Sins of the Night (Dark-Hunter 7)

Chapter 5

At the end of the hallway on her upper floor, Danger pushed open the door to the guest room to find Alexion studying one of the Faberge eggs that she collected. She'd started the collection about forty years ago because they reminded her of the Malowanki eggs her father always brought back for her from his annual trips to Prussia to visit his grandmother. Until the year she died, Babcia would always make sure that she'd created the Malowanki eggs for all of them to remind them of their Prussian heritage and the beauty of Easter.

None of those precious, colored eggs that Danger had guarded so carefully as a human had survived. Calling them the frivolous waste of the aristocracy, her husband had taken great pleasure in destroying them after she'd died.

How she hated that man. But most of all, she hated herself for putting her trust in someone and allowing him to deceive her so completely.

She would never be so stupid again.

Narrowing her eyes on Alexion, she opened the door wider to watch him. His modern clothes looked rather out of place in a room she had fashioned into an exact copy of the one she'd grown up in. The hand-carved Baroque bed had been imported from Paris and was decked out in bloodred and gold pillows and comforter. Gold draperies fell from the padded half-tester. She'd spent a lot of time choosing the antiques for this room.

It was the last of her world and in many ways a time capsule. In here she sometimes thought that she could glimpse sight of her father... hear the faint laughter of her siblings.

Mon Dieu, how she missed them all.

Grief swelled inside her, but she held it back. There was no need in crying. She'd shed enough tears over the centuries to fill the Atlantic.

The past was the past and this was the present. Tears would not bring her family back and they would not alter her life in any way. All she could do was move onward and upward, and make sure that no one ever deceived her again.

For now, Alexion was the present and he was her enemy.

He stood before the small Neoclassical-style dressing table, holding the egg carefully in his large hand as if he understood how much she loved her collectibles. In spite of herself, she was struck by the gentleness of his touch as he closed it and returned it to its stand.

He was incredibly handsome standing there and her body reacted to him with an intensity that surprised her. It wasn't like her to be attracted to someone she had just met. Hot Hollywood actors in movies and magazines notwithstanding, she normally had to be around a guy a long time before she felt such a strong, potent desire for his body. If she ever felt desire for him. Most of the time, she could take or leave any man.

But she actually wanted to reach out and touch him. And that never happened.

Alexion felt her presence like a sizzling caress. It was as if she made contact with his soul every time she drew near him. Something that was completely impossible since he hadn't owned a soul in more than nine thousand years.

He didn't know what it was about her, but his body reacted wildly to her presence. Turning, he found her in the doorway, watching him with a wary, almost angry expression.

She was afraid of him and pissed at herself for that fear, he could feel it deep inside himself. But she was trying hard to disguise it.

He could respect her for that.

In the end, she was wise to fear him. He could kill her as easily as he blinked. Yet he didn't want to hurt her.

For some strange reason, he didn't even want her to fear him, and that was something he'd never experienced before. Usually when he was in human form, he used that fear to his advantage to intimidate the Dark-Hunters and bring them back in line. He had the powers of a full god within him. The ability to take any life he chose...

He could hear and see things that were far beyond the comprehension of man, Apollite, or Dark-Hunter.

And yet as he stood there, only one thing echoed in his head-the sound of her laughter. He'd heard her laughing earlier this very evening as she fought with the Daimons. It was a lush, musical sound that rolled out from her. Hearty.

He wanted to hear it again.

"I mean you no harm, Dangereuse."

She stiffened defiantly. "The name's Danger," she corrected. "I haven't gone by Dangereuse in a long time."

He inclined his head to her. He knew from his research into her background that she'd been named for the grandmother of Eleanor of Aquitaine whom her mother had adored. A great duchess who'd lived life solely on her own terms and who had flouted societal rules. It was a name that suited the petite woman in front of him. "Forgive me."

His apology did nothing to soothe her. "And just so you know, I'm not afraid of you."

He smiled at her brave words. She was a tough, no-nonsense woman and he wondered if she had been like that as a human. But he somehow doubted it. The world she had been born into wouldn't have tolerated such a whirlwind personality from the fairer sex.

No doubt they would have quashed her rebelliousness, not embraced it.

She took a step into the room. Her dark eyes were piercing as they searched him for some weakness.

Good luck, ma petite. I haven't any.

"So, what's your story?" she asked. "You say you're Ash's Squire. Are you a Blue Blood, Blood Rites, or what?"

Alexion bit back a smile at her question. Blue Bloods were Squires who came from long generations of Squires. Blood Rites were the Squires who were charged with assuring that the rules of their world were followed. They protected the Dark-Hunters and were a police force for other Squires. Of course, he had been serving Acheron since before the Squires' Council had existed. He wasn't a true Squire. He was Acheron's Alexion, an Atlantean term that had no real translation into English.

Basically, he would do whatever was necessary to protect Acheron and Simi. And he truly meant "whatever."

He had no conscience. No morals. In his world, the only right was Acheron's will. It governed everything about him. Yes, he could and did argue with Acheron at times, but at the end of it all, he was Acheron's protector. He would always do what was in Acheron's best interest no matter the personal or physical cost to himself.

Yet he couldn't tell her the truth of his status. Only he, Simi, Artemis, and Acheron would ever know of his real relationship to the boss.

"I'm a barnacle chip," he answered in Squire slang, meaning that Acheron had recruited him to be his Squire. In a way, it was almost true.

"How long have you served him?"

He gave a short laugh at that. "It seems like forever most days."

Her dark eyes flashed suspicion and intelligence at him. She was far too bright for her own good. And far too sexy for his.

She still wasn't through interrogating him as she moved closer to him... so close he could now smell her. Her sweet scent permeated his head and created images of her naked and pliant in his bed.

"How is it that you did that little trick with the dagger where you reappeared after I stabbed you?"

One side of his mouth quirked up at her question and he leaned even closer so that he could smell the fragrance of her hair and skin. It went through him like a warm whiskey, shocking and invigorating.

It made his blood hot, his cock hard.

"Ask me what's really on your mind, Danger," he said, his voice deepened by his lust. "I don't like to play games. We both know that I'm not human so let's not do the polite song and dance while you tiptoe around me trying to figure me out."