Dark Hunter (4 page)

It nearly killed him when he couldn’t give her the answers she so rightly deserved.
The pain and distrust in her eyes clawed at his heart even now. How could he tell her to utter a single word about his time there would be an instant death sentence for him and Mari as well.

The queen wielded powerful magic of both the black arts and white, but the spell she cast on
him was formed from the darkest pits in hell. The pain still burned hot in his memory, his price for freedom came at a high cost.

No, he would not chance Mari’s life even if it meant he lost her.

Chapter Four

Time passed in a happy blur for Mari, days spent wrapped snugly within Navar’s strong arms after mind-blowing sex and the nights working alongside him. He always knew what she needed before she even spoke the request. A partnership formed, building a tenuous thread between them and bridging an even deeper relationship.

And still she didn’t reveal what she’d discovered their first night together. She’d tried countless times, and each time the words died in her throat, replaced by fear. He could easily run from her
and the fact that if they made the consort bond, children would surely follow.

Her chest tightened, an ache forming around her heart. She wanted children with Navar. She also desired him by her side. If she told him the truth, she ran the risk of losing him. The thought of her life without Navar terrified her. So, with self-disgust at her hypocrisy of demanding his honesty while she kept her secrets, she hid her discovery and convinced herself there would be a better time to let him know.

Yeah, the convincing? Not working well for her at all.

Knowing he was her consort and keeping it from him was driving her crazy. She had never done well at backing away from anything. The fact that she refused to deal with this made her feel like the worst sort of coward.

“Earth to Mari.” Anya’s voice cut through her dark musings. “Hey, are you all right?”

Mari frowned at her friend. “Sure, I’m
fine. What do you need?”

“I asked for whiskey neat and
a house ale.”

“On it.” Mari quickly pulled a rocks glass and the whiskey, measuring out two fingers’ worth of the dark brown alcohol before taking a chilled glass from the refrigerator beneath the bar and filling it with amber-colored frothing ale on draft. Within moments, Anya served her order, bringing back the money.

Anya’s eyes locked onto Navar standing at the door leading to the private rooms, her eyes sweeping his body with a woman’s appreciation. “Damn, you are a lucky girl to have all that delectable male wrapped around you during the day.”

Mari couldn’t help but look over at Navar, taking in the dark green silk shirt and black chinos. The color enhanced the golden tones of his skin, and the shirt fit perfectly over the wide shoulders and deep chest to tuck into the slim waist of his belted slacks. His long black hair was pulled away from his masculine face with a leather thong, enhancing the sharp angles. His pale eyes blazed as they zeroed in on her. Her pulse raced under his intense gaze.

“Wow, wish someone looked at me that way,” Anya said with a twinge of regret coloring her tone.

As her stomach did a butterfly flutter and heat pooled at the juncture of her
thighs, Mari thought of the plans she had for him later. Hot fudge sundae time à la Navar. She had the chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and nuts all ready to go. All she needed was her lover, naked and spread eagle, tied to the bedposts of her bed with red silk scarves. She gave him a wicked grin as she congratulated herself on purchasing her king-sized bed with the birch post frame.

One dark eyebrow rose, a question in his gaze.

“Oh, honey, the man’s in trouble and he knows it.” Anya laughed.

“Yeah, but it’s all good trouble.”

“Hey, can I get some kind of goddamned service over here?” A belligerent bellow from the booths back where the DJ hunched over his sound equipment, getting ready for the night, carried through the crowded room.

Anya sighed, rolling her eyes at Mari. “I really don’t get paid enough for this.”

Mari snorted. “Such is the glamorous life of a Las Vegas cocktail waitress. You knew what you signed up for before you agreed.”

“Yes, Miss Mari, I know my place now.” Anya affected the stooped posture of a tired old woman, a glint of laugher in her eyes.

“Good, then get your butt over there and be quick about it.” She tried to sound stern but ruined it with a laugh and shook her head at the silly banter.

With a mocking salute to Mari,
Anya spun on one high-heeled foot and disappeared through the Saturday night crowd. Immersing herself with drink requests, Mari hit her stride, tending the bar with lightning speed. Everything seemed right with the world. Business picked up and, with Navar’s help as bodyguard and fill-in bartender, a sense of security settled over the bar. The days wrapped in his arms and the nights working side by side filled her with contentment. Life couldn’t get much better.

The moment the thought struck, she had the uncomfortable feeling she’d just stuck a red neon sign over her head saying Fuck With Me.

She didn’t have long to wait before fate stood up and took note.

A scream blasted through the crowd in a high piercing pitch filled with terror and agonizing pain, only to be cut abruptly short. She didn’t remember flying over the bar, half-filled glasses shattering after they plummeted to the floor. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest and her throat was dry as ash, but instinct drove her to get to the female in trouble. The crowd nearly trampled her into the ground as they went for the exit like a stampede of panicked animals. Their shouts and screams threatened to deafen Mari. Somehow she kept her feet under her as they jostled her around. Mari pushed forward with all her vampire strength, making headway inch by painful inch.

The copper scent of fresh blood hung in the air and bile rose in her throat. Fear writhed in her belly like snakes, and for a moment she thought she would lose her lunch right there on the dance floor. Suddenly, she found herself clear of the crowd, standing at the back booth, which was empty of all people, and blinking with shocked horror. Her brain tried to process the gory image in front of her.

Her knees nearly buckled as she noted the broken body on the floor, arms and legs splayed in awkward angles, and gods, the blood! It seemed to be everywhere, painting the walls in a crimson arc. It smeared across the booth’s cushions and table and spread in an ever-widening pool around the body and the neck where the head should have been. The torso was split in two, edges from chest to groin cut clean and neat, spilling vital organs in a pile of gore between the two halves.

Oh, goddess above!
She recognized the blood-covered cloth still hanging in tatters over the body. Anya!

Her body took that moment to do a quick evac of the contents in her stomach. Her legs giving out,
Mari hit the floor on hands and knees, unaware of the blood covering her as she heaved.

Hands held her quaking shoulders as she continued to retch, her body shaking from shock. “Where’s her head? I have to find her head,” she babbled, hysteria rising in a burning lump in her throat.

“We will,
akasha
. I promise you that I will find out who did this.” Navar’s soothing words did little to calm the clamoring panic holding her in a vise grip.

“We can’t give her a proper burial without her head!” Mari screamed the words, refusing to be comforted while Anya lay butchered on the floor before her. “Who would do this to an innocent? What type of world am I living in where people could
do
something like this?”

She turned to face Navar, whose grief and concern were etched in the tense lines bracketing his mouth. “What did those bastards do with her head?” Her demand would have held more impact if she hadn’t picked that exact moment to start crying. Great tearing sobs wracked her body. She should have known, should have felt the threat. She had been so wrapped up in Navar that she never saw it coming.

Guilt grabbed hold, viciously tugging at her as she struggled against his hold. “This is my fault. I should have been more aware, known what Anya would be walking into.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, yet she refused to meet his eyes. How could she, knowing she was at fault for Anya’s death? A finger touched her chin, raising her head to meet his steady, determined gaze. “You are
not
responsible for this. Do not think so. You couldn’t have prevented this. You don’t want to go down that road,
akasha
. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise. Do you understand me? You. Are. Not. Responsible.”

Saying those words was very different than believing them. She knew only too well it would take her lifetimes to come to terms with this. She gripped onto his arms like a lifeline, her nails sinking in his flesh, afraid that if she lost contact with him, her mind would surely snap from the horror lying behind her. The sheer brutality of the death threatened her sanity.

“I need to look and see if the killer left any clues,
akasha.
I won’t be far but I want you to stay right here. Don’t look back. Do you understand?”

“
No!
Please don’t leave me, Navar.” Panic raked sharp talons into her chest, making breathing all but impossible.

“Hush, love, I will be right here.
There is no danger now. The killer is long gone. But I must do this.” His burning gaze locked onto hers and she nodded, his calm filling her as surely as if they were already bonded.

Her muscles relaxed enough that she could take a deep breath. Then
she wished she hadn’t as the smell of blood overpowered every other scent in the room. Her stomach tried to rebel, but she fought the urge to throw up…again.

He stood, taking his heat and comforting presence with him, and stepped away from her to study what was left of Anya at her
back. She gritted her teeth against the overwhelming urge to grab a hold of him and run. Common sense rose to the rescue as she listened to the slow, measured tread of his boots.

Poor child. She hadn’t deserved this kind of death. No one did. She wondered at the type of person who could butcher another living being, and yes, she might have been near death when Navar turned her, but she was hardly dead. Vampires were not walking corpses as the popular myth depicted them, but flesh, blood, and bone beings as alive as a human. A small spark of anger ignited deep within her breast, the flame flaring to a conflagration of searing
rage that threatened to swallow her whole.

The monster
who'd done this would pay. She swore it to Anya. She would find him and gut him like a fish.

****

Navar’s stomach churned at the carnage. He pushed his reaction deep down and concentrated on the job at hand. He needed to keep his emotions in check or he could miss something vital to finding the animal responsible.

He walked a circle around the body, staying clear of the drying pool of blood on the hardwood floor and noting the sprawl of the body. Narrowing his focus on the arms, he noted the deep lacerations on the forearms and wrists indicative of defensive wounds. She’d obviously tried to ward off the attack by throwing her arms up against the assailant. Analyzing the blood-spattered floor, he noticed the footprints trailing through the crimson pool.

They moved away, toward the front door, all except one. He followed that single set of bloody footsteps to the stage where the DJ’s equipment stood unattended. They continued up two steps to the stage and stopped. As if the killer took off his shoes before making a successful escape with the crowed running for the door.

He walked back to the body, making a mental
note of the wounds. Having seen so much death, he knew the weapon used was a sword, a very sharp one at that. He moved slowly toward the booth covered in gore, the wall splattered in an arterial spray when the sword severed the head. When he looked down again at the tabletop, a frown pinched his forehead. Stepping closer, he leaned down finding a blood-smeared envelope.

His jaw tightened as he fought to control the surge of anger coming to the surface. Wrestling it back down, he ripped the envelope open, pulled out the single sheet of paper, and read the scrawled script of a maniac.

The dark-haired bitch is next. PS

What in the hell did PS stand for? The killer had marked his next victim, and with the arrogant flare of his signature,
Navar damn well knew Mari would be next on the bastard’s list.

Over his dead body
.

No fucking way would he allow anything to harm his female.
And she was his, as much a part of him as the bone, flesh, and muscle which comprised his physical existence. And his soul was already entwined with hers. Whether she knew it or not, they were one.

“What is it, Navar?” Mari’s voice carried loud in the heavy silence. He felt her approach and he turned to intercept her.

Too late. She’d already swiped the piece of paper from his fingers and read the damning words. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and waves of white hot rage came off her in waves. Her gaze pinned him to the spot, a cold calculating determination glittered in those dark depths. “The son of a bitch is mine.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her stiff body tightly to him. The sting of her nails biting into
the flesh of his chest hardly registered as he led her into one of the back rooms. Entering the first open door, he gently placed her at the foot of a bed and knelt in front of her. “You need to let me handle this, Mari. This is what I’m trained for.”

“You can’t fight them all, Navar. There are too many.”

“What are you talking about?”