from being simple Apol ites to human slayers. “Damn, al I wanted was a drink of coffee and one little beignet.” He heard Talon tsk-tsking. Then his friend started debating out loud. “Coffee… Daimons… Coffee…
Daimons…”
“I think in this case the Daimons better win.”
“Yeah, but it’s chicory coffee.”
Wulf clicked his tongue. “Talon wanting to be toasted by Acheron for failure to protect humans.”
“I know,” he said with a disgusted sigh. “Let me go expire them. Talk to you later.”
“Later.” Wulf hung up the phone and switched off the computer. He looked at the clock. It wasn’t even midnight yet.
Damn.
It was just after midnight when Cassandra, Kat, and Brenda returned to their col ege apartment complex.
They let Brenda out in front of her unit, then drove around back to where they shared an apartment. They got out of the car and made their way inside their two-bedroom flat.
Ever since she’d left the Inferno, Cassandra had had a terrible niggling in the back of her mind, like something wasn’t right.
She went through the entire evening again in her mind as she got ready for bed. She’d driven down to the club with her friends after Michel e’s class, and they had spent the night listening to Twisted Hearts and then the Barleys play.
Nothing unusual had happened other than Michel e meeting Tom.
So, why did she feel so… so… strange.
Uneasy.
It didn’t make sense.
Rubbing her brow, she picked up her Medieval Lit book and did her best to struggle through the Old English version of Beowulf .
Dr. Mitchel loved embarrassing graduate students who hadn’t prepared for his class, so Cassandra wasn’t about to show up tomorrow without having read the assignment.
No matter how boring it might prove.
Grendrel, chomp, chomp,
Grendrel, chomp, chomp,
See the Vikings in their boats,
Someone hand me the Cliff’s Notes…
Not even her little singsong ditty could revive her interest.
Yet as she read the Old English words, she kept imagining a tal , dark-haired warrior with black eyes and ful , warm lips.
A man of incredible speed and agility.
Closing her eyes, she saw him standing out in the cold, wearing a long black leather coat and a look on his face that said…
Decadence.
She tried to make the image clearer, but it evaporated and left her aching for want of him.
“What in the world is wrong with me?”
She widened her eyes and forced herself to read.
Wulf locked his bedroom door and went to bed early— just after four. Chris had been asleep for hours.
There was nothing on TV, and he was bored with playing online computer games against the other Dark-Hunters.
He’d already taken out the “pressing” Daimon menace tonight. He sighed at the thought. During the winter months, they tended to take a hiatus south, since Daimons weren’t real big on the whole cold thing. They hated to have to “unwrap” their food and found it extremely cumbersome to attack humans wrapped in layers of coats and sweaters. Things would pick up in the spring, after the thaw, but in the meantime, the nights were long and the battles few and far between.
Maybe if he got a good day’s sleep, he might feel better tomorrow evening.
It was worth a try.
But as soon as Wulf fel asleep, his dreams started drifting. He saw the club again and felt the lips of the unknown woman against his.
Felt her hands on him as she clutched him…
What would it be like to be remembered by a lover again?
Just once?
A strange, swirling mist engulfed him and the next thing he knew, he was in an unfamiliar bed.
Wulf grimaced at the size of it—It was only a ful -sized bed so he had to bend his legs to keep his feet from dangling over the edge of it.
Frowning, he looked around the dark room. The white wal s were stark and covered with art posters.
Something about it had an institutional quality to it.
There was a desk built into the wal by the window, a boxlike dresser with a TV and stereo, and