Night Pleasures

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  They were images of a world that had long ago ceased to exist. Of people and family who were nothing more than vague memories and lost feelings.

  Their world had been a special one. Its primitive grace a warmth in their hearts. Even now, Kyrian could smell the oil from the lamps that had once lit his home. Feel the cool, fragrant Mediterranean breeze blowing through his villa.

  In an odd contrast to Kyrian's thoughts, Julian dug around the small first-aid kit for a modern ice pack.

  Finding it, Julian popped the seal to release the cooling gel, then held it against Kyrian's shoulder.

  Kyrian hissed as the ice touched his throbbing skin.

  "I'm sorry about that blast," Julian said. "Had I known..."

  "It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing I'd traded my soul. It's not exactly how I start out conversations. Hi, I'm Kyrian. I have no soul. What about you?"

  "You're not funny."

  "Sure I am, you just never appreciated my sense of humor."

  "That's because you would only let it out when we were one step away from death."

  Kyrian shrugged, then wished he hadn't as pain sliced down his arm. "What can I say? I live to tease old Apollyon." Kyrian took the pack out of Julian's hand and stepped back. "So what happened to you? I was told Scipio had you and your family assassinated."

  Julian scoffed. "You know better. It was Priapus who killed my family. After I found them dead, I had a 'Kyrian' moment where I went after him."

  Kyrian arched a brow at that. To his knowledge, Julian had never had an impulsive moment in his entire life. The man was forever calm and collected, no matter the turmoil. It had been one of the things Kyrian liked best about him. "You did something rash?"

  "Yes, and I paid for it." He folded his arms over his chest and he met Kyrian's gaze. "Priapus cursed me into a scroll. I spent two thousand years as a sex slave before my wife freed me."

  Kyrian exhaled in disbelief. He had heard of such curses. The pain of them was excruciating and his proud friend must have had a hard time of it. Julian had never been one to let anyone rule his life. Not even the gods.

  "And you called me insane," Kyrian said. "At least I only antagonized the Romans. You went after the pantheon."

  Julian handed him a tube of burn ointment. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick. "I was wondering, after I left, what happened to..."

  Kyrian looked up and saw the agony in Julian's eyes, and he knew what was too painful for his friend to even mention.

  Even now, he could feel his own grief over the death of Julian's son and daughter. With blond hair and rosy cheeks, they had been beautiful and vivacious beyond description.

  They alone had made Kyrian's heart ache with envy.

  Gods, how he'd wanted his own children, his own family. Every time he'd seen Julian at home, he had yearned to have such a life.

  It was all he'd ever truly wanted. A peaceful hearth, children to love, and a wife who loved him. Such simple things, really. Yet they had forever eluded his grasp.

  Now, as a Dark-Hunter, such wishes were an impossibility.

  Kyrian couldn't imagine the horror Julian must still feel every time he thought of his children. He doubted if any man had ever loved his children more than Julian had. Indeed, he remembered the time five-year-old Atolycus had replaced the horsehair in Julian's helm with feathers as a gift for his father before they rode out to battle.

  Julian had been one of the most feared commanders of the Macedonian army, yet rather than hurt his son's feelings, he had proudly worn his son's gift in front of all his men.

  No one had dared laugh. Not even Kyrian.

  He cleared his throat and averted his gaze from Julian's. "I buried Callista and Atolycus in the orchard overlooking the sea where they used to play. Penelope's family took care of her, and I sent Iason's body back to his father."

  "Thank you."

  Kyrian nodded. "It was the least I could do. You were like a brother to me."

  Julian gave a halfhearted laugh. "I guess that explains why you went out of your way to annoy me all the time."

  "Someone had to. Even at twenty-three, you were too serious and stern."

  "Unlike you."

  Kyrian could only vaguely remember being the man Julian had known all those centuries before. He'd been carefree and battle-ready. Hot-blooded and pigheaded.

  It was a wonder Julian hadn't killed him. The man's patience knew no limits.

  "My glorious days of misspent youth," Kyrian said wistfully.

  Looking at his shoulder, Kyrian spread the soothing salve over the burn. It stung, but he was used to physical pain, and he had suffered worse injuries than this tiny ache.

  Julian leveled a probing stare at him. "The Romans took you because of me, didn't they?"

  Kyrian paused at the remorse in Julian's eyes. Then he returned to spreading the ointment over the burn. "You were always too hard on yourself, Julian. It wasn't your fault. After you were gone, I went on a bloodthirsty crusade against their forces. I made my own destiny in that regard, and it had nothing to do with you."

  "But had I been there, I could have kept them from taking you."

  Kyrian snorted at that. "You were good at pulling me out of trouble, no doubt about it. But not even you could have saved me from myself. Had you been there, the Romans would have just had another Macedonian commander to crucify. Trust me. You were much better off in that scroll than meeting the fate Scipio and Valerius had in mind for us."

  Still, Kyrian saw his friend's guilt and he wished he could give Julian absolution.

  "What happened?" Julian asked. "Historical accounts say Valerius captured you in battle. But I can't believe that. Not the way you fought."

  "And history says you were killed by Scipio's assassins. Victors make their own versions of truth."

  For the first time in centuries, Kyrian allowed his thoughts to turn to that fateful day in the past.

  He clenched his teeth as a wave of rage and agony washed over him anew and he remembered all too well why he had banished those memories to the farthest corner of his mind. "You know, the Fates are treacherous bitches. I wasn't taken by Valerius, I was handed over, gift-wrapped."

  Julian frowned. "How?"

  "My little Clytemnestra. While you and I were out fighting the Romans, my wife was at home welcoming them into her bed."

  Julian's face paled. "I can't believe Theone would do that to you after all you did for her."

  "No good deed goes unpunished."

  Julian scowled at the bitterness he heard in Kyrian's voice. This wasn't the same man he'd known in Macedonia. Kyrian of Thrace had always been fun-loving and lighthearted.

  The man before him now was jaded. Guarded. Suspicious and almost cold.

  "Is her betrayal why you became a Dark-Hunter?" Julian asked.

  "Yes."

  Julian closed his eyes as he felt compassion and anger for his friend. Over and over in his mind, he could see Kyrian the way he'd been all those centuries before. His human eyes had always been laughing, mischievous. Kyrian had loved life in a way very few people ever did.

  Generous in spirit, kind in nature, and courageous of heart, Kyrian had even managed to win Julian over and he had truly wanted to hate the spoiled, arrogant brat.

  But hating Kyrian had been impossible.

  "What did Valerius do to you?" Julian asked.

  Kyrian drew a deep breath. "Trust me, you don't ever want the exact details."

  Julian saw Kyrian flinch as if some memory flashed in his mind. "What?"

  "Nothing," Kyrian said sharply.

  Julian's thoughts turned to Kyrian's wife. Small and blond, Theone had been more beautiful than Helen of Troy. Julian had seen her only once, and then at a distance. Even so, he had known instantly what attracted Kyrian to her. She had possessed an irresistible aura of grace and sexual expertise.

  Barely twenty-two when he met her, Kyrian had fallen in love instantly with the woman who was eight years his senior. No ma

tter what any of them said about her, Kyrian had never listened. He'd loved that woman with every fiber of his body and soul.

  "What of Theone?" Julian asked. "Did you ever find out why she did it?"

  Kyrian tossed the salve back into the bag. "She said she did it because she was afraid I couldn't protect her."

  Julian cursed.

  "My thoughts were somewhat stronger," Kyrian said quietly. "You know, I lay there for weeks trying to figure out what it was about me she hated so much that she could hand me over to my worst enemy. I never knew I was that big an asshole."

  Kyrian clenched his teeth as he remembered the way his wife had looked when they had started his execution. She had met his gaze levelly, without even the tiniest bit of remorse.

  It had been then he'd known that even though he had given her only the very best of himself, the whole of his heart and soul, she had never given him anything of her. Not even her kindness. If only she'd had one flash of regret in her eyes, one tiny bit of sorrow ...

  But only morbid curiosity had darkened her face.

  It had torn his heart asunder. If she couldn't love him after all he had given, then he must truly be unlovable.

  His father had been right all along.

  "No woman can ever love a man of your standing and wealth. Face it. All you will ever be, boy, is a hefty purse."

  To this day, his heart wept from the truth of it. Never again would he allow a woman that much hold over him. He refused to let love or anything else blind him from what he needed to do. His duty was all that mattered.

  Now more than ever before.

  "I am so sorry," Julian breathed.

  Kyrian shrugged. "We're all sorry for something." He reached for his torn, bloodied shirt.

  "Listen," Julian said, stopping him, "why don't you take a shower and let me loan you some clothes?"

  "I have a hunt to finish."

  "No offense, Kyrian, but you look like hell. Granted it's been a long time since I fought, but I know how much easier it is with a full stomach and a hot bath."

  Kyrian hesitated.

  "Fifteen minutes?"

  "Make it quick."

  *

  Kyrian let the soothing water slide over his battered body. The night was still young, but he was tired already. His shoulder throbbed and ached and his side wasn't much better.

  Yet what held his attention was the woman downstairs.

  Why was he so attracted to her? He had saved countless humans over the centuries. He had felt nothing for them other than a passing curiosity.

  And yet this woman with open, honest eyes and a beguiling smile tugged at a heart he had banished centuries ago. He didn't need that. Dark-Hunters were forbidden to take steady lovers. Out of necessity, their sexual encounters were relegated to one-night stands.

  They were reborn to walk alone through time. Each of them knew it. They had sworn themselves to it.

  Never before had it bothered him.

  There had only been one other time in his long life that he had felt this strange giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach when a woman smiled at him.

  He cursed at the reminder.

  "Oh, come on, Kyrian," he said as he bathed himself. "Get out of the house, kill Desiderius, and go home. Forget you ever saw her."

  Pain cut through him at the very thought of never seeing her again.

  Still, he knew what he had to do. This was his life and he loved the night he was bound by oath to. His duties were his family. His loyal oath his heart.

  His job was his love, and it would remain that way for eternity.

  *

  "Amanda?"

  Forcing her thoughts away from her handsome Dark-Hunter, Amanda looked to where Grace was seated in the armchair.

  "Would you mind going up to the babies' room and getting a diaper for me?" Grace asked. "If I walk up those stairs again, I might not come back down."

  She laughed. "Sure. Be right back."

  Amanda went up the stairs, then headed down the hallway. She passed the bathroom at the same time Hunter came out of it, wrapping a towel about his waist.

  They collided. Hunter put his hands on her shoulders to steady her, his eyes widening a degree as he recognized her.

  Amanda froze as she realized her silver charm bracelet had gotten tangled in one of the terry-cloth loops.

  Worse, the sight of all that lush, tawny skin and the feel of his strong hands on her body made her mouth water for a taste of him.

  Her heart hammered at the sight of all the lean power and strength. At the smell of his warm, clean skin. His wet hair was slicked back from a face so well sculpted that she doubted any man could ever be more handsome.

  He fixed those dark eyes with sinfully long eyelashes on her. The raw hunger in them made her hot and shivery. He looked as if he could devour her, and in truth, she wanted to be devoured by him. Completely. Utterly.

  And with relish.

  "Now, this is interesting," Hunter said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Amanda didn't know what to do as she stood there with her wrist dangerously close to the sudden bulge under the towel. Why was it they kept getting attached?

  Her gaze slid over the multitude of scars covering his body and she couldn't help wondering how many of them were from the torture he'd mentioned to Julian.

  "Most of them," he whispered as he moved one hand over to cup her neck in his hand. She felt his fingers stroking her hair. His grip on her shoulder tightened ever so slightly.

  "What?" she asked, looking up.

  "Most of them are from the Romans."

  She frowned. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

  "I'm eavesdropping on your thoughts much the same way you listened to me and Julian."

  A chill went down her spine as she considered his psychic powers. "You can do that?"

  He nodded, but he wasn't looking at her, he was staring at his hand in her hair as if he were committing the texture and feel of it to memory.

  His gaze returned to hers so fast it actually made her gasp. "And in answer to the question you're too afraid to think, all you have to do is move your arm and you'll know."

  "Know what?"

  "If I look as yummy without the towel as I do with it."

  Her face flamed at the way he used her own words to describe exactly what she was too terrified to think.

  Before she could move, he released her and dropped the towel to hang from her bracelet.

  Amanda gaped at the sight of him completely naked before her. His hard, well-toned body was perfectly sculpted. And she quickly learned that his skin was golden all over. It wasn't a tan, it was his natural skin color.

  She wanted him with a desperate need.

  All she could think of was taking him into the bedroom and pulling him on top of, over, and then under her for the rest of the night.

  Oh, the things she wanted to do to this man.

  A half-smile hovered on the edges of his lips, and by the light in his eyes, she knew he was reading her thoughts. Again.

  He leaned forward, his face just to the side of hers. His hot breath fell against her neck, scorching her. "Ancient Greeks never had a problem with public nudity," he whispered in her ear.

  Her breasts tightened.

  Slowly, he lifted his hand so that he could tilt her chin up. His gaze held hers enthralled as he appeared to search her mind for something.

  Before she could move, he lowered his lips to hers.

  Amanda moaned at the contact. This kiss was different from his last one. This one was gentle. Tender.

  And it made her burn.

  He left her lips and trailed a blazing path down her jaw to her neck, his tongue laving her skin ever so lightly. She wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders and surrendered her weight to him.

  "You are so very tempting," he whispered, then traced the curve of her ear with his tongue. "But I have a job to do and you hate all things not human. And everything paranormal." He pulled back and gave her a wistful look. "Pity."

  He freed his towel from her bracelet, tossed it over his shoulder, then headed to the bedroom. Amanda clenched her teeth at the sight of that luscious, gorgeous backside.

  Her body on fire, she watched until he closed the door behind him.

  Suddenly, she remembered the diaper.

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Hunter opened the door, tossed her one, then closed it again.

  *

  Kyrian leaned against the closed door as he fought the raging need inside him. It was raw and vicious, and it made him ache for things he knew he could never have.

  Things that could only hurt him more. And he had been hurt enough to last ten thousand lifetimes.

  He had to put her out of his thoughts.

  But even as he stood there, the loneliness of his life settled down on him with a vengeance.

  "You let your heart lead you far too often, boy. One day, it's going to lead you to ruin." He winced at his father's warning in his head. Neither of them had any idea at that time just how true those words would one day prove.

  I am a Dark-Hunter.

  That was what he needed to focus on. He was the only thing standing between Amanda and annihilation.

  Desiderius was out there and he must stop him.

  But what he really wanted to do was go downstairs, scoop Amanda up in his arms, and carry her back to his house where he could spend the entire night exploring every inch of her body with his lips, his hands. His tongue.

  "I am such a fool," he snarled, forcing himself to dress in the clothes Julian had left for him.

  He would think no more of her or of his past. He had a higher calling. One that couldn't be ignored.

  He was a protector. And he would live and die as a protector, which meant that physical comforts such as a woman like Amanda were strictly off limits to him.

  A few minutes later, dressed in Julian's jeans and a black V-neck sweater, he left the room with his leather coat over his arm, and went downstairs where Julian, Grace, Amanda, and the children were waiting.

  Julian handed him a small paper sack.

  "Gee," Kyrian said as he took it, "thanks, Dad. I promise to be a good boy and play nice with the other kids."

  Julian laughed. "Smart-ass."

  "Better than a dumb-ass." Kyrian sobered as he looked at Amanda and a burning wave of desire scorched him. What was it about her that made him unable to look at her without wanting to taste that mouth? Feel her warm body in his arms?

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