It was Tabitha.
"Hey, sis, can you go by my house and let Terminator out?"
Amanda ground her teeth at the familiar request that came at least twice a week. "Oh, come on, Tabby. Why didn't you do it?"
"I didn't know we'd be gone so long. Please. He'll wet on my bed in protest if you don't."
"You know, Tabby, I do have a life."
"Yeah, right, like you're not sitting alone on the sofa, reading Kinley MacGregor's latest romance, and scarfing down chocolate truffles like there's no tomorrow."
Amanda arched her brow as she looked at the multitude of truffle wrappers scattered on the coffee table in front of her, and her copy of Claiming the Highlander on the end table.
Damn, she hated it when her sisters did that.
"C'mon," Tabitha begged. "I promise I'll be nice to your next boyfriend."
Sighing, Amanda knew she couldn't really say no to her sisters. It was her biggest weakness. "It's a good thing you only live down the street or I'd have to kill you over this."
"I know. I love you, too."
Growling low in her throat, Amanda hung up. She cast a wistful look at her book. Doggone it, she was just starting to get into it.
She sighed. Oh well, at least Terminator would be company for a few minutes. He was one seriously ugly pit bull, but he was currently the only male she could stand.
She grabbed her tan ski jacket off her armchair and exited out the front door. Tabitha lived two blocks over, and though the night was extremely dark and cold, Amanda didn't feel like driving.
Pulling her gloves on, she headed down the sidewalk, wishing Cliff were here to do this chore. She couldn't count the times she had suckered him into letting Terminator out of Tabitha's house on his way home.
Amanda stumbled over a broken piece of the sidewalk as Cliff crossed her mind for the first time in hours. What really made her feel bad about their breakup was the fact she didn't miss him. Not really, anyway.
She missed having someone to talk to at night. She missed having a TV-watching buddy, but she couldn't honestly say she missed him.
And that was what depressed her most of all.
If not for her whacked-out family, she might have actually married him, and then found out too late that she didn't truly love him.
The thought chilled her more than the cold November winds.
Pushing Cliff out of her thoughts, she focused on her surroundings. At eight-thirty, the neighborhood was amazingly quiet, even for a Sunday night. Cars were parked along the street, and most of the houses were lit up as she walked down the old jagged sidewalk.
Everything was normal, but still it was eerie out. The partial moon hung high above, casting twisted shadows around her. Every now and again, she'd catch the faint sound of laughter or voices on the wind.
This was a perfect night for evil to--
"Get out of my head," she said out loud.
Now Tabitha had her doing it! Jeez!
What next? Would she find herself walking the bayou with her sisters looking for weird voodoo plants and alligators?
Shivering at the thought, she finally reached the creepy old house Tabitha and her roommate rented on the corner. A garish purple color, it was one of the smallest houses on the street. Amanda was amazed no one in the neighborhood complained about the unsightly hue. Of course, Tabby loved it since it made giving directions easy.
"Just look for the little purple Victorian with the black iron fence. You can't miss it."
Not unless you were blind.
After opening the low, wrought-iron gate, Amanda headed up the walkway to the porch where a huge, sinister stone gargoyle stood watch.
"Hi, Ted," she said to the gargoyle Tabitha swore could read minds. "I'm just letting the pooch out, okay?"
Amanda pulled the keys out of her coat pocket and opened the front door. Entering the foyer, she wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of a nasty-smelling something. One of Tabby's potions must have gone bad.
Either that, or her sister had tried to cook dinner again.
She heard Terminator barking in the bedroom.
"I'm coming," she said to the dog as she closed the door, turned on the lights, and headed across the living room.
Amanda was one step away from the hallway when she heard the voice in her head telling her to run.
Before she could blink, the lights went out and someone grabbed her from behind.
"Well, well," a silken voice said in her ear. "At last I have you, little witch." His hold tightened. "Now it's time to make you suffer."
Something hit her head a second before the floor rose up to meet her.
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.
H
e 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."