Sherrilyn Kenyon - Kiss Of The Night

"Yeah, I know." In a way Talon couldn't even begin to imagine. "But damn. Just once can't they stop running from us and learn to fight like their ancestors did? I miss the way things used to be."

There was a pause on the other end as Talon let out a slow appreciative breath.

Wulf shook his head. There was definitely a woman nearby.

"I tell you what I miss most are the Talpinas."

Wulf frowned. That was a term he'd never heard before. "What are those?"

"That's right, they were before your time. Back in the better part of the Dark Ages, we used to have a clan of Squires whose sole purpose was to take care of our carnal needs."

It was nice to know his best friend had a one-track mind, and Wulf would pay money to meet the one woman who could derail the Celt from his earthy ways.

"Man, they were great," Talon continued. "They knew what we were and they were more than happy to bed us. Hell, the Squires even trained them on how to pleasure you."

"What happened to them?"

"About a hundred or so years before you were born, a Dark-Hunter made the mistake of falling in love with his Talpina. Unfortunately for the rest of us, she didn't pass Artemis's test. Artemis was so angry over it, she stepped in and banished the Talpinas from us, and implemented the oh-so-wonderful "you're only supposed to sleep with them once" rule. As further backlash over it, Acheron came up with the "never touch your Squire" law. I tell you, you haven't lived until you've tried to find a decent one-night stand in seventh-century Britain."

Wulf snorted. "That's never been my problem."

"Yeah, I know. I envy you that. While the rest of us have to pull ourselves back from our lovers lest we betray our existence, you get to cut loose without fear."

"Believe me, Talon, it's not all it's cracked up to be. You live alone by choice. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to have no one remember you five minutes after you leave them?"

It was the only thing that bothered Wulf about his existence. He had immortality. Wealth.

You name it.

Except that if Christopher died without having children, there would be no human left alive who could remember him.

It was a sobering thought.

Wulf sighed. "Christopher's mother has come over here three times in the last week alone just so she can meet the person he works for. I've known her for what? Thirty years? And let's not forget that time sixteen years ago when I came home and she called the cops on me because she thought I had broken into my own house."

"I'm sorry, little brother," Talon said sincerely. "At least you have us and your Squire who can remember you."

"Yeah, I know. Thank the gods for modern technology. Otherwise I'd go insane." He fell silent for a bit.

"Not to change the subject, but did you see who Artemis relocated to New Orleans to take Kyrian's place?"

"I heard it was Valerius," Wulf said in disbelief. "What was Artemis thinking?"

"I have no idea."

"Does Kyrian know?" Wulf asked.

"For an obvious reason, Acheron and I decided not to tell him that the grandson and spitting image of the man who crucified him and destroyed his family was being moved into the city just down the street from his house. Unfortunately, though, I'm sure he'll find out sooner or later."

Wulf shook his head. He supposed things could be worse for him. At least he didn't have Kyrian's or Valerius's problems.

"Man, human or not, Kyrian will kill him if they ever cross paths—not something you need to cope with this time of year."

"Tell me about it," Talon concurred.

"So, who got Mardi Gras duty this year?" Wulf asked.

"They're importing Zarek."

Wulf cursed at the mention of the Dark-Hunter from Fairbanks, Alaska. Rumors abounded about the ex-slave who had once destroyed the very village and humans he'd been charged with protecting. "I didn't think Acheron would ever let him leave Alaska."

"Yeah, I know, but word came from Artemis herself that she wanted him here. Looks like we're having a psycho reunion this week… Oh wait, it's Mardi Gras. Duh."

Wulf laughed again.

He heard Talon let out a happy sigh.

"Coffee arrived?" Wulf asked.

"Oh yeah."

Wulf smiled, wishing he could find pleasure in something as simple as a cup of coffee.

But no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he heard Talon snarl, "Ah, man."

"What?"

"Friggin' Fabio alert." Talon spat the words out contemptuously.

Wulf arched a brow as he thought about Talon's own blond hair. "Hey, you're not too far from the mark either, blondie ."

"Bite me, Viking. You know if I were a negative person, I would be seriously annoyed right now."

"You sound annoyed to me."

"No, this isn't annoyed. This is mild perturbance. Besides, you should see these guys." Talon dropped his Celtic accent as he invented a conversation for the Daimons. He raised his voice to an unnaturally high level. "Hey, Gorgeous George, I think I smell a Dark-Hunter."

"Oh no, Dick," he said, dropping his voice two octaves, "don't be a dick. There's no Dark-Hunter here."

Talon returned to his falsetto. "I dunno…"

"Wait," Talon said, again in the deep voice, "I smell tourist. Tourist with big… strong soul."

"Would you stop?" Wulf said, laughing.

"Talk about inkblots," Talon said, using the derogatory term Dark-Hunters had for Daimons. It stemmed from the strange black mark that all Daimons developed on their chests when they crossed over from being simple Apollites to human slayers. "Damn, all 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 college 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 Michelle's class, and they had spent the night listening to Twisted Hearts and then the Barleys play.

Nothing unusual had happened other than Michelle 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. Mitchell 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 tall, dark-haired warrior with black eyes and full, 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…