***
Skyla didn’t know what to expect when they reached their destination. In her head she’d pictured little cabins. Maybe a small lodge. A dozen or so people. Tepees probably wouldn’t even have surprised her, considering Orpheus had described the inhabitants here as refugees. But when Orpheus told her to pull off the pothole-riddled one-lane dirt road she doubted a car had driven over in years and park inside a cave, she started to wonder what the hell was up.
He was being cryptically quiet. Had been since they’d passed Whitefish and that irritating laughter had died down. After giving her directions, he’d lapsed into silence and they’d driven the remaining three hours deep into the wilderness without another word. Several times she’d glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure Maelea was still there. Thankfully—or unthankfully—the female was. Though Skyla wasn’t thrilled with the way Orpheus treated her, the girl was growing more defiant by the minute, something Skyla sort of liked. At least she was showing some spunk now, whereas before she’d seemed more like a mouse. Skyla had very little use for females who passively let others tell them what to do.
Isn’t that what you’ve let the gods do all these years?
She shook off the thought. She was not Maelea. Not by a long shot. And why was she even comparing herself to the girl when it was Orpheus she should be concerned with?
He’d had another one of those weird zoning-out spells in that parking lot in Kalispell. She’d seen him do that now three times. Was that somehow related to his daemon? Was that why he couldn’t shift? Part of her was still irritated he hadn’t shifted back there in the woods when they’d been hunting those daemons and she’d nearly been lunch. Another part—a part she was trying hard to ignore—was glad. There was something sexy about him in his Argolean form kicking ass. Really freakin’ animalistic sexy.
She tamped down the desire stirring in her core as she climbed out of the vehicle, tugged on her jacket again. The car doors closing echoed around her in the dark space. She’d driven deep enough into the cave where the vehicle wasn’t visible from the road anymore.
Orpheus pulled out the flashlight he’d bought in Whitefish and flipped it on. A steady beam of light lit up the darkness and the cave walls around them.
“Are you sure about this, daemon?”
“Just keep up,” he answered.
Skyla didn’t really have any other choice. She nudged Maelea in front of her and the two followed Orpheus and the light deep into the cave.
They walked nearly twenty minutes. Shivers racked Skyla’s body. Every now and then her boot would slip and she’d twist her ankle on the uneven rocks. From up ahead she heard a noise.
She grasped Maelea by the arm to stop her. The light kept moving. Unease rippled through Skyla as the cave grew dark and a voice she couldn’t make out echoed ahead.
“What is it?” Maelea whispered.
“I don’t know.” Skyla pulled the dagger from her back. “Stay behind me.”
She stepped in front of Maelea. Stilled. No sound echoed from the direction Orpheus had gone. For a moment she thought of calling out to him. And then a light cut through the inky darkness, followed by the clomp of boots. Skyla lifted a hand to block the glare.
“This isn’t a pit stop, ladies,” Orpheus said in an irritated tone. “We’re almost there.”
Relief rushed through Skyla’s veins. She sheathed her dagger, nudged Maelea forward.
Orpheus nodded toward the bend in the tunnel behind him, his flashlight pointed up to illuminate the darkness. “There’s a sentry right around the corner. He’ll take us the rest of the way in.”
He stepped aside to let Maelea pass, but when Skyla reached him he moved back until he partially blocked the tunnel.
She had to turn sideways to get by. Her chest brushed his in the process and warmth spread from his body into hers at the contact, followed by a zing of déjà vu she remembered from the night he’d pinned her to the wall of that apartment in Washington. Her feet stumbled, her cheeks heated at the memory. And the desire she’d worked so hard to forget flared hot all over again.
“Scared you lost me, Siren?”
His voice was as soft as a husky whisper, and his gray eyes, dark in the low light of the cave, simmered with mischief. A mischief that tugged at her and drew her in.
“No,” she lied. “Afraid you lost me, daemon?”
“I was. In that avalanche.”
Her stomach tightened at the emotion she heard in his voice. A hot, needy, wanting sound she’d not heard in thousands of years.
He disappeared into the darkness again before she could think of something to say. And alone, her chest squeezed so tight it hurt to draw air.