CHAPTER 2

Amanda came awake to an awful throbbing in her head. She felt terrible.

What had hap—

She tensed as she remembered the unseen man.

His words.

Terrified, she pushed herself up, and quickly learned she was on a cold concrete floor, in a very small, dust-covered room …

And handcuffed to an unknown blond man.

A scream wedged itself in her throat, but she held it back.

Don’t panic. Not until you have all the facts.

For all you know, Tabitha is making good her threat for a blind date—just like the time she “accidentally” locked you in the supply closet with Randy Davis for three hours.

Or “kidnapped” you in the trunk of her car with that weird musician.

Tabitha was always trying unorthodox ways to set her up with guys. Although, to be fair to her sister, Tabitha didn’t usually knock the guy unconscious before she forced them together.

Still, with Tabitha there was a first time for just about anything. And extreme blind-dating was very vintage T.

Forcing herself to remain calm until she had more information, Amanda took in her surroundings. The two of them were in a small room with no windows and one rusty iron door. A door she couldn’t reach without dragging her “friend” across the floor.

There was no furniture or anything else. The only light came from a small bulb in the center of the ceiling.

Okay, so she wasn’t in immediate danger.

Still far from comforted, she looked at the body beside her. He lay with his back to her, and he was either dead or unconscious.

Preferring the latter, she inched toward him. He appeared rather tall, and he was positioned as if he had been dumped roughly onto the floor.

Her legs shaking, Amanda rose slowly to her knees and moved over him to keep his arm from being twisted any more.

He didn’t move.

She trailed her gaze over his body. A long black leather coat, black jeans, and a black crew-neck shirt combined to give him an extremely dangerous appearance even while lying on the floor. His feet were covered by a pair of black biker boots with strange silver inlays in the heels.

His wavy blond hair fell over his face and met the collar of his coat, obscuring his features from her view.

“Excuse me?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you alive?”

As soon as her hand touched the hard, lean muscle of his biceps, her breath faltered. His prone body was like coiled steel. There wasn’t a bit of a fleshy feel to him. He was all lithe, strong power.

Oh my, my.

Before she could stop herself, Amanda ran her hand down his arm. The feel of it!

She let out a slow, appreciative breath.

“Guy? Mister?” she tried again, shaking his hard, muscular shoulder. “Mr. Goth man, would you please wake up so I can leave? I really don’t want to hang out in a closet with a dead man any longer than I have to, okay? C’mon, please, don’t make this a Weekend at Bernie’s thing. There’s only one of me and you’re a really big, big guy.”

He didn’t budge.

Okay, I’ll have to try something else.

Biting her lip, Amanda rolled him onto his back. His hair fell away from his face at the same moment his collar did.

Her breath caught in her throat. Okay, now she was majorly impressed.

He was gorgeous. His jaw was strong and defined, his cheekbones high. His face was aristocratically boned, and he had just the tiniest hint of a cleft in his chin.

Oh baby, this man possessed that rare masculine beauty that only a few, very lucky women ever saw in the flesh.

Better still, he had the best looking lips she’d ever seen. Full and expressive, that mouth had been made for long, hot kisses.

In fact, the only flaw on his face was a hairline scar that ran across the lower edge of his jaw, from his ear to his chin.

He could easily rival Grace’s husband for handsomeness. And Julian the Demigod was a hard man to compete with.

But then, Amanda had never been all that impressed with the way men looked. She preferred their minds over their bodies. Especially since most of the men she knew who looked even half this good generally had IQs that were smaller than her combined shoe size.

Unlike Tabitha, it took more than a cute butt and wide shoulders to turn her head.

Although …

Amanda ran her gaze over his lean, muscular body. In the case of this man, she might be willing to make an exception.

Provided he wasn’t dead, anyway.

Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand against his tawny neck to check his pulse. A strong, heavy heartbeat thumped against her fingertips.

Relieved he was alive, she tried to shake him again. “Hey, yummy leather guy? Can you hear me?”

He moaned low in his throat, then slowly blinked his eyes open. Amanda started at the sight of those eyes. They were so dark they appeared black, and when they focused on her, they dilated menacingly.

With a curse, he grabbed her by the shoulders.

Before she could move, he rolled over with her, pinning her against the floor beneath his body as he held her wrists above her head.

Those dark, captivating eyes searched hers suspiciously.

Amanda couldn’t breathe. Every inch of him was pressed intimately against her and she became instantly aware of the fact that his arms weren’t the only part of his body that was rock-hard and solid. The man was a wall of sleek, strong muscle.

His hips rested dead center between her legs while his hard, taut stomach leaned against her in a way that brought a flush to her cheeks. Made her feel hot and tingly. Breathless.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to lift her head and kiss a man whom she knew absolutely nothing about.

Who was he?

To her complete shock, he lowered his head down to the side of her face and took a deep breath in her hair.

Amanda went rigid. “Are you sniffing me?”

A deep, melodious laugh rumbled through his body, sending an odd tingly surge through her.

“Only admiring your perfume, ma fleur,” he whispered softly in her ear with a strange, provocative accent that melted her. His voice was so deep it reminded her of thunder and it rumbled through her with a devastating effect.

Okay, so the man was incredibly hot, and his breath on her neck sent thousands of needlelike chills over her body.

“You are not Tabitha Devereaux.” He whispered the words so softly that even with his mouth brushing her ear she had to strain to hear him.

She swallowed. “You know T—”

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear as his thumbs caressed her captured wrists in a rhythm that sent electric surges through her. Her breasts drew tight as desire scorched her.

He moved his face against hers, scraping her cheek gently with his whiskers and causing another wave of chills to consume her. Never in her life had she felt anything more arousing than his weight on her or smelled anything more exciting than the spicy, manly scent of him.

“They are listening.” Kyrian drew a deep, appreciative breath.

Now that he was certain she posed no immediate threat, he knew he should move away from the woman beneath him, and yet …

It had been a long time since he’d lain between a woman’s thighs. An eternity since he had dared be this close to a female. He had forgotten the warm softness of breasts pressed against his chest. The feel of hot, sweet breath on his neck.

But now that she was under him …

Oh yes, he remembered this. He remembered the way a woman’s hands felt as they roamed his naked back. The way a woman felt as she writhed to his expert touch.

For a minute, Kyrian actually lost himself to the sensation of it as he imagined removing their clothes and exploring her curves more fully.

And much more intimately.

He closed his eyes at the thought of running his tongue over her breast, of toying with the swollen nipple while she buried her hands in his hair.

She squirmed beneath him, only adding to his fantasy.

Hmmm …

Of course, if she ever found out who and what he was, she would pale in terror. And if she were anything like her sister, she would attack until one of them was dead.

Such a pity, really. But then, he was used to people being terrified of him. It was the curse and the salvation of his breed.

“Who’s listening?” she whispered.

Opening his eyes, he relished the sound of her gentle, lilting voice. How he loved a smooth Southern drawl, and this woman had one that rolled off her tongue like exquisite silk.

Against his iron will, his body stirred viciously in response to her. The need rose in him to taste those full, parted lips as he spread her thighs wide and buried himself deep inside her heat.

Oh yes, he could savor this woman.

All of her.

He pulled back slightly to better study her face. Her dark brown hair was liberally laced with auburn strands that caught the light. Her deep blue eyes showed her confusion, her anger, and her spirit. They were set in a beguiling face that had one tiny freckle just below her right eye. That mark alone distinguished her from her sister.

That and her scent.

Tabitha wore expensive perfumes that overwhelmed his highly developed senses, while this woman smelled of roses and softness.

Right then Kyrian wanted her with a need so demanding that it momentarily stunned him. It had been centuries since he last craved a woman this way.

Centuries since he had felt anything at all.

Amanda’s face burned as his erection bulged disturbingly against her pelvis. The man might not be dead, but he was certainly stiff. And this had nothing to do with rigor mortis. “Look, buster, I really think you need to find someplace else to rest.”

His gaze focused hungrily on her lips and she saw the raw longing in the depths of those midnight eyes. His jaw flexed rigidly as if he were fighting himself.

His masculine power and overt sexuality overwhelmed her.

As she lay there beneath him, she realized just how vulnerable she was to him. And how much she truly wanted a taste of those well-shaped lips.

That thought both scared and excited her.

He blinked and a veil came over his face, disguising his mood from her. He released her.

As he moved away, she saw the blood on her pink sweater. “Oh, my God!” she gasped. “You’re bleeding?”

He took a deep breath as he sat next to her. “The wound will heal.”

Amanda couldn’t believe his nonchalant tone. Judging from the amount of blood on her clothes, she would say he was deeply injured and yet he showed no other signs of it. “Where are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he ran his left hand through his tawny hair. He paused to glare at the large silver handcuff on his right wrist, then he started pulling angrily at it.

By the deadly, cold light in his eyes, she could tell the handcuffs bothered him even more than they did her.

Now that he was awake and not on top of her, Amanda was struck by the dark moodiness of his features. There was something very romantic and compelling about his face.

Something heroic.

All too easily, she could see him dressed like a Regency rake or medieval knight. His classical features held an indefinable quality that seemed oddly out of place in this modern world.

“Well, well,” a disembodied voice said. “The Dark-Hunter is awake.”

Amanda recognized the evil voice as the one belonging to whoever had clobbered her at Tabitha’s house.

“Desi, babe,” the man beside her said in a chiding tone as he looked about the brown walls. “Still playing your little games, I see. Now why don’t you be a good Daimon and show yourself to me?”

“All in good time, Dark-Hunter, all in good time. You see, I am not like the others who run and cower from the big, bad wolf. I am the big, bad woodsman who executes that wolf.”

The disembodied voice gave a dramatic pause. “You and Tabitha Devereaux have been merciless in your pursuit of my brethren and the time has come for you to know fear. By the time I finish with the two of you, you will be begging me to let you die.”

The Dark-Hunter lowered his head and laughed. “Desi dearest, I have never begged a day in my life, and the sun will surely splinter before I ever plead for anything from the likes of you.”

“Hubris,” Desi said. “I so love punishing that crime.”

The Dark-Hunter pushed himself to his feet, and Amanda saw the wound in his side. His shirt was slightly torn and blood stained the floor where he had been sitting.

But he didn’t seem to notice the injury.

“Tell me, do you like your handcuffs?” Desi asked. “Those shackles are from the forge of Hephaestus. Only a god or a key fashioned by Hephaestus can open them. And since the gods have abandoned you…”

The Dark-Hunter glanced around the room. The fierce look on his face would have scared the devil himself. “I am so going to enjoy killing you.”

Desiderius laughed. “I doubt you’ll get the chance once your little friend learns what you are.”

The Dark-Hunter cast a look at her that told her to keep her identity quiet. Not that he needed to. The last thing she would ever do was betray her sister.

“Is that why you chained us together?” the Dark-Hunter asked. “You wanted to watch us fight?”

“Oh no,” Desiderius said. “Not my plan at all. If you kill each other, that would be fine by me, but what I intend to do is release you come the dawn. You see, the Dark-Hunter is about to become the hunted and I am going to thoroughly enjoy tracking you down and making you suffer. There is no place you can hide where I won’t find you.”

The Dark-Hunter smirked. “You think you’re capable of hunting me?”

“Oh yes. Yes, I do. You see, I know your weakness even better than you do.”

“I have no weakness.”

Desiderius laughed. “Spoken like a true Dark-Hunter. But all of us have an Achilles’ heel, especially those who serve Artemis. You are no exception.”

Amanda swore she could almost hear Desiderius lick his lips in satisfaction. “Your greatest weakness is your nobility. That woman hates you, yet you won’t kill her to be safe. While she tries to kill you, you’ll guard her from me with your life.” Desiderius laughed evilly. “You just can’t resist a human in peril, can you?”

“Desi, Desi, Desi,” the Dark-Hunter tsked. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Don’t you dare take that flippant tone with me.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I am not some scared little Daimon to run cringing from you. I am your worst nightmare.”

The Dark-Hunter scoffed. “Must you resort to clichés? C’mon, Desidisastrous, couldn’t you think of anything more original than that B-movie dialogue staple?”

A furious snarl echoed in the room. “Stop mocking my name.”

“Sorry, you’re right. The least I could do is show you respect before I expire you.”

“Oh, you won’t expire me, Dark-Hunter. You are the one who will die this time. Have you given thought to how much she’s going to slow you down? Not to mention the existence of her little friends. They will take you down like a pack of wild dogs. And if I were you, I’d pray for that. You have never known the suffering I will inflict upon you when next we meet.”

His lips in a tight, firm line, the Dark-Hunter smiled at Desiderius’s threats. “You seriously overestimate your abilities.”

“We shall see.”

Amanda heard a mike click off.

The Dark-Hunter jerked again at the cuffs. “I am going to kill that horror-movie reject.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” she said as he flapped her arm around while trying to free himself. “That arm is attached.”

He paused and looked down at her. His gaze softened. “Twins. It never occurred to him. Have you any idea where your sister is?”

“I don’t even know where I am or what time it is. For that matter, I don’t know what’s going on here. Who are you and who is that guy?” Then, she lowered her voice and added, “Can he hear us?”

Kyrian shook his head. “No, the mike channel is closed. For the moment, he’s off plotting his Igoresque revenge. I don’t know about you, but I have this image of him rubbing his hands together and laughing like Dexter from Dexter’s Laboratory.”

Kyrian took a minute to study her. She didn’t appear hysterical … yet, and he wanted to keep it that way. Telling her Desiderius was a soul-sucking demon who was after her sister didn’t seem like the best way to accomplish that.

Of course, given her sister’s penchant for vampire-hunting, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to her, either.

Closing his eyes, he reached into her mind with his and found confirmation of his suspicions. There was a healthy dose of fear in her.

Unlike her sister Tabitha, she wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but she was curious and angry over their situation. It was possible he could tell her everything without freaking her out, but the Dark-Hunter in him operated on a need-to-know basis.

Right now all she needed to know was the bare minimum. With any luck he would be able to separate them without having to reveal anything more about himself to her.

“I am called Hunter,” he said solemnly. “And that guy is a man out to harm your sister.”

“Thanks, but that much I already got.” Amanda frowned. She should be frightened by all this, but she wasn’t. Her anger over it was too great. Leave it to her to get mixed up in her sister’s crazy life.

In fact, she was glad they had captured her by mistake, since Tabitha would no doubt have pulled some kamikaze stunt and gotten herself killed.

She looked up at the Dark-Hunter and her frown deepened. How did he know about Tabitha? For that matter, how had he been able to tell them apart when even their own mother had trouble at times? “Are you one of my sister’s friends?”

He looked at her blankly, before pulling her to her feet. “No,” he said as he patted his chest, hips, rear, and legs.

Amanda tried not to notice just how incredibly toned that body was as her hand was dragged in the wake of his. And when her hand brushed his hard inner thigh, she thought she would moan.

He was built for sex and for speed. Too bad he wasn’t her type. In fact, he was the total antithesis to everything she found desirable in a man.

Wasn’t he?

He cursed. “Of course, he has my phone,” he muttered, before leading her to the door.

After trying the knob, he studied the hinges.

When he unbuckled his left boot and toed it off, Amanda arched a brow. “What are you doing? Going for a swim?”

He gave her a cocky smirk before leaning down to pick the boot up off the floor. “Trying to get us out of here. You?”

“I’m trying not to get irritated at you.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes, then he returned his attention to the door.

Amanda watched as he pressed one of the silver inlays on the boot heel and a vicious five-inch blade shot out of the toe. He was definitely Tabitha’s type. She wondered if he had throwing stars inside his pockets, too.

“Oooo,” she commented dryly. “Very scary.”

He gave her an unamused look. “Baby, you ain’t seen scary yet.”

Amanda smirked at his Ford Fairlane, tough-guy demeanor and gave a very unfeminine snort.

He ignored her. Using the jagged blade, he tried to pry loose the rusted hinges.

“You’re going to break that blade if you’re not careful,” she warned him.

He gave her an arched look. “Nothing on this earth could break this blade.” He ground his teeth while hammering the boot with his fist. “Much like nothing on this earth appears able to move this hinge.” He tried for several more minutes.

“Damn,” he snarled when the hinge refused to budge. He retracted the blade, then bent over to put the boot back on. The back of his coat parted with his movements, gifting her with a nice view of him.

Oh yeah, nice butt.

Amanda’s mouth went dry as he finally straightened to his full six-foot-five-inch height.

Oh my, my, my.

Okay, she took it back, he did have one feature she found irresistible. His height. She’d always been a sucker for any man taller than her. And with this guy, she could easily wear three-inch heels and not offend his male ego.

He towered over her.

And she liked it.

“How do you know my sister?” she asked, trying to keep her thoughts focused on the matter at hand and not on the matter of how much she wanted to taste those lips of his.

“I know her because she keeps getting in my way.” He snatched at the cuffs again. “What is it with you humans that you feel this incessant need to delve into things you should leave alone?”

“I don’t delve into…” Her voice trailed off as his words penetrated her mind. “You humans? Why would you say that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Look,” she said, holding up her arm to show the handcuff. “I’m stuck with you right now, and I want an answer.”

“No you don’t.”

That did it. She hated alpha men in the worst sort of way. Those domineering, I’m-the-man-baby-let-me-drive types nauseated her.

“All right, macho babe boy,” she said irritably. “I’m not some little ditz to bat my eyelashes at the buff stud in black leather. Don’t try your he-man tactics with me. I’ll have you know, in my office I’m known as the ball-breaker.”

Kyrian frowned at her. “Macho babe boy?” he repeated in disbelief.

There had never been a time in his extremely long life that anyone had had the mettle to stand up to him. As a mortal, he had made entire Roman armies flee in stark terror of his approach. Few men had ever dared meet him eye to eye.

As a Dark-Hunter, he made legions of Daimons and Apollites quake in his presence. His name was whispered in awe and with reverence, and this woman had called him …

“Buff stud in black leather,” he repeated out loud. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more insulted.”

“Then you must have been an only child.”

He laughed at that. In truth, he’d once had three sisters, but none of them had ever dared insult him.

He swept a look over her. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but there was an exotic quality to her almond-shaped eyes that lent her a fey charm.

Her long, mahogany hair was loose, spilling about her slender shoulders. But it was her blue eyes that were captivating. Warm and intelligent, they were narrowed on him now with malice.

A faint blush stained her cheeks, making her eyes a full shade darker. In spite of the danger they were in, he wondered what she would look like after a full night of raw, exhausting sex. He could just see her eyes dark with passion, her hair mussed, her cheeks red from his whiskers, and her lips moist and swollen from his kisses.

The thought made his entire body burn.

Until Kyrian felt the familiar prickling on the back of his neck. “It will be dawn soon.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” He pulled her to the left, then began examining the rust-covered walls for an escape. “Once we’re released, we’ll have to find a way to break out of these cuffs.”

“Nice of you to state the obvious.” Amanda glanced down his body and saw the jagged wound through the torn material. “You really need to tend that.”

“God forbid I should bleed to death, eh?” he asked sardonically. “Then you’d have to cart around my rotting corpse.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Could you be any more morbid? Jeez. Who was your idol growing up? Boris Karloff?”

“Hannibal, actually.”

“You’re trying to scare me, aren’t you?” she asked. “Well, it won’t work. I grew up in a house with an angry poltergeist and two sisters who used to conjure demons just to fight them. Buster, I’ve seen it all, and your gallows humor isn’t working on me.”

Before he realized what she was doing, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it.

Amanda froze at the sight of his bare stomach. It was lean, hard, and flat, and he had a rippling six-pack of abs that any gymnast would envy. But what made her gasp was the multitude of scars covering his flesh.

Worse, she saw the terrible gash in his side that ran along his lowest rib.

“Good Lord, what happened to you?”

He jerked his shirt down and took a step back. “If you mean the scars, it would take me years to account for all of them. If you mean the gash, it came from a thirteen-year-old Apollite I mistook for a child in need of help.”

“You walked into a trap?”

He shrugged. “It’s not the first time.”

Amanda swallowed as she swept her gaze over him. An aura of danger and death surrounded him. He moved like a sleek, graceful predator, and those eyes …

They seemed to be able to take in more than just his basic surroundings. Those wicked jet eyes held an indescribable ethereal glint to them.

And they stole her breath every time he looked at her.

She’d never seen a blond man with eyes like that. Nor had she seen any man so incredibly handsome. His features were chiseled and perfect.

He oozed an almost unnatural masculine sexuality. She’d seen plenty of men who had tried their best to project what nature had dumped by the truckload onto this man.

“What is a Dark-Hunter?” she asked. “Is it like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’m a small, emaciated teenage girl who struts around fighting vampires in earrings they would rip out of my ears and shove up my—”

“I know you’re not a girl. But what is a Dark-Hunter?”

He sighed as he led her around the room, looking at the walls as if searching for a secret door. “In short, I execute the things that go bump in the night.”

A chill went up her spine at his words, and yet she sensed there was something more than just his simple explanation. He appeared deadly, but not twisted, or even cruel. “Why do you want to kill Desiderius?”

He glanced at her before trying to open the steel door again. He wrenched the handle so forcefully, she was amazed he didn’t rip the doorknob off. “Because he not only kills humans, he steals their souls.”

She tensed at his words. “Can he do that?”

“You said you’ve seen it all,” he said in a mocking tone. “You tell me.”

Amanda wanted to choke him. Never in her life had she met a more arrogant, or infuriating man.

“Why do I always get sucked into this supernatural mumbo jumbo?” she muttered. “Is it too much to ask that I have one average day?”

“Life is seldom what we want it to be.”

She frowned at his words, and at the odd note in his voice.

Kyrian tilted his head, and held his hand up to signal her for silence.

Out of nowhere, the doorknob clicked.

“Knock, knock,” Desiderius said. “You have the day to hide. Come nightfall, we hunt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter said. “You and your little dog, too.”

His blithe tone amazed her. The chilling words had absolutely no effect on him. “You’re not scared of his threats?”

He looked at her dryly. “Chère, the day I fear something like him is the day I lie down at his feet and hand him the knife to cut my heart out. The only fear I have is getting you back to your sister and convincing High Queen Hardhead to leave off this matter until I can locate Desiderius and send his soul into oblivion where it belongs.”

In spite of herself and the danger they were in, Amanda laughed at his words. “High Queen Hardhead? You know Tabitha well.”

He disregarded her comment as he carefully shielded her with his body, then opened the door slowly. He paused to look around.

Outside the door was a narrow hallway with large, dust-covered windows that showed the dawning sun.

“Damn,” Hunter snarled under his breath as he took a step back into the room.

“What?” she asked, her heart skipping a beat in terror. “Is someone out there?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go.” She started out the door.

He didn’t budge.

Clenching his teeth, he looked down the hallway again and said something in a language she didn’t know.

“What’s the problem?” Amanda asked. “It’s dawn, and no one’s out there. Let’s leave.”

He took a deep, aggravated breath. “The problem isn’t the people. The problem is the sun.”

“And the problem with that is…?”

He hesitated for a few heartbeats, then opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his long, pointed canine teeth.