Read Dark Hunter 6 - Sins of the Night for Free Online

greeting as he saw her in the doorway. "We have a guest. He's, um… he's Ash's Squire."
    She went cold at his words. Her heart started thumping as adrenaline rushed through her.
    The man stood up slowly and turned to face her. Danger's gaze quickly fell to the white coat he wore over his solid black clothes. To the way he stood there in all his arrogance as if he dared her or anyone else to question him.
    Everything he wore was black, except the coat… and it belonged to Ash's Squire who was blond like a Daimon…

Chapter 4

     
    Danger's reaction to her "guest" was swift and automatic, and it happened without any premeditation on her part. She pulled out her dagger and threw it straight into the man's heart.
    To her shock, he burst apart into a golden dust just like any good Daimon would.
    "
Mère de Dieu
," she breathed.
    Kyros had been right. The man was…
    Entering the room from the doorway on her right!
    Her jaw dropped as he sauntered into the room with an arrogant swagger and a less-than-amused smirk. He pinned her with a droll stare as he moved to stand in front of her. Her dagger shot from the floor, where it had fallen after he exploded into dust, and into his hand.
    He held it out to her, hilt first. It was painfully obvious that he wasn't the least bit afraid she'd use it on him again. "Could you please refrain from the theatrics? I really hate doing that. It seriously pisses me off and it ruins a perfectly good shirt."
    Danger continued to gape as she stared at the hole in his black turtleneck where the dagger had gone in. There was no blood. No wound. Nothing. Not even a red mark. It was as if he hadn't been stabbed at all.
    I'm dreaming…
    "What are you?" she breathed.
    He gave her a dry, almost bored stare. "Well, had you listened before you stabbed me, you would have heard the 'I'm Acheron's Squire' part. Apparently that somehow escaped your hearing and you mistook me for a pin cushion."
    He was certainly a snotty bastard. Not that she didn't deserve a degree of snottiness seeing how she'd just tried to kill him. Still, he could be a little more understanding, especially since, if Stryker and Kyros were to be believed, he'd been sent here to kill her.
    "He has some really sweet talents, Danger," Keller said from the couch. "He made all the Daimons explode without touching them, but he won't tell me how he did it."
    Danger took her dagger from Alexion's hand, then, without thought, touched the ragged tear in his black turtleneck. He felt solid underneath. Real. There was cold skin beneath the silk and wool fabric and it was hard and masculine.
    Yet human beings didn't shatter like Daimons and no Daimon reappeared after death…
    In that moment, she was terrified of him and terror wasn't something Danger St. Richard felt. Ever.
    Alexion ground his teeth at the sensation of her soft fingers on his flesh. His body roared to life as he watched her examine him like a scientist with a lab experiment that had gone tragically wrong. She was very short for a Dark-Hunter which meant Artemis must have taken an unusual liking for the woman. The goddess preferred to create Dark-Hunters who were equal in height to the Daimons they fought.
    No more than five two or three, Dangereuse was petite and athletic. He'd seen her many times lately in the sfora as he kept watch on what the Mississippi Dark-Hunters were up to.
    There had been something about her that caught his interest. An innocence that still seemed to be inside her. Most Dark-Hunters were jaded by their human betrayals and deaths, and by their duties. But this one… She appeared to have avoided the cynicism that eternal life often brought.
    Of course, she was young by Dark-Hunter years.
    Still, it would be a shame to see her lose that inner glow that continued to allow her to enjoy her immortality. How he wished he could feel it too. But too much time and lack of hope had long robbed him of it.
    Her dark, chestnut-colored hair was worn in a long braid, hanging