"Told them what, Artemis? Behave or the bitch-goddess will unleash her insane killer on you?"
"I am not a bitch!"
He moved to stand before her, pressing her back against the column. "You have no idea what you have created, do you?"
"He's nothing more than a servant. I can recall him."
He looked at her trembling hands and the beads of perspiration on her forehead.
"Then why are you shaking?" he asked. "Tell me how he got loose."
She swallowed. But wisely gave him the information he sought. "Dion did it. He was bragging in the hall about it right before I came to tell you."
"Dionysus?"
She nodded.
Ash cursed himself this time. He shouldn't have removed the god's memory of their fight in New Orleans. He should have let the idiot know exactly what he was dealing with. Left Dionysus so scared of him that the Olympian god would never again dare to confront him or any of his men.
But no, he'd sought to protect Artemis. She didn't want her family to know who and what he was.
To them he was only her pet. A human curiosity, easily discarded and dismissed.
If they only knew…
He'd removed enough of everyone's memory of that night so they would only recall that a fight had happened and who the winners were.
Not even Artemis remembered everything.
Artemis had promised him Dionysus wouldn't go after Zarek for retribution. But then Artemis had thought to kill Zarek herself.
When would he learn?
She could never be trusted.
Ash moved away from her. "You have no idea what it does to someone to lock them away. To place them in a hole where they're forgotten."
"And you do?"
Ash fell silent as suppressed memories flooded him. Painful, bitter memories that haunted him whenever he dared to think of the past.
"You'd best pray that you never learn what it feels like. The madness, the thirst. The anger. You've created a monster, Artemis, and I'm the only one who can kill it."
"Then we're in for a bit of a problem, aren't we? You can't leave."
He narrowed his eyes.
She stepped back again. "I told you, I will contact the Oracles and have them bring him home again."
"You better, Artemis. Because if you don't get him under control, the world is going to become the very thing that makes you wake up screaming at night."
Zarek lay on the beach, still inside Astrid, as the waves ran over their bodies. This dream was so real and intense that he never wanted to wake from it.
What would it be like to have her for real?
But even as he thought about that, he knew the truth. A woman like Astrid had no use or need for a man like him.
It was only in his dreams that he could be wanted. Needed.
Human.
He moved to her side so that he could watch the water run over her naked body. Her hair was wet, plastered to her skin. She looked like a sea nymph that had just swum ashore to bask in the warm sunlight and seduce him with her curves and silken skin.
She looked up at him with a sweet smile that made his heart pound as she ran her hand over his arms and chest.
Astrid lay in silence, watching him, too. Zarek looked so lost now, as if their lovemaking had left him confused.
She wondered what it would take to tame this man, just a little. Only enough so that other people could see what she saw.
At least now he let her touch him without cursing or withdrawing from her.
It was a start.
She trailed her hand lower over the hard planes of his chest, down the perfect definitions of his abdomen. Hunger ignited in his eyes as she moved her hand lower.
Astrid licked her lips, wondering if she dared be even more bold with him. She still wasn't sure how he would react to anything.
She played with the small, crisp hairs that ran downward from his navel, raking her fingers through them. He was already starring to harden…
Zarek held his breath as he watched her. Her hand felt wonderful on his body as she drew circles around his navel and trailed her fingernail down the short, light dusting of hair on his stomach.
Already he was craving her again.
Then she moved her hand lower.
He growled as she cupped his sac in her palm. Her warm hand enclosed him, squeezing him exquisitely.
His groin jerked, and all the blood rushed back into the region, making him hard and aching for her.
She ran her finger down his shaft to the tip, where she toyed with him. "I think you like it when I do that."
He answered her with a kiss.
Astrid moaned at the passion he showed. He throbbed in her hand while his tongue danced with hers, exciting her to the highest level of need.
She pulled away reluctantly, desperate to give him what was unknown to him.
Kindness.
Acceptance.
Love.
The word caught in her mind. She knew she didn't love him. She barely knew him, and yet…
He made her feel again. Touched the emotions she had feared were forever lost. She owed him much for that.
Kissing his lips lightly, she scooted down his body.
Zarek frowned at her actions. He didn't know what she had planned until she laid herself over his stomach. Her bare back was exposed to him as she continued to stroke him with her hand.
He ran his hand through her long, wet blond hair, trailing it over her bare back while her breath tickled his hip. Her skin was so soft, so tender. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on it.
She moved lower.
Zarek gasped as she took the tip of his shaft slowly into her warm mouth.
He was frozen by pleasure. The feel of her lips and tongue caressing him was unlike anything he'd experienced before. No woman but Astrid had ever touched him there. He'd never allowed it.
But he doubted he could deny her anything after this. She had laid claim to him in a way no one ever had.
Astrid moaned at the salty taste of him. When her sisters had told her about this, she had always considered it obscene and nasty. At the time and for centuries afterward, she couldn't imagine herself ever doing something like this with a man.
But she did it for Zarek; there was nothing obscene about the feelings inside her. Nothing obscene about the way he tasted.
She was giving him a rare moment of pleasure, and strange as it seemed, she enjoyed it, too.
He gripped her shoulders and groaned in response to every lick, nibble, and suckle she gave him. His warm response urged her on. She really wanted to please him. To give him all the things he deserved.
Zarek arched his back, letting her have her way with him. It amazed him that he allowed her to do this. Never before had he trusted a lover with his body. He'd always been in complete control.
The woman didn't touch him. Ever.
She didn't caress or kiss him.
He bent her over, did his business, and walked off.
But with Astrid it was different. He felt as if he were sharing himself with her. As if she were sharing herself with him.
It was mutual and wonderful.
Astrid started as she felt Zarek's fingers slide down her cleft. Opening her legs for him, she gave him access as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth.
Zarek turned more to his side all the while his fingers stroked and delved.
She shivered at the warmth of his touch as the cool surf rushed around them. The heat of the sun on her skin was nothing compared to the heat his touch provided.
He made her burn.
He nudged her legs farther apart.
Astrid moaned as his mouth covered her.
Her head swam in pleasure as he ran his tongue over the center of her body where she craved more of his touch. His tongue flicked across her, spearing her. Enticing her.
His hands gripped her hips as he pressed her pelvis closer to him so that he could torture her with more wicked delights.
>
Zarek shook at the sensation of tasting her while she tasted him. This was so much more than sex they shared.
She was right, they were making love to each other.
And it shook him all the way to his missing soul.
They took their time with each other, stroking, caressing, making sure that they were both sated. They came together in one pure burst of emotion.
Astrid pulled back as Zarek continued to tease her.
So intent on her, Zarek wasn't paying attention to the water. Not until a large wave rolled over them.
He sputtered as he swallowed a large amount of water.
The wave rolled back, leaving both of them choking and gasping.
Astrid laughed, the sound dulcet and vibrant. "Now that was interesting."
He kissed his way up her body so that he could smile down at her. "More aggravating, in my opinion."
She reached her hand up to touch his cheeks. "Prince Charming has dimples."
He stopped smiling instantly and looked away.
She turned his head back toward her. "Don't stop smiling, Zarek. I like this side of you."
His eyes flared angrily. "Meaning you don't like the other side of me?"
She made a disgusted sound at him. "You are so surly." She ran her hand down his back until she could cup his naked butt in her hands. "After today, haven't you realized I'm rather fond of all sides of you? Even though some are more prickly than others." She ran her hand over his whisker-covered cheek to emphasize her point.
He relaxed a degree. "I shouldn't be with you."
"And I shouldn't be with you. Yet here we are and I am very happy about it." She wiggled her bottom against him, making him groan in response.
He looked at her as if he couldn't believe she was real, and in his mind she wasn't. She was only a dream.
Astrid wondered how he would react when he woke up. Would any of this help or would he withdraw further from her?
She wished she could strip his bad memories from him. Give him a happy childhood filled with love and tenderness.
A life of joy and friendship.
He laid his head down between her breasts and stayed there quietly as if content to feel nothing more than her under him while the sun warmed them both.
"Tell me of a happy memory, Zarek. One thing in your life that was good."
He hesitated for so long that she didn't think he would answer. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that it made her ache. "You."
Tears gathered in her eyes. She hugged him with her body, cradling him, hoping that in some way she soothed his troubled, restless spirit.
Astrid knew then that she would fight for this man, and in the back of her mind came a frightening realization.
She was falling in love with him.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe as the notion hung in her thoughts like a frightening specter.
But there was no denying what she felt for him, the lengths she would go to see him safe and happy.
His breath teased her nipple while his heart thudded against her stomach.
No one had touched her the way he did and it wasn't just the sex. He made her feel soft and womanly. Desirable.
He didn't baby her and yet he did such kind things to take care of her.
Closing her eyes, she let his weight and the water soak into her. Let his slick, cool skin soothe her.
What was she going to do? Zarek wasn't the kind of man to let anyone love him.
Especially not a woman who had been sent to pass judgment on him.
If he ever learned what she was, he would hate her.
That knowledge ripped through her, stealing the happiness of the day.
But eventually, she would have to tell him.
Jess left the black Ford Bronco and slid his sawed-off shotgun out from under the seat.
Just in case.
The night winds were frigid, the moonlight bright and eerie as it reflected off the snow. He adjusted his sunglasses, not that they made much difference.
The Alaskan climate was hard on a Dark-Hunter's sensitive eyes.
Zarek's house was dark and empty, but a bright red snow-machine was parked in front of it Jess's Squire, Andy Simms, who had come up here with him from Reno, ambled out of the Bronco and eyed the snowmachine suspiciously.
Barely six feet in height with black hair and brown eyes, Andy had just turned twenty-one. He'd only worked for Jess a few months and had come in after Andy's father retired last spring.
Jess had known the pup since the day he was born, and tended to look on him like a little brother.
Pesky and all.
"Is that another Squire?" Andy asked, indicating the snow-machine with a nod.
Jess shook his head. The Squires were in the two SUVs pulling up behind them.
They made more noise than a herd of nervous cattle as they left their four-wheel-drives and gathered round him.
There were twelve of the Squires altogether, but Jess only knew a couple of them.
Otto Carvalletti was the tallest of the group. Standing a cool six feet five inches, he had jet-black hair that was a bit long, but well styled, as if the man spent a lot of time on it.
He glared penetratingly at all times, and Jess figured if the man ever did manage to smile, it would crack his face.
One half of Otto's family was Italian Mafia while the other half was one of the oldest Squire families known. A real blue blood, Otto's grandfather had once headed up the Squires' Council.
Tyler Winstead came to them from Milwaukee. Barely five feet seven, the blond man was wholesome looking until you caught sight of his eyes. There was nothing wholesome in his gaze. Only intensity.
That left Allen Kirby. Another multi-generational Squire, Allen had been called out from Toronto for this hunt. Since Otto never spoke two words, Allen was the smart-ass of the herd.
But, something told Jess, Otto could easily outdo Allen's biting comments if he chose to do so.
"I knew he'd be here," Allen said as he eyed the snow-machine with pert malice.
Jess passed a bored stare at him. "It's not Zarek. Believe me, red isn't his color."
But he suspected the snowmachine did belong to a Dark-Hunter. He could feel the drain on his powers already.
"How do you know it's not him?" Tyler asked.
Jess rested the shotgun on his shoulder. "I just do."
He ordered the Squires to stay put and ambled up the driveway toward the snowmachine. Using his teeth, he pulled the glove off his left hand and placed it on the engine.
It was cold but that meant nothing in this subzero temp, he realized all of a sudden, and he felt like a jackass for even bothering. The snowmachine could have been here five minutes or five hours. In this kind of cold, even a raging fire would be chilled within minutes of going out.
So who did it belong to?
He looked left and right and saw no sign of anyone.
Until he heard a soft thud to his left. He barely had time to pull his gun off his shoulder before four Daimons broke through the foliage.
They paused at the sight of him, then put their heads down and ran headlong toward him.
Jess caught one with a shotgun blast to the chest, then flipped a second one up and over using the stock of his gun.
A crossbow bolt shot past his face, narrowly missing him and striking one Daimon as Jess killed the one at his feet. The last one attacked, but didn't get more than a step before another bolt landed square in his chest and he burst into powdered dust.
"Nasty bloodsucking rats."
He arched a brow at the soft, feminine voice that preceded the appearance of a tall, well-built woman.
Her long, black hair was braided down her back and she wore a tight black leather pantsuit that reminded him a bit of Emma Peel from The Avengers. Only it was much more devastating on the woman approaching him.
A second Dark-Hunter came out of the woods behind her. He was a good four inches taller than Jess with white-blond hair and a
predator's lope that said "mess with me and get hurt." He was dressed in a long fur coat and he seemed extremely comfortable in the arctic chill.
The woman paused by Jess's side and offered him her hand. "Syra of Antikabe."
Jess inclined his head and took her hand. "Jess Brady, ma'am, pleased to meet you."
"Sundown," the other Dark-Hunter said as he joined them. He kept his hands in his pockets. "I've heard a lot about you. You're a long way from home."
Jess eyed him suspiciously. "And you are?"
"Bjorn Thorssen."
He inclined his head in turn to the Viking warrior. Rumor had it Bjorn had been one of the original Norsemen who had invaded Dark Age Normandy.
"I've heard of you," he said to Bjorn, then he turned to look at Syra. "But no offense, ma'am, you I don't know."
"Sure you do. The assholes on the loop call me Yukon Jane."
He smiled at that. Yukon Jane was an Amazon warrior from the third or fourth century b.c. She was rumored to be almost as ill-tempered as Zarek. She loved to hunt and kill, and was stationed in the Yukon because she'd once maimed a king who annoyed her.
"Well, now," Jess drawled with a wicked grin as he gave her elegant pose an appreciative once over, "all I can say is none of them that insult you have ever had the pleasure of your company, Miss Syra. Otherwise, they'd be calling you Queen Jane."
She smiled warmly at that. "You are a charmer and polite, too. Zoe was right."
Jess's grin widened.
Allen cleared his throat. "Well, Lord Debonair and Lady Lethal, if we can have a minute of your time, we do have a psycho to hunt."
Jess glared over his shoulder at Allen, but before he could comment, Syra shot another bolt from her crossbow.
Allen went flying and landed flat on his back in the snow.
Syra walked over to him and stared down. "I don't particularly like Squires and I really hate the Blood Rites. So save yourself some pain and don't speak to me again. Or next time I'll use a Daimon bolt on you."
She reached down and picked up the flathead bolt she'd used.
Jess laughed. He liked a woman with gumption.
And a deadly aim.
"So," she said, turning around and eyeballing the lot of them. "I've been chasing a group of Daimons for the last four days as they headed toward Fairbanks. Bjorn followed a tribe of them up from Anchorage. That explains why we're here. What about the rest of you? Jess, did you trail Daimons from Reno to Alaska?"
DANCE WITH THE DEVIL Page 17