Part 35 (2/2)

Right.

'f.u.c.king freak of nature, is what you are,' he mumbled as he slid out of bed and grabbed his board shorts out of the suitcase he hadn't bothered to unpack yet..

The waves were supposed to be kicka.s.s right now. They were the only things that would have brought him home. Not that anyone was here anyway. His father wasn't, which was typical. And even if he had been here, he wouldn't have noticed Nic if he'd paraded naked into the kitchen with a girl under each arm.

He smirked at the shock value of that visual. He might have to try that sometime to see if it got a reaction from his dad or his uncle Bart.

Probably wouldn't.

With a loud yawn, he stretched, then slid into his shorts and s.h.i.+rt, went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair and splashed water on his face, hoping to shake off the nightmare.

One would think he'd downed enough booze on the plane from Singapore last night to sleep like he was in a coma. But oh, no. Sometimes he was lucky enough to remember the dreams.

Or cursed. He wished he couldn't recall them with such clarity.

The dreams terrified him. And he was too d.a.m.ned old to be scared of monsters in the dark.

As he came out of the bathroom the first line of dawn slipped above the horizon. He grinned, adrenaline pumping blood into his booze-soaked veins.

Time to catch a wave.

And forget about monsters.

Chapter One.

H e stepped out of the waves like the G.o.d Poseidon, at home in his element. Drenched, bronzed, his shorts riding low on his hips and showcasing lean six-pack abs, the sculpted body of a man who worked hard at his sport. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. e stepped out of the waves like the G.o.d Poseidon, at home in his element. Drenched, bronzed, his shorts riding low on his hips and showcasing lean six-pack abs, the sculpted body of a man who worked hard at his sport. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

His sun-tipped brown hair was cut short and spiked up in all directions as he shook the salt spray from it with a wild twist of his head. Shay held her breath, wondering if the shorts balancing precariously on his slim hips would drop to his ankles.

No such luck. She exhaled, reminding herself why she was here.

She was bait. Hard to believe the water G.o.d making his way to the beach, surfboard in his hands, was her quarry.

Dayum. She licked her lips and tipped her sungla.s.ses down over the bridge of her nose, hoping her knees would stop knocking. She wasn't very good at this stealth thing. Her heart was pounding, her palms sweating, and she hoped to G.o.d she remembered how to flirt.

Derek had informed her their intelligence on Nic indicated he went for blondes. Since she was the only blonde hunter, that put her front and center in their game of bait and s.n.a.t.c.h.

They didn't even know how much demon blood Nic had inside him, what he was capable of, if anything. Only that they had to grab him and get him out of Sydney in a hurry so they could figure it out.

So here she stood, on a secluded beach in Sydney, Australia, just past dawn, while the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on walked his way out of the ocean toward her.

And nearby the hunters were in place, ready to make the grab. As soon as she got him out of eyesight of the rest of the people hanging around the sandy beach. Surprisingly, they weren't alone, even though it was so early in the morning.

Which meant they had to lure him away. They had a plan, had discussed it, practiced it, worked it all out, knowing Nic had shown up here every morning to surf. Ever since he'd returned to Australia, he'd come to this location. At least in this he was predictable.

Shay hoped the rest of their intelligence about him was right!like the fact he really did like blondes, that he was one h.e.l.l of a ladies' man, and that he was in the mood for a little action this early in the day.

When he cleared the waves he caught sight of her. She leaned against the shack where he'd stored his gear, struck the most seductively casual pose she could manage without looking obvious, and smiled as he approached.

'Mornin',' she said.

'G'day,' he shot back, tilting his head to the side to size her up.

She suddenly felt naked in her all-too-tiny bikini, wis.h.i.+ng she had a towel or a cover-up. But that would hide the lure, wouldn't it? Ugh. She much preferred killing demons to flirting with gorgeous men. Digging her toes into the sand, she said, 'You looked great out there.'

He grinned, showing off white, even teeth. 'You surf?'

'A little. Not as good as you.'

'You're not from around here.'

'My southern drawl gave me away, didn't it? Not quite Aussie.'

With a laugh, he said, 'No, not quite.' He laid his board against the shack and held out his hand. 'Nic Diavolo.'

'Shay Peterson.' She slipped her hand in his and tried not to shudder. G.o.d, she had such a weakness for good-looking men. And d.a.m.n, was Nic a prime example of perfection. Piercing blue eyes the same color as the ocean, a square jaw, straight nose, and a body she could spend days and nights exploring.

And he might just be a demon, Shay. Don't forget that.

Oh, yeah. She had forgotten. Just for a second she had simply enjoyed the company of a delectable hunk of beef-cake. When was the last time that had happened?

Too long. Back before demons and an utter change in her lifestyle.

Back to work.

'So what are you doing in Sydney, Shay Peterson?'

'Right now? Watching you surf.'

'On vacation?'

'Sort of. I'm definitely on vacation and enjoying this spectacular beach and ocean, but I'm also a freelance writer. So it's a working vacation. Hoping I can score a job while I'm here.'

He nodded. 'And why do I get the idea you being on this beach has something to do with your workand with me?'

At least he hadn't told her to take a hike. 'Because you're wickedly perceptive?'

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