From his right, a sound echoed. Skyla stepped into the room wearing a long white gauzy dress tied at the waist with a gold sash. She looked from him to the woman, then back again. And before he could say anything, she disappeared the way she’d come in.
He wasn’t sure what the hell he was seeing. He was there, but he wasn’t. Watching it as if it were a movie, but seeing through the eyes of an actor. He felt himself floating through the corridor, following Skyla. She turned when she reached the wide front marble terrace. More columns lined the front of the building and down the twenty or so steps, a city lay beyond, tall mountains to the right and left, and water—an ocean of blue—as far as the eye could see.
“Skyla!”
She whipped around, shot him a scathing look. The same look she’d just sent him in the parking lot. The same look he’d gotten used to seeing this whole last day. “I thought you weren’t going to marry her.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what is she doing here?”
“Visiting. Her father sent her.”
“Visiting.” She all but vibrated with rage. And hurt. And jealousy. A jealousy that for reasons he couldn’t explain rocked him to his knees. “Fine. Then go to her.”
She turned, rushed down three steps before he grasped her by the arm and whipped her back to face him. “I don’t want her. I want you.”
“Why? She’s a princess. She’s exactly what they want you to have. All I am is—”
“Mine.” Her heat was intoxicating. Her body like a thirst he could never quench. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Hated that she’d think he’d want anyone but her. Didn’t she have eyes? “You’re mine, Siren. Just mine. Understand?”
“Orpheus?”
The steps, the view, the palace beneath his feet faded like a thinning mist. Orpheus blinked once, twice, shook his head to clear the fog. When focus came back he found himself in the parking lot, looking into the same gemlike eyes, only these weren’t soft and desire-filled as they’d been on those steps when he’d taken her into his arms. These were wary and confused and more than a little intimidating.
“What’s with you?” Skyla asked. “I’m the one that was nearly toasted. Twice. And you look like you have PTSD. See anything wrong with this picture?”
He had no idea what she was mumbling about. He heard her words but they didn’t register. He turned to Maelea for help, only the look she sent him said he was on his own. And from the way they were both staring at him as if he’d grown a third eye, he knew he’d just had another of those weird-ass visions.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. He rubbed both hands over his face. Tried like hell to settle the pounding of his heart. Didn’t even come close. What was happening to him?
“Orpheus?” Skyla said again. “Are you tripping on drugs or what?”
He wished.
He pressed his fingers into his temples until pain shot through his skull. “Just tired. I’m fine.”
Only he wasn’t. Even he knew he wasn’t fine. He was way the fuck freaked-out. Because that didn’t seem like a vision to him. There were emotions in there. Emotions still pinging around in his chest like a billiard ball bouncing off bumpers.
That had felt…like a memory.
Which was not fucking possible.
An engine purred, then the attendant pulled the SUV up, stopping at Orpheus’s left. Thankful for the distraction he reached for the keys, but Skyla was right there, taking them before he could.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“Driving. No way I’m getting in a moving vehicle with you when you’re lapsing into la-la land every few minutes.”
“I’m not—”
“Climb in,” she said to Maelea.
Maelea eyed them both as if they were certifiable but opened the back door of the Tahoe and slid inside the car without a word. Skyla sent Orpheus a superior smirk.
“You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“So you’ll tell me. Now, are you coming along or not? I can just as easily leave your ass here as I can rescue you.”
It was what he’d said to her in the parking lot back in Seattle after they’d gotten Maelea away from those hounds. But the memory of that vision—the emotions—rolled through his chest again before he could be impressed that she remembered, tipped him off balance in a way he’d never been before.
Who was she to him? And why couldn’t he figure it out?
“Look, daemon. I know it chaps your ass to be saddled by a female, but deal with it.” She climbed into the SUV. Slammed the door. Shot him a hurry up already look through the windshield.
And in the cool morning breeze, he knew he could be an ass or try to lighten the mood. They still had several hours before they reached the colony. Regardless of what was happening in his fucked-up head, he really didn’t want to spend those hours dodging her daggers.
He climbed into the passenger seat. Latched his seat belt. As she put the vehicle in drive and pulled out of the lot, he rested his elbow on the windowsill. “For the record, Siren, I like being saddled. Reverse cowgirl is my favorite. When you’re ready to ride, you just let me know.”
She snorted and flipped on the radio. Loud.
He chuckled all the way to Whitefish, Montana.