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Linda Howard. Publication date So, " 0 prequel " sorts by 0 under the label "prequel. Series was designed to cover groups of books generally understood as such see Wikipedia: Book series. Like many concepts in the book world, "series" is a somewhat fluid and contested notion.
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Your use of the site and services is subject to these policies and terms. Common Knowledge Series Dark-Hunter. Dark-Hunter Series by cover. Also See: Were-Hunter, Dream-Hunter.
Related series Were-Hunter. Cazadores Oscuros. The Companion. Vampire Huntress Legend. Wild Wulfs of London. De Piaget. Southern Vampire Mysteries. Lords of Avalon [Kenyon]. Black Dagger Brotherhood. Le cercle des Immortels. Drak Hunter. Related publisher series Candlelight Vampierenroman. Nicholas "Nick" Ambrosius Gautier.
Kyrian Hunter. Strykerius "Stryker". Julian Alexander. Zarek of Moesia. Apollymi "The Destroyer". Dante Pontis. Katra "Kat" Agrotera. Sunshine Runningwolf. Fang Kattalakis. Talon of the Morrigantes. Tabitha Devereaux. Aimee Peltier. Grace Alexander. Valerius Magnus.
Amanda Devereaux. Vane Kattalakis. Nicolette "Lo" "Mama Bear" Peltier. Bride McTierney. Wulf Tryggvason. Sebastian Kattalakis. Jasyn Kallinos. Fury Kattalakis. Markus Kattalakis.
He did what he was told. Then he returned to question Solin for what would hopefully be the last time. A damp chill clung to the air, making the place even more depressing. The strangest part though, was the absence of a door. Not a single trace of one. Nor a window either. She walked around the room, double checking.
Sure enough. The only way in or out was teleportation. Trapped, she saw a large canopied bed in the far corner. In fact, it had a layer of dust over it. There was a fireplace, but no fire to chase away the deep chill in the room that cut all the way to her bones. Next to that was a large, extremely neat, Baroque wood desk. A laptop, of all weird things, rested on top of it.
That was the only personal item in the room. Curious, she walked over to it, intending to turn it on. But the instant she touched it, the top slammed down, barely missing her fingers.
She tried to open it, but it refused. Pick up her dagger, which she did, and wait. She grimaced at the amount of blood on it. Obviously, he was an immortal. One who liked to be in pain. The obvious answer to that terrified her even more than the thought of dying. She might not be able to kill him, but she could geld him and that she would definitely do if he laid a hand on her.
With that thought foremost in her mind, she went to the corner and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Now she was ready for him and she would renew their battle whenever he returned. He was death, and she was nothing but a pawn to get what he needed. Narrowing his gaze, he went to the table that held Solin in place by chains.
All too well, he knew how much it hurt to be pinned that way. How humiliating. There was no worse feeling than to be at the mercy of someone else and to not be able to fight back or even protect yourself.
To lay there with no clue as to when the next round of torture would begin. It was that very thing that had gotten him punished to begin with. No one ever came for you. He must never forget that. No one had ever tried to help him.
Not even his own mother. But Lydia had come for Solin. Jealousy plowed through his heart.
What about Solin was so special and deserving that he warranted such concern and loyalty? Such personal sacrifice? How dare you proclaim that pathetic backwash as my divine offspring!
How dare you name him after me, you bitch! You both sicken me. Get it out of my sight before I gut you both. Those had been the last words his father had said to him. It was what everyone since had seen him as.
Nothing but worthless garbage to be used and discarded. He closed the distance between them and grabbed Solin by the hair. His nostrils flaring, he forced Solin to meet his gaze. Seth sneered at the question. Blood brutally taken from him because he had yet to break the Greek.
Damn him for it. So he tormented the Greek in turn—not nearly as badly as Noir had him, but enough to make Seth feel better. Seth wanted to crush his skull. Noir was growing more impatient by the heartbeat. May the gods help Solin then. Noir would never take the pity on him that Seth had.
As badly as the idiot thought he was suffering now, it was a walk in paradise compared to what was coming for him. He knew from personal experience that the worst place to be was between Noir and what ever it was Noir wanted.
Give me what I need to save us all. Given what they were doing to him, he might as well be pinned to the table beside Solin. Solin let out a scream so loud and pain-filled that it had to come from the deepest part of his soul. For once he believed him. It was one born of desperate love. Seth had absolutely no concept of that word.
Of men who sacrificed themselves for friends, family, and women. What could make a god want to die to keep another safe? Those words stung him. Solin was right. He begged. I swear if you keep her safe, I will bring the key to you and put it in your hands.
Relief coursed through him as he finally heard the words that would save his ass and spare him more degradation. Trust was not in his nature. He glared at Solin. Solin lay there, panting and weak. A part of him was remorseful for his part in it. He hated to see someone else in pain. But better it be Solin than him. He rubbed the back of his hand under his chin as a phantom pain reminded him of how much that had hurt.
The stupid bastard thought he knew what torture was. He had no idea how gentle Seth had been compared to the others who called this hell home. Do not fail me. How he wished he could go with him. But Noir had taken his ability to leave the moment he first brought him here. He could only pull others out of the human realm or return them. Seth let out a relieved breath at the thought of handing the key of Olympus to Noir.
It would make his overlord happy. Or at least as happy as the miserable son of a bitch could be. In the meantime, he wanted to understand what about the woman was so special that a god like Solin would give his life for her. Was Solin out of his mind for putting her safety above his own? People lied and they betrayed.
Especially where love was involved. It was only a tool the strong used against the weak. I love you. He sneered at the thought.
Cheap, meaningless words bandied about by selfish asses incapable of understanding the meaning of it. 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.
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. Most of all, she was a curiosity wrapped by enigma and contradiction. Why would she risk her life and body for someone else? Why would she come here? 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. 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. 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.
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. 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. That thought stung deep. But it was true. And her hair had been rough and brittle. Nothing like the warm softness of his little flower. 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. He refused to give her that power. May the gods help her if he did turn violent. But she would fight. 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. 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. She let out a frustrated breath and tried to think of another way to illustrate her powers. She waved her arms around like smoke. 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. 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. In the next heartbeat, he wrapped one well-muscled arm around her and pulled her into his arms. His eyes glittered an instant before he lowered his lips to hers.
For the merest nanosecond, she was stunned by the warm softness of his lips. Her fury igniting, she bit his lip with everything she had. Shocked, she clamped her hands over her lips and throat. Had that really been her? Was that what her voice would sound like? It was alien and foreign, and.
What had he done to her? How could he have given her a voice when no one else had been able to do it? He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, then grimaced at the pad that was coated red from his still-bleeding wound. It matched the red lines bisecting his face. His gaze turned even more glacial. Thank you so much for being kind enough to oblige me.
His sarcastic humor caught her off guard. He almost seemed. Her question brought the scary right back to him—with interest. When he spoke, he growled out his words like the demon he appeared to be.
Heat scorched her cheeks. She steeled herself for the probability of his attack. Seth went completely still at those words as they struck him harder than a blow and took him straight into the past.
Suddenly, he was a young man again, being laughed at for his ineptitude. And what had it gotten him? His anger ignited and it took everything he had not to strike her and knock her from that gilded pedestal where she looked down her patrician nose at him.
They were always what lingered long after the cuts healed and the bruises faded. Lydia was momentarily stunned by his crude and vivid insult. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She realized that he honestly had no concept of what she was talking about. It was as if they were speaking entirely different languages again. Vivid emotions played across his features. Surprise, thoughtfulness, shock, and finally he just looked even more confused.
Sentient creatures are treacherous at best, cruel at worst. None are worth a drop of my blood or sweat. He was a demon, through and through. No soul. No ability to value or love anyone except himself. Why would she expect anything else here? He curled his lips into a sinister sneer that had probably given countless people nightmares or strokes.
Solin has already left you. He held his hands up to form a mist. There in the middle of it, she saw the room Solin had been in. A room that was now completely empty.
The demon was lying about her. She refused to finish that thought in case he was in her head. Solin would never do such a thing. She knew that for a fact. She shook her head in denial. Not a single word and not for a single nanosecond. She had faith in Solin. The only thing he held that much belief in was the willingness of others to hurt or sacrifice him for their own whims, personal gains, and pleasures. Suddenly, he heard Noir calling for him.
He knew what his overlord wanted and he knew how the bastard would react when he disappointed him with his report. Sighing in resignation, he manifested food for the woman on top of his desk. Grateful for his absence, she tried again to find some way out of here. There were no windows. No closet. Just this one room and nothing else. A loud swoosh behind her made her jump sideways.
She turned around to see a door in the wall. Her heart pounding, she ran to it, hoping it led to a hallway. What was there actually startled her more.
It was a huge, gleaming bathroom with a marble steam shower and a claw-foot tub. Obviously this was where the vain bastard spoiled himself. She rocked the door back and forth as she considered its appearance. Was that how things worked here? You asked and. You know you want to let me out of here. She tried again. What do I do when I have to leave? Speaking of which, she tried to turn into one. But even that innate ability was taken from her.
She was as good as human. How horrible. She liked having her powers. All she had left right now were her heightened senses. It was so strange to be able to speak after a lifetime of silence. She flinched at the horror that had cost her her voice. Her mother had stolen it from her to keep her safe. In the end, she wished her mother had let her scream and die with the rest of them.
It would have been a far kinder fate.
She pulled back the ornate silver lid to find a strange assortment. Fried bananas?
Ironically, she loved them. Could he have picked that out of her brain? That thought actually scared her. The other dishes made a little more sense—pastries and some kind of fried meat pie. There was also an abundance of fresh fruit and wine. Enough to probably feed her for days. With a demon, there was no telling. He could most likely kill her with his thoughts.
And definitely with his hands. Seth despised that one word with a furious passion. It ranked right up there with eye-gouging, gutting, and castration. Merely, he knew what the bastard was going to do to him when he answered, and he dreaded the coming pain. Sex was the only source of remote pleasure he could have here.
Noir hissed like a snake that was gearing up to strike. Is that not what you told me two days ago? Seth ground his teeth to keep from saying those words that would have him castrated. If he looked up, Noir might pluck his eyes out. But what he really wanted to do was beat the shit out of him. If only he could. Instead of placating Noir, it sent him off into a homicidal rage. I just have to know.
Seth braced himself as pain exploded throughout his entire being and his armor vanished. As soon as he was naked, Noir blasted him through the stone wall behind him. He landed in a painful heap on the floor where he tried to catch his breath, but it was impossible to breathe through the throbbing agony. Noir rapidly closed the distance between them and pulled him up by his throat, choking him in an iron grip. The demon was finally back. But something was wrong.
The weight of that frigid, frightening steel gaze sent a shiver over her. Seth held his breath as he silently debated what action to take. It was stupid to be here while wounded.
He knew that. His room had always been the one place in hell he could retreat to that was safe from everyone except Azura and Noir—there was no way to keep them out. What are you bitching about? There was only so much pain she could give him. Seth was so weak now. So sick.
He was steadfast in spirit. But his body refused to cooperate. He tried to stay conscious. To crawl toward his bed. Lydia stepped back as she watched him lying on the floor in a giant metal armor heap. Was it a trick? One never knew what viciousness they were capable of.
Not until it was too late and they were on you. In several places, the blood ran from underneath the steel plates and dripped onto the stone floor. No, savagely. The blows had smeared the white paint and the red and black lines on his face, showing her that it was makeup after all and not his skin tone. There was no one to call for help. No one knew where she was. Probably not even Solin.
Just how badly was he injured? Yet here he lay as still as a dead man. And there was already a pool of blood forming underneath him. She reached for the buckles on his armor and began removing the heavy pieces. And they were heavy—like lifting lead planks. How could he walk around in them and not fall over?
No wonder he was so massively huge. Beneath the armor he wore a black, thinly quilted suit that must be padding to keep the metal from bruising his skin. Carefully, she peeled it back to examine his wounds. As she exposed his neck, she made an unexpected discovery. There was a curious tattoo of a beautiful, multicolored swallow. The tail of it started at the hollow of his throat and swooped down along his collarbone with its wings spanning from just over his shoulder to right above his nipple.
A nipple that had a vicious scar running through it as if someone had pierced it, then ripped the piercing out. She cringed at the very thought and compulsively reached for her own breast. Trying not to think about it, she continued to study the tattoo. For the most part the swallow was blue, but the wings were also red, yellow, green, and white.
How very strange. It was something an optimist or dreamer might want. As she kept going, she uncovered a well-muscled, tawny body whose absolute perfection was marred again and again by countless scars, cuts, and bruises. Bruises that lay over other bruises, and scars and injuries that bisected each other.
There were also numerous bite marks where the biter had left a dental impression so clear a dentist would envy it.
And by those, she could tell at least three different beings had attacked him. Her stomach tightened at the physical manifestation of a lifetime of utter misery. Good grief, how many times would someone have to be beaten to carry this amount of damage? Although the one under his chin did look particularly nasty. Even worse than the vicious, jagged scars were the deep fresh gashes and welts left by a barbed whip. That must be what had caused him to collapse.
She sucked her breath in sharply. Which begged the question of who would have done this to him. With no answers, she stripped him down to the long black shorts he wore beneath his armor and padding. They reminded her of bicycle shorts and they hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs. The gods had definitely been kind to him in that area. But it was so difficult not to stare.
The kind that you wanted to drape yourself over and just feel the warm hardness of it against your own skin. And while he was most likely evil to his core, there was no denying the fact that he was exquisitely formed. But the other marks. She returned her attention to his head, where blood seeped from a nasty gash just above his left ear. He was still unconscious. That thought nauseated her.
Not even him. So why then did she ache to see him so ravaged? Her stomach churning in sympathy, she went to the bathroom to run a basin of warm water so that she could clean and bandage his injuries. It took some time, but she very carefully cleaned and wrapped each wound. Once she was finished with his body, she dumped the water, cleaned the basin, and then ran more so that she could tend to his face and head.