She left him alone then. Talon frowned. This was normally the part where his lovers begged him to stay, at least for a little while longer. Where they told him he was the best lover they had ever known and then cried at the thought of never having him again.
But Sunshine seemed completely fine with his leaving. She didn't seem to be the tiniest bit sad. What was this? He scooted out of bed and left the room to find her in the Dark Hunter Series (04) - Night Embrace - Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 84 of 460
kitchen, holding a rice cake between her teeth while she poured herself a cup of pink juice.
"Sunshine, are you okay?"
She took the rice cake out of her mouth and looked at him. "I'm fine."
Her face paled a degree. "Oh Lord, you're not going to get possessive or weird on me now, are you? Please tell me you're not one of those guys Trina told me about who gets a little sex from a woman and then thinks he owns her."
A little sex?
A little sex!
Talon was dumbstruck. He was used to leaving his lovers, but this had to be the easiest time he'd ever experienced, and he found it strangely disconcerting. Unsettling.
Humbling.
Especially given the way the two of them had carried on. This had been the best marathon of sex he'd ever had. She had met his passion and stamina in a way that was unbelievable. Now she was fine with him just walking out the door?
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.
"Look, it's cool, okay? I knew when I agreed to this that you wouldn't be hanging around afterward. I'm not stupid, you know. I'm a big girl. You're a really big guy and I'm sure you have a life to get back to." Panic drifted through her eyes. "Oh God, you're not married, are you?"
"No, I'm not married."
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She let out a relieved breath. "Then, no harm, no foul."
She crossed the short distance to her fridge to return the juice jug.
"Sunshine?"
She paused to give him a peeved stare. "What, Talon? You're not having separation anxiety, are you? Today was fun and it was worth it, but I've got to get back to work. I have a ton of stuff that I need to do tonight."
"Yeah, but
" He didn't finish the sentence. He refused to. "But?"
He clamped his jaw shut. Fine, if she wanted him gone, he was gone. He shouldn't have spent the day with her anyway. This close to Mardi Gras, he couldn't afford any distractions. Never mind one that came in the form of a dark-haired temptress.
"Nothing," he said.
She looked relieved. "Since you have to meet someone, you go ahead and shower and I'll make us some dinner."
Talon took her up on the shower, but when he was finished, he declined eating her tofu salad and soy steaks.
"Thanks again, Sunshine," he said as he shrugged his leather jacket on over his T-shirt.
"I had a really good day."
"Me too," she said with a smile while she nibbled her salad and flipped through an art magazine. He still couldn't believe how well she was taking his leaving her. Damn. A part of him continued to expect her to at least beg him to call her. Ask for his e-mail.
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Something.
But she didn't. Man, how he hated the twenty-first century. She looked up as he headed for the door. "You take care of yourself, Talon. And in the future, please try and stay out of the way of runaway Mardi Gras floats, okay?"
Talon lifted both brows in stunned shock. "Excuse me?"
"Don't you remember last night when you got mowed down?"
Talon nodded hesitantly, unable to believe that that was what had slammed into him. "I was hit by a Mardi Gras float?"
"Yeah, it was Bacchus."
Now that was adding insult to injury. Jeez. He only hoped Nick didn't find out about it.
Ever. Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier had come into this world with not a lot of prospects.
Born the bastard son of a career felon and a teenage Bourbon Street stripper, he wasn't exactly the most law-abiding of folks. In fact, his junior high guidance counselor had once voted him Most Likely to Get the Death Penalty.
But one night when Nick had made a stand against the gang he ran with, fate had changed his life and sent in a Dark-Hunter guardian angel who had taken a smart-mouthed kid, cleaned him up, and given him a real future.
Now, nine years later, he was a pre-law student, and instead of playing penal roulette like his father, he was almost a respectable citizen. Almost being the operative word.
All thanks to Kyrian of Thrace and Acheron Parthenopaeus.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for them and that was why he was sitting in his car, parked in a vacant field just after sunset, instead of being off with his latest girlfriend, Dark Hunter Series (04) - Night Embrace - Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 87 of 460
putting a really big smile on her face.
Even with the car running, it was cold out here. That damp, frigid cold that could go deep into the bones and make them ache. His thermos of coffee all gone, Nick just wanted to get back home and thaw out.
Instead, he was waiting for Talon's Mardi Gras reinforcement to be delivered, because Zarek, having spent the last nine hundred years in Alaska, had no idea how to drive a car. Apparently, cars weren't the transportation of choice for snowbound Dark-Hunters.
Yee-freakin'-haw. This was one event he could have waited his lifetime for.
"Nick, you there?"
"Yeah," he said into the portable radio he had in the passenger seat of his Jaguar that kept him in touch with the incoming helicopter. "What's your ETA?"
"About two minutes," Mike said.
Nick started scanning the dark sky for the black H-53E Sea Dragon Sikorsky helicopter.
It was a long-range, custom-built military-class chopper that the Squires often used to transport Dark-Hunters. The helicopter was fast and versatile, and could be refueled while in flight.
Its back section was equipped with a steel passenger area that kept sunlight from touching the Dark-Hunters. The windows in the passenger compartment could be lightened with a flip of the switch to allow a Dark-Hunter to see outside after dark should he desire it.
A few Dark-Hunters such as Acheron owned their own helicopters and flew them when needed.
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Tonight, though, Mike Callahan, who was a Dorean Squire (meaning he didn't have a particular Dark-Hunter he served) was bringing in Zarek from Alaska.
Nick had heard a lot of rumors through the on-line Squire bulletin boards about Zarek of Moesia being psychotic. He wasn't sure how accurate that information was, but in a few minutes he'd find out firsthand.
"Hey, Mike," he said, radioing the pilot. "How bad is he?"
Mike snorted. "Let me put it to you this way. If you have a gun, unload it."
"Why?"
"Because if you don't, you're going to shoot this asshole which will only piss him off more. For once, I actually pity the Daimons."
That didn't sound encouraging.
"What? He's worse than Acheron?"
"Nick, take my word for it. You ain't never seen anything like this one. I now know why Artemis and Ash locked him in Alaska. What I can't figure out is why on earth Artemis wanted him moved into a large population. My opinion, it's like tossing a grenade on a gas station."
Oh yeah, his gut was knotted now.
Nick waited as the helicopter landed on the private airstrip Acheron used when he visited. At one end of the field stood a building that appeared to be a dilapidated barn. In actuality, it was a modified modern hangar equipped with an alarm system and doors so thick it could double as a bomb shelter. That barn currently housed the twenty-eight-Dark Hunter Series (04) - Night Embrace - Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 89 of 460
million-dollar MH-60K Sikorsky helicopter that Acheron used to transport himself
and his custom-built Buell motorcycle.
Ash had arrived in style the day before.
Now Zarek. Yup, Mardi Gras was starting to look scary. Nick got out of the car and locked his radio in the trunk, then stood to the side of the field until Mike cut the motor and the blades stopped spinning.
When everything quit moving, the lean, middle-aged Squire got out of the helicopter and removed his helmet. Mike had never been overly friendly, but tonight he looked thoroughly disgusted and extremely irritable.
"I don't envy you this," Mike said as he tossed his helmet back into his seat.
"C'mon, stop messing with me, Mike. He can't be that bad."
Nick changed his mind as soon as Mike slid open the passenger door and he caught his first look at Zarek of Moesia.
Zarek emerged from the opening like Lucifer from his deepest pit, with a chip on his shoulder so large, Nick was amazed they had managed to get the helicopter off the ground.
Dressed all in black, Zarek wore jeans, Harley biker boots, and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
He seemed completely oblivious to the cold damp air that made up a New Orleans winter night. He had a long silver sword earring in his left ear, with a hilt made of a skull and crossbones.
Zarek stepped out with a sneer that was made more sinister by his black goatee. His straight black hair brushed his shoulders and his jet-black eyes were filled with Dark Hunter Series (04) - Night Embrace - Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 90 of 460
contempt and hatred. Nick was used to bad attitude; hell, he'd been weaned on it. But he'd never met a man who had one worse than Zarek.
He reminded Nick of the murderers his father had brought home. Cold. Unfeeling.
Lethal. Whenever Zarek looked at you, you got the feeling he was measuring you for your coffin size.
Zarek braced his left hand against the side of the chopper, and leaned back in long enough to grab a large black duffel bag. Nick stared at Zarek's huge hand in awe. Each finger, including his thumb, was covered with a long, articulated silver claw and tipped with a point so sharp that Nick knew it must be Zarek's weapon of choice.
This man liked to get down and dirty with his kills. Shit, for Zarek, being called psychotic would be a step up. As he walked away from the chopper, Zarek hissed at Mike, baring his fangs.
For once, Mike didn't comment. That told Nick more than anything else just how vicious Zarek was. He'd never known Mike to take something like that and not make a smart-mouth comment.
"Well, if you're through taunting poor Mike, are you ready to go?"
Nick regretted those words as soon as Zarek looked at him. The glacial, hostile glare chilled him even more than the frigid winds. "You give me any lip, little boy, and there won't be enough left of you to run through a sieve."
Nick didn't scare easily, but those words were said with such growling sincerity that he actually took a step back, and for once kept his big mouth shut.
Without another word, Zarek walked with a predator's deadly grace toward the car, with his lips curled into a permanent snarl. He pitched his duffel bag onto the floorboard, Dark Hunter Series (04) - Night Embrace - Sherrilyn Kenyon Page 91 of 460
then got in and slammed the car door shut. In that moment, Nick seriously regretted buying a car with no backseat.
Then again, given Zarek's vicious, unpredictable nature, Nick would much rather have him beside him than behind him.
Mike let out a relieved breath and clapped him on the back. "May God take a liking to you, kid. I damn sure wouldn't want to be in your shoes tonight."
Nick had never been overly religious. But as he walked to his anthracite Jag, he found his religion all over again. He got in and started the car, then headed toward the city.
They were supposed to meet up with Talon,
Valerius, and Acheron in about half an hour at Jackson Square. Damn, this was going to be the longest drive of his life.
He pushed the accelerator down even more--warp speed would suit him just fine.
As he drove, Nick couldn't keep his gaze from repeatedly wandering over to Zarek's left hand, covered with the silver claws, which was splayed out over his left knee.
The silence was deafening and stagnant, and was relieved only by Zarek flexing his claws against the black denim. After a time, the metallic scratching sound started to get on Nick's nerves. He turned on the radio.
"You like rock?" he asked. The radio shut off immediately. Nick swallowed as he realized one of Zarek's Dark-Hunter powers was telekinesis.
"Little boy, I'm not your friend. I'm not your Dark-Hunter and I'm not your friggin' date.
You only speak to me when I ask you a question. Otherwise you keep your mouth shut, your eyes off me, and you might live long enough to get me to the French Quarter."
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Nick gripped the wheel. Okay, now that pissed him off, but not to the point it made him suicidal. Only an absolute fool would tangle with a man this lethal.
Zarek flipped open his duffel bag and pulled out a credit-card-sized MP3 player and a pair of dark sunglasses. He put on his headphones and sunglasses, then leaned his head back against the seat. Nick heard Nazareth's Hair of the Dog playing in a whisper from the headphones. The true antisocial anthem. How incredibly apropos.
When the car radio unexpectedly flipped back on, Nick actually jumped. Oh yeah, Zarek was one psychotic SOB and the sooner he got him out of his car and to Acheron, the happier Nick would be.
Talon was still thinking of Sunshine when he crossed the Pedestrian Mall to meet with Acheron. He glanced down the street to where he had met Sunshine the night before, and his gut wrenched.
How he missed her. And that was the craziest part of all. He barely knew her. She had swept into his life like a hurricane, wreaking total destruction and chaos, and still He
sighed. She'd been a nice diversion. But he had business to attend to. His excursion with her was over. He would never see her again.
That was that. As of this moment, she no longer existed. Yeah, right.
Talon ignored the derisive voice in his head. He had no choice but to forget her. He'd made a pact centuries ago and it was a pact he would honor for the rest of eternity. For him there would never be a home, a family, and most definitely not a girlfriend or a wife.
Even if he hadn't taken Artemis's oath, those things would be forbidden to him.
Besides, he liked his life as it was. He had a lot of freedom. Time to do what he wanted and enough money to purchase anything that appealed to him. Life as a Dark-Hunter was good.
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Very good.
Entering the square, he caught sight of Acheron Parthenopaeus standing against the wall of a building with his arms folded over his chest. The tall Atlantean warrior stood apart from a crowd that was listening to a street performer sing his rendition of the Scooby-Doo theme.
Standing six feet eight with long metallic purple hair and wearing black wraparound sunglasses long after sundown, Acheron was a hard man to miss. Talon usually referred to Acheron as T-Rex. The nickname stemmed more from the man's intimidating, carnivorous presence than from his ancient age.
There was something truly eerie about Acheron's lethal aura. It flowed out of him like a dangerous tsunami. The very air around the man seemed charged with mystical energy so powerful that it could make the skin on your arms or back of your neck crawl if you stood too close to him.
And judging by the berth the crowd had given T-Rex, Talon would say he wasn't the only one to feel it.
Then again, Talon amended, as he noted Acheron's black motorcycle jacket with silver chain mail draped over one sleeve and his leather pants that had laces instead of seams, maybe it was Acheron's eccentric, unorthodox looks that made people leave him alone.
Whatever it was, no one wanted to get in that man's way. Acheron turned his head.
Even with the black wraparoun
d sunglasses covering his eyes, Talon knew T-Rex was staring straight at him. Talon gave a short laugh as he noticed Acheron's new facial addition. A silver nose stud.
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T-Rex had two very strange penchants: he was always finding new places to pierce his body, and his hair color changed faster than the unpredictable Louisiana weather.
T-Rex also had a strange scar of a hand print that came and went on his neck. No one was sure if the scar was real or if it was some weird trick to throw them off guard that Acheron used. His accent was the same way. There were times when Acheron's voice was heavy with an odd melodic accent Talon assumed to be his native one from Atlantis, and other times T-Rex sounded just like any other television-programmed American.
The ancient warrior seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in keeping people guessing about him. He was even more private than Talon and that was saying something.
Acheron retrieved his black suede backpack, which was decorated with an anarchy logo from the street. He slung it over his shoulder, then tossed a few bills into the musician's guitar case and headed over.
Several members of the crowd visibly tensed and recoiled as Acheron moved through them with the fluid long-legged gait of a dangerous predator. Those who dared to look at him quickly averted their gazes.
It was ironic, really, since Acheron was the last person on earth who would ever harm a mortal. He was the oldest protector mankind had. For centuries he had fought the Daimons single-handedly. Alone.
Without friend or Squire.
Talon had heard rumors that Acheron had been trained to fight by Ares himself. Other rumors claimed Acheron was the son of a god and a legendary Atlantean hero. But basically no one knew anything about Acheron other than he was tall, private, intimidating, and very, very strange.
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As Acheron drew near, Talon inclined his head toward Acheron's purple hair with its four small braids that framed his face. "You know, I think I need to drop the T-Rex and start calling you Barney."
One corner of Acheron's mouth quirked up. "Don't start on me, Celt." He raked an amused look over Talon's leather pants, T-shirt, and jacket. "Nice to see you fully dressed for the occasion."
Talon winced at the underlying meaning of that comment. "Kyrian told on me, huh?"