“Pretty damn close.”
Hunter came out, pulling up his T-shirt until it was a band across his shoulders, exposing rock-hard pecs and sinewy biceps. He studied Leda on the bed a moment before pulling the T-shirt all the way off and tossing it to the floor. Between blood stains and the seams parting where it hadn’t quite fit his bulging shoulders, the garment was ruined.
Leda suspected Hunter went through most of his clothes this way—wore what he needed until it fell to pieces, then tossed it aside and grabbed something new. This house had been designed for someone who knew how to exist in the civilized world, but Hunter would be at home in a cave. She decided she liked that about him.
Hunter walked into the bathroom and laughed, his deep voice echoing on the marble walls. “You have to come and see this.”
Leda got herself off the bed and padded tiredly into the bathroom. Hunter stood in the middle of the wide marble floor, hands on hips.
A large shower with clear glass doors had spigots of various shapes and sizes all through its walls. The sink was black marble, contrasting the white of the walls, ceiling, and floor. In the middle of the room rose a round, black marble bathtub, with faucets of gleaming gold. The tub was large enough for two or three. Maybe even four.
“Hmm,” Hunter said, eyeing the tub. “I know what I want to do the rest of the night.”
“Sleep, I hope.”
“Are you tired?” Hunter asked, sounding surprised.
“Aren’t you?”
“Not really.” Hunter looked fresh and rested despite the pink scars in his back from the bullets and the dark whiskers on his jaw. He took a step forward and left a bloody footprint on the pristine white tile.
Leda gasped. “Hunter, your feet.”
Hunter looked down at them as though they were nothing remarkable. “What about them?”
“You’ve been running all over Los Angeles barefoot?”
Hunter slanted her his hot smile. “Sweetheart, I’ve spent my entire life barefoot. Centuries of it. Your peaceful island and the streets of Los Angeles are nothing to the jungles of Southeast Asia or the African veldt.”
“Which are full of snakes and poisonous insects.”
“They don’t bite me.”
“Oh, right, your affinity with animals. Speaking of that, will your brother be happy with a lion sleeping in the living room?”
“Mukasa has decided to sleep outside under the back deck. He doesn’t like to be enclosed.”
“He told you that?”
“He indicated it.”
Leda lifted her hands. “I used to have a sane life. Now I believe an Immortal warrior when he says a lion talks to him.”
“No, you didn’t.” Hunter moved to the bathtub and turned on the hot water tap. “Have a sane life, I mean. If you’re concerned about my feet, would you wash them for me?”
He sent her another wicked smile, then unzipped his jeans and slid them straight from his bare hips to the floor.
Hunter knew Leda’s gaze riveted to his bare back. He liked the way she looked at him, as though she loved everything she saw. Hunter was no stranger to women studying his body, but Leda’s focus was like a caress, betraying a desire that stirred his own.
He knew she watched his backside as he leaned to adjust the water and close the drain. For the first time in centuries, Hunter was contemplating sleeping with a woman on a somewhat permanent basis. He’d never let himself stay after the first night, maybe two, because he might make an emotional connection that would lead to pain on both sides. His usual practice was to make love, smile, and leave the woman with pleasant memories.
Hunter already regretted connecting with Leda, because he knew losing her would hurt, more than anything had hurt him in a long time. He wanted to snatch this moment of happiness and hold it tight; but at the same time, he should leave her in this fortress of safety and go.
He closed his eyes as Leda’s hands landed softly on his waist from behind him, as her lips brushed his back. Too late. Far too late to just go.
Her kisses touched his back near the scars Valdez’ men’s bullets had left. Hunter knew he shouldn’t have frightened her, pretending to die like that, but it had been fun to see the looks on the thugs’ faces when he’d stood up behind them. He chuckled about it even now.
“What’s so funny?” Leda’s breath floated across his skin.
“I was thinking about the morning we met.” He stepped away from her and into the tub, the hot water stinging the cuts on his feet.
“Which part?” Leda asked. She remained in place to watch him, arms folded across her chest, which pressed her breasts slightly upward.
“The best parts.”
Leda blushed. “Why did you say I didn’t used to have a sane life? I did—I took care of the animals, consulted on their placement, wrote my reports. Very calm, very quiet. And then you showed up.”
She wasn’t taking off her clothes, so Hunter reached out a wet hand and undid the top button of her shirt. “If your life was sane, why did you summon the groth demon and let it invade you?”
Pain entered her eyes. “Because there was no other way.”
“Your husband was dying, wasn’t he?” Hunter continued with the buttons, brushing his fingertips over the soft skin inside her shirt.
Leda nodded, not asking how he knew that. Summoning a demon was dangerous business—who would she have been willing to do that for? Hunter had at first thought one of her animals, but she’d have said so right away. She hadn’t mentioned siblings or parents. That left a man, probably her husband, whom she must have loved as much as Hunter had loved his fiery Kayla. Hunter understood that kind of love.
“He had a viral infection,” Leda said, her voice tired. “A very bad one, incurable. He was in the hospital, dying while I watched. Healing spells on top of medicine slowed it down a little, but it gave him only a few days. A very powerful mage might have been able to heal him, but I couldn’t find one in time. The groth demon came right away.”
Hunter did not ask her to describe exactly what had happened. Groth demons could heal, but only at high risk. The demon would fuse with the healer, threading his magic all the way through him or her, and help destroy the disease or heal the bones of the person who needed curing.
But the demon imprinted himself on the summoner, leaving a little piece of his death magic behind forever. The demon then usually demanded sex as payment—grinding down the summoner’s soul was never enough for them.
“You melded the demon’s magic with yours and saved your husband,” Hunter finished. Leda’s lashes were wet with tears, and Hunter pulled her to him, his hands dripping water onto her open shirt. “You must have loved him very much.”
“I did at the time.” Leda gave him a watery smile. “Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate the sacrifice.”
Hunter loved the way she smelled, all honey and roses. He kissed her forehead to avoid giving vent to his anger. “You are brave, and your selfish husband didn’t deserve you.”
“He wasn’t selfish,” Leda said quickly. “Anyone would have been upset by what I did.”
The flicker of her eyes betrayed the lie. The man had been selfish. Leda might not regret saving his life, but she regretted having loved him.
Hunter kissed her smooth hair. “Where does your ex-husband live? Want me to go scare him?”
“No, no. He’s gone on with his life, got married. To someone not a witch. I’m happy to never see him again.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” Hunter said.
Leda looked up at him. “I said that to you.”
“I was sent to you so I could take the demon’s magic out of you. That means you decided to summon the demon in the first place so you could meet me.”
Leda smiled, which had been his intention. “Sure, Hunter. Now we’re back to you being an arrogant shit.”
Hunter laughed and seized Leda around the waist, pulling her down with him into the mostly filled tub. She gasped as she fell
in, still dressed, water surging over the side in a large wave.
“Hunter!”
Hunter removed her wet clothes a piece at a time. The loosened shirt fell to the marble floor with a splat, followed by the strip of her bra. The jeans were more difficult, but he worked until he wriggled them from her legs and tossed them over the side. The underwear he simply ripped, breaking the bikini’s elastic strings.
Hunter gathered her close as they sank down to the cradling tub, liking her warm, bare, wet body on his. “The gods sent me to you,” he concluded, putting his arms around her. “It was fated, prophesied, destined, whatever. We shouldn’t fight it. Right?”
“You are so full of crap.”
He kissed her hair. “I want to stay with you, and I know I can’t, but I stay anyway. I could leave you now and make it so you never found me again, but I haven’t.”
“You’d want me to never find you again?” Leda asked, her eyes quiet.
“It would be easier that way.”
“Easier for who?”
Hunter frowned, his empty heart aching. “I don’t know.”
Leda kissed the corner of his mouth, and he scooped her to him, completing the kiss. Goddess, she tasted sweet. She felt good too, warm and slick under his hands.
“Why don’t you go then?” she whispered against his lips.
“I don’t want to.”
She slid up his body, her breasts slick against his chest. “It might be easier for me if you did. No more crazy Hunter to drive me insane. I can’t keep up with you.”
“You’re the one who ditched me.” Hunter captured her bottom lip in a light nip then released it. “Going off in the middle of the night like that. You shouldn’t have done it. Way too dangerous.” He wanted to keep growling at her, but he made himself soften his tone.
“I wanted to help Samantha,” Leda said. “She needs me. I can’t hide on my island when I’m needed.”
“Be careful of her,” Hunter said in all seriousness. “She might not be what she seems.”
“She’s upset and confused. I know enough about demons to tell when they’re beguiling me—I’ve become something of a demon expert since my groth experience. Samantha is fine.”
Hunter caressed her hair again. “Still, there’s something not right.”
Leda rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling down under his touch. “You said that in the car. You said the world was all wrong.”
He nodded. “As though there’s a veil between what’s real and what’s not. That’s what I felt on the street. I didn’t sense that on the island, though.”
“This is real.” Leda slapped the water, splashing them both. “We’re real. This bathroom is real.”
“Adrian’s magic is all over this house,” Hunter agreed. “Mine too now. Demons can’t get in except—”
A male voice finished, “When they come in on your dreams?”
Hunter jerked his head around. A tall man with unruly red hair and eyes of deep, impossible blue stood next to the bathtub. He wore a casual black suit, the jacket open, shirt unbuttoned. He had a pentacle tattoo on his right cheekbone and held Hunter’s serpentine sword point downward in his black-gloved hands.
Leda didn’t seem to see or hear him. She began nibbling Hunter’s collarbone, oblivious.
“Tain?” Hunter whispered.
Tain was solid and real, not an illusion, not a dream, except that Leda had no awareness he was there or that Hunter spoke to anyone.
“My wild brother Hunter.” Tain spoke in his faint Welsh accent, the words lilting in his soft way. Tain lifted the sword and rested the point on the lip of the tub, too near Leda’s neck for Hunter’s comfort. “You left me too.”
“Left you?” Hunter asked. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t seen you in centuries.”
“I was trapped, calling for help. But no one ever came.”
Hunter looked him up and down. The suit and gloves were expensive, the fashion, as far as Hunter knew about fashion, recent. “Looks like you escaped.”
“She set me free. My master and my lover. She thinks she’s tamed me.” Tain smiled. It was a chilling smile, and his eyes held a mad light.
“Yeah, I heard you were taking your pleasure with demons now,” Hunter said, trying not to betray he was poised to spring on Tain and beat him to a pulp if necessary. “I have to question your taste.”
“She becomes whatever I need her to be. It’s erotic pleasure as you’ve never experienced.”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know, little brother. I’ve experienced a lot.”
“Not like this.”
Tain leaned down, the sword’s point moving until it nearly touched Leda’s shoulder. Hunter grasped the tip and pushed it away, and Tain twisted the blade so it cut Hunter’s hand. Hunter didn’t let go, and drops of crimson blood trickled into the water.
“Come with me, Hunter. I’ll show you.” Tain scraped the sword deeper into Hunter’s palm. “It is pain and pleasure mixed together, and power like you never imagined.”
Hunter ignored the sting in his hand. “Now I know you have lost it.”
“The ones you loved were killed,” Tain said, ignoring Hunter’s words. “It hurt you so much. I remember you clawing at your chest, trying to beat the agony out of your heart. You didn’t know what to do with your grief. I can help you bring Kayla and your children back, you know, so you can be with them again.”
Hunter’s anger surged, becoming brighter, because, for a split second, he had felt a spark of hope. “How?” he growled. “In some nut-job illusion in my head? No way.”
Tain knelt beside the bathtub, one hand still locked around the sword. He touched Hunter’s cheek with the other. “It will be real. Come with me, and I’ll show you. You can bring the witch; you can have them both. There’s no taboo where we would be.”
Hunter felt the smooth leather of Tain’s gloves, smelled the spice of Tain’s breath. Tain was real, and here, but only to Hunter.
What kind of magic was this? It was more powerful than Immortal magic, and it didn’t hold the stink of death magic. This was Tain—his pure power.
Hunter scowled. “Is this master of yours—he, she, it, whatever—the same demon who pretended she was Leda yesterday? Who tried to get pregnant off me?”
“She came to you, yes. She cannot come inside here because Adrian guarded this house so well, but Adrian never guarded against me.”
“I’m thinking maybe he should have.”
Tain leaned closer, his lips brushing Hunter’s cheekbone. “I need you, Hunter. Of all my brothers, you are the closest to understanding.”
“Why, because you think I’m insane too?” Hunter pulled away from him, his heart hammering in fear and worry. “There’s a difference between me doing crazy shit because I don’t care what happens to me and you being twisted up inside your head by a demon. Go play bondage games by yourself.”
Tain looked straight at Hunter for the first time since he’d popped in, and Hunter stared into the blue depths of his brother’s eyes. Behind the madness Hunter saw something that was still Tain, a desperate spark holding itself in rigid despair.
That spark reached out to him, trying to pierce the darkness. Help me, Hunter. For the Goddess’ sake, help me.
Chapter Twelve
Hunter reached swiftly for the spark, but Tain closed his eyes and jerked away. When he opened them again, the sane light had gone.
“You will understand,” Tain said, voice hard. “And come willingly, in the end.”
Hunter scowled at him. “Yeah? I thought you wanted to die in the end. You plan to drain all the magic out of the world until nothing’s left. Doesn’t sound like a pleasure trip.”
“You will understand,” Tain repeated. “We will be together—you, me, Adrian, Darius, Kalen.”
“One big, happy Immortal family.”
Tain smiled. “Like old times.”
Hunter fought to keep from wrestling Tain to the floor and tryin
g to beat the madness out of him. For one thing, he didn’t think it would work. For another, he realized that Tain had grown incredibly strong, stronger than Hunter, maybe even stronger than Adrian. Hunter feared retaliation against Leda for anything he tried. For her sake, he kept still, holding her, and keeping that bloody sword away from her.
“I don’t remember these old times,” Hunter said. “We all had our own lives and our own things to do. We didn’t sit round the hearth fire singing karaoke.”
“You know what I mean. Working together, guarding each other’s backs. Fighting together.” Tain let out a soft sigh. “All that is gone.”
Hunter didn’t answer. Tain, the real Tain, was far away—this Tain was living in his own private fantasy world. Hunter had learned, as the son of Kali the Destroyer, that arguing with someone running on adrenaline and emotion was dangerous. His mother was not the most rational of goddesses, not someone he could sit down with for a serious heart-to-heart. Hunter had learned when to approach her and when to back off, and right now, with Tain, Hunter knew it was time to back off.
Tain slowly twisted the sword again, peeling another layer of skin from Hunter’s palm. Hunter refused to let go, fearing Tain would haul off and plunge the blade into Leda if he did. He had little doubt that, though Leda couldn’t see or hear what was going on, she’d be plenty dead if Tain stabbed her.
More blood dribbled into the bathtub, the droplets swirling like red smoke in the water. Tain very slowly withdrew the sword, Hunter’s hand burning all the way.
“It gets better,” Tain said. “The pain becomes exquisite. The best feeling you will ever experience.”
The collar of Tain’s shirt gaped slightly as he moved, and Hunter saw mottled scars on his chest, flesh not quite healed, rows and rows of even cuts disappearing under his shirt. “Son of a bitch,” Hunter said softly.
Tain cast a look at Leda. “She’ll die if you don’t come with me. She’ll be killed, or she’ll die at the end. But if you bring her—you can be with her forever.”
“This conversation is over,” Hunter said, voice hard. He reached for the magic Adrian had woven over the house and pulled it into his body, blending it with his own power. “Get out.”
The Gathering Page 12