"Tell me, Julian, is there any way for Dark-Hunters to get their souls back?"
"Yes, but almost no one succeeds, and each test is unique to every Dark-Hunter."
"Which means you can't tell me how Kyrian might be freed."
"Which means I have no idea how he might be freed."
Amanda nodded until her thoughts went to another matter. "Do Dark-Hunters have to drink blood, too?"
"No. Since they began as humans, they don't have to. Plus, if they had to worry about finding blood, it would interfere with their ability to track the Daimons."
"Then why do they have fangs?"
"In order to effectively track and kill the Daimons, they were given the same animal characteristics. The fangs are part and parcel of what goes with it."
That made sense to her. "Is that why the sunlight is deadly to Dark-Hunters too?"
"Sort of, but in the case of the Dark-Hunters it's more a matter that they serve Artemis, the goddess of the moon, and are an anathema to Apollo."
"That doesn't seem fair."
"The gods seldom are."
Hours later, Kyrian sat in his car, damning his treacherous thoughts.
He could still see Amanda. Hear the sound of her soft, gentle voice. Feel her body against his and her soft breast in his hand.
It had been so long since he'd wanted a woman like this. He thought he'd banished that part of himself the night he'd become a Dark-Hunter.
As the centuries passed, he'd felt only an occasional stirring for a woman, but he'd learned to control it. Learned to bury it.
Now those long-forgotten needs had been awakened by the touch of a temptress who was lethal to his well-being. Thoughts of her distracted him. Tormented him.
He wanted her in a way that bordered on desperate.
Why? What was it about her that he craved so much? He knew nothing about her except that she had a great sense of humor and held incredible grace under fire.
And yet he yearned for her as he had for no other woman. Not even his wife.
It made no sense.
Turning his car off, he got out and entered his house. He tossed the keys on the kitchen counter and paused. The house was completely silent except for a light, clicking noise coming from upstairs.
Kyrian walked through the dark rooms and up the ornate, mahogany staircase until he was upstairs, outside his office. Light spilled out from the closed door, across the Persian runner.
Silently, he turned the knob and opened the door.
"Nick, what the hell are you doing here?"
Cursing loudly, his Squire jumped out of his swivel desk chair.
Kyrian had to stifle a laugh at the sight of a six-foot-four human ready to kill him. Nick's blue eyes snapped fire as his jaw, which was badly in need of a shave, twitched. Nick brushed his hand through his shoulder-length dark brown hair. "Jeez, Kyrian, would you learn to make some sound when you move? You scared the hell out of me."
Kyrian shrugged nonchalantly. "I thought you were going home early."
Nick righted the chair and returned to sit in it, then scooted it back under the desk. "I was, but I wanted to finish up the research into Desiderius for you."
Kyrian smiled. Nick Gautier might be a hotheaded, smart-mouthed pain in the ass most of the time, but he was always reliable. It was why Kyrian had chosen him to be a Squire and had initiated him into the realm of the Dark-Hunters. "Learn anything new?"