Chapter 4
Chris sighed as he neared his Old English classroom. It was a typical day of suckage and blowage. His life should be great. He had all the money in the world. Every luxury known. There was nothing on the planet he could dream of that couldn't be his for the asking.
For that matter, Wulf had even flown Britney Spears in to sing at Chris's twenty-first-birthday party last spring. The only problem was that the attendees had consisted of him, his bodyguards, and Wulf, who ran around the whole time trying to make sure Chris didn't get a head wound or racked.
Not to mention the three million times Wulf had urged him to make a pass at Britney. Or at the very least propose to her-which she had rejected with a great deal of laughter that still rang in his ears.
All Chris really wanted was a normal life. More than that, he wanted his freedom.
Those were the only two things he couldn't have.
Wulf wouldn't let him leave the house unless he was tagged and tailed. The only time Chris could fly anywhere was if Acheron himself, the leader of the Dark-Hunters, came and picked him up and kept him within his eyesight the entire time. Every member of the Squires' Council understood that Chris was Wulf's last blood link to his brother. As such, he was guarded more zealously than a national treasure.
He felt like such an alien species, he wished he could find someplace where he wouldn't be a complete freak.
But it was impossible. There was no escaping his destiny.
No escaping what he was. . .
The last heir.
Without Chris and his children, Wulf would be alone for eternity because only a human born of Wulf's blood could ever remember him.
The only problem with that was finding a mother for those kids, and no one wanted to volunteer.
His ears still rang with Belinda's rejection from ten minutes ago.
"Go out with you? Pah-lease. Call me when you grow up and learn to dress right. "
Grinding his teeth, he tried not to think about her harsh words. He'd put on his best khaki pants and navy sweater just to ask her out. But he knew he wasn't suave or cool.
He had the social graces of an idiot. The average face of the boy next door and the confidence of a snail.
God, he was pathetic.
Chris paused at the door of his classroom to see the two male Theti Squires trailing him at a "discreet" distance. In their mid-thirties, both of them were over six feet tall, with dark hair and stern faces. Assigned to him by the Squires' Council, their sole duty was to watch over him and make sure nothing happened to him until he spawned enough kids to make Wulf happy.
Not that there was any big threat during the daylight. On rare occasions a Doulos-human servants for the Apollites-might attack a Squire, but those were so rare these days as to be worthy of national news coverage.
At night, Chris was forbidden to leave the property unless he was on a date. Which seemed impossible after his one-and-only girlfriend had dumped him.
He sighed at the prospect of trying to find someone else to go out with him. Why would they when they would have to be subjected to blood tests and physicals?
He groaned under his breath.
While he was in class, the Thetis would take up stations outside the door, thus guaranteeing Chris's freak status even more than his solitary nature.
And who could blame him for being solitary? Jeez, he'd grown up in a house where he wasn't allowed to run in case he hurt himself. If he ever got a cold of any sort, the Squires' Council called in specialists from the Mayo Clinic to treat him. What few children his father had imported to play with him from other Squire families had been given strict orders that they were never to touch him, or make him angry, or do anything to make Wulf angry at them.
So his "friends" would come over, sit and watch television with him. They seldom spoke for fear of getting into trouble and no one dared to even bring a present or share so much as a potato chip. Everything had to be thoroughly searched and detoxed before Chris was allowed to play with it. After all, one little germ and he might become sterile or, God forbid, die.
The burden of civilization was upon him, or more to the point, the burden of Wulf's lineage was upon him.
The only real friend Chris had in his life was Nick Gautier, a Squire recruit he'd met online a couple of years ago. Too new to their world to understand Chris's gilded status, Nick had treated him like a human being and the Cajun agreed that Chris's life seriously sucked in spite of the benefits that came along with it.
Hell, the only reason he'd been able to convince Wulf to let him go to college, instead of hiring professors to come to the house and teach him, was the fact that here he might actually meet an eligible ovary donor. Wulf had been giddy at the prospect and interrogated him every night on whether or not he met a new woman.
More to the point, had he scored with her?
Sighing again, Chris entered the room and kept his gaze lowered so that he wouldn't see the glares or sneers most of the students directed at him. If they didn't hate him for being Dr. Mitchell's pet, they hated him for being an overprivileged geek. He was used to it.
He flopped down in a vacant chair in the back corner and dug out his notebook and text.
"Hi, Chris. "
He started at the friendly feminine voice.
Looking up, he saw Cassandra's beaming smile.
Totally dumbstruck, it was a full minute before he could respond to her. "Hi," he answered back lamely.
He hated himself for being so damned stupid. Nick could probably have had her eating out of his hand.
She sat down next to him.
He broke out into a sweat. Clearing his throat, he did his best to ignore her and the light scent of roses that drifted from her over to him. She always smelled incredible.
Cassandra opened her book to the assignment and watched Chris. He seemed even more nervous now than he had at the coffee shop.
She glanced down at his backpack, hoping to see another glimpse of the shield, but he'd concealed it completely.
Damn.
"So, Chris," she said softly, leaning a little closer to him. "I was wondering if I might be able to study with you later. "
He blanched and looked like he was almost ready to bolt. "Study? With me?"
"Yeah. You said you knew this stuff really well and I'd like to make an A on the test. What do you think?"
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously-clearly a habit since he seemed to do it so frequently. "You sure you want me to study with you?"
"Yes. "
He smiled sheepishly, but refused to meet her gaze. "Sure, I guess that would be okay. "
Cassandra sat back with a satisfied smile as Dr. Mitchell came in and commanded everyone to silence.
She'd spent hours on the Dark-Hunter. com Web site after her last class, going through every part of it. On the surface, it appeared to be some kind of role-playing group or book site.
But there were entire sections of it that were password protected. Secret loops and areas that she couldn't access no matter how hard she tried. There were many things about it that reminded her of the Apollite site.
No, this wasn't a gaming group. She had stumbled upon the real Dark-Hunters. She knew it.
They were the last great mystery of the modern world. Living myths that no one knew about.
But she knew they were there. And she was going to find a way into their society and find some answers even if it killed her.
Sitting through that class while the professor droned on about Hrothgar and Shield was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. As soon as it ended, she packed up and waited for Chris.
As they neared the door, she saw the two men dressed in black who immediately flanked them while eyeballing her.
Chris let out a disgusted sound.
Cassandra laughed in spite of herself. "Are they with you?"
"I really wish
I could say no. "
She patted his arm in sympathy. She jerked her chin to indicate down the hall where Kat was standing up and tucking away her book. "I got one myself. "
Chris smiled at that. "Thank God, I'm not the only one. "
"Nah, don't worry about it. I told you I understand completely. "
The relief on his face was tangible. "So when would you like to study?"
"How about now?"
"Okay, where?"
There was only one place Cassandra was dying to get into. She hoped it would hold more clues about the man she'd met last night. "Your place?"
His nervousness was back instantly, confirming her suspicions. "I don't know if that's a good idea. "
"Why?"
"I just. . . it's just. . . I, um, I just don't think it's a good idea, okay?"
Stymied already. Cassandra forced herself to hide her irritation. She'd have to tread carefully if she was to get past his defenses. But then she understood that. She had her own secrets to hide.
"Okay, you pick the place. "
"The library?"
She bristled. "I can't ever get comfy there. I'm always afraid of being told to hush. Want to come back to my apartment?"
He looked totally stunned by her offer. "Really?"
"Sure. I mean, I don't usually bite or anything. "
He laughed. "Yeah, me either. " He took two steps off with her, then turned to the men trailing them. "We are just going to her place, okay? Why don't you guys go get a doughnut or something?"
They didn't acknowledge him in the least.
Kat laughed.
Cassandra led the way to the students' parking lot and then gave Chris directions to her apartment. "See you there?"
He nodded and made his way toward a red Hummer.
Cassandra dashed to her gray Mercedes, where Kat was waiting in the driver's seat. They headed home, while Cassandra hoped Chris didn't wait too long or, worse, change his mind.
Not until she had a chance to search his backpack, anyway.
It took her two hours of boring Beowulf study and a pot of coffee before Chris left her alone with his backpack while he went to the bathroom. Kat had long since retired to her bedroom, claiming the dead language and Chris's enthusiasm for it was giving her a migraine.
As soon as Chris vanished, Cassandra went searching.
Luckily, it didn't take long to find what she was looking for. . .
She found the day planner in his backpack where she had seen it earlier. The binder of it was hand-tooled leather with a strange emblem on the front: a double bow and arrow that was tilted up with the arrow pointing to the right.
Just like the one she had seen on Wulf's shoulder in her dream. . .
She ran her hand over the brown leather, then opened it to find that everything was written in Runic. The language was similar to Old English, but she couldn't read it.
Old Norse, perhaps?
"What are you doing?"
She jumped at Chris's sharp question. It took a few seconds for her to think of anything to say that wouldn't make him even more suspicious. "You're one of those gamers, aren't you?"
His blue gaze narrowed on her and turned sharp. "What are you talking about?"
"I. . . um, I went to this site called Dark-Hunter and found all these teasers about a book series and game. Since I had seen your book earlier, I was wondering if you were one of the members who plays there. "
She could tell he was searching his mind and her face to see what, if anything, he should say.
"Yeah, my friend Nick runs the site," he said after a long pause. "We have a lot of interesting people who play there. "
"I saw that. Do you have one of those names like Hellion or Rogue that you play under?"
He came forward and took the day planner from her. "No, I just use 'Chris. ' "
"Ah. So what goes on in the private areas?"
"Nothing," he said a little too fast. "Just a bunch of us BSing each other. "
"Then why is it private?"
"It just is. " He grabbed the book from her hand and shoved it back into his backpack. "Look, I have to go now. Good luck on the test. "
Cassandra wanted to stop him and ask more questions, but it was painfully obvious he had no intention of letting her know anything else about them or him.
"Thanks, Chris. I appreciate the help. "
He nodded and made a hasty exit.
Alone in her kitchen, Cassandra sat in the chair, chewing her thumbnail as she debated how to proceed. She thought about tailing Chris to his house, but that wouldn't do much good. No doubt his bodyguards would catch her, even with Kat's cockamamie driving.
Getting up, she went to the laptop in her room and booted it up.
Okay, the Dark-Hunter site was designed as if the Dark-Hunters were characters in a book. Most people would accept that, but what if she reviewed it again from the angle that nothing on the site was false?
She'd spent her life in hiding and one thing she had learned. . . the best place to hide was out in the open. People had a tendency to not see what was right before them.
And even if they saw it, they came up with ways to explain it away. They would say it was a figment of then-imagination or youthful pranks.
No doubt the Dark-Hunters thought the same thing. After all, in this modern world where everyone knew about vampires and demons and thought them a Hollywood myth, they wouldn't even necessarily have to hide. Most people would write them off as eccentrics.
She watched the intro to the site, then switched to the profile pages of the individual Hunters who were listed.
There was one there for a character named Wulf Tryggvason whose Squire was named Chris Eriksson. Supposedly, Wulf was a Viking warrior who had been cursed. . .
Cassandra copied Wulf's name and then searched the Nillstrom-an Old Norse legend-and-history search engine.
"Bingo," she whispered as several entries popped up.
Born of a Christian mother from Gaul and a Norse father, Wulf Tryggvason had been a renowned adventurer and raider of the mid-eighth century whose death was unrecorded. In fact, it only said that he had vanished one day after he had won a battle against a Mercian warlord who had been trying to kill him. Popular belief had it that one of the warlord's sons had vengefully slain him that night.
Cassandra heard her bedroom door open. Looking up, she saw Kat standing in the doorway.
"You busy?" Kat asked.
"I was just doing some more research. "
"Ah. " Kat moved forward to read over her shoulder. " 'Wulf Tryggvason. Pirate, risk-taker, and warrior, he fought his way across Europe, hiring himself out to both Christian and pagan alike. It was once written that his only loyalty was to his sword and to his brother Erik who traveled with him. . . ' Interesting. You think this might be the guy you saw at the Inferno?"
"Maybe. You ever heard of him?"
"Not at all. You want me to ask Jimmy? He's all into Viking history. "
Cassandra considered it for a second. Kat's friend was in the Society of Creative Anachronism and lived to study Viking culture.
But it wasn't Wulf's past that interested her at the moment. It was his present, and what she wanted most was a modern-day address for him.
"It's okay. "
"You sure?'
"Yeah. "
Kat nodded. "Fine then, I'll just head back to my room and finish my book. You want me to bring you something to munch on or drink?"
Cassandra smiled at the offer. "A soda would be great. "
Kat vanished only to return a few minutes later with a Sprite. Cassandra thanked her, then went back to work while Kat left her alone.
Cassandra sipped her drink leisurely as she surfed. About an hour later, she was so tired, she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
Yawning, she checked the time. It was barely five-thirty. Even so, her eyelids were so heavy that she
couldn't stay awake no matter how hard she tried.
She shut down her computer, then headed for bed to take a short nap.
She fell asleep the instant her head touched the pillow. Normally, Cassandra didn't dream much whenever she took an afternoon nap.
Today was completely different.
Today her dreams started almost as soon as she closed her eyes.
How strange. . .
But the oddest part of all was that her fantasy realm bore no resemblance to anything she'd ever dreamt before. Instead of her normal dreams of glamour or horror, this one was peaceful. Gentle. And it filled her with warm security.
She was dressed in a soft dark green gown like some medieval lady. Frowning, she ran her hand over the material, which was softer than chamois.
Alone inside a stone cottage where a warm fire blazed in a large hearth, she stood off to the side of an old wooden table. The winds howled outside a window that was covered by a wooden shutter that clattered noisily as it tried to keep the winter winds out.
She heard someone at the door behind her.
Cassandra turned around just in time to see Wulf shoulder it open. Her heart stopped as she caught sight of him dressed in a chain-mail vest of sorts. His massive arms were bare with his torso and mail covered by a leather vest that had Nordic designs burned into it. The designs matched the tattoo on his right shoulder and biceps.
His conical helm covered his head and had more mail attached to it that covered his face, virtually obscuring it. But for those intense, heated eyes, she would never have known it was Wulf under there. He held a small battle-axe in one hand, resting it over his shoulder. He looked primitive and wild. The kind of man who had once owned the world. One who was afraid of nothing.
His dark gaze swept the room, then stopped on her. She watched a slow, seductive smile break across the lower half of his face, showing off his fangs.
"Cassandra, my love," he greeted, his voice warm and enchanting. "What are you doing here?"
"I have no idea," she answered honestly. "I'm not even sure where here is. "
He laughed at that, a deep, rumbling sound, then shut the door and bolted it. "You're in my home, villkat. At least what was once my home long ago. "
She looked about the spartan place, which was furnished with a table, chairs, and one very large fur-covered bed. "Strange, I would have thought Wulf Tryggvason had a better place than this to call his own. "
He set the axe down on the table, then removed his helm and placed it over the axe.
Cassandra was floored by the masculine beauty of the man before her. He oozed a raw, sexual appeal that no one could ever rival.
"Compared to the small farm where I grew up, this is a mansion, my lady. "
"Really?"
He nodded as he pulled her up against him. His eyes scorched her and filled her with a deep, aching need. She knew exactly what he wanted, and though she barely knew him at all, she was more than willing to give it to him.
"My father was once a warring raider who took a vow of poverty years before I was born," Wulf said huskily.
His confession surprised her. "What made him do that?"
His grip on her tightened. "The downfall of all men, I'm afraid. . . Love. My mother was a captured Christian slave who had been given to him by his father after one of their raids. She beguiled him, and in the end she tamed him and turned a once-proud warrior into a docile farmer who refused to lift his sword lest he offend his newfound God. "
She could hear the raw emotions in his voice. The contempt he felt for anyone who would choose peace over war. "You disagreed with his choice?"
"Aye, what good is a man who cannot protect himself and those he loves?" His eyes turned dark, deadly. The rage inside them made her shiver. "When the Jutes came to our village to loot and take slaves, I am told he held his hands out and let them run him through. Everyone who survived mocked him for his cowardice. He who had once made his enemies quake in terror at the mention of his name died at the slaughter like a defenseless calf. I have never understood how he could just stand there and take a killing blow without trying to defend himself. "
She reached up to smooth his brow with her fingers as his pain reached out to her. But it wasn't hatred or condescension she heard in his voice. It was guilt. "I'm so sorry. "
"As was I," he whispered, his eyes turning even stormier. "It wasn't bad enough that I left him there to die, but I took my brother as well. There was no one there to protect him in our absence. "
"Where were you?"
He dropped his gaze to the floor, but still she could see his self-recrimination. He wanted to go back and change that moment, just as she wished she could take back the night the Spathi Daimons had killed her mother and sisters.
"I had left the summer before in search of war and riches. " He released her and looked about his modest home. "After word of his death reached me, riches no longer seemed important to me. Disagreements aside, I should have been there with him. "
She touched his bare arm. "You must have loved your father greatly. "
He let out a tired breath. "At times. At others I hated him. Hated him for not being the man he should have been. His father was a respected jarl and yet we lived like starving beggars. Mocked and spat upon by our own kin. My mother took pride in the insults, saying it was God's will that we suffer. It was somehow making us better people, but I never believed her. My father's blind devotion to her beliefs only angered me more. We fought, he and I, constantly. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and to take their abuse and say nothing. "
The torment in his eyes touched her even more than the gentleness of his hand on hers. "He wanted me to be something I wasn't. But I couldn't turn the other cheek. 'Twas never in my nature to not answer insult with insult. Blow with blow. "
He turned and looked at her with a scowl. "Why am I telling you this?"
Cassandra thought about it for a second. "The dream, I'm sure. It's probably on your mind. " Though why it would be in her dream, she couldn't imagine.
In fact, this dream was getting odder by the minute and she couldn't figure out why her subconscious would come here.
Why was she conjuring up this fantasy about her mysterious Dark-Hunter. . . ?
He nodded. "Aye, no doubt. I fear I am doing to Christopher what was once done to me. I should let him live his life as his own and not interfere with his choices so often. "
"Why can't you?"
"Honestly?"
She smiled. "I certainly prefer honesty to lies. "
He gave a light laugh, then his face turned brooding again. "I don't want to lose him too. " His voice was so deep and aching that it made her heart clench. "And yet I know I have no choice except to lose him. "
"Why?"
"Everyone dies, my lady. At least in the mortal realm. Yet I go on as everyone around me perishes over and over again. " He lifted his gaze to hers. The agony on his face reached deep inside her. "Have you any idea what it is like to hold a loved one in your arms while they die?"
Cassandra's chest drew tight as she thought of her mother's and sisters' deaths. She had wanted to go to them after the explosion, but her bodyguard had pulled her away while she howled in grief for their loss.
"It's too late to help them, Cassie. We have to run. "
Her soul had screamed that day.
Sometimes it screamed even now at the injustice of her life.
"Yes, I do," she whispered. "I, too, have seen everyone I love die. My father is all I have left. "
His gaze sharpened. "Then imagine doing it thousands of times, century after century. Imagine watching them be born, live, and then die while you carry on and start over with each new generation. Every time I see a member of my family die, it is like watching my brother Erik die all over again. And Chris. . . " He winced as if the very mention of Chris's name caused him pain. "He is my brother made over in face and form. " One corner o
f his mouth lifted in wry amusement. "And mouth as well as temperament. Of all the family I have lost, his death will be the hardest to bear, I think. "
She saw the vulnerability in his eyes and it affected her deeply that this fierce man would have so human a fault. "He's still young. His whole life is ahead of him. "
"Perhaps. . . but my brother was only twenty-four when he was slain by our enemies. I will never forget the look on his son Bironulf's young face when he saw his father fall in battle. All I could think of was saving the boy. "
"Obviously you did. "
"Aye. I swore I would never let Bironulf die as his father had. All his life, I kept him safe and he died an old man, in his sleep. Peacefully. " He paused for a moment. "I guess in the end I do follow my mother's beliefs more than those of my father. The Norse believed in dying young in battle so that we could enter the halls of Valhalla, but like my mother, I wanted a different fate for those I loved. 'Tis a pity I came to understand her feelings far too late. "
Wulf shook his head as if to banish those thoughts. He frowned at her. "I can't believe I'm thinking of this while I have such a beautiful maid with me. I am truly growing old when I would rather talk than take action," he said with a deep laugh. "Enough of my morbid thoughts. "
He pulled her forcefully against him. "Now why are we wasting our time when we could be spending it much more productively?"
"Productively how?"
His smile was wicked, warm, and it devoured her. "I am thinking my tongue could be put to much better use. What say you?"
He ran said member up the column of her throat until he could nibble her ear. His warm breath scorched her neck, causing her to shiver.
"Oh yeah," she breathed. "I'm thinking that is a much better use of your tongue. "
He laughed while he unlaced the back of her gown. Slowly, seductively, he pulled it from her shoulders and let it fall straight to the floor. The fabric slid sensuously against her flesh as it left her body and cold air caressed her.
Naked before him, she couldn't suppress a deep tremble. It was so odd to be exposed while he stood before her wearing his armor. The firelight played in his dark eyes.
Wulf stared at the unadorned beauty of the woman before him. She was even more luscious than she had been the last time he'd dreamed of her. He ran his hand tenderly over her breast, letting the nipple tease his palm.
She reminded him of Saga, the Norse goddess of poetry. Elegant, refined. Gentle. Things he had spurned as a mortal man.
Now he was captivated by her.
He still didn't know why he had confided in her. It wasn't like him to speak so freely, and yet she had lured him.
But he didn't want to make love to her here. Not in the past where his memories and guilt over those he had failed slashed at him.
She deserved better than this.
Closing his eyes, he conjured them into a facsimile of his modern bedroom. Only he made a few modifications. . .
Cassandra gasped as she pulled back slightly and looked around. The walls surrounding them were reflective black with white trim, except the wall to her right, which was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. The open windows were framed by gauzy white curtains that fluttered in the wind, reaching out toward them and making the candlelight from dozens of candles in the room dance.
But the candles didn't go out. They twinkled all around them like stars.
There was a large bed in the center of the room, up high on a raised platform. It had black silk sheets and a thick black silk duvet over a down comforter. The bed was made of ornate ironwork that formed an intricate square canopy between the four posts. More of the white gauzy material was wrapped around it and was left to twist in the wind.
Wulf was naked now. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the huge, welcoming bed.
Cassandra sighed as she felt the soft mattress under her while Wulf's weight pressed down on her from above. It was like being pressed into a cloud.
Looking up, she laughed as she realized there was a mirror on the ceiling, and she saw that Wulf was holding a long-stemmed rose behind his back.
The walls flashed, then they too became mirrors.
"Whose fantasy is this?" she asked as Wulf brought the rose forward and brushed its soft petals over the swollen nipple of her right breast.
"Ours, blomster" Wulf said as he parted her thighs and laid his large body between her legs.
She moaned at the rich sensation of having all his lush power lying over her. The masculine hairs of his body teased hers into an overload of sensual ecstasy.
He moved over her sinuously, like some dark, forbidden beast who was out to consume her.
Cassandra watched him move in the mirror above her. How odd that she had created him in her dreams. She'd always been so cautious in her life. So careful of whom she let touch her. So she had conjured a glorious lover in her subconscious whereas she dared not allow one in real life.
Because of her death sentence, she didn't want anyone to fall in love with her or care for her. She didn't want to bear a child who would mourn her. A child who would be left alone, frightened.
Hunted.
The last thing she wanted was to leave someone like Wulf behind to grieve her death. Someone who would have to watch his child die in the full bloom of youth because of a curse that had nothing to do with any of his actions.
But in her dreams, she was free to love him with her body. There was no fear here. No promises. No hearts to be broken.
Just them and this one perfect moment.
Wulf groaned deep in his throat as he nibbled her hip. She hissed and cupped his head. He let the softness of her hands in his hair soothe him.
For so long he had wandered through the past in his dreams. Always searching for the one who had tricked him into trading places. He was never destined to be a Dark-Hunter. He had never sworn his soul to Artemis or received an Act of Vengeance in exchange for his service.
Wulf had been seeking someone to soothe the pain he felt at his brother's death. A tender body he could sink himself into and forget for just a moment that he had led Erik into battle far away from their homeland.
Morginne had seemed the perfect answer. She'd been as eager for him as he had been for her.
But the morning after his one night with the Dark-Huntress, everything had changed. Somehow either during their sexual encounter or right after it, she had traded souls with him. Mortal no longer, he had found himself born into a new life.
And viciously cursed by Morginne so that no mortal could remember him. Meanwhile she had escaped Artemis's service so that she could spend eternity with the Norse god Loki.
Her parting curse had been the crudest blow of all and it was one he didn't understand to this day.
Not even his nephew Bironulf had known him afterward.
Wulf would be completely lost now had Acheron Parthenopaeus not taken pity on his situation. Acheron, the leader of the Dark-Hunters, had told him that no one could undo Morginne's trickery, but that Acheron could modify it. Taking a drop of Bironulf's blood, Acheron had made it so that all who carried his blood would remember Wulf. Furthermore, the Atlantean had given Wulf psychic powers and explained to Wulf how he had become immortal and what his limitations were, such as his sensitivity to sunlight.
So long as Artemis held Wulf's "new" soul, he had no choice except to serve her.
Artemis had no intention of ever letting him go. Not that he really minded. Immortality had its benefits.
The woman under him was definitely one of them. He ran his hand down her thigh and listened to her breathing. She tasted of salt and woman. Smelled of powder and roses.
Her scent and taste stirred him to a level he'd never known before. For the first time in centuries, he felt possessive toward a woman.
He wanted to keep this one. The Viking in him roared to life. In his human time, he would have carried her of
f and slain any who dared try to keep him from her.
Even after all these centuries, he was no closer to being civilized. He took what he wanted. Always.
Cassandra yelped the moment Wulf took her into his mouth. Her body sizzled with desire for him. She arched her back and watched him in the mirror above the bed.
She'd never seen anything more erotic than the sight of Wulf teasing her while the muscles of his back flexed. She could see every inch of his tawny, naked body while he pleased her. And he had an incredible body.
One she wanted to touch.
Moving her legs under his body, she used her feet to gently caress the hard length of his cock.
He growled in response. "You have very talented feet, villkatt. "
"All the better to stroke you with," she said, her voice light as she thought about the fact that she felt like Little Red Riding Hood being eaten by the Big Bad Wulf.
His laughter joined hers. She buried her hands in the soft waves of his hair and let him have his way with her. His tongue was the most incredible thing she'd ever known as he swirled it around her. Licking, teasing, tasting.
Just when she didn't think she could feel any better, he slid two fingers deep inside her.
Cassandra came immediately.
Still he continued caressing her until she was on fire and weak from the bliss.
"Mmm," he breathed, pulling away from her. "I think my kitten is hungry. "
"Famished," she said, pulling him up her body so that she could feast on his skin the way he had feasted on hers.
She buried her lips against his neck and nibbled with every part of her that was desperately hungry for him. What was it about this man that drove her wild with desire? He was magnificent. Hot. Sexy. She'd never wanted anyone like this.
Wulf couldn't stand the way she grabbed at him. It made him insane for her. It heightened his need until he was practically dizzy.
Unable to tolerate any more, he rolled her onto her side and entered her.
Cassandra cried out at the unexpected pleasure that filled her. Lying completely on her side, she'd never had a man inside her in this position. Wulf was so deep that she swore she could feel him all the way to her womb.
She watched him in the mirrored wall as he thrust into her over and over, deeper and deeper, until she wanted to scream with pleasure.
The power and strength of him was unlike anything she'd ever known. Every forceful stroke made her weak, breathless.
She came again an instant before he did.
Wulf pulled back from her and lay down beside her.
His heart was pounding from the fury of their passion. But still he wasn't sated. Reaching for her, he pulled her across his chest so that he could feel her with every inch of his body.
"You are spectacular, villkat. "
She nuzzled his chest with her face. "You're not too bad either, villwulf. "
He laughed at her made-up endearment. He really liked this woman and her wit.
Cassandra lay in the peace of Wulf's arms. For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe. As if nothing or no one could touch her. She'd never felt this way. Not even as a child. She'd grown up always afraid whenever someone unknown had knocked on the door.
Every stranger was under suspicion. At night, it could easily be a Daimon or Apollite out to see her dead. During the day, it could be a Doulos after her.
But something told her that Wulf wouldn't let them threaten her at all.
"Cassandra?"
She frowned at the sound of a woman's voice intruding into her dream.
"Cassandra?"
Against her will, she was pulled out of her dream only to find herself asleep in her own bed.
The knocking continued.
"Cass? Are you all right?"
She recognized Michelle's voice. It was a struggle to awaken enough so that she could sit up in bed.
She was naked once more.
Frowning, Cassandra saw her clothes in a crumpled heap. What the hell was this? Had she been sleepwalking or something?
"I'm here, Chel," she said as she got up and pulled on her red bathrobe. She opened the door to find her friend and Kat on the other side.
"Are you okay?" Michelle asked.
Yawning, Cassandra rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine. Just taking a nap. "
But she didn't really feel fine. She felt much more like some sort of narcoleptic.
"What time is it?"
"It's eight-thirty, hon," Kat supplied.
Michelle looked back and forth between them. "You said you guys would go back to the Inferno with me, but if you don't feel like it. . . "
Cassandra caught the disappointment in Michelle's voice. "No, no, it's okay. Let me get dressed and we'll go. "
Michelle beamed.
Kat looked at her suspiciously. "Are you sure you feel up to it?"
"I'm fine, really. I didn't sleep well last night and I just needed a nap. "
Kat made a rude noise. "It's all that Beowulf you and Chris were reading. It sucked all the energy right out of you. Beowulf. . . incubus. . . same thing. "
Now that was just a little too close to home for Cassandra's comfort.
She laughed nervously. "Yeah. I'll be out in a few minutes. "
Cassandra shut the door and turned back toward her crumpled clothes.
What was going on here?
Was Beowulf really an incubus?
Maybe. . .
Brushing the ridiculous thought aside, she picked up her clothes and added them to the laundry hamper, then dressed herself in a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater.
As she prepared to leave, a strange tingle ran through her. Something was going to happen tonight. She knew it. She didn't have her mother's psychic powers, but she did get strong feelings whenever something good or bad was going to happen.
Unfortunately, she just couldn't tell which one it would be until it was too late.
But something was definitely up tonight.
Kiss of the Night Page 5