THE DANCE OF THE DRAGON
I do not own the idea of the Dark-Hunters or any of the characters. They belong to Sherrilyn Kenyon, to whom we bow for her creations. I do however, own Mya, Al, Rayne and Kate.
BC 2567, Crete
Her fury was unmatched. Sure, she's been mad before, but noting like this. She walked threw the quiet tents of her old camp. The camp were she'd spent the last three years. Learning, training and fighting under the guise of a boy. This place had been her refuge for a terrible life under her evil father and his friends. An escape from her father's beating and treating her like a common slave, made to fill his every need. She had watched him slowly kill her mother, forcing her to kill herself and then turning to her, but her father had stopped her. She had wished he hadn't. Beating and using of both her younger and older brother had left her scarred, forever wounded even though the physical bleeding had stopped. But when she turned fifteen she escaped. She wasn't sure how she had managed to keep going that first night, to put enough distance between her and her father so that he could never touch her again. But she did. She was free. Until she chopped off her hair, bound her breasts flat and joined the army. They were so in need of troops, they didn't even question her. At first, she was weaker then the other boys. But she grew stronger and stronger until they looked up to her. And feared her. She out smarted them all, could beat them all with a blade, could shoot farther then them with her bow. She learned battle tactics and strategies until she felt she could learn no more. Yet she did. All under her Captain. The captain that caught her bathing and found out her secret. Yet he did not tell. Instead they fell in love, or at least she had. He told her that he did, but it was all a lie. But when she was wounded, protecting her captain and the general, she was found out. And sentenced with treason. She remember she walked through the quiet camp kneeling on the ground in front her lover, his sword raised to chop her head the look in his eyes. There was no remorse there and she knew that he had never loved her. Her rage had been notorious then, but now she got so mad, she cursed him and his children a thousand times over until the his blade had ended her life. She was sure she had died, yet here she was, marching back from killing her captain. Her lover, his own sword in her hand, his blood on the blade. She could hear the cries and shouts of the men she use to fight along side as they found their captain dead. She smiled a wicked smile, on that made even the bravest men cower. They would never suspect her, after all she was dead. The dead didn't come back and kill people. Until now. Suddenly there was a man in front of her. He had long raven hair and swirling silver eyes like no other. There was no doubt it. He was a god. She fell to her knees, face turned away from his.
"Thank you, Lord Hades for allowing me to walk among the living once again to seek my revenge."
"It was not Hades who allows you your revenge. But Artemis."
"Artemis?" She stood up. "What is a man doing delivering messages from the virgin goddess? Unless of course, you are a girl with VERY masculine looks, then I pity you with all my soul." His mouth hardened into a firm line.
"I do not deliver messages for anyone. I am Acheron Parthenopaeus, a man who leads an army that was created by Artemis. You have been giving a second chance by Artemis." Her eyes narrowed.
"The gods do not let people seek vengeance with out a fee. What does Artemis require of me?"
"To learn to fight the Daimons that plague this earth, feeding on helpless humans. You will be the first woman among us. Does that bother you?" She smiled that wicked smile again. "I have been the only girl among men for the last three years. It doesn't bother me one bit."