you.”
The man lifted an eyebrow. “For me? You are mistaken. No—”
“I know what you are,” Jordan interrupted. “And I am like you. You can tell me what no one else can.”
The man threw back his head and laughed, an eerie sound that sent a chill up Jordan’s spine. Another man, also white-skinned and dark-haired, approached behind the first, as if drawn by the strange laughter.
“Vlasis,” the laughing man said, “this youth thinks he’s like us!”
The other man made a dismissive sound and waved his hand, then turned and left. The first abruptly stopped and peered at Jordan with narrowed eyes that changed from midnight-black to a glowing red. He leaned forward.
“You are nothing like us.”
Jordan stood his ground, ignoring the growing and inexplicable fear. “You don’t age. You’re strong and move faster than the eye can see. You call me a youth but most men my age are stooped and wrinkled. I can out-lift, out-throw and out-run any human.”
“But can you do this?” His lips lifted in a snarl, exposing fangs like an animal’s, just like those men who’d been chasing Cassandra. His eyes glowed even brighter. Jordan couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back. “Do you live for the hunt? For the taste of human blood? Do you excite at their fear? I think not. You are not like us, the immortal ones.”
Jordan lifted his chin, still fighting the terror that tried to wind its tendrils around him. “I may not be exactly like you, but I am close. Unlike you, I am only half -demon.”
The man drew back slightly and seemed to consider Jordan for a long moment.
“Demon?” he asked. “You believe you are half-demon?”
“I don’t believe. I know . My father was Andrew, a fallen angel. Surely you know of him.”
The man peered at him again, seeming to almost show an interest. Then his nostrils flared and he sniffed the air with the arrogance of a king.
“No matter. You are still nothing like us. We are not demons. We are predators . The most dangerous predators on this Earth.” He leaned toward Jordan again, exposing those dagger-like teeth. His voice came out in a feral snarl. “Now be gone. Before you become my prey.”
Moving too fast to see, the man disappeared and the door slammed in Jordan’s face. He stood motionless, his mouth hanging open. How dare he! He took a step forward and lifted his fist for the wooden door.
“I wouldn’t,” came a husky yet feminine voice from the shadow of the next house.
Jordan spun, his dagger out and ready. She chuckled and a figure emerged halfway out of the darkness—the same woman from the pond earlier, once again out when she shouldn’t be. She wiggled her fingers for him to follow as she sauntered down the path leading to the village center. His eyes cut to the door and then back to her, and he was torn by his need for answers and his desire to know this raven-haired beauty.
“I can help you.” Her whispered words floated to him, although she was too far away for him to possibly hear. “I know who you are and I know who you need to meet. I can take you.”
Jordan hesitated. He half-turned toward the door and renewed fear washed over him. He hurried after the woman.
He followed her out of town to a surprisingly small home on the outskirts of the village. She led him inside, where piles of pillows and blankets surrounded a low wooden table and a fire crackled in the stone hearth. A black pot sat in the coals, a sweet yet strange smelling steam swirling from its boiling contents. He looked around, but it appeared as though no one else was there.
“Whose home is this?” Jordan didn’t think it could be hers. She looked as though she should live in a palace or, at least, in a stone-walled, two-story home with a courtyard, kitchen and andron. But, then again, she apparently wasn’t like other women, controlled by men. Which both thrilled and bothered Jordan.
“Mine.” She sank into one of the oversized pillows.
“Where are
The man lifted an eyebrow. “For me? You are mistaken. No—”
“I know what you are,” Jordan interrupted. “And I am like you. You can tell me what no one else can.”
The man threw back his head and laughed, an eerie sound that sent a chill up Jordan’s spine. Another man, also white-skinned and dark-haired, approached behind the first, as if drawn by the strange laughter.
“Vlasis,” the laughing man said, “this youth thinks he’s like us!”
The other man made a dismissive sound and waved his hand, then turned and left. The first abruptly stopped and peered at Jordan with narrowed eyes that changed from midnight-black to a glowing red. He leaned forward.
“You are nothing like us.”
Jordan stood his ground, ignoring the growing and inexplicable fear. “You don’t age. You’re strong and move faster than the eye can see. You call me a youth but most men my age are stooped and wrinkled. I can out-lift, out-throw and out-run any human.”
“But can you do this?” His lips lifted in a snarl, exposing fangs like an animal’s, just like those men who’d been chasing Cassandra. His eyes glowed even brighter. Jordan couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back. “Do you live for the hunt? For the taste of human blood? Do you excite at their fear? I think not. You are not like us, the immortal ones.”
Jordan lifted his chin, still fighting the terror that tried to wind its tendrils around him. “I may not be exactly like you, but I am close. Unlike you, I am only half -demon.”
The man drew back slightly and seemed to consider Jordan for a long moment.
“Demon?” he asked. “You believe you are half-demon?”
“I don’t believe. I know . My father was Andrew, a fallen angel. Surely you know of him.”
The man peered at him again, seeming to almost show an interest. Then his nostrils flared and he sniffed the air with the arrogance of a king.
“No matter. You are still nothing like us. We are not demons. We are predators . The most dangerous predators on this Earth.” He leaned toward Jordan again, exposing those dagger-like teeth. His voice came out in a feral snarl. “Now be gone. Before you become my prey.”
Moving too fast to see, the man disappeared and the door slammed in Jordan’s face. He stood motionless, his mouth hanging open. How dare he! He took a step forward and lifted his fist for the wooden door.
“I wouldn’t,” came a husky yet feminine voice from the shadow of the next house.
Jordan spun, his dagger out and ready. She chuckled and a figure emerged halfway out of the darkness—the same woman from the pond earlier, once again out when she shouldn’t be. She wiggled her fingers for him to follow as she sauntered down the path leading to the village center. His eyes cut to the door and then back to her, and he was torn by his need for answers and his desire to know this raven-haired beauty.
“I can help you.” Her whispered words floated to him, although she was too far away for him to possibly hear. “I know who you are and I know who you need to meet. I can take you.”
Jordan hesitated. He half-turned toward the door and renewed fear washed over him. He hurried after the woman.
He followed her out of town to a surprisingly small home on the outskirts of the village. She led him inside, where piles of pillows and blankets surrounded a low wooden table and a fire crackled in the stone hearth. A black pot sat in the coals, a sweet yet strange smelling steam swirling from its boiling contents. He looked around, but it appeared as though no one else was there.
“Whose home is this?” Jordan didn’t think it could be hers. She looked as though she should live in a palace or, at least, in a stone-walled, two-story home with a courtyard, kitchen and andron. But, then again, she apparently wasn’t like other women, controlled by men. Which both thrilled and bothered Jordan.
“Mine.” She sank into one of the oversized pillows.
“Where are
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