Acheron (Dark-Hunter 14)

Part II CHAPTER 14

Terrified, Tory backed away from Ash as those words went through her. He was insane . . . and she was in a soundproof room, naked with a lunatic.

Oh dear God!

"Okay," she said slowly, stretching the word out until she could think of some way to get to the door behind him and safely out of the room before he killed her. "Let's calm down. Can I get the normal, brooding Ash back?"

He looked as if her words hurt him. "Don't be afraid of me, Tory. I wanted to tell you that I was a god, but I didn't know how." Closing his eyes, he slid down the door to sit on the floor with his legs gathered tight to his chest. That gesture reminded her of a little boy who was upset that he'd been banished to his room for something he hadn't meant to do. "I knew you wouldn't like me if you found out the truth. No one ever likes me when they find out."

He looked up at her and his eyes returned to that swirling silver color. "He will be called Acheron for the river of woe. Like the river of the underworld, his journey shall be dark, long and enduring. He will be able to give life and to take it. He will walk through his life alone and abandoned-ever seeking kindness and ever finding cruelty. May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will."

Tory frowned as he recited something that obviously caused him a great deal of pain. "What is that from?"

A tic worked in his jaw as his cheeks mottled with color. How could a lunatic be so handsome?

"It's what the priestess said over me when I was born into the mortal realm as a cursed god because my father wanted my mother to kill me to prevent our pantheon from falling." He looked away. "I wish she had . . . You don't know what it's like to walk through the world always alone in every crowd. Everyone sees me, but no one knows me." He hung his head in his hands. "I should never have touched you. What have I done? I will pay for this night for the rest of eternity." The anguish in his tone tore through her.

Tory approached him slowly. "If you're really an ancient god, prove it to me. Make me see clearly without my glasses."

He kept his face buried on top of his arms. "Okay."

The word had barely left his lips before her vision clouded. She sucked her breath in sharply at the pain. Removing her glasses, she blinked and then gasped as everything came into focus. Everything.

Her sheer babydoll then turned into a flowing silk gown that clung to her body and covered her completely.

Unable to believe it, she ran her hands over the cool, slick material and looked around the room at things that had always been shadows to her. It was all sharp and crisp now.

All of it.

Which meant she had a choice to make. Either he was telling her the truth or he was a very hot-looking faith-healer or they were both nuts.

She opted for the truth, which explained a lot more than just her sudden ability to see. It explained those strange eyes of his and his ability to read a language no one else could even identify.

Kneeling on the floor by his side, she approached him warily, ready to bolt if she needed to. "You kept me from dying, didn't you?"

He lifted his head and reached out to put one hand over the small scar on her forearm that she'd had there since a childhood accident from a broken bottle mishap. As he touched it, it glowed and then vanished. "I know better than to interfere with the natural order, but I couldn't let you die. I didn't want to watch you suffer."

"Why would you do that?"

He led her hand to his face so that she was touching his cheek as he stared at her. His eyes and the pain in them burned her soul deep. "Because I don't feel broken when you look at me."

Those words brought tears to her eyes. "How could you feel broken?"

He rubbed his face against her palm and when he spoke, his breath scorched her skin. But it was his words that branded her heart. "I was shattered as a child and thrown away, like a piece of trash no one wanted. But you don't treat me like that. You see in me the human bit and you touch that part of me. You make me feel whole and wanted."

Tory pulled him against her and held him close as her tears finally fell.

"I love when you hold me," he whispered against her shoulder.

Tory laid her cheek against the top of his head. "Why did you come to Nashville?"

He went rigid in her arms, then spoke in a language she couldn't understand.

"I don't know what you're saying, Ash."

He pulled back and cupped her face so that she could see the fury in his eyes as red tinged the outer line of them. "No one can know about Atlantis. They can't know about me, Soteria. No one can ever know what I was there or what I am now. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I can't let you expose me. Ever." He growled that word through clenched teeth.

A tremor of fear went through her along with a jolt of anger. "Are you the one who killed my parents when they got too close?"

He shook his head in denial. "I don't like taking human lives. They're too short. Daimons, demons, immortals and gods . . . they're fair game. But I don't tamper with humans if I can help it. I won't do to them what was done to me."

"What was done to you?"

He grimaced and pulled away. He tried to stand, then staggered and fell back to the floor. His expression baffled, he reminded her of a boy and not a powerful god. "What is wrong with me?"

"I think you're drunk." He sounded extremely intoxicated.

"I am drunk, but I don't know why." He started to lie down on the floor.

Tory caught him. "We need to get you into bed. C'mon, sweetie, help me get you there."

His hair turned black, then a very dark green laced with black streaks through it as they staggered toward the bed. The stud in his nose vanished, along with the scars of it ever having been pierced. She helped him lie down and covered him with a blanket. As he closed his eyes, she realized something.

For the first time, she was looking at the real him. He was completely naked and exposed to her. And she wasn't talking about his body. He had no defenses against her. No sunglasses or piercings to hide behind. He was completely vulnerable to her and something told her that he'd never been like this with anyone else.

She ran her hand over his chest as another thought tore through her mind. Acheron was Atlantean.

Atlantean . . . He knew every secret she'd spent her lifetime trying to learn. Dear Lord, I'm touching someone who's lived thousands and thousands of years. She could barely fathom it. He'd seen every culture that had ever fascinated her. "Ash?"

"Mmm?"

"What was Atlantis like?"

He let out a tired sigh. "It was ugly and beautiful."

"Can you show me?"

Ash came awake to the worst imaginable pain throbbing in his head. For the merest instant, he thought he was human again, waking up after a night of binge drinking and drugs.

But that was thousands of lifetimes ago.