Dance with the Devil (Dark-Hunter #4)(12)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Against his will, his gaze lingered on her bed. He could just imagine her lying there asleep. Her lips parted, her body relaxed and nak*d…

The pale pink covers wrapped around her bare limbs.

"Here you go."

He had to force himself to drag his gaze from the bed to the closet.

She stood back to give him access to the men’s clothes that were folded neatly in a wicker laundry basket. "You can take whatever you want."

Now there was a loaded statement if he ever heard one. The only problem was that what he wanted most was definitely not in that basket.

So Zarek thanked her, then dug out a black sweater and gray turtleneck that shouldn’t be too small for him. "I’ll go change in my room," he said, wondering why he bothered. She didn’t care if he left the room or not. It wasn’t as if she could see him or anything.

At home he walked about half-naked most of the time.

But that wasn’t civilized, was it?

Since when are you civilized?

Tonight, it appeared.

Sasha barked at him as he left the room, then the wolf ran into the room to bark at Astrid.

"Hush, Sasha," she said. "Or I’ll make you go sleep in the garage."

Ignoring them, Zarek made his way to his room to put on the fresh clothes.

He shut the door and set the clothes aside as he stood there feeling very peculiar. It was just clothes she offered him. And shelter.

A bed.

Food.

He looked around the elegant, expensively furnished room. He felt lost here. Unsure of himself. Never in his life had he experienced anything like this.

He felt human in this place.

Most of all, he felt welcome. Something he didn’t even feel around Sharon.

Like all the others he had known over the centuries, Sharon did what he paid her to do. Nothing more, nothing less. He always felt as if he were intruding any time he came near her.

Sharon was formal and cool, especially after he had ignored the pass she made at him. He always sensed there was a part of her that was scared of him. A part of her that would watch him, especially whenever her daughter was around-as if she expected him to go wild on them or something.

It had always insulted him, but then, he was so used to insults that he had shrugged it off.

But he didn’t feel that with Astrid.

She treated him as if he were normal. Made it easy for him to forget the fact that he wasn’t.

Zarek dressed quickly and went back to the den where Astrid sat sideways on the couch reading a book in braille. Sasha was resting on the couch at her feet. The wolf lifted its head and stared at him with what appeared to be hatred in its wolfish gray eyes.

Zarek, who had retrieved the paring knife from the kitchen, grabbed another piece of wood.

"So how did you end up with a wolf as a pet?" he asked, sitting in the chair nearest the fire so that he could toss the wood shavings into the hearth.

He didn’t know why he talked to her. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered, and yet he found himself strangely curious about her life.

Astrid reached down to pet the wolf at her feet. "I’m not really sure. Much like you, I found him lying hurt and I brought him in and nursed him back to health. He’s been with me ever since."

"I’m surprised he let you tame him."

She smiled at that. "I am, too. It wasn’t easy to get him to trust me."

Zarek thought about that for a minute. " ‘You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a little distance from me-like that-in the grass.’ "

Astrid’s mouth opened in shock as Zarek continued quoting one of her favorite passages. She couldn’t have been more stunned had he thrown something at her. "You know The Little Prince?"

"I’ve read it a time or two."

More than that for him to be able to quote it so unerringly. Astrid leaned up again to touch Sasha so that she could look at Zarek.

He sat catty-corner from her while he whittled. The firelight played in his midnight eyes. The black sweater hugged his body, and though black whiskers covered his face, she was again struck by how handsome he was.

There was something almost relaxed about him as he worked. A poetic grace that warred with the hard cynical twist of his mouth. The deadly aura that enveloped him tighter than his black jeans.

"I love that book," she said quietly. "It’s always been one of my favorites."

He didn’t speak. He just sat there with his piece of wood held carefully in his hand as his long, tapered fingers moved gracefully over it. This was the first time the air around him didn’t seem so dark. So dangerous.

She wouldn’t call it peaceful exactly, but it wasn’t as sinister as it had been before.

"Did you read it as a child?" she asked.

"No," he said quietly.

She cocked her head, watching him as he worked.

He paused, then turned to look at her with a frown.

Astrid let go of Sasha and sat back.

Zarek didn’t move as he watched her and her pooch. There was something very strange here: every instinct he had told him so. He stared at Sasha.

If he didn’t know better…

But why would a werewolf be in Alaska with a blind woman? The magnetic fields here would be hard on either an Arcadian or Katagari male who would have a difficult time maintaining a consistent form while the electrons in the air played havoc with their magic.

No, it wasn’t probable.

And yet…

He glanced from them to the small anniversary clock on the mantel. It was almost four in the morning. For him it was still early, but not many humans kept his hours. "You always stay up this late, princess?"

"Sometimes."

"Don’t you have a job you need to get up for?"

"No. I have family money. What about you, Prince Charming?"

Zarek’s hand slipped at her words. Family money. She was even more loaded than he had suspected. "It must be nice not to have to work for a living."

Astrid heard the bitterness in his voice. "You don’t like people who have money, do you?"

"I’m not prejudiced against anyone, princess. I hate everyone equally."

She had heard that about him. Heard from Artemis that he was coarse, unrefined, rude, and the most obnoxious jerk Artemis had ever known.

Coming from the Queen of Obnoxious, that was saying something.

"You didn’t answer my question, Zarek. What do you do for a living?"

"This and that."

"This and that, huh? Are you a vagrant, then?"

"If I said yes, would you make me leave?"

Though his tone was level and emotionless, she sensed that he waited for her response. That there was a part of him that wanted her to throw him out.

A part of him that expected it.

"No, Zarek. I told you, you’re welcome here."

Zarek stopped carving and stared at the fire, her words made him tremble unexpectedly. But it wasn’t the flames he saw, it was her face. Her sweet voice resonated deep inside a heart he thought was long dead.

No one had ever welcomed him anywhere.

"I could kill you and no one would know."

"Are you going to kill me, Zarek?"

Zarek winced as memories tore through him. He saw himself walking among the bodies in his devastated village. The sight of them with their throats bleeding, their homes burning…

He was supposed to protect them.

Instead, he had killed them all.

And he didn’t even know why. He didn’t remember anything except the rage that had possessed him. The need he’d felt for blood and atonement.

"I hope not, princess," he whispered.

Getting up, he returned to his room and locked the door.

He only hoped she would do the same.

Hours later, Astrid listened to Zarek’s heavy breathing as he slept fitfully. The house was quiet now, safe from his wrath. The air had lost its evil aura and everything seemed calm, peaceful-except, for the man, who seemed to be in the throes of a nightmare.

She was exhausted, but didn’t feel like sleeping. She had too many questions on her mind.

How she wished she could talk to Acheron about Zarek and ask him what it was about the man that he thought worth saving. But Artemis had agreed to this trial only if Acheron stayed completely out of it and did nothing to sway the verdict. If Astrid tried to speak to Acheron, Artemis would end the test and kill Zarek immediately.

There had to be some other way to learn about her guest.

She looked at Sasha who was sleeping in wolf form on her bed. The two of them had known each other for centuries. He had been barely more than a pup when his patria had signed on to fight with the Egyptian goddess Bast against Artemis.

Once the war between the goddesses was over, Artemis had demanded a judging for all of those who had fought against her. Astrid’s half-sister Lera had been sent in and she had found all of them guilty, except for Sasha who had been too young to be held accountable for following the leadership of the others.

His own pack had turned on him instantly, thinking he had betrayed them for absolution, even though he’d only been fourteen. In the Katagaria world, animal instincts and rules reigned supreme. The pack was always a unified whole and anyone who threatened the pack was slaughtered, even if it was one of their own.

They had almost killed him. But luckily, Astrid had found him and nursed him back to health, and though he truly hated the Olympian gods, he was usually tolerant, if not fond, of her.

He could leave her at any time, but he had nowhere else to go. The Arcadian Were-Hunters wanted him dead because he had once run with the Katagaria Slayers who had turned against the Olympian gods, and the Slayers wanted him dead because they thought he had betrayed his patria.

His life was precarious at best, even now.

Back then, he’d been feral and terrified of being ripped apart by his people.

So centuries ago, the two of them had formed an alliance that benefited them both. She had kept the others from killing him while he was a pup and he had helped her whenever she was without her eyesight.

Over time, they had become friends and now Sasha stayed out of loyalty to her.

His magical Katagari powers were far stronger than hers and he often used them at her request.

She considered that now.

The Katagaria could travel through time…

But only with limitations. No, she needed something guaranteed to have her back here before Zarek woke up.

At times like this, she wished she were a full goddess and not a nymph. The gods had powers that could…

She smiled as an idea struck.

"M’Adoc," she said softly, summoning one of the Oneroi. They were the gods of sleep who held dominion over Phantosis, the shadow realm between the conscious and subconscious.

The air around her flickered with invisible, powerful energy she could feel as the Oneroi appeared.

Standing close to seven feet tall, M’Adoc dwarfed her-something she knew from experience. Even though she couldn’t see him right now, she knew exactly what he looked like. His long black hair would be so dark it barely reflected light and his eyes were so pale a blue they looked almost colorless and appeared to glow.

Like all of his kind, he was so handsome that for those who could see, it was hard to even look at him.

"Little cousin," he said, his voice electrifying and seductive and yet devoid of emotion-since emotions were banned from the Oneroi. "It’s been a while. At least three or four hundred years."

She nodded. "I’ve been busy."

He reached out to touch her arm so that she would know where he was standing. "What do you need?"

"Do you know anything about the Dark-Hunter Zarek?" The Oneroi were often healers of the Dark-Hunters, both physically and mentally. Since Dark-Hunters were created from people who had been horribly wronged or violated, a Dream-Hunter was often assigned to newly created Dark-Hunters to help heal them mentally so that they could function in the world without hurting others.

Once the Dark-Hunter was well mentally, the Dream-Hunter would then follow them through time and help heal them physically whenever they were wounded. That was why Dark-Hunters felt an unearthly need to sleep whenever they were hurt.

Only in dreams were the Oneroi effective.

"I know of him."

She waited for an explanation, but when he didn’t elaborate, she asked, "What do you know?"

"That he is so far beyond help that none of my kind will aid him."

She had never heard of such a thing before. "Never?"

"Sometimes a Skotos will go to him while he sleeps, but they only go so that they can take some of his fury for their own. It is so intense that none of them can stand it for long before they have to leave, too."

Astrid was stunned. The Skoti were barely more than demons. Brothers and sisters to the Oneroi, they preyed upon human emotion and used it so that they could feel emotions again. Left unchecked, the Skoti were extremely dangerous and could kill the person they "treated."

Instead of soothing Zarek, a visit from one would only escalate his madness.

"Why is he like this? What fuels his rage?"

"What does it matter?" M’Adoc asked. "I am told he has been marked for death."

"I promised Acheron that I would judge him first. He will only die if I say so."

"Then you should save yourself the trouble and order his death."

Why did everyone want Zarek to die? She couldn’t understand such animosity toward him. No wonder the man acted the way he did.