Dance with the Devil(95)

Astrid wondered how he would react when he woke up. Would any of this help or would he withdraw further from her?

She wished she could strip his bad memories from him. Give him a happy childhood filled with love and tenderness.

A life of joy and friendship.

He laid his head down between her breasts and stayed there quietly as if content to feel nothing more than her under him while the sun warmed them both.

"Tell me of a happy memory, Zarek. One thing in your life that was good."

He hesitated for so long that she didn't think he would answer. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that it made her ache. "You."

Tears gathered in her eyes. She hugged him with her body, cradling him, hoping that in some way she soothed his troubled, restless spirit.

Astrid knew then that she would fight for this man, and in the back of her mind came a frightening realization.

She was falling in love with him.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe as the notion hung in her thoughts like a frightening specter.

But there was no denying what she felt for him, the lengths she would go to see him safe and happy.

His breath teased her nipple while his heart thudded against her stomach.

No one had touched her the way he did and it wasn't just the sex. He made her feel soft and womanly. Desirable.

He didn't baby her and yet he did such kind things to take care of her.

Closing her eyes, she let his weight and the water soak into her. Let his slick, cool skin soothe her.

What was she going to do? Zarek wasn't the kind of man to let anyone love him.

Especially not a woman who had been sent to pass judgment on him.

If he ever learned what she was, he would hate her.

That knowledge ripped through her, stealing the happiness of the day.

But eventually, she would have to tell him.

Jess left the black Ford Bronco and slid his sawed-off shotgun out from under the seat.

Just in case.

The night winds were frigid, the moonlight bright and eerie as it reflected off the snow. He adjusted his sunglasses, not that they made much difference.

The Alaskan climate was hard on a Dark-Hunter's sensitive eyes.

Zarek's house was dark and empty, but a bright red snow-machine was parked in front of it Jess's Squire, Andy Simms, who had come up here with him from Reno, ambled out of the Bronco and eyed the snowmachine suspiciously.

Barely six feet in height with black hair and brown eyes, Andy had just turned twenty-one. He'd only worked for Jess a few months and had come in after Andy's father retired last spring.

Jess had known the pup since the day he was born, and tended to look on him like a little brother.

Pesky and all.

"Is that another Squire?" Andy asked, indicating the snow-machine with a nod.

Jess shook his head. The Squires were in the two SUVs pulling up behind them.