As a Dream-Hunter, Lydia has been charged with the most sacred and dangerous of missions. She’s to descend into the Nether Realm and find the missing god of dreams before he betrays the secrets that could kill all of them. What she never expects is to be taken prisoner by the Realm’s most vicious guardian.

Seth’s time is running out. If he can’t hand over the entrance to Olympus, then his own life and those of his people will be forfeit. No matter the torture, he hasn’t been able to break the god in his custody. But when a rescuer appears, he decides to try a new tactic. If he can win her to their cause, then he can save all their lives.

When these two lock wills, one of them must give. Lydia isn’t just guarding the gates of Olympus, she’s holding back the darkest of powers from the earth itself. If she fails, an ancient evil will roam the earth once more and no one will be safe.

But evil is always seductive...

Get a sneak peek of the next book Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Dream-Hunter series, The Guardian (available Nov 1, 2011).

(Need to catch up on the Dream-Hunter series? The first three books in the series—Dream-Hunter, Dream Chaser, and Dream Warrior—are going on sale today at a special price of $4.99!)

Lydia walked a circle in the room that she’d memorized every detail to, right down to the design of the cracks in the floor. She’d eaten and then started pacing for what had to be hours and hours…

If not a whole day.

Frustration made a bitter lump in her throat. How could she—

The air stirred behind her.

She turned, ready to fight.

The demon was finally back. But something was wrong. The jackal in her could sense it even though he stood there as proud and fierce as he’d been before.

Tense and nervous, she waited for him to do or say something,

Like her, he didn’t budge as they sized each other up. The weight of that frigid, frightening steel gaze sent a shiver over her…

What was he going to do?

Seth held his breath as he silently debated with himself. It was stupid to be here while wounded. He knew that.

His room had always been the one place in hell where he could retreat to that was safe from everyone except Azure and Noir- there was no way to keep them out.

But with her here…

What are you bitching about? You’ll be abused regardless. At least she didn’t have her powers. There was only so much pain she could give him. With the others…

It would be limitless, especially after his payback.

He would lock her up before he passed out, but Noir had drained him completely. He was so weak now. So sick. It was a wonder he’d made it back here at all.

Don’t fall. Don’t you dare show a weakness. He was steadfast in spirit. But his body refused to cooperate. Against his will, his legs gave out and he hit the floor so hard, he was surprised he didn’t break the stone. He tried to stay conscious. To crawl toward his bed.

His body wouldn’t even give him that. Against everything he tried, the darkness took him under.

Lydia stepped back as she watched him lying on the floor in a giant metal armor heap. Was it a trick?

Why would it be? What could he gain by falling down in front of her?

Still… demons in Azmodea were treacherous. Evil. One could never know what viciousness they were capable of.

Ever cautious, she crept forward, ready to bolt if he grabbed her.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t until she knelt down that she saw the blood in his hair and on his armor and face. He’d been beaten. Viciously. No, savagely. The blows had smeared the white and lines on his face, showing her that it was makeup after all and not his skin tone.

What do I do?

There was no one to call for help. And in the back of her mind was the fear that if he died, she’d die too. No one knew where she was. Probably not even Solin.

Crap.

Just how badly was he injured? The answer was obvious- bad enough that something as lethally ferocious as he wasn’t conscious. Given what she’d seen of him, that seemed to be an impossibility.

She reached for the buckles on his armor and began removing the heavy pieces. And they were heavy- like lifting lead planks. How could he walk around in them and not fall over? No wonder he was so massively huge. He’d have to be to support it all.

Underneath the armor he wore a black thinly quilted suit that must be padding to keep the metal from bruising his skin. Carefully, she peeled it back to examine his wounds.

As she exposed his neck, she made an unexpected discovery. There was a curious tattoo of a beautiful, multicolored sparrow. The tail of it started at the hollow of his throat and it swooped down along his shoulder blade with its wings spanning from just over his shoulder to right above his nipple. A nipple that had a vicious scar running through it as if someone had pierced it, then ripped the piercing out. She cringed at the very thought.

For the most part the sparrow was blue, but the wings were also red, yellow, green and white. The bird’s tail was split, and in between the two streaming tail feathers was what appeared to be a broken dark red heart.

How very strange. That whimsical bird didn’t match his evil persona at all.

But she didn’t have time to contemplate that now. As she kept going, she uncovered a well muscled, tawny body whose absolute perfection was marred again and again by countless scars, cuts and bruises. Bruises that lay over other bruises, and scars that bisected each other. Her stomach tightened at the physical manifestation of a lifetime of utter misery. Good grief, how many times would someone have to be beaten to carry this amount of damage?

Honestly, she couldn’t choose between them which one would have caused him the most pain. Although the one under his chin did look particularly nasty.

Even worse than the vicious, jagged scars was the deep fresh gashes and welts left by a whip. That must be what had caused him to collapse. She sucked her breath in sharply. Someone had torn him up good and by the looks of it, they’d enjoyed it. She saw the defensive wounds on his forearms where he’d tried to keep the lashes from hitting other parts of his body and had failed.

Obviously the demon wasn’t at the top of the food chain here. Which begged the question of who would have done this to him.

Noir? Azura?

And why?

With no answers, she stripped him down to the black shorts he wore beneath his armor and padding. They reminded her of bicycle shorts that hugged his lean hips and well muscled thighs.

Lydia tried to keep her gaze from the bulge there that told her his muscles weren’t the only part of him that was huge. The gods had definitely been kind to him in that area.

Stop it.

But it was hard. He had the kind of body that a woman didn’t see everyday. The kind that you wanted to drape yourself over and just feel the warmth of it against your own skin. And while he was most likely evil to his core, there was no denying the fact that he was exquisitely formed.

She returned her attention to his head where blood seeped from a nasty gash just above his left ear. He was still unconscious.

And bleeding all over. She couldn’t even begin to catalogue all of his injuries.

Her gaze dropped to his arm where she’d stabbed him. He had so many wounds there, she wasn’t sure which one was hers. That thought nauseated her. No wonder he hadn’t reacted to it. She’d most likely stabbed him in a bruise.

Or another wound.

And though she didn’t exactly like or trust anyone, she didn’t want to hurt them either. Not even him. It pained her that she’d added to his damage and she hated herself for that weakness.

This bastard had taken no mercy on Solin at all. So why should she care?

Because I’m not a soulless demon like him.

Her stomach churning in sympathy, she went to the bathroom to run a basin of warm water so that she could clean and bandage his wounds.

The bandages she had to tear out of his bed sheets.

It took some time, but she very carefully cleaned and wrapped them. Once she was finished with his body, she dumped the water, cleaned the basin and then ran more so that she could tend to the injuries on his face and head.

As she washed the harsh makeup from his features, she slowly uncovered the truth of her “demon.”

He was beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

There was no other word for it. He would have been as pretty as a woman but for the rugged cut of his masculine jaw and the sharpness of his cheekbones- both of which were dusted by a day’s growth of whiskers. No wonder he wore the makeup. It would be hard to terrify the demons of this place looking like he did, even as tall and ripped as he was.

Before she realized what she was doing, she ran her finger over his soft lips, remembering how good they’d tasted until… She winced as she saw the mark where she’d bitten him.

Obviously, the last thing he’d needed was more pain. And she’d stupidly thought he was joking when he said that he hadn’t had his lip busted open today.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wondering if he’d ever had a moment of happiness in his entire life. By the condition of his body, she’d say no.

How long had he lived in this hell realm?

One minute would be too long.

Her throat tight, she washed the blood from his hair. Hair that drew up into perfectly tight auburn spiral curls the minute she wet it. So it wasn’t straight after all. Those curls were incredibly soft and boyishly charming- like you would see on a collectible doll. Who would have thought?

Now that she had him bare and clean, the only thing scary about him was how flawlessly handsome he was.

He’s still the one who tortured Solin, her mind reminded her.

True. His looks didn’t change his actions. No matter what, he was her enemy. And he would always remain so.

If you were smart, you’d stab him through the heart and kill him while you can.

Her dinner knife was only a few feet away.

And what if I did? He’d told her that he couldn’t be killed. She had no reason to assume he’d been lying. His beating and scars, and the fact that he still breathed, told her he’d been honest about that.

Plus, even if she did kill him, she’d still be trapped here. That wouldn’t change. Without him, she had no way to leave and no way to communicate with anyone.

He was her only hope for eventual release.

If only she could get a message to someone on the outside. But the more she tried, the more trapped she felt. What was she going to do?

An eerie chill went down her spine as she saw her future and it wasn’t pretty.

For now, it was better to tolerate the demon she knew than the others that waited outside this room.

Copyright © 2011 by Sherrilyn Kenyon

In the past two years, New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon has claimed the #1 spot twelve times. With more than 23 million copies of her books in print in over 30 countries, her current series include: The Dark-Hunters, The League, Lords of Avalon, BAD Agency, Chronicles of Nick, and the forthcoming Nevermore.