Max snorted. "Epic fail."
Ignoring him, Fang crossed his arms over his chest. "Why run from the Daimons? Any idea what they wanted with him?"
Not really, other than the Daimons were twisted freaks. "They ate his master and then they shot something into him. That was what made him explode after he got here. There was one Daimon who wanted to kill him in particular, but I don't know why."
Aimee grimaced. "Why would they eat his master? They can't feed off the blood of a demon...can they?" She looked up at her mate.
A tic started in Fang's jaw as he considered it. "If a Daimon takes the soul of a Were-Hunter they get the Were-Hunter's powers to use as their own."
"But it's only temporary," Colt said. "When the Were-Hunter's soul dies, they lose those powers."
Max narrowed his gaze on where the demon had died. "I thought they kept those powers."
Fang wiped his hand across his chin. "What ever. It doesn't matter. We're not talking Were-Hunters. We're talking demons. And those rules could be entirely different."
"The power to walk in daylight," Aimee whispered, bringing them back to what was the most important part in all of this.
Fang gave a grim nod before he locked gazes with Sam. "Now that they're not tied to the night, they'll be coming for you guys when you're most vulnerable."
In the daytime when they couldn't run. The Dark-Hunters would be trapped in their homes and if the Daimons broke out the windows of their bedrooms to let daylight spill in...
They were dead.
Or worse, just burn down their homes while they slept. The Dark-Hunters wouldn't be able to evacuate. A bad enough fire would kill them too.
With the Hunters all gone, no one would be here to stop the Daimons from killing any human they wanted to.
It would be open season on humanity.
Bon appetit.
Dev was toweling off his hair, heading back to his room when Aimee met him in the hallway.
She handed him a piece of paper. "Sam wanted me to give you this."
He scowled at the folded-up scrap of Sanctuary letterhead that still held the Amazon's scent on it. "A paper note? How quaint. I haven't seen one of these in a long time."
Aimee laughed. "Yeah. It reminds me of the days when women would leave their numbers on napkins for you and I'd have to bring you a stack of them every night. Now it's all about sending the text and digits over. Just wait until they release swipe technology."
It was true. And that technology was just around the corner.
He met her gaze and held up the note with an arched brow. "You read this?"
She screwed her face up. "Oh God, no. Last thing I want is to read something I need eye bleach for. Learned my lesson a hundred years ago when that baroness left a note for you. I'm still traumatized...and nauseated by it." She headed to her room.
Dev draped the towel over his bare shoulder before he unfolded the note and read the clean, feminine script.
Hey Bear,
I know I shouldn't do this, but if you like to live as dangerously as I do, head over to my place before you go to bed.
6537 St. Charles.
It's the white three-story with the black gate.
Don't worry. No strings. No demon slime. Just lots of hot, naked sex.
Sam