doors, she recognized Terminator and Hunter. Hunter was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He was tossing a baseball into a net-covered frame that bounced it back to him.



As soon as he threw the ball, Terminator would give chase, then the dog would bound back to Hunter.



She smiled at the sight. Hunter patted Terminator, then returned to tossing the ball.



She started to leave, but couldn't. Instead, she cracked open the door.



Hunter turned instantly. The forgotten ball rebounded and caught him on the head. He hissed as he rubbed his head and Terminator chased after the baseball.



"Did you need something?" he asked, his voice sharp.



I need you to kiss me.



She swallowed. "I just didn't know where you were."



"Now you do."



The ice was back in his voice. This wasn't the Hunter who had been with her a short time ago, this was the Dark-Hunter who had awakened in the factory with her. Guarded. Distant.



And it cut through to her heart. It wasn't just the lump on his head from the baseball making him snappish; his old barriers were back in place. He was pushing her away.



Taking the hint, she nodded. "Yeah, well, good night."



Kyrian watched her leave. He'd wounded her. He could sense it and he hated himself for it.



Call her back.



But to what purpose?



There could never be anything between them. Not even friendship.



Grinding his teeth, he went back to his pitching. As he worked out, he tried to focus on Desiderius. Tried to will the Daimon into his grasp.



It was useless.



Amanda was still with him. It was her face he saw when he closed his eyes. Her scent that permeated his senses.



If he didn't banish her from his thoughts, he would get himself killed. And if he died, Desiderius would go after her.



Growling, he threw the ball against the net. He twirled around to catch it on the rebound, but before his hand made contact, a fierce pain slashed through his skull.



Kyrian cursed. He put the heel of his hand over his right eye, and as he struggled with the pain, an image tore through him.



It was Desiderius.



As the image sharpened, he froze. With amazing clarity, he saw Desiderius kill him.



And he heard Amanda weeping.