Dance With the Devil

With her.

 

This was really not good, but at least it would keep the others from tracking him. With any luck the snow would disguise his trail and he knew for a fact that Jess hated the cold.

 

As for Thanatos, well, given his name, language, and looks, Zarek would peg him as an ancientMediterranean , too, and that meant Zarek still had an advantage over both of them. He'd learned centuries ago how to move quickly over the snow and what dangers to avoid.

 

Who could have known that nine hundred years inAlaska would actually pay off someday?

 

"How can you be up and moving?"

 

Her question startled him. "Excuse me?"

 

"You were severely injured when I brought you in a few days ago. How can you be moving now?"

 

"A few days?" he asked, stunned by her words. He ran his hand over his face and felt his thick whiskers.

 

Shit. Ithad been days. "How many?"

 

"Almost five."

 

His heart pounded. He'd been here for four days and they hadn't found him? How was that possible?

 

He frowned. Something about that didn't seem right.

 

"I thought I felt a gun wound on your back."

 

Ignoring the gaping hole in the shirt, Zarek pulled his black undershirt on over his head. He was sure it'd been Jess who had shot him. Shotguns were the cowboy's weapon of choice. His only consolation was the thought that Jess was aching from it as much as he was. Unless Artemis had lifted her ban. Then the bastard would feel nothing but satisfaction.

 

"It wasn't a gun wound," he lied. "I just fell."

 

"No offense, but you'd have to fall offMount Everest to have those kinds of wounds."

 

"Yeah, maybe next time I'll remember to take my climbing gear with me."

 

She scowled at him. "Are you mocking me?"

 

 

 

"No," he answered honestly. "I just don't want to go into what happened."

 

Astrid nodded as she tried to discern more about this angry man who couldn't seem to speak without growling at her. Awake, he was far from pleasant.

 

 

 

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) He'd been near death when Sasha had found him. No one should be so badly beaten and shot, and then left for dead as he had been.

 

What had the Squires been thinking?

 

She was amazed the rogue Dark-Hunter could stand at all even after four days of rest.

 

Such treatment was inhumane and unbecoming of those who had sworn to protect mankind. Had a human found Zarek, his cover would have been even more blown by their carelessness, and the humans would have learned of his immortality.

 

It was something she fully intended to report to Archeron.

 

But that would come later. For now, Zarek was up and moving. His immortal life or death rested completely in her hands and she intended to test him fully to see just what kind of man he was.

 

Did he have any compassion left inside him or was he just as empty as she was?

 

Her job was to be the epitome of the things that drove Zarek to anger. She would push him to the heights of his tolerance and beyond to see what he would do.

 

If he could control himself with her, she would judge him safe and sane.

 

If he lashed out to hurt her in any way, she would judge him guilty and he would die.

 

Let the tests begin…

 

She ran through her mind what little she knew about him. Zarek didn't like to talk to people. He didn't like the rich.

 

Most of all, he hated to be touched or ordered about.

 

So she decided to press his first button with idle conversation.

 

"What color is your hair?" she asked. The seemingly innocuous question made her memory flash to the way it had felt under her hand as she had bathed the blood from it.

 

His hair had been soft, smooth. It had slid sensuously through her fingers, caressing them. From the feel of it, she knew it wasn't too short or too long, but probably fell to his shoulders when styled.

 

"Excuse me?" He sounded surprised by her question and for once didn't growl the words at her.

 

He had a beautiful voice. Rich and deep. It resonated with its Greek accent, and every time he spoke, it sent a strange chill through her. She'd never heard any man who had a voice so innately masculine.

 

 

 

"Your hair," she repeated. "I was wondering what color it is.

 

"

 

"Why do you care?" he asked belligerently.

 

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) She shrugged. "Just curious. I spend a lot of time alone and though I don't really remember what colors look like, I try to picture them anyway. My sister Cloie gave me a book once that said every color had a

 

 

 

texture and feel. Red, for instance, it said was hot and bumpy."

 

Zarek frowned at her. This was an odd conversation, but then, he'd spent enough time alone to understand the need to talk about anything to anyone who would stand still long enough to bother. "It's black."

 

"I thought so.

 

"

 

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