Sins of the Night (Dark-Hunter 7)

Chapter 8

Danger headed to her room to put on a pair of old gray flannel pajamas. They were two sizes too big, just like she liked them, and thick and ratty enough to discourage any romantic notions Alexion might have.

If only they could protect her from such perilous thoughts. She'd gone way too long without sex herself so it was hard to have him here and not have illicit thoughts about that ripped body of his. Holy moley, did he have to look so damned good?

Get a grip.

"I should throw him out of here, consequences be damned," she said quietly as she exchanged her black shirt for the pajama top.

If only she could toss him out. With his powers, he'd most likely just poof himself right back into her house, say something snotty, then prowl around searching for his invisible friends. Ugh!

She jerked her top into place, then reached for her cell phone. She pressed the autodial for Acheron.

It rang for several minutes without an answer.

How weird. Acheron always answered on the first ring. She'd never had him not pick up the phone whenever she called.

"Great," she said at the phone. "You know, you could at least use voice mail."

Sighing, she shut it off and finished dressing. Where could Acheron be?

Could he really be a Daimon?

Or should she trust Alexion?

A woman could lose her mind trying to sort this out. Not to mention that the last time she put her faith in a man, it not only killed her, but killed everyone she held dear in her heart.

Trust was for the stupid.

"I just need a break."

A little time to think.

Grabbing a pillow, she headed down the hall to the stairway that led upstairs to her media room. There was no sign of Alexion anywhere.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Pausing by her wet bar, she opened the drawer and pulled out ajar of popcorn. She filled her air machine, then placed a bowl under it and switched it on. While it cooked, she grabbed a Coke from the fridge and went to start her current favorite movie, Troy.

Yeah, that was what she needed. Barely dressed men, romance gone bad...

It was right up her alley. She might not gain any great insight into what she should do with Alexion, but at least for a little while she would be distracted from a situation that seemed pretty hopeless.

Alexion let out an aggravated breath. There was still no communication to be had with Acheron, Artemis, or Simi. And he continued to have the sensation that someone was watching him.

"You know," he said out loud for their benefit. "It's time you cut the shit. Either show yourself or knock it off."

The sensation stopped.

Alexion frowned. Hmm, that had been easy enough. He should have tried that in the beginning. "It better not be you screwing with me, Sim. If it is, I'm seriously unamused by it, and the next time you accidentally glue something to your wings, you can fix it yourself."

Feeling somewhat better, he decided to find the Dark-Huntress and make sure she was okay. For all he knew, the sfora was now trained on her.

He used his senses to locate her upstairs. Closing his eyes, he flashed himself to the outside of the door. There was no need to scare her any more with his powers. He should act as normal as possible around her.

With that thought in mind, he opened the door to her media room to find her curled up on the padded dark green couch, watching the television. He cocked his head as he saw two ancient Greek armies on the large-screen plasma TV.

Danger felt the air stirring behind her. Turning her head, she saw Alexion watching her TV. There was a strange look on his handsome face. It was an odd mixture of pain, remorse, and longing. If she didn't know better, she might think he was homesick or something.

"You through prowling the house?" she asked him.

The familiar stony expression returned to his face. "Yes. They're gone now." He moved a little closer to the couch while he continued to watch the screen curiously. "What is this?"

"Troy."

He frowned as if that didn't make sense to him. Then sudden recognition lightened his face. "Oh," he said in a low tone. "Ilion."

Now there was a term she hadn't heard since her days of studying classical Greek history as a girl in a convent school. It was then she realized something about her "guest." "You're an ancient Greek, aren't you?"

He looked briefly startled by her question, but he quickly recovered himself. And true to form, he avoided answering her question. "Why are you watching this?"

She pointed to the scene where Brad Pitt as Achilles was lying naked on a pallet with two equally naked women. "That right there," she said with an appreciative note in her voice. "That is truly the finest butt on the planet."

He scoffed. "That's not the finest butt on the planet. Trust me."

She arched a brow at that. "So you're an expert on male butts, huh?"

His jaw dropped as he gave her an offended glare. "Hardly."

Danger couldn't resist teasing him more... "Yeah, you're an ancient Greek all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "Well, we all know about you ancient Greeks. You were a friendly bunch with each other. Wrestling naked, groping each other's heinies."

"We were not!" he snapped angrily.

Finally, she got some real emotion out of him. She was actually proud of herself.

And to be honest, she had to admit that she thoroughly enjoyed being on the teasing end for once. "Please, it's all over the history books. You guys were always shacking up with each other. Even Achilles was shacked up with Patroclus. Of course not in this movie, but in Homer's Iliad they were more than just friends."

His green eyes flared in outrage. "Those were later Greeks. Not us. They gave all the rest of the city-states a bad name."

"Then you admit you're Greek."

His gaze narrowed as he realized she had tricked him into a confession.

"Oh, don't pop an aneurysm," she said playfully. "I won't tell anyone that you were once a Greek. Although why you would hide it, I can't imagine, since Greek Dark-Hunters are 'the thing' in our world." She indicated the other end of her couch. "Have a seat, Mr. Cranky."

He moved to perch uncomfortably on the arm of her couch as he went back to watching the movie.

Danger was more fascinated by him and the sadness that seemed to engulf him while he was transfixed by Hollywood's interpretation of his world. For the first time, there was something about him that almost seemed human. "Were you a soldier?"

He gave a subtle nod.

She glanced to the screen, then back at Alexion as she tried to imagine him in Greek armor. Most likely, he would have been a fine-looking warrior. He was lean and absolutely ripped... that kind of ripped that made a woman want to spend hours tasting his abs and pecs. And she realized that his shoulder-length blond hair would have been really sexy peeking out from the back of his helm.

It made her wonder how his butt would compare to Brad's...

His scowl returned. "Why, if they're supposed to be Greek, are all of them speaking with an English accent?"

She laughed. "Didn't you know that British is, like, the universal 'foreign' language in Hollywood? They use it in any movie where they want to have a foreign feel to it, regardless of where it's set."

"But they're Greek. They should at least sound it."

"I know, just go with it."

He quieted down until they showed Brad confronting Brian Cox, who was playing King Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks. "That's not Agamemnon," he said, making a face. "He wasn't that old. Clytemnestra killed him off long before he had a chance to go gray."