Enraptured

Chapter 19

Skyla wasn’t scared. She’d been trained never to show real fear. But then, a warlock hiding out in the human realm with godlike powers didn’t exactly put her at ease. And pretending to be a virginal witch, when she was anything but, also didn’t leave her overly reassured this crazy plan would work.

The hem of the thin white gown they’d bought for her grazed her thighs, made her itch to scratch her legs. The sandals were way too open for her taste and she felt naked without her armor. Since there’d been nowhere to hide her bow in this getup, she’d relinquished it in favor of the blade strapped high on her thigh, and the little spell Orpheus had cast on her—the one he’d said was necessary for this ruse—didn’t sit well with her either. In fact, it made her thighs ache.

She tried not to fidget as she waited inside the circle Orpheus and Demetrius had cast. The earth element was heavy in her palm. In the clearing, surrounded by dark hills filled with cypress and oak and pine that towered above like decrepit old men, moonlight filtered over the stones and branches and wild orchids littering the ground, making the entire area look gray and barren rather than colorful and alive.

She could feel the energy invoked by Demetrius and Orpheus somewhere out in the trees. Knew the earth element in her fist was amping that energy. And she was sure Apophis could feel it too. Magic recognized magic, and she had no doubt the power from the circle would eventually draw the warlock from his hiding place. But a small part of her stiffened just the same. Orpheus was still frustrated with her for pushing her way into this quest. She just hoped that hero streak she knew was inside him showed itself when Apophis finally appeared. Because earth element or not, without her weapons there was no way her warrior skills were a match for a warlock.

Branches crackled to her right. She held her breath. Nothing moved around her, nothing but the air stirred by Orpheus’s and Demetrius’s incantations. Another crackle sounded to her left, and she tried to see through the darkness. Couldn’t. The blade felt heavy against her thigh, the earth element hot against her palm. Neither slowed her pulse.

A figure stepped out of the trees. Her breath caught.

She’d known he’d taken the body of an Argonaut, but what approached was not what she’d expected. Dark blond hair, a youthful and handsome face with a square jaw covered in just a dusting of dark stubble. Unlike Orpheus, who had that dark, dangerous look, and Demetrius, whose scowl was downright frightening, this Argonaut was movie-star handsome, tanned from days in the sun here in Greece, body muscular and at the same time artistic, as if his shoulders and chest and thighs had been chiseled from solid stone.

But that blue glare coming from his eyes…that wasn’t right. Whatever was inside him was definitely not Argonaut. And it was most certainly not heroic.

Apophis stopped just beyond the stones forming the circle, tipped his head. Those eyes glowed brighter. “I feel power radiating from you, little one.”

It was all she could do not to tell him what he could do with his power. But she bit her lip, reminded herself she was luring him in. It was no different from what she did as a Siren. Even if the virgin thing was a real stretch for her.

“I heard tales of a great warlock in the Peloponnese,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice, lowering her head in a subservient way. “I hoped we would meet.”

His blinding gaze illuminated her body. “You are most delectable. There is promise in you.”

Sickness floated up from her stomach. “I’ve been studying the dark arts for quite some time. I had a vision my master would soon come for me.”

Oh, man, she was so going to hurl if this didn’t end soon.

“A vision?”

She nodded. And as they’d planned, opened her fist so he could see the earth element in her palm. “A vision that told me my master would unite a disk of great importance with this.”

His eyes grew wide, their glow illuminating the clearing. “Where did you get that?”

“I stole it. From a man. I told you I’ve been practicing my art.”

His eyes narrowed in deep distrust. “You are a virgin?”

Not even.

But Orpheus had been right. The warlock was attracted to that, the sick bastard. She knew why. He got some kind of enhanced power from the induction of a virgin into his order, but it pissed her off just the same.

“Yes, I am,” she lied, hoping Orpheus’s little spell was working to block his ability to sense this particular aspect of her being.

“Open the circle.”

This was the moment of truth. He couldn’t enter without invitation. And she was safe until he did. “I can only open it for my master. How do I know you are he?”

For a heartbeat he did nothing. Then slowly he fingered the buttons at his chest, popped one, then another. And pulled his shirt open to reveal the Orb of Krónos lying against his toned skin.

Its power reached her across the distance. The earth element grew even hotter against her palm, so close to its home. No wonder Zeus was willing to kill for this thing. Even from here she could feel the all-consuming draw and command.

The energy of the circle fractured and opened. The warlock stepped inside. Skyla’s pulse skyrocketed. She hadn’t opened the circle, Orpheus had. And though she knew it was all part of the plan, that didn’t ease her anxiety.

He approached slowly but with intent, and stopped only when he was a foot from her. He drew in a deep breath, held it. Smiled slowly. “This will be a very good union, virgin. You will be most important to the coven.”

“Think again, warlock.” Orpheus moved out of the trees with Skyla’s bow in his hands, arrow trained on the warlock’s heart.

As the warlock turned to look in his direction with fire in his eerie blue eyes, Skyla darted around behind him and sprinted for the opening in the circle.

“You,” the warlock growled.

“Yes, me,” Orpheus said, coming closer to the edge of the circle, arrow still ready to strike. “You took something that didn’t belong to you and we want it back.”

“We?” the warlock asked.

“We,” Demetrius answered, coming out of the trees to the warlock’s left, drawing his attention that way.

“You!” Fury erupted over the warlock’s face. He lifted his hand toward Demetrius and hurled a bolt of blue energy that hit the edge of the circle and dropped to the ground, leaving behind smoke rising from the dirt.

Okay, that was cool.

“What’s wrong, motherfucker?” Orpheus asked. “Too weak to break through one measly circle?”

Fury erupted over the warlock’s face. He held both hands out, closed his eyes, and began chanting in a foreign language.

“Now?” Demetrius yelled over the warlock’s words.

“Now,” Orpheus answered, handing the bow and arrow to Skyla as she came up beside him. He took the earth element she offered, closed his eyes, created his own chant that mixed with Demetrius’s.

The warlock’s face grew bright red. Magic gathered in his hands. Energy shot forward from his palms and pierced the circle.

“Orpheus!” Skyla threw her weight into him, knocking him to the ground so the blast wouldn’t hit him.

He rolled to his stomach, pushed to his knees, his chant never once missing a beat. Demetrius’s voice grew louder. The warlock shifted Demetrius’s way, tried to hurl the same energy, but this time the force hit the edge of the circle and dropped to the ground like a ball slamming into a wall.

He was weakening. Orpheus had been right: without his witches, he lost his dominance. Magic was something Skyla was familiar with. After all, she lived on Olympus. She watched the gods conjure it without a second thought. But what she witnessed in that field between those two Argonauts, both of whom could trace some part of their ancestry back to Medea, was like an art form. Awe rippled through her at what they were able to do by focusing their gifts and working together.

When the warlock’s energy was spent, his words cut off midstream, his eyes popped open. Every time Orpheus and Demetrius finished a verse, the warlock would yelp, as if he’d been shocked by some unseen electrical current coming from the ground. He lifted his feet, tried to jump away from the soil. After five minutes of yelping and screaming and dancing around like a chicken with its head cut off, he shrank to his knees in the middle of the circle, curled into himself, and whimpered like a child.

Orpheus opened his eyes. Grinned Demetrius’s way. “Nice work.”

Pulse still pounding hard, Skyla kept her arrow at the ready as Orpheus stepped into the circle and knelt over the warlock. Apophis didn’t seem to notice. Orpheus reached for the Orb, but a pop sounded, and he jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned.

“What’s wrong?” Demetrius called.

“He must have put some kind of damn spell on the thing.”

Demetrius moved into the circle. “What are you thinking?”

Orpheus frowned. “I’m thinking we might not be able to get it off him until he relinquishes control of Gryphon’s body.”

“What does that mean, as far as holding him goes?”

Orpheus pushed up from the ground. “It means we’ll have to make sure he’s wrapped up nice and tight until I get back.”

Back. From the Underworld. Skyla’s stomach tightened. She’d known this was where things were headed, but her stomach tightened just the same.

“Let’s just hope three days is enough time,” Demetrius muttered, helping Orpheus tug the warlock from the ground and out of the circle. “He’ll be pissed when he wakes up, and if his witches have honed their craft enough before you’re back, I’ll be in deep shit.”

“I’ll be back,” Orpheus said.

Demetrius didn’t look so sure as he led the warlock toward their vehicle hidden in the trees.

Alone, Orpheus perched his hands on his hips, tipped his head as Skyla shrank her bow. “You did good, Siren. That takedown was NFL-worthy. You been watching Monday Night Football? ”

Skyla knew enough human culture to catch the meaning. And the compliment warmed her. More than she expected. “Physical contact, as you know, isn’t a problem for me. I expected something a little more cataclysmic, though.”

“Cataclysmic’s overrated. Sometimes uneventful’s good enough.”

Not for her. But then she was a Siren. She always expected the worst.

She flicked a look at the earth element now hanging from a chain around his neck, just barely visible at his open collar. The thing unnerved her. Not only because it held so much power, but because he wore it as if it belonged to him. And though she didn’t like where her mind was going, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he had the Orb to go with it.

She focused on his eyes. “You can go ahead and take the virgin spell off anytime.”

“I don’t know. It’s got a certain…charm on you.” His wicked gaze raked her breasts, slid down her waist, shifted to her thighs beneath the hem of the white gown.

And under that heated exploration, fire exploded in her veins. Whereas before his lusty looks had ignited a low simmer in her belly, now it stoked a full-blown blaze. He’d added a shot of something else to that masking spell, she realized. Some enhanced arousal he’d intended to use to punish her for not listening to him when he’d told her not to tag along. “This is funny to you, isn’t it?”

“There’s so little humor in my life, Siren. I have to take it where I can get it.”

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.

“That book you bought? The fifteen-euro piece of crap souvenir?”

“Trust me. It was fifteen euros well spent.”

The path leveled out. Tall oak to their right indicated water was somewhere close. They picked their way around shrubs and trees in need of trimming and approached what looked to be the opening of a great cave.

A handful of tourists milled about, complete with cameras at the ready and sunburns on their pasty white skin. To their left a guide stood on a rock, reciting facts about the King of the Gods. Skyla nodded toward the entrance. “The Cave of Psychro.”

“You mean the cave of psycho,” Orpheus muttered. “Okay, smart-ass, what now?”

“Come on.” She grasped the front of his shirt just beneath the element resting against his skin and tugged. Little tendrils of heat spread out from the spot where her fingers grazed, then cooled the second she let go.

She led them past the tourists and into the mouth of the cave, which opened to form a massive room. “The first hall,” she told him, continuing past tourists who were snapping pictures and chatting about the cave’s history. They passed through a narrow archway and headed for a series of switchback steps that descended into an even larger room.

Lanterns illuminated the darkness. The air grew cooler. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like ominous teeth ready to bite down, and voices echoed off the walls—whispers, laughter, even a scream now and then.

They headed down with the other tourists, careful not to do anything to draw attention, not that Skyla didn’t draw her own attention. She was so hot, every guy in the area was checking her out, which sent a frisson of jealousy through Orpheus. Near the bottom, Skyla pointed to the right. “The Mantle of Zeus is through there. A huge stalactite that looks totally out of place. I won’t even bother to tell you what it represents.”

“If you tell me you know from experience, I may be sick.”

She chuckled. “No, that’s one thing this Siren has no experience with. You’re spared.” She nodded toward another opening. “There’s also a pool in that room where offerings are often made.”

“I take it we’re not going that way?”

“Nope.” She veered to the left, away from the crowds, and picked her way around rocks and stalagmites until they entered a smaller chamber, this one only big enough to hold a handful of people.

She pulled off her pack, dropped it to the ground, gestured to the doorway. “Make sure no one comes through.”

Orpheus did as she asked. He blocked the doorway with his body so no one could come in or see what she was doing, and watched Skyla pull the book she’d bought this morning from her pack.

“There it is,” she said, running her finger along the text. “Gates of Hades, Realm of the Dead, open thy doors so that we may pass from life to death.” Her voice lowered, and she read words in ancient Greek Orpheus couldn’t decipher. When she was finished, she stood still, waiting.

Nothing changed in the small room. Voices echoed from elsewhere in the cave. He was just about to tell Skyla this plan was bogus when rock scraped rock and a vibration echoed through the floor.

No way.

A large stone shifted sideways, opening up a tunnel that disappeared into the dark.

Skyla reached for her bag and stuffed the book inside. Before she swung the pack onto her back again, she pulled out a flashlight and turned his way. “You ready?”

He eyed the darkness. An ominous wind whipped past his face, laced with a howling cry that could only come from torment and pain. Shivers ran down his spine, but the earth element burned hot against his chest. Hotter than before, urging him on. “Yeah, but I think you should stay here. I appreciate you getting me this far and all, but I don’t need—”

“Daemon…”

He frowned back at her. “Siren.”

But instead of the bullheaded response he expected, her face softened. “I’m going with you. End of story. And you’re going to need me, regardless of what you think. I can charm a lot more than just silly men. Now stop arguing and hurry up. This thing won’t stay open for long and we’ve only got one shot at it.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by charming more than just men, but he knew from the determined look in her amethyst eyes she wasn’t about to back down. They’d already been through this argument a dozen times and she hadn’t once budged, even though there was a strong chance she—both of them—might never make it out of this alive.

She stepped past him into the tunnel. Chest tight, the connection he’d felt to her from the first flaring hot beneath his skin, he followed. He paused and looked back when the rocks scraped again behind them, then slammed shut with a clank, sealing them inside.

Skyla’s surprised gaze shot to his face. “Guess there’s no turning back now.”

No, there wasn’t, was there?

Dread pooled in his stomach as he flipped on his light to shine down the corridor. Nothing but ragged stone walls, a dirt floor, and darkness beckoned.

That and doom. A hell of a lot of doom.