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.