Kiss of the Night (Dark-Hunter 4)

"Well, that ought to make you happy," Chris said to Wulf. "You finally have someone who can fight you until you're bloody and blue from it." He turned back toward Cassandra. "Has Wulf explained his little problem to you?"

Cassandra's eyes widened as she tried to think of what "little" problem Wulf could possible have.

Unconsciously, her gaze dropped to his groin.

"Hey!" Wulf snapped. "That has never been my problem. That's his problem."

"Bullshit!" Chris snapped. "I haven't got any problems there either. My only problem is you yenting at me all the time to go get laid."

Oh, Cassandra really didn't want to go where this conversation was leading. It was way too much information about both men.

"Well, then, what problem were you talking about?" she asked Chris.

"The fact that if you walk out of the room, by the time you get to the end of the hallway, you won't remember him."

"Oh," she said in understanding. "That."

"Yeah, that."

"It's not a problem," Wulf said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "She remembers me."

"Ah, man," Chris said, his face contorted by disgust. "I've been making moves on a relative? That's so sick."

Wulf rolled his eyes. "She's not related to us."

Chris looked relieved for about half a second, then he looked ill again. "Well, then, that sucks even more. I finally find a woman who doesn't think I'm a total loser and she's here for you? What is wrong with this picture?"

Chris paused. The light came back to his face as if he'd had an even better thought. "Oh, wait, what am I saying? If she remembers you, I'm off the hook! Wahoo!" Chris started dancing around the couch.

Cassandra stared at his chaotic, off-rhythm movements. Wulf really needed to let the boy out more.

"Don't get too excited, Christopher," Wulf said, dodging him as he came around the couch and tried to include Wulf in the dance. "She happens to be an Apollite."

Chris froze, then settled down. "She can't be, I've seen her in the daylight and she has no fangs."

"I'm half-Apollite."

Chris stepped behind Wulf as if suddenly afraid she might start feeding on him. "So what are you going to do with her?"

"She's my house guest for a while. You, on the other hand, need to get your bags packed." Wulf pushed him toward the hallway, but Chris refused to budge. "I'm calling the Council to evacuate you."

"Why?"

"Because we have a nasty Daimon after her who has some unusual powers. I don't want you caught in the cross fire."

Chris gave him a droll look. "I'm not a baby, Wulf. You don't have to hide me at the first sign of something not boring."

In spite of Chris's words, Wulf held the look of a patient parent dealing with a toddler. "I'm not taking a chance with your life, so go pack."

Chris let out a disgusted growl. "I curse the day Morginne gave you the soul of an old woman and made you worse than any mother could ever be."

"Christopher Lars Eriksson, move!" Wulf barked in a tone so commanding that Cassandra actually jumped.

Chris just gave him a bored, blank stare. Sighing heavily, he turned and walked back down the hallway he'd emerged from.

"I swear," Wulf growled in a tone so low she barely heard him, "there are times when I could choke the life out of him."

"Well, you do talk to him like he's four."

Wulf turned on her with a glare so menacing that she actually stepped back from his wrath. "That is none of your business."

Cassandra held her hands up and returned his glare with one of her own. "Excuse me, Mr. Bad-Ass, but you will take another tone to me. I'm not your bitch to heel when you snap. I don't have to stay here."

"Yes you do."

She gave him an arch look. "I don't think so, and unless you take that anger out of your voice when you speak to me, all you're going to see is my heinie as it goes out that door." She pointed to the front door.

The smile he gave her was wicked and cold. "Have you ever tried to run from a Viking? There's a damned good reason why the western Europeans wet themselves whenever our names were mentioned."

His words made her shiver. "You wouldn't dare."

"Feel free to try me."

Cassandra swallowed. Maybe she shouldn't be so cocksure.

Oh, screw that. If he wanted a fight, she was more than ready. A woman who had spent her life fighting Daimons was more than apt to take on any Dark-Hunter.

"Let me remind you of this, Mr. Viking-Warrior-Barbarian-Hoodlum, while your ancestors were scrounging for fire and food, mine were commanding the elements and building an empire that not even the modern world can touch. So don't you dare threaten me with what you're capable of. I'm not about to take that from you or anyone else. Got that?"

To her surprise he laughed at her words and moved to stand in front of her. His eyes were dark, dangerous, and they made her hot in spite of how angry she was at him. The heat of his body incinerated hers.

She was even more breathless now.

More aware of him and that raw, unsettling masculinity that made every feminine part of her pant.

He placed his hand on her cheek. One corner of his mouth was turned up in amusement. The look of him watching her was totally devastating. "In my day, you would have been worth more than your weight in gold."

Then he did the most unexpected thing of all, he dipped his head down and kissed her.

Cassandra moaned at the feral taste of him. His breath mixed with hers as he plundered her mouth, making her hot and throbbing for him.

But then, that wasn't hard. Not when he was so scrumptiously perfect. So manly and fierce.

Her entire body sizzled at his nearness. At the taste of his tongue dancing with hers as he growled low in his throat.

He pulled her closer to him. So close that she could feel the bulge of his cock against her hip. He was hard already and she knew firsthand just how capable a lover he was. That knowledge made her even more breathless. Needy. He ran his hands down her back until he could cup her bottom and press her even closer to him.

Her anger melted under the desire she felt for this man.

"You taste even sweeter now than before," he breathed against her lips.

She couldn't speak. It was true. This was far more intense. Far more scintillating than anything in her dreams. All she wanted to do was strip his clothes off, throw him on the ground, and ride him until they both were sweaty and sated.

Every part of her cried out for her to make that fantasy real.

Wulf couldn't breathe as he felt her womanly curves against him and in his hands.

He wanted her madly. Desperately. Worse, he had taken her enough times in their dreams to know exactly how passionate she was.

She's an Apollite. The highest form of forbidden fruit.

The voice of sanity rushed through his mind.

He didn't want to listen.

But he had no choice.

Releasing her, he forced himself to step away from her and the need she created inside him.

To his surprise, she didn't let him go. She pulled him back to her lips and ravished his mouth with hers. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as she permeated every sense he possessed. Her scent of roses and powder made him drunk.

He didn't think he could ever get enough of that smell. Of her body grinding against his.

He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

She pulled away and looked up at him. Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed by her passion. "You're not the only one who wants something impossible, Wulf. As much as you hate me for what I am, imagine how I feel knowing I've dreamt of a man who has slaughtered my people for how many centuries now?"

"Twelve," he said before he could stop himself.

She winced at his words. Her hands dropped away from his face. "How many of us have you killed? Do you even know?"

He shook his head. "They had to die. They were killing innocent people."

Her eyes darkened and turned accusatory. "They were surviving, Wulf. You never had to face the choice of being dead at twenty-seven. When most people's lives are just beginning, we are looking at a death sentence. Have you any idea what it's like to know you can never see your children grow up? Never see your own grandchildren? My mother used to say we were spring flowers who are only meant to bloom for one season. We bring our gifts to the world and then recede to dust so that others can come after us."

She held her right hand up so that he could see the five tiny pink teardrops tattooed on her palm in the shape of a flower's petals. "When our loved ones die, we immortalize them like this. I have one for my mother and the other four are my sisters. No one will ever know the beauty of my sisters' laughter. No one will remember the kindness of my mother's smile. In eight months, my father won't even have enough of me left to bury. I will become scattered dust. And for what? For something my great-great-great-whatever did? I've been alone the whole of my life because I dare not let anyone know me. I don't want to love for fear of leaving someone like my father behind to mourn me.

"I will be a vague dream, and yet here you are, Wulf Tryggvason. Viking cur who once roamed the earth raiding villages. How many people did you kill in your human lifetime while you sought your treasure and fame? Were you any better than the Daimons who kill so that they can live? What makes you better than us?"

"It's not the same thing."

Disbelief went through her that he couldn't see what was so obvious. "Isn't it? You know, I went to your Web site and saw the names listed there. Kyrian of Thrace, Julian of Macedon, Valerius Magnus, Jamie Gallagher, William Jess Brady. I've studied history all my life and know each of those names and the terror they wrought in their day. Why is it okay for the Dark-Hunters to have immortality even though most of you were killers as humans, while we are damned at birth for things we never did? Where is the justice in this?"

Wulf didn't want to hear her words. He'd never given any thought to the Daimons and why they did what they did. He had a job to do and so he killed them. The Dark-Hunters were the ones who were right. They were human protectors. The Daimons were the predators who deserved to be stalked and killed. "The Daimons are evil."

"Am I evil?"

No, she wasn't. She was...

She was things he dared not name.

"You're an Apollite," he said forcefully.

"I'm a woman, Wulf," she said simply, her voice filled with emotion. "I cry and I mourn. I laugh and I love. Just like my mother did. I don't see a difference between me and anyone else on this planet."

He met her gaze and the fire in his eyes scorched her. "I do, Cassandra. I see the difference."

His words cut her to the quick. "Then we have nothing more to talk about. We are enemies. It's all we can ever be."

Wulf took a deep breath as she spoke a truth that couldn't be changed. Since the day Apollo had cursed his own children, Dark-Hunters and Apollites had been mortal enemies.

"I know," he said softly, his throat tight with that realization.

He didn't want to be enemies, not with her.

But how could they ever be anything else?

He hadn't chosen this life on his own, but he had given his word to live it now.

They were enemies.

And it killed him inside.

"Let me show you where you can sleep." He led her to the wing opposite Chris's where she could have all the privacy she wanted.

Cassandra didn't say anything as Wulf turned over a large, comfortable bedroom to her. Her heart was heavy, aching for things that were foolish and stupid. What did she want of him?

There was no way to prevent him from killing her people. It was the way of the world and no amount of argument would change that.

There was no hope of having a relationship with him or any other man. Her life was all but over now. So where did that leave them?

Nowhere.

So she resorted to the humor that had seen her through the tragedies of her life. It was all she had. "Tell me, if I get lost in this place, do you have a search party available to find me again?"

He didn't laugh. There was a solid wall between them now. He had completely closed himself off from her. It was just as well.

"I'll go get you something to sleep in." He started away from her.

"You won't even trust me to see where you sleep, huh?"

His look was piercing. "You've already seen where I sleep."

Her face turned red as she remembered the most erotic of her dreams. The one where she had watched his tawny body sliding against hers in the mirrors while he made slow, passionate love to her. "The black iron bed?"

He nodded, then left her.

Alone, Cassandra sat on the mattress and pushed her thoughts away. "What am I doing here?" Part of her said to screw it and just take her chances with Stryker.

But another part of her wanted to go back to her dreams and just pretend this day hadn't happened.

No, what she wanted was the one thing she knew she could never have...

She wanted a forbidden fantasy-a man of her own to have and to hold. One she could grow old with. One who could hold her hand as she brought his baby into the world.

It was so impossible that she had buried those dreams years and years ago.

Up until now, she'd never met anyone who made her ache for the things that were denied her. Not until she had stared into a pair of black eyes and listened to a Viking warrior talk about keeping a boy safe.,

A man who felt guilt for his past.

She yearned now. And it was an impossible desire.

Wulf could never be hers, and even if he was, she would be dead in a matter of months.

Hanging her head in her hands, she wept.