Enslaved

Chapter Five

“Skata. This isn’t working. You need to move.”

Maelea nearly choked as Gryphon positioned his hands at her hips and lifted her from his lap only to drop her again on a monster erection she’d have had to be dead to miss. Her fingers dug into his chest and she tried to push away, but he held her too tightly. Fear rushed in on a wave, swamped her chest. She’d been stupid to think he wouldn’t take advantage of her just because she was cold. Stupid to trust him.

“Don’t. I—”

He lifted her from his lap, dropped her on her butt on the rocks. Words died on her lips as pain ricocheted up her spine. Still disoriented from that fall, she scrambled back against the cave wall, drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around herself, scanning the ground for anything she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. She blinked several times, tried to clear her vision. Couldn’t see even a rock to hurl at him when he came after her.

He pushed to his feet, and in the green glow from the water, her vision faded and blurred on muscles in his massive arms, his powerful back, his thick legs. She scooted farther down the wall. Gave her head a swift shake. Glanced right and left. Gods, she must have hit her head when they went over those falls. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She could run, but where? Every muscle in her body tensed. She was ready to fight to the death if she had to, but was smart enough to know if she tried to stand, she’d probably fall over.

But instead of turning and coming after her as she expected, he reached down and picked up her pants. Shook them out. Laid them over a boulder. Then he did the same with her shirt and finally his clothes.

When he turned and stepped toward her, her gaze shot to his groin, and even through her blurry vision, she noticed whatever she’d felt before had definitely deflated. He didn’t make eye contact, and she pressed her palms flat to the ground, ready to push up if he lunged for her, but he didn’t. He just sat on the rocks at her side and said, “We need those clothes to dry out if we’re going to get the hell out of here.”

Every muscle in Maelea’s body stayed rigid as he lifted an arm, slung it over her shoulder, and tugged her tight to his side. Warmth immediately replaced the chill, and though she didn’t want to, she felt herself giving in, sinking against him. A shiver racked her body again, knocked her teeth together.

He wrapped his other arm around her front, pulled her even closer into his chest. Then he shifted onto his side and pulled his knees up next to hers, creating a blanket of warmth around her with his body. This time he didn’t hold her so tight she couldn’t move, and she had the strangest sensation he was letting her know that if she wanted to get away, she could. “That’s better.”

Maelea wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t read him. Didn’t know what he was thinking or planning next. That dead look she’d seen when she caught him watching her in the courtyard from his bedroom window still lingered in his light blue eyes, but this didn’t seem like the action of a monster. At least not the one who’d mutilated those daemons or attacked his own kin. And the warmth that immediately enveloped her threw her totally off-kilter.

His hand moved up and down her arm, rubbing her muscles back to life. “A blanket would be nice. You didn’t happen to have one of those in that backpack you were carrying, did you?”

“I…I did.” She’d also had a flashlight, food, and a handgun she’d lifted from the colony late one night when she was out roaming. Not that it would do her any good now.

“Damn. Well, we should rest for a few minutes. I don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get out of here. If our clothes dry.”

Maelea didn’t know either. But she was as determined as ever to get far, far away from the colony, and especially him. So he hadn’t hurt her yet. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to soon. For the moment, he needed her warmth as much as she needed his. But she wasn’t about to let down her guard. She’d learned long ago not to trust. And the dark energy vibrating from his chest, calling to her, told her never to trust him.

Someone was singing a really bad version of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.”

Titus cracked his eyelids open and turned his head to figure out where the incessant noise was coming from. Bright light burned his retinas, forced his eyes shut, drew a curse from his lips. Lips that were dry and chapped and as crackly as the singer’s caterwauling voice.

The song cut off midline, and a voice called, “Hey, I think he’s coming around.”

Footsteps echoed close, and Titus cracked his lids again, this time squinting up at a very familiar face.

“Skata,” he managed, his voice raspy, his throat dry as a cotton ball. “I should have known it was you. You sound like a dying cat when you sing, and you’ve got the fucking mug to match.”

Phineus, his warrior kin, grinned down at him. “I wasn’t singing, smart guy, I was humming. And you should watch your language in front of the kid.”

Titus looked to the left where Phin nodded and saw Max, Zander’s son, sitting in the chair on his other side. “Hey, kid.”

Max shrugged the mop of blond hair out of his eyes, looking way too much like his dad, his bored expression screaming, I’d rather be anywhere but here. “Hey.”

“And I know you’re secretly jealous of this face,” Phineus added. “It’s a chick magnet. Hollywood’s got nothing on me.”

Titus chuckled, then swore as blinding pain radiated through his torso and up into his rib cage.

“Uh…Callia?” Phin’s voice took on a note of concern. Seconds later, Callia, the queen’s personal healer and Max’s mother, moved into Titus’s line of sight.

“Hey there, stranger,” she said with a smile. Auburn hair fell over her shoulder as she peered down at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a truck.”

“That’s not far off the mark, actually,” she said. “How does your throat feel?”

“Like sandpaper.”

“I’ll get you some juice.”

As Callia moved away, Titus took a look around. The white walls, blinking machines, and uncomfortable bed told him he was in a medical facility. His memory was foggy, but as he looked from face to face, then around the room, bits and pieces of what had landed him here spiraled through his mind.

Shit. Gryphon.

Titus closed his eyes. Pain pulsed along his skull as the scene replayed behind his eyelids. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Phin asked.

“The king of fucking France,” Titus said sarcastically. “Gryphon, you dumbass.”

“Um…k-i-d.” Phineus lifted his eyebrows, pointed across the bed. “Remember?”

“I’ve heard it before,” Max muttered. And I can spell that word, moron.

Shit…what the hell do I say?

Whatever you do, don’t tell him the truth.

Thoughts spun out of control in the room. The first from Max—full of attitude and animosity. The second from Phineus, frazzled and desperate for a way not to answer. And the third from Callia across the room, clear and calm, the only one of the three who was obviously totally with it.

Oh, fucking fantastic. The blow to the head Titus had taken when Gryphon had knocked him into that concrete wall hadn’t done shit to alter his gift.

Irritation edged Titus’s already dwindling mood, kicked up his headache. He ignored Max and focused on Phin—whom he could see—and Callia—whom he couldn’t. “Stop pussyfooting around me, you two. You can’t block me from your thoughts, so you might as well just tell me what the hell happened to Gryphon. Nick didn’t kill him, did he? What happened out there wasn’t Gryphon’s fault.”

“Considering what he did to you,” Phin muttered, “that’s pretty generous.”

Titus remembered all too well Gryphon’s crazed eyes and the things that had been running through his mind when he charged those daemons. “Yeah, well, you don’t know what’s going on in his head. We’d already have you locked in the loony bin if it were you, pretty boy.”

Phineus grinned again, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. “I knew you were jealous of this gorgeous face. Admit it.”

Titus snorted, then swore as another shot of pain rushed through his torso.

“Okay, enough,” Callia said, coming back to the right side of his bed and holding out a cup with a straw. “Drink this.”

As Titus took the cup from her hand, careful not to touch her, she turned to Phin and added, “Why don’t you take Max to get something to eat.” She looked at her son on the other side of the bed. “Are you hungry, honey?”

Max shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest, and deliberately didn’t meet her gaze. “I guess.”

The kid dropped to his feet and shuffled toward the door. While Titus sipped the juice, which tasted like heaven, he watched Callia watch her son. He didn’t need to read minds to know what she was thinking. Her I love you and I don’t know what to do to help you expression was written clearly on her face.

“I’ll be back to sing to you later, smart guy,” Phin said as he pushed up on his long legs and scrubbed a hand through his short dark hair. “And this time I’ll serenade you with my pristine tenor. You want ‘T.N.T.’ or ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’?”

“If you’re gonna come back here and sing, I want a lobotomy.”

Phin winked at Callia. “He’s delirious with excitement.”

Titus’s head fell back against the pillow as Phin headed out the door. “I’m gonna need more drugs. Preferably whatever you gave me before that knocked me out.”

Callia turned and looked down at him, her hands on her slim hips, her eyebrows lifted in amusement. A stethoscope was slung around her neck and a pen was tucked behind her left ear. One he bet she probably forgot she’d put there. “I only gave you enough to keep you asleep during the surgery. With that head wound, I’d prefer not to give you more than you need.”

Surgery. Shit. It really had been bad. No wonder his ribs hurt like hell. “What did you have to do?”

She sat on the side of his bed. He shifted his legs out of the way so she wouldn’t accidentally touch him. “You had a punctured lung, couple of broken ribs, and I had to stitch you up from the inside out. It wasn’t pretty, but the last time I checked, the wounds were healing well. Your superhero Argonaut genes come in handy in a crisis.”

Yeah, no shit. “What about my head?”

“There was some pressure on the left side of your brain. I didn’t want to drain it if I didn’t have to. Now that you’re awake, I think it’s going to be okay.”

Titus nodded and rubbed his fingers through the long hair over the back of his scalp, cringing when he felt the tender bump.

One corner of Callia’s mouth turned up at the edge. “Zander said you’d be pissed if I had to shave your head. You have him to thank that I didn’t.”

Titus lowered his hand. “How’d you get Zander to agree to bring Max to the Misos colony? That’s where we are, right?”

Callia sighed, but this time was careful to guard her thoughts. “He’s not happy with me about that, actually. We argued about it as I was rushing to get here to help you.”

Because Callia was a descendent of the ancient Horae, the goddesses of balance and justice, her son, Max, was a valuable asset in the war between good and evil. While it was a risk for even Callia to be in the human realm, it was an even bigger risk for Max. He’d been taken from Callia and Zander as a baby and raised by Atalanta, the vengeful goddess who had only one goal: to see Argolea and the Argonauts destroyed. The Argonauts had successfully rescued Max from Atalanta’s clutches months ago, and since then he’d been kept safe in Argolea, which was the one realm Atalanta couldn’t access. But Titus knew from being around Zander that things weren’t all rosy at home these days. Max was struggling with the adjustment. And the strain was evident on Callia’s face.

“Zander’s just worried,” Titus said, hoping to ease a little of her anxiety.

“Zander’s right to be worried,” she said. “Every day that goes by, Max is slipping farther and farther away from us. I hoped coming to the colony, where we can keep him safe and he could feel like he was a part of things, would help.” She looked toward the door with longing. “But I guess that was a pipe dream, huh?”

“Callia, I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, pushing to her feet and reaching out to squeeze his bare arm. “We’ll all survive.”

A jolt of emotions rippled through Titus, drew him forward on the bed with a gasp, and hurled him back against the mattress with a crack. The cup flew from his hand. Air whooshed out of his lungs as pain encircled his chest and tightened with the force of a boa constrictor.

“Oh my gods, Titus.” Callia immediately let go, stepped back.

The pain dissipated as soon as she released him, and he breathed through clenched teeth as the emotions followed suit.

“You feel, don’t you?” Callia asked in small voice. “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. That’s why you wear gloves all the time. I am so sorry. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” he managed to say, even as the residual effects of the transfer left him feeling like a limp noodle. “I’m used to it.”

“All the time?” she asked. “Has there ever been a time when you’ve touched someone and not felt what they feel?”

There had been. Feeling others’ emotions wasn’t part of his gift. It was a curse. A hundred-year-old curse he’d been damned with because of what he’d done.

“Not that I can remember,” he lied, not wanting to talk about it, let alone remember. “Lucky me, huh?”

“Oh, Titus.”

He could handle just about anything except pity. He pushed himself up in the bed. “It’s okay, really. Just”—he managed a weak smile—“don’t do that again.”

“I won’t. I’ll put a sign on the door that anyone who comes in has to wear gloves. Will that do the trick?”

“Yeah, that’ll work. And I’m sure it’ll raise all kinds of questions regarding what sort of contagious disease I have.”

Screw what anyone thinks.

Titus couldn’t help it. He chuckled at her thought, then regretted it when pain stabbed his cracked ribs again. He pressed a hand against his side, breathed through the burn. “Zander’s one lucky SOB, you know that?”

“Remind him of that when you see him. He’s still mad at me about Max. Do the others know? The Argonauts? About touching you?”

“We’re guys, Callia. We don’t go around getting touchy-feely with each other.” When she frowned, he added, “You think I need them looking at me as more of a freak than they already do?”

That would never happen.

He leaned his head back against the pillow. “Trust me. It would.”

She was silent for several seconds, and though thoughts ran through her mind, he tried to ignore them. But words got through: awful, sad, lonely. Words he definitely didn’t need to hear.

Just when he was about to tell her he didn’t want or need her pity, she turned for the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t mention it to any of them. Try to get some rest while I get that sign up.”

He trusted her to keep his secret. But he knew when she was playing the avoidance card. And no matter what weird shit was happening with him, what was going on outside these clinic walls was a thousand times more important.

“Callia.” When she glanced over her shoulder, he asked, “Where’s Gryphon?”

She was careful not to meet his eyes. You don’t need to hear this right now.

“Yeah, I do. Where is he?”

She hesitated, then finally sighed in defeat. “No one knows. The Argonauts are all out looking for him. It appears he climbed out his window, scaled the castle wall…No one’s entirely sure how he got out, but he did, and he got by Nick’s guards without anyone noticing.”

Skata. “Nick’s gotta be pissed.”

“He is. His healer had to put twenty-four stitches in his arm. He was going to kick Gryphon out of the colony tomorrow. Orpheus was going to go with him. I’m guessing Gryphon figured that out and ran before it could happen.”

“Gryphon wouldn’t want O sacrificing anymore for him. What about Theron?”

“Theron wasn’t sure what to do about the situation and he didn’t have time to decide. Before he could come up with a solution, Gryphon bolted.”

“Shit. Nick’s men will kill him if they find him first.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Which is why the Argonauts are out looking for him right this minute. Theron left Phineus here to make sure we were okay, but the others…they’ll find him, Titus.”

Titus ground his teeth and pushed the covers off his legs. “It wasn’t his fault. I should be helping to look for him.”

Callia rushed back to his side of the bed. “No way. You’re in no condition to move yet. Even superhero genes need time to work.”

“Get out of my way, female.”

Callia held her bare hands up. “Don’t make me use these again.”

Titus glared up at her, then remembered the way her emotional transfer had knocked him on his ass. Dammit, he hated the fact he was so freakin’ weak. Not physically—at least not normally—but emotionally. Just the slightest touch from another person could cripple him.

He clenched his teeth in frustration, but eased back against the bed again, not wanting a repeat of the I’m-a-giant-pussy ordeal. Especially in front of Callia. “Maybe I’ll just rest for a few more minutes.”

“Smart ándras,” Callia said, lowering her hands. I really didn’t want to zap you again. “I’ll be right on the other side of that door if you need anything. And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep you updated as I hear news.”

That didn’t leave him feeling all reassured. It only pissed him off even more.

She moved to the door, paused, and looked back. “Phineus was right. Most people wouldn’t be nearly as forgiving after what Gryphon did. You’re a special man, Titus.”

No, he wasn’t. He was cursed. And not only did he know why, he also knew he deserved it.

“Save your praise for someone who’s worthy.” He closed his eyes, blocking out her way-too-gentle eyes as he tried like hell not to hear her thoughts. “I just know what it’s like to be tormented by voices. And trust me, yours and everyone else’s are nothing compared to the voice that’s haunting Gryphon. I wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone.”

A shiver racked Maelea’s body. Startled, she jolted awake. Confusion hit as her eyes adjusted to the weird glow. Something hard pressed against her face. Bracing one hand beneath her, she pushed up and looked around.

The cavern. The underground waterfall. The river. Trying to escape the half-breed colony. Gryphon.

Memories rushed in on a wave and doused her spirits. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

She moved to sitting, swallowed down the panic. Something fell from her shoulder. Looking down, she realized it was her shirt. She was wearing nothing but her bra and underwear, but her pants and shirt—still slightly damp—had been draped over her like a blanket.

She reached for the garments and scanned the dark cavern illuminated only by the green glow coming from the bottom of the lake. Nothing moved around her. No sound echoed except that of rushing water. No sign anyone else had ever been here besides her.

She had no idea how much time had passed or how long she’d been asleep, but the fact that her clothes were still damp told her it hadn’t been that long.

Rising on unsteady legs, she tugged on her long-sleeved black shirt and noticed Gryphon’s clothes were missing.

A clicking sound echoed somewhere to her right before she could wonder where he’d gone. She swiveled in that direction on bare feet, hands stilling in the process of tugging her shirt down. Listening carefully, she waited, but the sound didn’t repeat.

Her imagination. It had to be. Logic told her Gryphon had likely ditched her when she was asleep. Now that they were away from the half-breed sentries and he was warm, he didn’t need her anymore. She should have been relieved by that fact—she wanted away from him too—so why wasn’t she? Irritation brewing, she reached for her pants and shoved her foot in the right leg. A click echoed somewhere close again.

Her head came up. Her hands froze on the garment. “Gryphon?”

More clicks echoed in the shadows. Maelea’s heart rate kicked up as she frantically scanned the eerily illuminated darkness, searching for the source of the noise.

“It’s scared,” a raspy voice whispered.

Maelea’s adrenaline surged. That definitely wasn’t Gryphon’s voice. They weren’t alone down here after all. She tugged her pants the rest of the way on, hastily buttoned them.

“Scared is fine so long as it’s tasty,” another voice said, this one just as raspy, but deeper.

Oh, shit. Maelea scrambled for her boots. Shoved one foot in, then the other, the whole time scanning the dim cavern for signs of whoever or whatever was out there.

A sniffing sound echoed. Then, “It’s female.”

“We haven’t had a female in ages!”

Pulse racing, Maelea looked all around her for something to use as a weapon. Only, shit, there was nothing. No loose rocks, no twigs, nothing to grab on to and swing or hurl to defend herself.

She eyed the river. Even though it was freakin’ freezing, if she had to, she’d jump back in and let it carry her downstream.

Shuffling echoed, followed by more clicks. Maelea moved for the river just as a three-foot-high gnomish creature peeked out from behind a boulder and blinked at her with wide, catlike eyes.

She hesitated, because what stared back at her was not the monster she expected. If anything, it was cute. Pointy ears, a long chin, and a nose that twitched from side to side. Yeah, it had scales and long claws, but the way it gripped the rock, the way those eyes seemed to grow bigger the longer it looked at her, it was as if it was more afraid of her than she was of it.

“Don’t antagonize it!” a voice hissed from behind the rock.

A little of her adrenaline waned. She tried to look around the creature to the voice behind. Still couldn’t see anything else. “Who…who are you?”

“It’s talking to me,” the one gripping the rock whispered, his knuckles turning white. “What do I do?”

“Don’t answer it!”

Oh yeah, they were definitely scared. Maelea let out a relieved breath. She was otherworldly herself. She knew there were creatures in the world not often seen by humans. That didn’t automatically mean they were evil. Look at her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “Why don’t you come into the light so I can see you both better?”

The creature stared at her for long seconds. Then the clicking echoed again, and cautiously, the other one moved out to stand next to the first.

Oh, man. They really were cute. The second even had a tuft of white hair on the top of his head between his pointy ears.

A thought occurred. Maybe they knew the way out. “Where did you both come from?”

“It’s talking to us,” the first said, leaning toward the second. “What should we do?”

The one with the white fur tipped his head, regarded her with narrowed eyes. Then licked his lips, baring yellow-stained, razor-sharp teeth. “Let’s eat it. Boys!”

A flurry of movement sounded from the boulders at their backs. Then at least ten more of the scaly creatures popped out of the shadows. All showcasing the same sharp teeth, all staring at her as if she were lunch.

Maelea gasped and stumbled backward.

“Get it!” the one with the white hair called.

Maelea screamed. Her adrenaline in the out-of-this-world range, she turned and ran. Darting around boulders and small pools full of murky green liquid, she tried not to think about how many were following her. The clicking of hundreds of nails on rocks echoed at her back, shot her anxiety into the stratosphere. She ran faster, tried not to slip on the smooth rocks beneath her feet, rounded a corner, and smacked headfirst into something hard.

This wasn’t rock. It was solid, warm, and very male. She bounced off and hit the ground on her ass. Before she could pick herself up, a large hand wrapped around her bicep, hauled her up, and thrust her behind him.

“Stay back!” Gryphon yelled.

The creatures raced toward them, their claws clicking across the rocks, echoing in the vast space. Gryphon arced out with a sword and sliced the chest of the first—the one with the tuft of white hair. It hissed and jumped back, then screamed as if were burning and crumpled to the ground. Green blood oozed all around it. The others skidded to a stop and hissed in Gryphon’s direction. But instead of advancing, they rushed back into the shadows and disappeared, leaving the injured creature to writhe on the ground.

Hands braced against the rock wall at her back, eyes wide, Maelea stared at Gryphon, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed. He turned and grasped her at the upper arm again with his free hand, dragging her away from the body. “We need to make tracks.”

“Wh-what the hell was that?”

“Kobaloi,” he said as he moved.

His pace was quicker than hers, and she struggled to keep up. “Koba-what?”

“Gnome-dwarfs. They live underground. Damn, I should have expected them when I saw the therillium in the water.”

They rounded a bend, followed the river as it swept through the cavern. Her eyes darted right and left, her mind trying to make sense of what was going on. “What’s therillium?”

“An ore. Responsible for the green glow you see in the water. This.” He let go of her arm, fished out a rock from his pocket. It glowed green in his palm as he handed it to her. It was cool to the touch, and heaver than she expected. “The metal used to make Hades’s invisibility cap.”

Maelea stopped dead in her tracks. Stared at the glowing green rock in her hand. When Gryphon turned to look at her, her eyes met his, and trepidation raced down her spine. “How do you know that?”

“Because when it heats up, anything it touches becomes invisible. And those things back there? The kobaloi? Legend says they guard Hades’s reserves and mine it for him.”

Maelea turned and stared down the darkened cavern they’d just passed through. Swallowed hard. They were likely a mile underground. As close to the Underworld as she’d ever been. And now they’d killed one of Hades’s minions.

Panic consumed her. She dropped the ore. Pushed past Gryphon and ran. Where she was headed, she didn’t know. She just had to get out. She’d thought Gryphon’s using her as a hostage to get away was the worst thing to happen to her? This topped that by ten miles.

“Maelea! Son of a bitch.”

She ignored Gryphon’s voice at her back, pumped her arms as she darted past boulders, around corners, following the green glow of the river. It had to lead out. It had to reach the surface. Dear gods, she had to get there before Hades found her.

She rounded a corner, tripped over a rock, hit the ground with a grunt. Cringing, she pushed herself up and came face-to-face with a blackened skull.

Her eyes grew wide. And a scream ripped from her mouth before she could stop it.

Metal clanged behind her. Hands grabbed her at the arms, hauled her up, twisted her around until her scream was muffled by a broad chest covered by a damp shirt, and large, male hands tugged her in to hold her close. “Quiet. Quiet, dammit. They’re gonna hear you.”

They.

The one word killed the scream, brought every muscle in her body to a complete standstill.

“That’s better,” Gryphon said, massaging her scalp. “Breathe. Just like that. Skata, you are one hellfire female.”

He ran his big hand up and down her back, used the thick fingers of his other hand to tangle in her hair and slide across her scalp. Tingles ignited everywhere he touched, and heat enveloped her. The same heat she’d felt when he held her before. She knew she should push away, that she was down here, close to hell, because of him, but she couldn’t. His hard, warm body was solid and real. Comforting in a way she didn’t expect and right now didn’t want to question. And his hands…they were like magic. Drawing out her fear one tiny inch at a time.

Insane. They were likely being followed, and at any moment Hades could pop out of the ground and annihilate her. Not to mention the fact that everything she knew about Gryphon screamed nut job. But he didn’t feel like a crazy man to her at the moment. In fact, she was acting more psychotic than he. And the longer he held her, the more she didn’t want him to let go. With her hands pressed against his muscular chest, she closed her eyes, sank in just a touch. Worked to slow her pulse. Tried to find control.

The hand on her spine slipped lower, to the curve of her lower back, to trace tiny circles along the pressure points above her buttocks. It relaxed her, made her limbs feel like jelly. His scent—leather, musk, the slightest hint of citrus—assailed her nostrils, smelled way too damn good. And when his chest brushed the fabric of her thin shirt, her nipples hardened.

Heat spread lower before she could stop it. To her abdomen, cradling his groin. To that space between her legs. Memories of his body, half-naked in the green light, rushed through her mind. She couldn’t help but remember what he’d felt like as she’d straddled his lap. How aroused he’d been then. How hard. How big.

She swallowed. Tried to stop her frantic mind from imagining what he’d look like completely naked. Couldn’t. He’d be thick, dominating, mouth-watering, she bet. Though she didn’t like the desire suddenly rushing through her body, she knew it came from the center of her. From the darkness of the Underworld that resided within her. It was attracted to the vile and wicked and seemed to be drawing her to him, and it, combined with the panic and anxiety she was already feeling, was so strong. She’d always been able to fight the pull before, but this…the way she reacted to him, her kidnapper, for crying out loud…was different. This burned her. Consumed her. Taunted her to take and sample and, for once, let go.

Gods, she wanted to. Suddenly, it was all she could think about. Letting go with him. Being as depraved and selfish as her parents. Acting out every X-rated fantasy she’d ever had over the long, lonely, pathetically empty years of her life.

A moan slipped from her lips before she even realized she’d made a noise. Against her stomach, his erection swelled and hardened just as it had done before. Only this time she wasn’t scared. She felt energized. Excited. Alive. And when she sucked in a breath and held it, his hand paused just above the cleft of her ass.

What would he do if she touched him? If she slid her hand down his rock-hard abs and brushed her fingers over his cock? If she gripped him there? If she stroked his shaft?

A thousand fantasies played through her mind, each more wicked and erotic than the last. And though she knew this wasn’t the time, that he wasn’t anywhere near the male she should be reacting to, she couldn’t stop her body from wanting. From craving. From needing. Too many years of self-denial were coalescing to loose her shaky hold on control. And that darkness inside—the darkness that was drawn to him—was winning where common sense was supposed to prevail.

“Um…Maelea…”

His voice, dark, raspy, so damn sexy, slid over her skin with his breath, bringing to life places inside she hadn’t known were dead. She closed her eyes, moved into him, and knew she was about to lose the battle.