Trates looked even more confused. "What could make an Alexion want to die?"
"Kyriay ypochrosi," Stryker said, using the Atlantean term for "noble obligation." "He is as soulless as the DarkHunters he protects. If you inject a strong soul into a DarkHunter, it will take him over, but if you inject a weak one…"
"He will hear it begging for mercy."
Stryker nodded. That was the hardest part about turning Daimon and it was one of the reasons why they avoided weak souls. The constant whining for compassion was enough to drive even the strongest of them to madness.
But his people had a slight cushion; they still possessed their own souls that could silence the whine. Alexion and the DarkHunters didn't. They had nothing inside to overcome and quell the invading soul.
Nothing to absorb the new life force.
The pathetic cries would incapacitate the Alexion, who would have no choice except to either kill himself to free the soul or condemn that soul to die.
If nothing else, it would be an interesting experiment.
Would the Alexion stand by and let the soul die or would he end his own life to save an innocent?
Chapter 7
Danger stood in the hallway of her house, watching Alexion who was in her kitchen. She'd excused herself to go to the bathroom—not that she had to go so much as she just needed a break from the intensity of his presence. And to be alone while she sorted through all the information he'd dumped on her.
She didn't know what to believe and she hated that feeling of insecurity. All her life, she'd prided herself on being able to strip back the bull to see the truth.
But when it came to this…
She didn't know who or what was right. From what she'd seen of Alexion, she didn't doubt that he could kill her if he wanted to; that he could kill all of them. So far, he'd refrained from doing either, which added some credibility to his story that he was there to protect them.
Maybe.
Damn, I really hate indecision.
Should I run to warn the others or stay and keep an eye on him?
There was no easy answer.
Rubbing her hand across her face, she paused as Alexion picked up the large Hershey chocolate bar from her counter and sniffed it. He ran his hand over the edge of the brown wrapper as if he'd never seen one before. Then he traced the edges of the chocolate through the wrapper as if he enjoyed the tactile sensation of it.
Danger cocked her head, puzzled by his actions. She loved chocolate as much as the next person, but she'd never before molested a bar of it. Something about his caress reminded her of a lover's touch and it made him seem strangely vulnerable.
Yeah… she was losing it.
"Should I leave the two of you alone?"
He looked up as if startled by her question, but made no comment about her sarcasm. "What does chocolate taste like?"
Her frown deepened at his unexpected question. "Open it and see for yourself."
He sighed heavily before he set it aside. "It wouldn't do me any good."
"Why not?"
"I can't taste anything."
That surprised her. She couldn't imagine going without her tastebuds. God knows, she certainly got a great deal of pleasure from eating Hershey's and other things that would most likely harden every artery in her body if she were still human. "Absolutely nothing?"
He shook his head as he looked back at the Hershey's bar. "I know Simi likes to eat chocolate. She talks about it all the time, but she's never brought any home for me to see. She only eats barbecue and popcorn around me, which she says is very tasty and really salty."
"Simi?"
If she didn't know better, she'd swear he became instantly uncomfortable, as if he'd slipped up by mentioning the name. Without answering her, he picked up her coffee can and smelled it too. She could tell that was about as productive to him as eating the chocolate he couldn't taste.
Which made her wonder about something really important. "So if you can't taste food, what do you live on? Blood? Souls?"
He gave her a bored look as he pushed the can back into place. "I told you, I'm not a Daimon."
"Yeah, but when I stabbed you, you poofed like a Daimon. You're blond and you don't eat food—"
"I'm not a Daimon," he repeated.
"Uh-huh, ever heard the saying that if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck—"
"It's not a Daimon."
Well, he was quick with that one. She had to give him credit there. "Then what do you eat?"
He gave her an intense, hot once-over. "Woman al dente."
Danger's jaw dropped at his unexpected vulgarity. She made a disgusted face at him. "That was uncalled for."
"Then stop asking me questions."
Charm was most definitely not his forte. But then he didn't really need it. There was such a deep sadness in his eyes that it actually made her ache for him in spite of her common sense, which said she should stake him again… just for good measure.