Page 4 of The Guardian (Dark-Hunter 20)
Chapter 2
Lydia couldn't move. She couldn't breathe as she stared at the ...
Demon?
There was no other way to describe him. It was the only thing he could possibly be ...
Other than a god. And neither Azura nor Noir would ever allow a god in their domain, unless it was their sister, Braith. Gods as a rule didn't share territory easily. Not even with their family.
No one in their right mind would share territory with a creature this feral.
Dark, deadly, and scary as hell, he was enveloped by an aura of supreme power-one that made the air between them crackle with its preternatural strength and intensity. His was a presence that would make Darth Vader run screaming for his mama. It even raised the hair along her arms and nape. Never had she seen the like and she'd seen some seriously terrifying things in her thousand-plus years of living. He didn't just enter the room.
He dominated it.
No. He owned it.
Her breathing ragged, she took a moment to study her enemy, hoping to find a weakness of some sort.
Yeah, right ... It was like trying to find a way to harness a hurricane. And while he was calm right now, she had the distinct impression that he could explode into violence with no more provocation than her arching her brow in a way he didn't like.
His straight dark auburn hair was severely pulled back from his face, exposing a widow's peak on his forehead, and held in a small ponytail at the crown of his head. That hair wasn't one single shade of red, but rather the individual strands were everything from blond to mahogany, to chestnut, to black. Somehow they came together to give the impression of hair the color of dried blood.
Well over six feet in height, he was the most intimidating wet-your-pants-'cause-he's-going-to-suck-out-my-soul-and-eat-it thing she'd ever seen. And when you took into account the fact that she could surf everyone's nightmares, that said it all.
His entire face was painted white with sharp, angular red and black lines drawn over it in a way that reminded her of a fierce Kabuki warrior. Then again, given that he was a demon, that might not be paint. It could very well be his skin. The red lines were drawn in such a way as to give the impression of a permanent, sinister sneer and frown. His eyes were ringed by black that went down the side of his nose to form a sharp point right at the tip. Likewise, the black went up from the corner of his eye to his hairline. The dark color only emphasized how pale, cold, and merciless those steel blue eyes were.
Soulless. There was nothing in them except the promise of a brutal death and a pain so profound that those eyes alone would traumatize anyone with an ounce of self-preservation.
Given his massive size, he would have been intimidating on his worst day. Couple that with the burgundy-and-gold spiked armor caked in blood, and the real snarl on his face, and he would send the devil himself to the nearest corner to cower.
Help me ...
Lydia wanted to take a step back from him, but the wall was right there, stopping her. She had no retreat. The only way out was through him.
Yeah, that ain't gonna happen. Not even a Mack truck would be able to move him. It would be like trying to run down Godzilla. She let her breath out slowly, waiting for him to attack.
"Don't you dare hurt her!" Solin growled from where he was chained down on the table. "I swear to the gods, I'll gut you from asshole to appetite if you so much as breathe on her."
That succeeded in making one of the demon's finely arched brows shoot up into a mocking expression. "We've already ascertained that there's nothing you can do, except stain my armor with your blood." He turned that brutal steel gaze back to her. "Who and what are you?"
Dead would be the most obvious answer. Just let it be quick. She didn't want to linger in misery. Not for anything.
And everything about the demon said he would enjoy watching her suffer.
He started forward as if to attack her. "Answer me, damn you!"
Who would have thought he could get any scarier?
She'd rather face Freddy Krueger thirty minutes after she'd swallowed three sleeping pills than confront this overwhelming mountain of demon power.
Lydia gripped her dagger hard in her hand and pressed herself against the wall, trying to teleport out.
She couldn't.
I'm trapped. Something blocked her powers and held her here like an insect trapped inside a science jar.
The demon was almost on her. "Speak, woman," he growled low. "Now!"
"She can't."
Solin's words brought him to an abrupt stop. He narrowed his gaze on Solin's bleeding body. "Explain."
"She's mute."
The demon twisted his lips into a mocking smirk. "You lie."
"I have no need to lie. She's never been able to say a single word, so you can't torture her for anything useful. Not unless you can read minds or sign language."
Seth paused to consider the veracity of Solin's words. Was he lying?
Why would he?
Why not? It was what people did. Many times for no reason whatsoever, and any time they thought they were under assault and wanted to protect their own worthless asses. If he knew nothing else about humanity and the gods, he knew that one simple fact.
No one could be trusted. Ever.
Still, he was curious about her presence. Why would anyone in their right mind come to this forsaken hell realm?
There was only one reasonable explanation he could think of ...
"What is she to you, dream god?"
Solin refused to look at her. Instead, he glared at Seth with a strength of spirit that would garner respect if Seth was capable of giving such to another. "Nothing. Just a Dream-Hunter sent in to rescue me."
This time he knew Solin lied. And he was through bleeding and suffering because of the bastard's steadfast refusal to give him what he needed to free them both. Rage ripped through him as he turned and went to finally kill the imbecile once and for all.
Little did Solin know, this would be a mercy killing.
As he raised his sword to remove Solin's head, the frightened little mouse launched herself at him with everything she had. The weight of her small body slammed into his with more force than he would have thought her capable of. Grabbing his wrist, she actually tried to disarm him. When that failed, she stabbed him in the arm so deep, she buried the dagger's blade in all the way to the hilt.
Seth would have mocked her for the assault had he not been so stunned. No one had had the balls to openly attack him when he was unfettered since before his confinement.
What the hell?
She punched his throat-something that would have worked on anyone else. But too many centuries of being tortured had numbed him to physical pain.
Curling his lip, he raised his arm to backhand her.
"Don't you dare!" Solin strained so hard against his chains that every muscle in his body bulged.
