She waited for the flash of green in his eyes, almost wanted it, because that would prove he was out of control and not thinking clearly, but it didn’t come. Instead he turned very focused, very stubborn eyes her way. Eyes that were as gray as they’d been in Cynurus’s head over two thousand years ago.
“Trust me, Siren, I am calling the shots. And I could just as easily have left you to deal with those hellhounds alone as rescued you.”
“Rescue me?” she snorted. “On what alternate plane do you live?” But even as she said the words, unease slid through her. Had he rescued her?
Orpheus looked past her as if she hadn’t spoken. “Who did the saving? You’re the final judge here. Me or Rambo Girl there?”
Maelea’s eyes widened, obviously not liking being caught in the middle. “I—I don’t—”
“Stop tormenting the girl,” Skyla snapped.
There it was again. That irritation that he seemed more interested in Maelea than her. What the hell was wrong with her? Daemon hybrid, she reminded herself. Traitor to Olympus and just about every person on the planet.
Orpheus eased out of the car and put his body between Skyla and Maelea, easily breaking Skyla’s hold. “Ghoul Girl comes with me. Why don’t you just head back to Olympus and tell your boss you failed?”
“Ghoul Girl?” Maelea’s shocked expression would have been comical in a different situation, but Skyla barely cared.
She was suddenly too bowled over that Orpheus was suggesting she leave instead of making her go. From his reaction when she’d appeared at Maelea’s house, it was clear she hadn’t surprised him. He was tracking the Orb, and he knew she was there to stop him. Why the hell had he let her tag along this long?
His intense eyes stared into hers. And she had a flash of him glancing at her when they’d been running across Maelea’s lawn, checking to make sure she was with them.
Why hadn’t he left her there? And better yet, why wasn’t he demanding the info he needed from Maelea right now and leaving her behind as well?
A thousand questions pinged around in her head. Melded with questions from the past, the ones regarding Cynurus’s guilt or innocence—his guilt or innocence. And in the silence between them, she knew she had a choice. Walk away for good and let one of the other Sirens deal with him…or not.
Walking away would mean turning her back on the order.
Duty has saved you.
Athena’s words trickled through her mind. Her mentor was right. The order had saved her. When nothing else could. But now she knew that order had also lied. The one question she couldn’t get out of her head was why he’d been given a second chance.
She wasn’t walking away from him. Not until she had the answers she needed. Not until she knew for sure he really was the black soul Athena and Zeus claimed him to be. Though she could now see the similarities between him and Cynurus, they didn’t matter to her. She’d built up her barriers long ago. She’d look at this assignment objectively, keep her emotions out of it, and base her decision on the facts.
On what he did from here.
“If you think I’m letting this girl go anywhere alone with you, daemon, you’re higher than a kite. Where she goes, I go.”
She’d just made herself Maelea’s protector. Her. A Siren. A lethal warrior trained not to protect, but to kill. Shit, she knew as much about protecting as she did about, well, Orpheus.
She ignored the irony in that thought and instead focused on Orpheus’s gray eyes. His suddenly wicked gray eyes and his seductive mouth, curling up ever so slightly along one edge as his gaze slid from her face to her breasts, then lower. “I always liked to get high. I can think of one way that doesn’t involve drugs. Just hormones.”
There it was again. That transition from battle mode to sexual predator. How did he do that? And why the hell did it make her hot?
“Get in, Siren.” His gaze lifted back to Skyla’s mouth before she could think of something pithy to say in retaliation. Where it hovered until the heat of his stare pooled in her abdomen and sent shocks of electricity all through her body. “Before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
***
Spiders.
Today it was hundreds of spiders in all shapes and sizes and colors.
A scream echoed through Gryphon’s mind as he lay on the flat obsidian rocks and stared into four giant, gaping eyes of a hairy arachnid the size of a grapefruit. He tried to move but couldn’t. Tried to holler but was met with only the tapping of thousands of legs against rock, echoing in the humid air. Felt the sensation of those legs crawling over his skin and the sharp, angled fangs sinking deep into his flesh.
Death hovered just out of his reach. His vision swam as the creature on his chest lifted its front two legs and waved them wildly in the air in front of his face. Its fangs loomed dangerously close.
Another stab somewhere on his leg. A gasp of pain he couldn’t inhale. Poison burning through his veins to mess with his mind.
“I have to get out of here.”
You’re not going anywhere.
“I don’t deserve this. It’s a mistake. It’s—”
That’s what they all say. But not all can be innocent. You sure aren’t.