She leaned in close. Close enough to smell the sweet scent of a body hard at work mixed with an arousal he was trying not to show. “Then be careful, daemon. Because casting an arousal spell over me isn’t going to change my mind about joining you in the Underworld. And you forget I’m a Siren. I’m used to getting all hot and bothered and avoiding release. You, on the other hand, might want to think twice about this. Because when we’re walking through the Fields of Asphodel, I have a feeling you’re going to have a helluva time forgetting just how horny you’ve made me, and what you know I can do about it.”
She left him standing in the trees alone as she headed for the car, where Demetrius waited with the warlock. And though it shouldn’t give her satisfaction, the holy hell look on his face was enough to make her smile.
For now, that would be enough.
***
Orpheus had taken the arousal spell off Skyla right away. What he’d intended to use to torment the Siren had backfired. Big-time.
He swiped a hand across his sweaty brow as he followed her through the hills outside the city of Heraklion. It was midmorning. The sun was already baking his skin. They’d taken a boat from Corinth to Crete, landing in the northern city, then rented a car and driven to Psychro, where they’d left Demetrius with the warlock in an abandoned shack they found on the outskirts of town. Skyla had then dragged Orpheus to tourist shops in the village. All morning, as she’d been browsing shelves in one store then another, searching for gods only knew what, he hadn’t been able to look away from those long shapely legs in the tight black leggings she’d bought, the flex of muscle in her shoulders against the sleeveless top she’d paired with them. And every time she smiled his way or he caught the mischievous twinkle in her eye, he was reminded of what she’d said in the woods outside Corinth.
I have a feeling you’re going to have a helluva time forgetting just how horny you’ve made me.
Skata. Even without the arousal spell in place, she was teasing him to within a degree of boiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d felt that night at the colony, how she’d looked in the moonlight of the tower, how she’d knocked him on his ass with just one taste. He was stupid to think he could torment her with a measly spell. Dumb to have agreed to let her tag along to the Underworld, when she had this screwy effect on him. Idiotic if he thought she was anything but the seductive Siren she’d been trained to be.
And yet…
Since they’d captured the warlock, she hadn’t once tried to take the Orb. She didn’t even act as if she cared that they had it. She seemed only concerned with getting to the Underworld and finding Gryphon.
Though he tried, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from her. She stood in the sunlight at the top of the path, looking right and left, more gorgeous than she’d been the moment he met her. Every time he thought he had the female pegged, she went and did something completely unexpected. Like joining him on this trip to the Underworld, even though she didn’t have to, or knocking him to the ground so the warlock’s energy blast didn’t hurt him.
Warmth spread through his chest. A warmth that was only going to distract him if he wasn’t careful.
He tore his eyes from her, turned, and looked around the hillside. Told himself to pull it together before he forgot what he was doing here.
“Okay, Siren,” he said, wishing he’d tossed a drum of water into his pack rather than a few measly water bottles. He needed to douse his frickin’ head. Preferably a few times. “I’ll bite. Are you trying to get me killed by sunstroke or exhaustion? Why the hell didn’t we just flash here?”
She moved back toward him, her boots kicking up dust in her wake. When she reached his side, she handed him the water bottle. “Flashing would cause an energy shift that would signal we’re on our way. You don’t want that, do you? Besides, we’re almost there. It’s just on the other side of this ridge.”
“The entrance to the Underworld,” he said, lifting the bottle to his lips.
“Yes.”
“Here on Crete. On Mount Ida.”
“Yes.”
“Where Zeus was born.”
Mischief lit her eyes. “You didn’t think Hades wouldn’t have a sense of humor about this, did you?” She took the water bottle from him, replaced it in the side pocket of her pack. Heat and life zinged across his skin when her fingers brushed his, then was gone too fast.
As she headed back up the path, he eyed the sexy sway of her ass. “Focus,” he muttered, kicking his feet into gear to follow. “I’d think Zeus’d put a stop to that. It’s gotta piss off the super king, doesn’t it?”
“More than you know.” They moved down the other side of the ridge. A variety of cacti littered the landscape, along with indigenous herbs and cypress and olive trees. “But he can’t stop it, because Hades controls the Underworld and its entrance.”
“This seems like an obvious place for the opening.”
“Obvious only if you understand the depth of Hades’s jealous mind.”
“Right. How is it no one’s found the entrance before? Zeus’s birthplace has been excavated by human archaeologists.”
“You’ve done your research.” She flicked a look over her shoulder. One that was way too damn sexy for his taste.
“When it comes to the gods, I do all my research.”
“Location is only one part of the puzzle, daemon. You can’t get to the Underworld without this.” She patted her pack.