He smiled. “And just like you, he prefers to make sure of her safety without relying on—what did you call them last night? Underwear models?”
“They sure could be,” I said dryly, and decided that it behooved me to check on Mrs. P’s welfare, too. Just so I could satisfy my conscience that I was earning my way.
We hurried up to the cabin, skidding to a stop at the sight of bodies strewn around the sitting room. Pitchers of icy margaritas melted in puddles that leaked into pools of wet black substances. Stacked tidily along one wall were three bodies of men in various colors, sizes, and shapes. In the middle of the room, Mrs. P sat serene on a chair, while the priestesses puttered around with mops, towels, and trash bags, clearly tidying up the results of what must have been a horrible attack.
May and Gabriel emerged from the bathroom, towels in hand.
I gawked for a minute, then asked, “What the hell happened here?”
“As we suspected, Bael arranged for demons to swarm the ship as soon as the first challenge started,” Gabriel said, wiping his hands and looking in distaste at the corpses. As we watched, they started evaporating, leaving behind oily black smears on the flooring.
“How did you—” I looked around for signs of a weapon, but saw none. “How did you kill them? Or rather, destroy their forms?”
May smiled and finished dabbing at a black stain on her shirt. “Dragon form doesn’t need weapons. At least, not against some demons. And the priestesses helped, of course.”
“We intended to take care of the demons ourselves,” Ipy said, picking up a severed hand and tossing it into a bag, along with a knife stuck into half a pineapple. The shaft of the knife was stained black. “But when it became clear that the dragon and his mate would handle destroying the demons, we simply protected our sister while they did the hard work.”
“I take it you took care of the first challenge?” Gabriel asked, nodding toward my Xena sword, which Rowan still held.
“Yes.” He glanced toward Mrs. P, frowning. “We need to have a talk.”
She shrugged. “It won’t change anything.”
“What won’t?” I asked, confused, nodding when May murmured something about them returning to their cabin to change their clothes. They left, and since the models had the cleanup well in hand, Rowan and I sat with Mrs. P.
“I see that your man has been made a dragon.” She flashed Rowan a surprisingly flirtatious grin. “I did tell you that the First Dragon would demand payment.”
“I had no idea that the payment would consist of my… self,” Rowan answered somewhat acidly, although that expression faded and he added, “It could have been much worse. I have to say that being a dragon is rather… liberating.”
“You may not have my shiny,” Mrs. P said, and I let my gaze roam over her. Dammit, she was getting even younger yet, just in the space of an hour. Her hair was entirely brown now, a glossy walnut that made my plain-old-black-hair heart envious. In addition, the wrinkles were gone, all but a few around her neck and eyes, and her arms were toned and smooth. “My beau needs it. Without it, we can’t leave.”
“Why don’t you just stay here with him?” I asked. “You’re both in the Underworld—can’t you make your life here?”
“Not so long as Isis is here,” she said with a shudder.
I shot Rowan a look. His lips twitched, and I was swamped with the need to kiss him. And lick him. And touch every inch of his wonderful body.
“She would never let us live in peace, and as she’s bound to Duat, the only solution is for us to leave,” Mrs. P said with a toss of her head. “So all of your entreaties are for naught. I will not give up my shiny.”
“Maybe you don’t have to,” I said slowly, thinking over everything Rowan had mentioned about the ring. I faced him, trying not to notice how bright the gold flecks were in his eyes. Or how the long sweep of heavy muscle in this thighs was outlined in his pants. Or that enticing bit of chest that was exposed by his shirt.
I wondered briefly if I would be able to talk him into a little rendezvous before lunch.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, startling me for a moment with the idea that he could read my smutty thoughts.
A swift glance at Mrs. P—now looking approximately my age—had me biting back a flip answer. The last thing I wanted was a youngish, attractive Mrs. P flirting with Rowan. “I was thinking that if the goal of the dragons is to keep the ring from being used by the demon lord, then the solution is as easy as letting this Osiris fellow have it. If he needs it to get out of Duat, then he’s not likely to let a demon get it, and once he’s out into the real world, he won’t need it. He can simply give it over to the dragons, who can do what they want with it.”
Rowan was shaking his head even before I finished.