Page 22 of Dance With the Devil (Dark-Hunter 3)
Chapter 6
"You were blind?" Astrid asked.
Zarek didn't answer. He couldn't believe he'd allowed that to slip out. It was something he'd never spoken of, not even to Jess.
Only Acheron knew and Acheron had thankfully kept the secret.
Unwilling to visit his past again tonight and the pain that waited there, Zarek left the den and returned to his room where he locked the door so that he could wait out the storm in peace.
At least alone he didn't have to worry about betraying himself or hurting anyone.
But as he sat in his chair, it wasn't images of the past that haunted him.
It was the scent of roses and wood, the clear pale eyes of a woman.
The remembered feel of her soft, cold cheek underneath his fingertips. Her damp tousled hair that framed features which were feminine and inviting.
A woman who didn't flinch from him or cringe.
She was astounding and surprising. If he were someone else, he might even go back to the den where she sat with her wolf and make her laugh. But he didn't know how to make people laugh. He could recognize humor, most especially irony, but he wasn't the kind of man to make jokes or nurture smiles from other people. Especially not a woman.
That fact hadn't bothered him before.
Tonight it did.
"Is he guilty?"
Astrid started at Artemis's voice in her head. Every night since Zarek had been brought into her house, Artemis had bugged her with that one question-over and over again, until she felt like Joan of Arc being tormented by voices.
"Not yet, Artemis. He just woke up."
"Well, what's taking so long? As long as he's living, Acheron is on edge and I positively hate it when he's agitated. Judge him rogue already."
"Why do you want Zarek dead so much?"
Silence descended. At first she thought Artemis had left her, so when the response came, it surprised her. "Acheron doesn't like to see anyone suffer. Especially not one of his Dark-Hunters. So long as Zarek lives, Acheron hurts, and in spite of what Acheron thinks, I don't like to see him hurting."
Astrid had never known Artemis to say such a thing. The goddess wasn't exactly known for her kindness or compassion, or for thinking of anyone besides herself.
"Do you love Acheron?"
Artemis's voice was sharp when she answered, "Acheron is no concern of yours, Astrid. Only Zarek is, and I swear if I lose any more of Acheron's loyalty over this, you will be very sorry for it."
Astrid stiffened at her hostile tone and threat. It would take more than Artemis to hurt her, and if the goddess wanted a fight, she had better come prepared.
She might not like her job anymore, but Astrid took it seriously and no one, most especially Artemis, was going to bully her into a premature verdict.
"If I judge Zarek too soon, don't you think Acheron would be angry and demand a rejudging?"
Artemis made a rude noise.
"Besides, you told Acheron that you wouldn't interfere, Artemis. You made him swear that he wouldn't contact me to try to sway my verdict and yet here you are trying to do that. How do you think he'd react if I told him of your actions?"
"Fine," she snapped. "I won't disturb you again. But get up with it already!"
Alone finally, Astrid sat in the den, thinking over what she should do next, how she could push Zarek to see if he would break again and turn more violent.
He had attacked her house, but not her. Sasha had attacked him, and though he had hurt the wolf, the wolf had hurt him much more. It had been an honest fight between them and Zarek hadn't tried to kill Sasha for the attack. He'd gotten the wolf off him and then left him alone.
Instead of seeking revenge on Sasha, Zarek had given him water.
Zarek's worst crime so far was belligerency and the fact that he had a truly frightening presence. Yet he did kind things that were at odds with his surliness.
Her common sense said to do as Artemis asked, find him guilty and run.
Her gut instinct told her to wait.
So long as he didn't strike out in anger at her or Sasha, she would follow this through.
But if he ever did strike out at them, then she was out the door and he was toast.
"There is no such thing as an innocent man..."
Astrid let out a tired breath. She'd said that to her sister Atty the last time they had spoken to each other. Part of her honestly believed it. Never once in all these centuries had she found someone innocent. Every man she had ever judged had lied to her.
All of them had tried to deceive her.
Some had tried to bribe her.
Some had tried to escape her.
Some had tried to beat her.
And one had tried to kill her.
She wondered which category Zarek would fall into.
Taking a deep breath for fortification, Astrid got up and went to her room to dig around in the clothes Sasha wore when he was in human form.
"What are you doing?" Sasha asked as he joined her.
"Zarek needs clothes," she said out loud without thinking.
Sasha nipped at her hands, and nosed his clothes back into the basket in the bottom of the closet. "He can get his own. Those are mine."
Astrid pulled them back out. "C'mon, Sasha, be nice. He doesn't have any clothes here and the ones he's wearing are ragged."
"So?"
She sorted through the pants and shirts, wishing she could see them. "You were the one who was complaining about having to look at a naked man. I thought you'd prefer to see some clothing on him."
"I also complain about the fact that I have to piss outside and eat out of bowls, but I don't see you letting me use the bathroom or tableware around him."
She shook her head at him. "Would you stop? You nag like an old woman." She picked up a heavy sweater.
"No," Sasha snapped. "Not the burgundy sweater. That's my favorite."
"Sasha, I swear. You are so spoiled!"
"And that's my sweater. Put it back."
She got up to take it to Zarek.
Sasha followed, complaining the whole way.
"I'll buy you a new one," she promised.
"I don't want a new one. I want that one."
"He won't hurt it."
"Yes he will. Look at his clothes. They're ruined. And I don't want his body touching something I wear. He'll contaminate it."
"Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You're four hundred years old and you're acting like a whelp. It's not like he has cooties or anything."
"Yes he does!"
She glared down her leg where she could feel him. He grabbed the sweater with his teeth and pulled it out of her hands.
"Sasha!" she snapped out loud, running after him. "Give me that sweater or I swear I will see you gelded."
The wolf ran through the house.
Astrid went after him as fast as she could. She relied on her memory as to where things should be.
Someone had moved the coffee table. She hissed as her leg collided with the corner of it and she lost her balance. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, only to feel the tabletop tilting. It gave under her weight.
