Dance with the Devil (Dark-Hunter #4)(11)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

But as he sat in his chair, it wasn’t images of the past that haunted him.

It was the scent of roses and wood, the clear pale eyes of a woman.

The remembered feel of her soft, cold cheek underneath his fingertips. Her damp tousled hair that framed features which were feminine and inviting.

A woman who didn’t flinch from him or cringe.

She was astounding and surprising. If he were someone else, he might even go back to the den where she sat with her wolf and make her laugh. But he didn’t know how to make people laugh. He could recognize humor, most especially irony, but he wasn’t the kind of man to make jokes or nurture smiles from other people. Especially not a woman.

That fact hadn’t bothered him before.

Tonight it did.

"Is he guilty?"

Astrid started at Artemis’s voice in her head. Every night since Zarek had been brought into her house, Artemis had bugged her with that one question-over and over again, until she felt like Joan of Arc being tormented by voices.

"Not yet, Artemis. He just woke up."

"Well, what’s taking so long? As long as he’s living, Acheron is on edge and I positively hate it when he’s agitated. Judge him rogue already."

"Why do you want Zarek dead so much?"

Silence descended. At first she thought Artemis had left her, so when the response came, it surprised her. "Acheron doesn’t like to see anyone suffer. Especially not one of his Dark-Hunters. So long as Zarek lives, Acheron hurts, and in spite of what Acheron thinks, I don’t like to see him hurting."

Astrid had never known Artemis to say such a thing. The goddess wasn’t exactly known for her kindness or compassion, or for thinking of anyone besides herself.

"Do you love Acheron?"

Artemis’s voice was sharp when she answered, "Acheron is no concern of yours, Astrid. Only Zarek is, and I swear if I lose any more of Acheron’s loyalty over this, you will be very sorry for it."

Astrid stiffened at her hostile tone and threat. It would take more than Artemis to hurt her, and if the goddess wanted a fight, she had better come prepared.

She might not like her job anymore, but Astrid took it seriously and no one, most especially Artemis, was going to bully her into a premature verdict.

"If I judge Zarek too soon, don’t you think Acheron would be angry and demand a rejudging?"

Artemis made a rude noise.

"Besides, you told Acheron that you wouldn’t interfere, Artemis. You made him swear that he wouldn’t contact me to try to sway my verdict and yet here you are trying to do that. How do you think he’d react if I told him of your actions?"

"Fine," she snapped. "I won’t disturb you again. But get up with it already!"

Alone finally, Astrid sat in the den, thinking over what she should do next, how she could push Zarek to see if he would break again and turn more violent.

He had attacked her house, but not her. Sasha had attacked him, and though he had hurt the wolf, the wolf had hurt him much more. It had been an honest fight between them and Zarek hadn’t tried to kill Sasha for the attack. He’d gotten the wolf off him and then left him alone.

Instead of seeking revenge on Sasha, Zarek had given him water.

Zarek’s worst crime so far was belligerency and the fact that he had a truly frightening presence. Yet he did kind things that were at odds with his surliness.

Her common sense said to do as Artemis asked, find him guilty and run.

Her gut instinct told her to wait.

So long as he didn’t strike out in anger at her or Sasha, she would follow this through.

But if he ever did strike out at them, then she was out the door and he was toast.

"There is no such thing as an innocent man…"

Astrid let out a tired breath. She’d said that to her sister Atty the last time they had spoken to each other. Part of her honestly believed it. Never once in all these centuries had she found someone innocent. Every man she had ever judged had lied to her.

All of them had tried to deceive her.

Some had tried to bribe her.

Some had tried to escape her.

Some had tried to beat her.

And one had tried to kill her.

She wondered which category Zarek would fall into.

Taking a deep breath for fortification, Astrid got up and went to her room to dig around in the clothes Sasha wore when he was in human form.

"What are you doing?" Sasha asked as he joined her.

"Zarek needs clothes," she said out loud without thinking.

Sasha nipped at her hands, and nosed his clothes back into the basket in the bottom of the closet. "He can get his own. Those are mine."

Astrid pulled them back out. "C’mon, Sasha, be nice. He doesn’t have any clothes here and the ones he’s wearing are ragged."

"So?"

She sorted through the pants and shirts, wishing she could see them. "You were the one who was complaining about having to look at a nak*d man. I thought you’d prefer to see some clothing on him."

"I also complain about the fact that I have to piss outside and eat out of bowls, but I don’t see you letting me use the bathroom or tableware around him."

She shook her head at him. "Would you stop? You nag like an old woman." She picked up a heavy sweater.

"No," Sasha snapped. "Not the burgundy sweater. That’s my favorite."

"Sasha, I swear. You are so spoiled!"

"And that’s my sweater. Put it back."

She got up to take it to Zarek.

Sasha followed, complaining the whole way.

"I’ll buy you a new one," she promised.

"I don’t want a new one. I want that one."

"He won’t hurt it."

"Yes he will. Look at his clothes. They’re ruined. And I don’t want his body touching something I wear. He’ll contaminate it."

"Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You’re four hundred years old and you’re acting like a whelp. It’s not like he has cooties or anything."

"Yes he does!"

She glared down her leg where she could feel him. He grabbed the sweater with his teeth and pulled it out of her hands.

"Sasha!" she snapped out loud, running after him. "Give me that sweater or I swear I will see you gelded."

The wolf ran through the house.

Astrid went after him as fast as she could. She relied on her memory as to where things should be.

Someone had moved the coffee table. She hissed as her leg collided with the corner of it and she lost her balance. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, only to feel the tabletop tilting. It gave under her weight.

The glass top fell sideways, sending things flying.

Something hit her in the head and something shattered.

Astrid froze, afraid to move.

She didn’t know what had broken, but the sound had been unmistakable.

Where was the glass?

Her heart pounding, she cursed her blindness. She didn’t dare move for fear of cutting herself.

"Sasha?" she asked.

He didn’t answer.

"Don’t move." Zarek’s deep commanding voice shivered down her spine.

The next thing she knew two strong arms lifted her up from the floor with an ease that was truly terrifying. He cradled her against a body that was rock hard and lean. One that rippled with every move he made as he walked her away from the den.

She put her arms around broad, masculine shoulders that stiffened in reaction to her touch. His breath fell against her face, making her entire body melt.

"Zarek?" she asked tentatively.

"Is there anyone else in this house who can carry you that I need to know about?"

She ignored his sarcasm as he carried her to the kitchen and set her down on a chair.

She missed his heat instantly. It brought an odd ache to her chest that she neither expected nor understood.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He didn’t respond. Instead, she heard him leave the room.

A few minutes later, he returned and dumped something into the trash can.

"I don’t know what you did to Scooby," he said, his tone almost normal, "but he’s off in a corner lying down on a sweater and growling at me."

She stifled the urge to laugh at that image. "He’s being bad."

"Yeah, well, where I come from, we beat things that are bad."

Astrid frowned at his words and the underlying emotion they betrayed. "Sometimes understanding is more important than punishment."

"And sometimes it’s not."

"Maybe," she whispered.

Zarek turned on the water in the sink. It sounded as if he were washing his hands again.

Strange, he seemed to do that a lot.

"I got up all the glass I could find," he said over the sound of the rushing water, "but the crystal vase on your table shattered pretty badly. You might want to wear shoes in there for a few days."

Astrid was strangely touched by his actions and his warning. She got up from her chair and crossed the floor to stand next to him. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could feel him now. Feel his heat, his strength.

Feel the raw sensuality of the man.

It shivered through her and down her body, enticing her with desire and need.

A foreign part of her ached to reach out and touch the smooth, tawny skin that beckoned her with the promise of primal heat. Even now she remembered the way his skin had looked. The way the light had played on it.

She wanted to pull his lips to hers and see what he tasted like. See if he could be tender.

Or would he be rough and forceful?

Astrid should be shocked by her thoughts. As a judge, she wasn’t supposed to have this kind of curiosity, but as a woman, she couldn’t help it.

It had been a long, long time since she’d felt desire for a man. Deep down there was even a part of her that yearned to find in him the goodness that Acheron believed in.

That was something she hadn’t wanted to do in centuries either.

Zarek’s kindness was unwarranted. "How did you know I needed you?"

"I heard the glass break and figured you were trapped."

She smiled. "That was very sweet of you."

She had a feeling he was staring at her. Her flesh warmed considerably at the thought. Her br**sts hardened.

"I’m not sweet, princess. Trust me."

No, he wasn’t sweet. He was hard. Prickly and strangely fascinating. Like a wild beast that needed to be tamed.

If anyone could ever tame something like him.

"I was attempting to give you some clothes," she said softly, trying to regain control of her body, which didn’t seem to want to respond to common sense. "There are more sweaters in the bottom of my closet if you’d like to borrow them."

He scoffed at that as he turned off the water and ripped a paper towel off to dry his hands. "Your clothes won’t fit me, princess."

She laughed. "They’re not mine. They belong to a male friend."

Zarek couldn’t breathe with her so close to him. All he had to do was lean down ever so slightly and he could kiss her slightly parted lips.

Reach out and he would touch her.

What truly scared him was just how much he wanted to touch her. How much he wanted to press his body to hers and feel her soft curves against the hard male lines of his.

He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.

Closing his eyes, he was seared with an image of the two of them nak*d. Of him placing her up on the counter in front of him so that he could screw her brains out. Of sliding in and out of her heat until he was too tired to stand.

Too sore to move.

He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin sliding against his. Her breath on his flesh.

Most of all, he wanted her scent on his skin. To know what it felt like to have a woman who didn’t show fear or contempt of him.

In all these centuries, he’d never screwed a woman he hadn’t paid for. Most of the time he hadn’t even had that.

He’d been alone for so long…

"Where’s this male friend of yours?" he asked, his voice strangely thick as he thought of her with another man. It hurt in a way it shouldn’t.

Sasha came into the room to stare at them and bark.

"My friend died," Astrid said without hesitation.

Zarek arched a brow. "Died how?"

"Mmm, he had parvo."

"Isn’t that a dog’s disease?"

"Yes. It was tragic."

"Hey!" Sasha said to Astrid. "I resent that."

"Behave or I will give you parvo."

Zarek stepped away from her. "Do you miss him?"

She glanced in the direction of Sasha’s bark. "No, not really. He was a bit of a pain."

"I’ll show you pain, nymph. Just you wait."

Astrid bit back a smile. "So are you interested in the clothes?" she asked Zarek.

"Sure."

She led him to her room.

"You are so evil," Sasha snarled. "Just wait. I will get you back for this. You know that comforter you’re so fond of? It’s toast. And I wouldn’t use my slippers again if I were you."

She ignored him.

Zarek didn’t speak as she took him into her room, which was decorated in soft shades of pink. It was all feminine and soft. But it was the scent in the air that made him ache.

Roses and wood smoke.

It smelled like her.

That scent made him so hard and stiff, he hurt. His c**k strained against his rough zipper, begging him to do something other than look at her.