He pulled back slightly to better study her face. Her dark brown hair was liberally laced with auburn strands that caught the light. Her deep blue eyes showed her confusion, her anger, and her spirit. They were set in a beguiling face that had one tiny freckle just below her right eye. That mark alone distinguished her from her sister.
That and her scent.
Tabitha wore expensive perfumes that overwhelmed his highly developed senses, while this woman smelled of roses and softness.
Right then Kyrian wanted her with a need so demanding that it momentarily stunned him. It had been centuries since he last craved a woman this way.
Centuries since he had felt anything at all.
Amanda's face burned as his erection bulged disturbingly against her pelvis. The man might not be dead, but he was certainly stiff. And this had nothing to do with rigor mortis. "Look, buster, I really think you need to find someplace else to rest."
His gaze focused hungrily on her lips and she saw the raw longing in the depths of those midnight eyes. His jaw flexed rigidly as if he were fighting himself.
His masculine power and overt sexuality overwhelmed her.
As she lay there beneath him, she realized just how vulnerable she was to him. And how much she truly wanted a taste of those well-shaped lips.
That thought both scared and excited her.
He blinked and a veil came over his face, disguising his mood from her. He released her.
As he moved away, she saw the blood on her pink sweater. "Oh, my God!" she gasped. "You're bleeding?"
He took a deep breath as he sat next to her. "The wound will heal."
Amanda couldn't believe his nonchalant tone. Judging from the amount of blood on her clothes, she would say he was deeply injured and yet he showed no other signs of it. "Where are you hurt?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he ran his left hand through his tawny hair. He paused to glare at the large silver handcuff on his right wrist, then he started pulling angrily at it.
By the deadly, cold light in his eyes, she could tell the handcuffs bothered him even more than they did her.
Now that he was awake and not on top of her, Amanda was struck by the dark moodiness of his features. There was something very romantic and compelling about his face.
Something heroic.
All too easily, she could see him dressed like a Regency rake or medieval knight. His classical features held an indefinable quality that seemed oddly out of place in this modern world.
"Well, well," a disembodied voice said. "The Dark-Hunter is awake."
Amanda recognized the evil voice as the one belonging to whoever had clobbered her at Tabitha's house.
"Desi, babe," the man beside her said in a chiding tone as he looked about the brown walls. "Still playing your little games, I see. Now why don't you be a good Daimon and show yourself to me?"
"All in good time, Dark-Hunter, all in good time. You see, I am not like the others who run and cower from the big, bad wolf. I am the big, bad woodsman who executes that wolf."
The disembodied voice gave a dramatic pause. "You and Tabitha Devereaux have been merciless in your pursuit of my brethren and the time has come for you to know fear. By the time I finish with the two of you, you will be begging me to let you die."
The Dark-Hunter lowered his head and laughed. "Desi dearest, I have never begged a day in my life, and the sun will surely splinter before I ever plead for anything from the likes of you."
"Hubris," Desi said. "I so love punishing that crime."
The Dark-Hunter pushed himself to his feet, and Amanda saw the wound in his side. His shirt was slightly torn and blood stained the floor where he had been sitting.
But he didn't seem to notice the injury.
"Tell me, do you like your handcuffs?" Desi asked. "Those shackles are from the forge of Hephaestus. Only a god or a key fashioned by Hephaestus can open them. And since the gods have abandoned you..."
The Dark-Hunter glanced around the room. The fierce look on his face would have scared the devil himself. "I am so going to enjoy killing you."