Enslaved (10 page)

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.

Chapter Six

Gryphon went still as stone, unsure what to say or do.

The voice that had been taunting him again as he’d searched for a way out was suddenly gone. Replaced by only that low buzz, the one that was irritating as hell but manageable. And oh, gods, right now he didn’t even mind the buzz, because Maelea’s hot body was pressing into his, lighting up his groin, distracting him from everything but her.

Skata
, he didn’t dare move, because then it’d be painfully obvious he had a hard-on the size of Mount Etna—not that she couldn’t already feel that damn thing pushing into her stomach—but he also knew if he moved right now, the friction against his dick might just be too much. He swallowed hard. Tried like hell to fight the need. But only one thought prevailed.

Bloody hell, he wanted her. Any way he could get her. Wanted to shove her up against the rock wall at her back and ravage every inch of her body until she screamed. Then he wanted to do it all over again.

Fantasies swam in his head. Followed by the harsh slap of reality.

This was not a good idea. She was afraid of him, dammit, had wanted nothing but to get away from him earlier. He wasn’t stupid. There was something about her that was interfering with that voice. Anytime she got close, it dimmed, gave him the chance to think. Except, man, when she was
this
close, there was only one thing he could think about.

He told himself to stop thinking with his dick. She could be the key to his finding Atalanta. He could use her to keep his sanity while he hunted. But the only way he was going to get her to cooperate was to give her the impression she was safe with him, even if that wasn’t the truth.

He stepped back, intent on putting distance between them, but her hand slid from his chest to his abdomen, and he froze again. Her fingers were warm, her touch sure. And as she trailed a hot, needy line down his stomach, lighting up ever nerve ending in his body, all that “common sense” shit flew out of his head.

Need circumvented control. He grasped her hand at the wrist, pushed her back until her spine hit the rocks. Her eyes flew wide. Her breath hitched. But there was no fear in her features, only excitement. The same blinding excitement consuming him. A dim voice in his head yelled
No!
but he ignored it. He was dying to know what she tasted like. Needed to know if she was as good as she smelled.

He lowered his mouth to hers. Felt her draw in a surprised breath. But she didn’t push him away as he expected. Her lips were soft. Her heat, intoxicating. He kissed her, feeling that pressure in his chest ease for the first time in months. Kissed her again, this time more insistent. And then she opened her mouth to his, slipped her tongue along his, moaned against him—something he never in a million years would have expected.

Whatever restraint he’d had snapped just that fast.

Her tongue was slick and wet and tangling with his before he could find his footing on the rocks. Her nipples brushed his chest. Hard, stiff, begging for attention. Her fingers dug into his biceps, pulling him closer. He answered by shifting into her, pressing her against the rocks, pushing his already hard dick against her stomach.

A clatter echoed through the cave. He pulled away from her mouth and looked down to see the blackened skull rolling across the rocks, where he’d accidentally kicked it with his boot.

She went rigid against him, stared at the skull with wide eyes as her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths. Then muttered, “Oh gods.”

Her face paled. She lifted a hand to her mouth as if she were about to be sick.

And his stomach rolled. Shit, what was he doing?

He let go of her. Immediately stepped back. Swiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to calm his racing pulse.
Skata
, he’d been about to take her against the rocks, just as he’d imagined. Just as he’d promised he
wouldn’t
do. He turned away, gripped his hair, pulled hard with both hands until the burn was all he felt. Until it killed whatever asinine desire had been toying with him and he was no longer tempted to touch her.

“Wh-what was that?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Stupidity. Lack of self-control. The monster he’d become not caring whom he hurt, so long as he got what he wanted.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. I didn’t plan to—”