Sherrilyn Kenyon: No Mercy

Now that his mother was dead and Aimee was mated…

Staying wasn’t as necessary as it’d been before. Every day he felt the pull to leave and make his own way in the world. He was a bear and it was the nature for most males to find a mate and start their own pack.

What am I doing here?

They didn’t really need him. When the battle had come to their door, they’d learned fast just how many allies they had. And that number had been impressive. Sanctuary would stand forever. He didn’t have to stay here to protect the door.

And yet…

I really hate change.

You’re just restless. You’ll get over it. You’ll see. Besides, he didn’t want a mate. Ever. Life was difficult enough trying to please himself. Gods help him if he ever had to try and please someone else.

It was just so much had happened over the last few months that it’d shaken his foundation. He felt lost…like his moorings had been sliced and he was left adrift without an engine or paddle. He’d never dealt well with change and so many changes had been thrust on him that he just wanted to leave it all behind and start fresh somewhere else.

Find someplace where he felt like he belonged again—even if he had to go to the past to do it. Someplace where he wasn’t looking for his parents to come around the corner or be sitting in their favorite seats. Where memories didn’t haunt him.

Or more to the point, hurt him.

The roaring sound of a racing bike broke through his melancholy thoughts as it approached from down the street. It was a Busa. He could tell by the throaty groan of the engine—they had a unique sound that was unmistakable to anyone who knew their bikes. Many of his Were-Hunter brethren used motorcycles as a means of transportation, including him and his brothers. Unlike a car, it was easier to teleport with their powers, and on the street, there was nothing faster that could maneuver out of the way of their enemies.

Or after them.

But this one growled with a specific tone that said she’d been modified for maximum speed and performance.

Expecting to see the Dark-Hunter leader Acheron on his black Hyabusa heading in, Dev frowned as a red one came up the street so fast, he was surprised it wasn’t leading a few squad cars. The driver went past the entrance, then slammed on the brakes, sliding the bike sideways and leaving a cloud of burned rubber in its wake. The front wheel popped up before it headed toward him. Just as it reached the curb, the front tire slammed down and the rider parked it right in front of him with a jerking bounce that caused the rear wheel to lift up.

Even though the rider was tall and stoutly built, Dev could tell by her shapely curves that were covered in protective leather she was a woman.

Most likely a hot one too, and that definitely got his attention.

Unwilling to show her he was impressed with her biker skills, Dev crossed his arms over his chest as she pulled her helmet off and set loose a cascade of unruly honey blond curls that fell just past her shoulders. Curls that framed an adorable face. Not stunning or perfect, but exotic. Different. Most of all, her features were beguiling and he couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like first thing in the morning with that riot of curls spilling all around her naked body.

She held an air of fierce joie de vivre and it was infectious—as if she savored every heartbeat she was lucky enough to have. However, she rode the bike like a person with a death wish. “You keep driving like that, you’re going to kill someone.”

She slung one long leg around the seat before she sauntered up to him with a hot, seductive stride he was sure had sent a few men to their graves from heart attacks. She wore a pair of flat New Rock biker boots with flames coming up the sides. Her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes glowed with mischief as she unzipped her jacket and gave him a heated once-over. “I only kill the ones who deserve it, and those I gut with relish.”

Damn, she was about as sexy as any woman he’d ever seen. His body reacted to her instantly. And it made him wonder if she’d be so open in the bedroom.

She shrugged her jacket off and slung it over her shoulder to hold it there with one gloved hand, showing him a tight black knit shirt before she leaned in closer to him. The warm scent of woman and leather made the bear inside him sit up and purr and it was all he could do not to nuzzle that soft neck that seemed to invite him in for a taste.

“To answer your question, Bear…I am as fierce in the sack as I am on the street. Just so you know.” She winked at him.

Those words caused his cock to jerk against his will as he made a mental note that she could read his thoughts. His gaze fell from her eyes to the deep cleavage that was pushed up by her black bra. And at the swell of her right breast was the double bow-and-arrow mark that told him exactly who and what she was—not that he hadn’t guessed that from her powers or the small glimpse of her fangs when she spoke. Damn, it looked like not even the goddess Artemis had been able to resist copping a feel of that hot body when she brought her over. “I’m not familiar with you, Dark-Hunter.”

She straightened the layered row of black skull necklaces that hung around her neck. “We’ve met before. Very briefly. Not even enough time to exchange names.”

Dev scowled as he tried to recall it.

No, definitely not. He’d have remembered this particular Huntress had he ever laid eyes on her before—even if it’d been centuries ago. Even if he’d been dead. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man easily forgot meeting. “You must have met one of my brothers.” Most people couldn’t tell them apart. It went with the whole being identical thing and both Cherif and Quinn took turns at the door when Dev had time off. No doubt she had him confused with one of them. “We’re identical quadruplets and I look a lot like my other brothers too.”

She shook her head in denial. “I know. I met all of you. I was here the night the wolves attacked.” Her gaze went up to where the roof still bore a small trace of fire damage from their fight and her eyes darkened with sympathy. “I’m really sorry about your parents…and that we didn’t do a better job of protecting them.”

He didn’t know why, but that touched him. “Thanks for the assist. I know all of you did your best.” They all had. But the number of their enemies had been overwhelming. In all honesty, it was a miracle any of them had survived.

But for the Dark-Hunters and their allies, they wouldn’t have.

A shadow of pain masked her expression as if she had her own demons buried in those words. “Yeah, but sometimes it’s just not good enough and no amount of sincere apologies ever makes it okay. That being said, I really am sorry. For everything.” She glanced inside the bar before she recovered her earlier zest. “Name’s Sam Savage.”

Samia Savage…

That was a name he’d heard bandied about by other Dark-Hunters over the centuries. She was one of their fiercest—hence the surname the other Dark-Hunters had given her several hundred years ago as an homage to her brutality in a fight. As immortal slayers who protected humans, all Dark-Hunters came from horrific backgrounds. Each one different, they all had one thing in common: Someone had betrayed and killed them in a manner so foul that they sold their souls to the Greek goddess Artemis for a single act of vengeance against their betrayer. Not something someone undertook lightly and he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to Sam to make her sell her soul.

Who had killed her and why had that event turned her into something so brutal even the stoutest male Hunters tended to cut her a wide berth? All the stories he’d heard about her had never answered that. They only said that this woman lived for the thrill of the fight.