“Really?”
“Yeah, I did. Am regretting it now. Should have crispy-fried his ass before I released my brother from captivity and learned Urian’s mother was a goddess of equal power who really likes him.” As if he were guided there by something unseen, Ash headed down the narrow hallway that led the length of the house, to the far back left room on the first floor.
Following along, Xyn ran her finger down the flocked dark burgundy wallpaper. She’d never seen any place decorated like this before.
“The style’s called Victorian and brocade.” Urian pointed up at the black chandelier over their heads, which hung off the main staircase. “They had a morbid fascination with the occult, hence the jet crystals. You slept through a lot of changes.”
Indeed, she had.
Ash knocked three times on the door, which opened alone, just as the front one had.
“It’s not dusk, Ancient Wonder.” The thickly accented voice came from the center of a four-poster bed that had thick burgundy draperies pulled closed around it. “Why are you here, Ash, and bringing friends no less?”
Xyn could feel the man’s powers. Very few had the essence of his. These were more akin to Shadow’s than Acheron’s or Urian’s or even hers.
Unnaturally born.
His had been inherited after birth and finely honed by years of practice. Yet beneath that, she sensed that some of them had been stolen.
Who was this man?
“Sorry to disturb, Xander, but we need your expertise.”
He let out a soft growl before he parted the curtains. Only he didn’t touch them. As with the doors. They flew back so that he could look at them while he lay in bed on his side. “I wasn’t a morning person when I was human. That hasn’t improved since my conversion to a Dark-Hunter.” He stretched languidly, then yawned.
Suddenly, he froze. “You want me to do what?”
Xyn glanced around. No one had spoken.
“We’ll wait for you in the parlor.” Ash’s tone wasn’t a question. It was a definite “get dressed and move.”
As they walked, Xyn took Urian’s hand and rubbed his chest, amazed at what an incredibly handsome creature he was. His features were so elegantly sculpted. And the way he wore his pale hair pulled back into a tight ponytail only accentuated their chiseled perfection. He was flawless in his beauty.
And that loose-limbed way he walked …
Total confidence and all predator. Even when he was unsure, he still exuded this aura of power that was delectable.
The only time there was ever a chink in his feral armor was when they were alone, or whenever he was around family he was completely comfortable with.
Which showed her what he thought of Acheron. Ash was one of the chosen few who knew the real Urian. And she wondered if he understood what a privilege it was for Urian to show his playful humor or to let down his guard.
Her Daimon didn’t do that lightly. His life had been too harsh.
Something that became immediately apparent when Xander entered the room. Urian let go of her hand and crossed his arms over his chest. He took one step in front of her and widened his stance to provide a shield for her. Not to be rude. It was an instinctive need he had to protect what he cared about.
He gave her plenty of freedom to maneuver, but his stance made it clear that in order to get to her, someone would have to go through him first. He was also positioned to cover Ash’s vulnerable side, with his back to the wall and his gaze facing the window and door.
Ever a predator. Ingrained to the very core of his soul.
And the Dark-Hunter picked up on it, too. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt, his skin a rich, golden arrowwood. His head was shaved, but by the stubble lining his chiseled features, she could tell it must be raven black.
Given his coloring, she would have assumed him to have dark eyes, yet his were definitely not.
In fact, they were as spectacular as Acheron’s and Urian’s. The right one was a light, icy green, rimmed with a darker shade of moss, whereas his left eye was a kaleidoscope of amber and rust bisected by shades of yellow and green. Unnerving in their beauty, those eyes seemed ageless and betrayed a deep-seated tragic past that tugged at her heart.
Like Urian, he was a creature of secrets and power, and it bled from every pore of his body.
“So,” Xander said slowly. “What’s up, Daimon-not-Daimon and Dark-Hunter-not-Dark-Hunter, and lady dragon so beautiful I won’t even categorize you because that would be a disservice to one of your grace.”
Urian cleared his throat. “Her name is Xyn, and eyes to me if you want to keep them.”
“No fear. I only have eyes for one lady, and I would never shame her. That being said, even though I adore my house and have no personal interest in any other, it doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate that which someone else calls home.”
Xyn had to give it to the man, he was slick and charming. She could only imagine how many women had lost themselves to those eyes and that honeyed tongue.
And Urian slid a look to her that said he suspected she might not be immune to it.
She blinked innocently. “You need to be taking notes, buddy.” Smiling, she stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. While she normally didn’t play into anyone’s insecurities, she knew that it wasn’t in Urian’s nature to be like that. Nor was he jealous.
However, Xanthia’s infidelity had left a vicious scar on his soul, and the last thing she wanted was to open that wound and make it bleed.
Urian placed a gentle hand over hers. “We have a little situation. How much do you know about soul exchanges?”
He let out a dark laugh. “Second only to Jaden. Why?”
Urian paused as he considered where to begin. This was so complicated. He didn’t even know how to start. “My wife … whom I thought was dead, has apparently gone trelos. Is there any way to pull the souls out of her and restore her?”
Actually, that wasn’t as complicated as he’d thought.
Xander narrowed his eyes on Ash. “You want me to help a Daimon?”
“Yeah. Believe it or not.”
“That’s a tough one.” He flicked his fingers open. Fire lit the tips as he held his left hand out. A book flew from the shelves to land on the desk in front of him. It opened itself and turned to a page. The fire left his fingers to swirl around the blank pages for several heartbeats but didn’t burn them. Instead, the fire revealed the words as if someone or something unseen were writing.
Urian stepped closer to read over his shoulder. However, he’d never seen anything like that alphabet. It wasn’t alchemy or any of the ancient languages he knew.
Xander made all kinds of strange noises. “You people don’t believe in making things easy, do you?”
“Not really. We could try Psyche, but last I rang her bell, she came with a two-hundred-pound tumor.”
Xander scowled at Acheron. “Pardon?”
“Eros. She came with Eros.”
He shook his head. “This is useless.” He threw his hand out and the book skittered back to the shelf. The flames on his fingers went out. “Simple answer is, I don’t know. Where is she?”
“In Kalosis.”
Xander let out a deep guffaw. Until he realized they weren’t joking. “Wait … you’re asking a Dark-Hunter to descend into Daimon Central to save a trelos Daimon that even Daimons fear? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Urian gestured to Xyn. “We’ve got a dragon.”
“And I don’t have a head injury. Or a fatal dose of stupidity. Nor am I suicidal.”
“What if I said pretty please?”
“Nice, Daimon. Real nice. You’re an effing comedian. And while that might get you a guest appearance on someone’s late show, it’s not going to get me down your daddy’s bolt-hole.”
“But you will do it for me.”
Xander let out a fierce growl at Acheron. “I’m reassessing this favor you think I owe you.”
“Don’t think. I know. And remember that Urian is my nephew. I would be terribly put out if anything happened to him.”
Xander raked a slow hand over his face. “On one condition.”