Page 8 of The Guardian (Dark-Hunter 20)
Chapter 3
When he returned to his room, Seth expected to find the woman alert and crouched, ready to tear into him again. Instead, she sat in the corner with her arms crossed over her knees and her head lying atop her forearms. The soft, gentle snore let him know that she was sound asleep.
How could that be?
He hadn't been able to do more than nap since he'd been freed. And even those came in very short spurts. Spurts where he jerked awake at the slightest sound or merest stirring in the air. Real or imagined.
Yet here she was in the middle of enemy territory, and ...
She slept.
Deeply.
You're such a fool.
Most of all, she was a curiosity wrapped by enigma and contradiction. Why? Why would she risk her life and body for someone else? Why would she come here?
Really?
Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd closed the distance between them and knelt on the floor by her side. His armor creaked ever so slightly from his movement. Her long black hair spilled around her shoulders and legs, forming a shining weblike mantle. In that position, she looked even more frail and tiny than she had before ... Like a little dark rose on his floor. And she smelled like beauty. Most demons had an odor to them, but not her.
She smelled like the summer sunshine he hadn't seen since he was a boy ... back in the days when he'd believed in beauty and decency. When he'd looked forward to a future he'd stupidly believed would be bright.
Back before his innocence had been so violently torn from him, and then thrown in his face.
Hesitant, but too curious to stop, he touched a lock of her hair that dangled by her side. The softness of that one fat curl startled him. It was like touching a rose petal. At least this was what he remembered them feeling like.
Slowly, he lifted it to his nose so that he could breathe in the pleasant, sweet smell that seemed to be a part of her. Oh yeah ... It made him think of a home he'd never known or had.
He closed his eyes to savor the scent as it ran through his blood like fire. Against his will, his thoughts turned to what she might look like naked. How she'd feel beneath him as he tasted her tanned skin and took her.
No, better yet, on top of him. Yeah, that was the image he coveted. With this soft hair tickling his skin while she rode him like no one ever had before. Slow and tender. With gentle kisses that didn't draw blood.
Like he meant something to her.
Don't be stupid. Since when did you become an old woman? Sex was sex. It was a meaningless animalistic act that the body needed from time to time. Only an absolute imbecile would drag emotion into it.
And since when was sex ever tender? Especially for something as disgusting as he was? Hell, he was lucky any female would lower herself to screw him.
Lydia would never do so.
That thought stung deep. But it was true. The first thing he'd done after his strength came back was find a demon lover to sate what he'd missed most-the only pleasure Noir hadn't taken from him. He'd needed release in the worst sort of way. But the she-demon's pale gray skin had been cold and dry, her touch rough and demanding as she'd clawed and bit him until he bled. She'd even knocked loose some of his teeth. And her hair had been rough and brittle. Nothing like the warm softness of his little flower.
Open your eyes, sšn.
As if she heard his innermost wish, she let out a low sigh and rubbed her cheek against her folded arms. She blinked once, then jerked as she realized he was right beside her. She immediately scooted away from him with panic in her topaz eyes. To his dismay, her actions caused her hair to fall out of his grasp. Her entire body tensed for battle, as if she expected him to break into violence for no reason whatsoever.
"I..." he caught himself before he promised not to hurt her. He refused to give her that power.
Better to be feared. Always.
So instead, he moved to confront her.
Lydia pushed herself up after he rose only to realize it didn't really matter. He still towered over her and made her feel as if she'd fit into his pocket. May the gods help her if he did turn violent. It wouldn't be much of a fight on her part. She'd already done her best and stabbed him, and he'd pinned her so fast and easily that it still staggered her. But she would fight. So long as she breathed, she wouldn't give in without one.
That being said, he made no moves toward her at all.
She stared at the demon, wishing she had some way to question him. If only she had her powers. Then she could send out her thoughts.
As it was ...
Her best action remained staring her hatred in his general direction.
She tried signing to him again. But all that did was cause him to frown. Something made twice as sinister by the black and red lines on his white face.
"Is that how you speak?" he asked her.
She nodded.
He cursed under his breath.
Using Charade movements instead of sign language, she tried to tell him that if he could return some of her powers, she'd be able to talk to him.
His frown deepened. "What? The ceiling? What about it?"
She let out a frustrated breath and tried to think of another way to illustrate her powers. She waved her arms around like smoke.
He grimaced in distaste. "This is annoying."
The demon had no idea.
She stopped as she tried to think of something else to try. There had to be a way she could write ...
Before she could blink, he manifested in front of her. The sheer size of him, and shock at his sudden appearance in her face, made her gasp. At a distance, he'd been fierce. Up close like this, she could literally feel his powers. They were like an electrical current in the air that made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
