|
Dear Reader,
Have you ever wanted to
know what it's like to
be immortal? To journey
through the night
stalking the evil that
preys on humans? To have
unlimited wealth,
unlimited power? That is
my existence, and it is
dark and dangerous. I
play hero to thousands,
but am known to none.
And I love every minute
of it.
Or so I thought until
one night when I woke up
handcuffed to my worst
nightmare: a
conservative woman in a
button-down shirt. Or in
Amanda's case, buttoned
all the way up to her
chin. She's smart, sexy,
witty, and wants nothing
to do with the
paranormal-in other
words, me.
My attraction to Amanda
Devereaux goes against
everything I stand for.
Not to mention the last
time I fell in love it
cost me not only my
human life, but also my
very soul. Now I find
myself wanting to try
again. Wanting to
believe that love and
loyalty do exist.
Even more disturbing, I
find myself wondering if
there's any way a woman
can love a man whose
battle scars run deep,
and whose heart was
damaged by a betrayal so
savage that he's not
sure it will ever beat
again.
~Kyrian of Thrace |
|
With more than half a
million copies in print, Night Pleasures
spent six weeks on the USA Today list. It
also reached an Amazon ranking of #6 nine
months before its release.
It also
won:
RT Reviewer's
Choice:
Best Vampire Romance
Pearl Awards:
Best Shape-shifter
Favorite Overall Paranormal
Love Romances Golden Rose 2002
Reader Choice Awards
Best Paranormal
Best Vampire
Holt Medallion Award for Best Paranormal
Hughie
Favorite Secondary Character - Male:
Talon
Funniest Scene: the Handcuffs Scene
(Night Pleasures)
Prism Award for Best Light Paranormal
Booksellers Best Award
Aspen Gold
Laurel Wreath Award
|
Sherri's editor was
so afraid of using the word vampire
on the back cover of the book, that
it had to be rewritten three times
before they could find a good
compromise. |
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Factoid: The original cover of Night
Pleasures was purple. And in the first draft
there was no scene with Julian and Grace.
That was added in after Sherri sold Fantasy
Lover. The demand for the book was so great
that it went back to press three times
before it was even released.
Click here for
Correct Reading Order
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France |
Korea |
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UK/Aus/NZ |
Thailand |
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Excerpt
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 always 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 anymore.
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.
He 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 that 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
IQ’s that were smaller than her collective 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 needle-like 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—"
"Sh," 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.
Oh yes...
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.
In that instant, 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 some place 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. Or better yet, just 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 seriously 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 whomever 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 it was then 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 is 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 that 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."
Desiderius laughed. "Spoken like a true Dark-Hunter. But all of us have
an Achilles heel, especially those who serve Artemis. You are no
exception."
Amanda swore she could almost hear Desiderius lick his lips in
satisfaction. "Your greatest weakness is your nobility. Tabitha hates
you, yet you won’t kill her to be safe. While she tries to kill you,
you’ll guard her from me with your life." Desiderius laughed evilly.
"You just can’t resist a human in peril, can you?"
"Desi, Desi, Desi," the Dark-Hunter tsked. "What am I going to do with
you?"
"Don’t you dare take that flippant tone with me."
"Why ever not?"
"Because I am not some scared little Daimon to run cringing from you. I
am your worst nightmare."
The Dark-Hunter scoffed. "Must you resort to cliches? C’mon
Desidisastrous, couldn’t you think of anything more original than that
B-movie dialogue staple?"
A furious snarl echoed in the room. "Stop mocking my name."
"Sorry, you’re right. The least I could do is show you respect before I
expire you."
"Oh, you won’t expire me, Dark-Hunter. You are the one who will die this
time. Have you given thought to how much she’s going to slow you down?
Not to mention the existence of her little friends. They will take you
down like a pack of wild dogs. And if I were you, I’d pray for that. You
have never known the suffering I will inflict upon you when next we
meet."
His lips in a tight, firm line, the Dark-Hunter smiled at Desiderius’s
threats. "You seriously overestimate your abilities."
"We shall see."
Amanda heard a mic click off.
The Dark-Hunter jerked again at the cuffs. "I am so going to kill that
horror movie reject."
"Hey, hey, hey!" she said as he flapped her arm around while trying to
free himself. "That arm is attached."
He paused and looked down at her. His gaze softened. "Twins. It never
occurred to him. Have you any idea where your sister is?"
"I don’t even know where I am or what time it is. For that matter, I
don’t know what’s going on here. Who are you and who is that guy?" Then,
she lowered her voice and added, "Can he hear us?"
Kyrian shook his head. "No, the mic channel is closed. For the moment,
he’s off plotting his Igor-esk revenge. I don’t know about you, but I
have this image of him rubbing his hands together and laughing like
Dexter from Dexter’s Laboratory."
Kyrian took a minute to study her. She didn’t appear hysterical... yet,
and he wanted to keep it that way. Telling her Desiderius was a
soul-sucking demon who was after her sister didn’t seem like the best
way to accomplish that.
Of course, given her sister’s penchant for vampire hunting, it shouldn’t
really come as a surprise to her either.
Closing his eyes, he reached into her mind with his and found
confirmation of his suspicions. There was a healthy dose of fear in her.
Unlike her sister Tabitha, she wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but
she was curious and angry over their situation. It was possible he could
tell her everything without freaking her out, but the Dark-Hunter in him
operated on a need-to-know basis.
Right now all she needed to know was the bare minimum. With any luck he
would be able to separate them without having to reveal anything more
about himself to her.
"I am called Hunter," he said solemnly. "And that guy is a man out to
harm your sister."
"Thanks, but that much I already got." Amanda frowned. She should be
frightened by all this, but she wasn’t. Her anger over it was too great.
Leave it to her to get mixed-up in her sister’s crazy life.
In fact, she was glad they had captured her by mistake, since Tabitha
would no doubt pull some kamikaze stunt and get herself killed.
She looked up at the Dark-Hunter and her frown deepened. How did he know
all that about Tabitha? For that matter, how had he been able to tell
them apart when even their own mother had trouble at times? "Are you one
of my sister’s friends?"
He looked at her blankly, before pulling her to her feet. "No," he said
as he patted his chest, hips, rear and legs.
Amanda tried not to notice just how incredibly toned that body was as
her hand was dragged in the wake of his. And when her hand brushed his
hard, inner thigh, she thought she would moan.
He was built for sex and for speed. Too bad he wasn’t her type. In fact,
he was the total antithesis to everything she found desirable in a man.
Wasn’t he?
He cursed. "Of course, he has my phone," he muttered, before leading her
to the door.
After trying the knob, he studied the hinges.
When he unbuckled his left boot and toed it off, Amanda arched a brow.
"What are you doing? Going for a swim?"
He gave her a cocky smirk before leaning down to pick the boot up off
the floor. "Trying to get us out of here. You?"
"I’m trying not to get irritated at you."
Amusement flashed in his eyes, then he returned his attention to the
door.
Amanda watched as he pressed one of the silver inlays and a vicious five
inch blade shot out of the toe. He was such Tabitha’s type. She wondered
if he had throwing stars inside his pockets too.
"Oooo," she commented drily. "Very scary."
He gave her an unamused look at her sarcasm. "Baby, you ain’t seen scary
yet."
Amanda smirked at his Ford Farlaine, tough guy demeanor and gave a very
unfeminine snort.
He ignored her. Using the jagged blade, he tried to pry loose the rusted
hinges.
"You’re going to break that blade if you’re not careful," she warned
him.
He gave her an arched look. "Nothing on this earth could break this
blade." He ground his teeth while hammering the boot with his fist.
"Much like nothing on this earth appears able to move this hinge." He
tried for several more minutes.
"Damn," he snarled when the hinge refused to budge. He retracted the
blade, then bent over to put the boot back on. The back of his coat
parted with his movements, gifting her with a nice view of him.
Oh yeah, nice butt.
Amanda’s mouth went dry as he finally straightened to his full six feet
five inch height.
Oh my, my, my.
Okay, she took it back, he did have one feature she found irresistible.
His height. She’d always been a sucker for any man taller than her. And
with this guy, she could easily wear three inch heels and not offend his
male ego.
He towered over her.
And she liked it.
"How do you know my sister?" she asked, trying to keep her thoughts
focused on the matter at hand and not on the matter of how much she
wanted to taste those lips of his.
"I know her because she keeps getting in my way." He snatched at the
cuffs again. "What is it with you humans that you feel this incessant
need to delve into things you should leave alone."
"I don’t delve into..." her voice trailed off as his words penetrated.
"You humans? Why would you say that?"
He didn’t answer.
"Look," she said, holding up her arm to show the handcuff. "I’m stuck
with you right now, and I want an answer."
"No, you don’t."
That did it. She hated Alpha men in the worst sort of way. Those
domineering, I’m-the-man-baby-let-me-drive types nauseated her.
"All right, macho babe boy," she said irritably. "I’m not some little
ditz who is going to bat her eyelashes at the buff stud in black
leather. Don’t try your he-man tactics with me. I’ll have you know, in
my office I’m known as the ball-breaker."
Kyrian frowned at her. "Macho babe boy?" he repeated in disbelief.
There had never been a time in his extremely long life that anyone had
the mettle stand up to him. As a mortal, he had made entire Roman armies
flee in stark terror of his approach. Few men had ever dared meet him
eye to eye.
As a Dark-Hunter, he made legions of Daimons and Apollites quake in his
presence. His name was whispered in awe and with reverence, and this
woman had called him....
"Buff stud in black leather," he repeated out loud. "I don’t think I’ve
ever been more insulted."
"Then you must have been an only child."
He laughed at that. In truth, he’d once had three younger sisters, but
none of them had ever dared insult him.
He swept a look over her. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but there
was an exotic quality to her almond-shaped eyes that lent her a fey
charm.
Her long, mahogany hair was loose, spilling about her slender shoulders.
But it was her blue eyes that were captivating. Warm and intelligent,
they were narrowed on him now with malice.
A faint blush stained her cheeks, making her eyes a full shade darker.
In spite of the danger they were in, he wondered what she would look
like after a full night of raw, exhausting sex. He could just see her
eyes dark with passion, her hair mussed, her cheeks red from his
whiskers, and her lips moist and swollen from his kisses.
The thought made his entire body burn.
Until Kyrian felt the familiar prickling on the back of his neck. "It
will be dawn soon."
"How do you know?"
"I just do," he pulled her to the left, then began examining the
rust-covered walls for an escape. "Once we’re released, we’ll have to
find a way to break out of these cuffs."
"Nice of you to state the obvious." Amanda glanced down his body and saw
the jagged wound through the torn material. "You really need to tend
that."
"God forbid I should bleed to death, eh?" he asked sardonically. "Then,
you’d have to cart around my rotting corpse."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Could you be any more morbid? Jeez.
Who was your idol growing up? Boris Karloff."
"Hannibal, actually."
"You’re trying to scare me, aren’t you?" she asked, "Well, it won’t
work. I grew up in a house with an angry poltergeist and two sisters who
used to conjure demons just to fight them. Buster, I’ve seen it all, and
your gallows humor isn’t working on me."
Before he realized what she was doing, she grabbed the bottom of his
shirt and lifted it.
Amanda froze at the sight of his bare stomach. Lean, hard and flat, he
had a rippling six-pack of abs that any gymnast would envy. But what
made her gasp was the multitude of scars covering his flesh.
Worse, she saw the terrible gash in his side that ran along his lowest
rib.
"Good Lord, what happened to you?"
He jerked his shirt down and took a step back. "If you mean the scars,
it would take me years to account for all of them. If you mean the gash,
it came from an thirteen-year-old Apollite I mistook for a child in need
of help."
"You walked into a trap?"
He shrugged. "It’s not the first time."
Amanda swallowed as she swept her gaze over him. There was an aura of
danger and death that surrounded him. He moved like a sleek, graceful
predator, and those eyes...
They seemed to be able to take in more than just his basic surroundings.
Those wicked, jet eyes held an ethereal glint to them that was
indescribable.
Worst of all, they stole her breath every time he looked at her.
She’d never seen a blond man with eyes like that. Nor had she seen any
man so incredibly handsome. His features were chiseled and perfect.
He oozed an almost unnatural masculine sexuality. She’d seen plenty of
men who had tried their best to project what nature had dumped by the
truckload onto this man.
"What is a Dark-Hunter?" she asked. "Is it like Buffy the Vampire
Slayer?"
He laughed at that, "Yes, I’m a small, emaciated teenage girl who struts
around fighting vampires in earrings they would rip out of my ears and
shove up my—"
"I know you’re not a girl. But what is a Dark-Hunter?"
He sighed as he led her around the room, looking at the walls as if
searching for a secret door. "In short, I execute the things that go
bump in the night."
A chill went up her spine at his words, and yet she sensed there was
something more than just his simple explanation. He appeared deadly, but
not twisted, or even cruel. "Why do you want to kill Desiderius?"
He glanced at her before trying to open the steel door again. He
wrenched the handle so forcefully, she was amazed he didn’t rip the
doorknob off. "Because he not only kills humans, he steals their souls."
She tensed at his words. "Can he do that?"
"You said you’ve seen it all," he said in a mocking tone. "You tell me."
Amanda wanted to choke him. Never in her life had she met a more
arrogant, or infuriating man.
"Why do I always get sucked into this supernatural mumbo-jumbo?" she
muttered. "Is it too much to ask that I have one average day?"
"Life is seldom what we want it to be."
She frowned at his words, and at the odd note in his voice.
Kyrian tilted his head, and held his hand up to signal her for silence.
Out of nowhere, the doorknob clicked.
"Knock, knock," Desiderius said. "You have the day to hide. Come
nightfall, we hunt."
"Yeah, yeah," Hunter said. "You and your little dog, too."
His blithe tone amazed her. The chilling words had absolutely no effect
on him. "You’re not scared of his threats?"
He looked at her drily. "Chere, the day I fear something like him is the
day I lie down at his feet and hand him the knife to cut my heart out.
The only fear I have is getting you back to your sister and convincing
High Queen Hard-Head to leave off this matter until I can locate
Desiderius and send his soul into oblivion where it belongs."
In spite of herself and the danger they were in, Amanda laughed at his
words. "High Queen Hard-Head? You know Tabitha well."
He disregarded her comment as he carefully shielded her with his body,
then opened the door slowly. He paused to look around.
Outside the door was a narrow hallway with large, dust-covered windows
that showed the dawning sun.
"Damn," Hunter snarled under his breath as he took a step back into the
room.
"What?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat in terror. "Is someone out
there?"
"No."
"Then, let’s go." She started out the door.
He didn’t budge.
Clenching his teeth, he looked down the hallway again and said something
in a language she didn’t know.
"What’s the problem?" Amanda asked. "It’s dawn, and no one’s out there.
Let’s leave."
He took a deep, aggravated breath. "The problem isn’t the people. The
problem is the sun."
"And the problem with that is...?"
He hesitated for a few heartbeats, then opened his mouth and ran his
tongue over his long, pointed canine teeth.
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