Her palms connected with his chest. Energy shot from her into him, from her legs into the floor. He stumbled back a step, lost his footing, started to go down. Then an ear-shattering crack echoed through the cave.
As Gryphon hit the ground with a grunt, dim voices grew stronger. Boots clomped over rock. And Orpheus’s voice rang out strong. Calling…her name.
She turned toward the sound. Screamed, “I’m here!”
But her voice was drowned out by the roar of rushing water. Rushing fast.
“Maelea!”
She looked back over her shoulder where Gryphon was pushing up from the ground, trying to come after her. Her eyes flew wide. Another burst of energy rippled through her body. Followed by an earth-shaking roar just as the ceiling opened up and a wave of water poured into the tunnel.
The force knocked him off his feet. He slammed into her, kicked her legs out from under her. She hit his chest hard, gasped as water sprayed her face, filled her lungs. Gryphon’s fingers dug into her biceps, dragging her with him down the slippery cave floor, rushing in a river of water right for Orpheus and the others racing in their direction.
She tried to catch her breath, tried to twist away from Gryphon. Through blurry vision, she saw lights ahead. People coming their way. Orpheus’s face.
“Hang on to me!” Gryphon yelled over the thunder of water.
No. Never. She fought against him. Lashed out with her arms, tried to kick away with her feet.
Another crack resounded. Her eyes grew wide. Locked on Orpheus and Nick skidding to a stop. Then the rocks gave out beneath them.
She managed one bleating scream. And felt nothing but air.
***
Atalanta was in a time crunch.
She glanced at the calendar mounted to the wall as her frustration grew exponentially. “Galto!”
The clacking of nails against stone echoed through the room, followed by a raspy voice at her back. “Yes, my queen.”
She turned to glare down at the three-foot-tall, scaly, goblinlike creature she’d dragged back from the Underworld when she escaped after following Gryphon and the daemon spawn out. “What news of my doulas?”
Galto rubbed his gnarled hands together, his forked tongue licking his dry lips. One pointed ear turned back as if to listen for movement behind him. “Nothing, my queen. It’s as if he’s vanished from the human realm.”
“Imbeciles.” Atalanta brushed her long red robe behind her and moved to the window to look out at the sea of snow. She craved the cold. Even her realm in the Underworld—when she’d resided there and had been building her army of daemons—had been a frigid wasteland, so different from the fiery chasm of Tartarus. But as a goddess, she’d had the power to turn her little corner of hell into whatever she wanted. Here in the human realm, she had to resort to locating her base where cold weather persisted. And though she’d have preferred to be somewhere isolated, like Antarctica, her daemons couldn’t flash from place to place on earth as she could. They were limited by the same laws of physics as humans—and Argoleans. Which meant she had to set up camp someplace convenient for them and cold enough for her. Since her fortress in northern British Columbia had been destroyed by those bastard Argonauts, she’d been forced here. To sunny, sinfully cold Scandinavia.
Revenge whipped through her. She would not rest until she saw Argolea in ruins and those pompous Argonauts in chains. They’d shunned her. Cast her out because she’d dared question their order. Banished not only her, but her love.
Thoughts of Meleager—the only person who’d ever understood her and who’d died standing up for her—drifted through her mind. So many years alone. So many disappointments. But it all ended now.
I’ll make them pay, my love. I promise you they’ll burn for what they did to you.
“Perhaps…” Galto started.
She glared over her shoulder at the disgusting creature.
“Perhaps he’s in Argolea?”
Atalanta looked back over the snow. And sent out feelers. Searching. Scanning. Drawing on the darkness of the Underworld that had been bestowed on her doulas. “No, he’s out there somewhere. I can feel him. The pull is too strong for him to be in Argolea. Besides, after what was done to him in the Underworld”—a wicked smile twisted her lips—“he’d never have the nerve to face his fellow warriors in Argolea. His honor would be too strong for that. He’s out there, Galto. But he’s fighting the darkness.”
“He will eventually give in. He can’t resist much longer. We just have to wait for that to happen.”
Atalanta looked back to the calendar on the wall. Six months. Krónos, the king of the Titans, had given her six months to get the Orb, and more than two had already passed. Even though Krónos was locked in the depths of Tartarus, he still commanded a power like no other. Atalanta didn’t doubt for a minute that if the six-month mark hit and she didn’t live up to their bargain, he’d drag her back to the Underworld and make good on his threat to turn her into his slave.
“We don’t have time to wait,” she said, angling back to Galto. “Send a group of daemons to the Pacific Northwest. The half-breeds are likely hiding him.”
She’d wasted too much time rounding up her daemons and rebuilding the army those blasted Argonauts had scattered after she’d been sent to the Underworld. But that was rectified now, and her army was growing in strength and number, thanks to her new breed of daemons—hybrids who looked human but could shift into daemon form at any time.
“But, my queen. We haven’t been able to locate the half-breed colony yet.”
“Then step up attacks in the area. That’ll draw those bloody Argonauts out. Torture humans, half-breeds…I don’t care which. Just find out where that half-breed colony is located. I guarantee my doulas is hiding there.”
Her doulas was the key to everything. As an Argonaut, he could infiltrate Argolea. He could gain the other Argonauts’ trust, slip into the Argolean castle, take the Orb their queen had hidden there. And then he could bring it—and one of the Horae, the descendants of the ancient goddesses of balance and justice, whom Atalanta needed to control the Orb—to her. Gryphon was tied to Atalanta now, thanks to Krónos’s help. When he finally gave in and came to her, he’d be bound to do her will. And once she had the Orb, she could negotiate more time with Krónos. Without all four sacred elements—earth, air, water, and fire—the Orb couldn’t be used to its full power. And Krónos needed the Orb at maximum power to be able to escape the Underworld. Once she had the Orb in her possession, Krónos would be cornered into giving her more time to find the remaining elements. And when she did…
When she did, well, he’d bow to her. Not the other way around.
“Yes, my queen,” Galto said, backing out of the room, his long, clawlike nails clicking against the stone-cold floor as he moved.
Alone, Atalanta looked back out the window. A storm was moving in. Dark gray clouds on the edge of the horizon waited to unleash their frigid fury. Being back in the human realm was both a blessing and a curse. Here she once more commanded her army, but she was mortal. If it weren’t for that one limitation, she’d be out hunting Gryphon herself. But even with her goddess powers, she couldn’t take the risk. However, once she had the Orb…
One corner of her lips curled as she watched the first snowflake drift to the ground. Once she had the Orb in her hands again, she’d be close to achieving her ultimate goal: seeing every single Argonaut destroyed.
Once they were wiped from the cosmos and she had the power to command the human realm, only then would she rest.
***
The air was bitter cold, but the water cut with the bone-chilling frigidity of a thousand knives stabbing into every inch of his skin.
Gryphon plunged beneath the surface, kicked hard to come back up. They’d fallen for at least fifteen seconds before hitting this ice-col
d pool of water. He gasped when he reached the surface, gulped in air, opened his eyes, and tried to get his bearings.
Dooouulaaaas…
He shook the water from his ears. Not fucking now!
He turned in the water. No, not a pool. An underground river. The current was swift, already rushing him downstream. The voices of Nick’s men—of Orpheus—hollering from above were long gone, and he couldn’t see shit in the dark.
“Mae—” He sputtered water. Coughed as he tried to keep the current from sucking him back under. “Maelea!”
No cry for help met his ears. Nothing but the increasing roar of water crashing close. He swiveled in the dark, tried to squint to see ahead. Saw nothing but pitch-black darkness in every direction. “Maelea!”
Dooouulaaaas…
He ground his teeth. Worked like hell to ignore the voice. The churn of water grew in intensity. Something brushed his leg beneath the surface. He tried to swim back the way he’d come, but the current was too swift. Panic pushed in as he was forced downstream. “Maelea!”
A splash echoed to his right. Then a gasp. And a cough. He twisted in that direction, kicked hard to reach the noise. “Maelea?”
Maelea sputtered somewhere close.
His hands pushed through water, passed over flesh, tightened around muscle and bone to tug her close. “Grab on to me.”
“What’s that”—she coughed, dug her fingers into his flesh—“noise?”
He shifted toward the roar. Realized it was a waterfall. Shit. They were going over. “Don’t let go of me!”
Her scream met his ears just as they rocketed off what had to be an enormous drop-off. Water sprayed into his eyes, messed with his vision. For a second he thought he saw something glowing green beneath them, but it was so dark in here, that couldn’t be right. Air rushed up his back, but he didn’t let go of Maelea’s forearm. Not as they sailed through the frigid air, not as they hit—thank gods—another pool of water, not as they submerged beneath the surface and his breath rushed out of his lungs like air from a popped balloon.
He kicked as if Hades himself were after them, gripped her arm tighter so he didn’t lose her. And gasped when he finally came back up. Musty, damp, bone-chilling air filled his chest. Beside him, Maelea broke the surface and drew large gulps of air.
Realizing she was okay, that they’d both survived, his heart rate began to slow and he let go of her as he treaded water and tried to figure out where the hell they were.
To his surprise, the pool of water they’d dropped into was indeed glowing green, the light enough to illuminate the giant cavern around them, the underground lake they’d fallen into, even the small stream leading out at the far end, which continued like a phosphorescent trail toward freedom.
He looked up at the forty-foot waterfall they’d just come down. No other bodies sailed over the edge, which meant no one had been stupid enough to follow them. Nick and his men…and Orpheus…probably all thought he and Maelea were dead by now.
Beside him, Maelea’s teeth knocked together. He looked her way as she shivered in the cold water, her long black hair a wet mess plastered to her head, her normally pale skin even whiter in the glow of the lake.
He didn’t know what was making the water glow, but he was thankful for it. Especially since he didn’t have a flashlight. “We need to get out of this water.”
“I…” Her teeth clattered together and her body shook, but she didn’t fight him when he pulled her toward the rocky edge of the pool. “I…d-d-d-don’t…l-l-l-like you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
He climbed out of the water, hauled her out next to him. Chilled air rushed over his already wet and cold skin, sent a shiver down his spine. Maelea wrapped her hands around her waist and trembled harder.
Shit, he was totally unprepared for this. No matches, no blankets, not even any supplies. They weren’t going back out the way they’d come in, and looking around the cavern lit by the eerie green glow, their only hope was to follow the river and see where it came out. But they couldn’t do that until they got warm.
“Take off your clothes.”
“Wh-what?” Her shocked and enraged eyes shot to his. Eyes, he noticed up close, that weren’t just dark, as he’d guessed from the hours he’d watched her from his room at the colony. They were black. Jet-black. The same color as her hair. The same color as the vileness of the Underworld that lived inside him.
He reached for the hem of her long-sleeved top. “It’s either that or freeze to death.”
She swatted at his hand and moved back an enormous step, those dark eyes growing wide as saucers. “D-d-d-don’t touch me!”
“It’s not my first choice, female, but it’s either that or die. And I’m not about to die down here.”
He reached for her shirt again. She smacked at his hand, stumbled back a step. “I said don’t t-t-t-touch me. I’ll scream!”
His own anger ramped up. “Go ahead. There’s no one to hear you. Do you think they’re coming after us? They think we’re dead. And even if Nick and the others figure out a way to climb down safely, it’ll be hours before they reach us. That river brought us at least a couple of miles underground. In hours, I plan to be long gone.”
He grasped the hem of her shirt before she could think of words to match her shocked expression, and yanked it up to her head. She let out a muffled scream, threw her arms up to push him away, but her limbs weren’t working yet because of the cold and it did little good. When she stumbled, he didn’t try to catch her, knowing the rock wall of the cavern would do that soon enough.
A crack echoed as her head hit stone. In her dazed yelp, he ripped the rest of her shirt off, dropped it on the ground. Then he went to work on the buttons of her slim black pants. “Hold still, dammit.”
She struggled against him, tried to kick him with her foot. He moved down, barely missed getting cracked in the nose by her knee. While she pushed against his shoulders, he braced one arm across her hips to hold her tight to the rocks and used the other to unzip her boots then drag her pants down her legs.
“You s-s-s-son of a bitch! If you so much as t-t-t-touch me, I’ll—”
She was still shivering, likely in shock. He tugged off one boot, then the other, dragged her pants the rest of the way from her legs. “You’ll what?”
She slammed her fist against his spine. “I’ll k-k-k-kill you! I swear I w-will!”
“With what? Your fingernails? I don’t think so, female.” He pushed back up to his feet, pressed his hips into hers to hold her still, and let go long enough to strip his own dripping shirt over his head.
Anger erupted in those obsidian eyes. But her pupils were dilated, and he wasn’t averse to taking advantage of her disorientation in any way he could.
She raked her fingernails down his chest. Fire burned across his skin where she gouged his flesh.
“Son of a bitch.” He captured her hands easily in one of his. Pinned them over her head and glared down at her. “Stop fucking around. I’m not going to rape you, dammit. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
She struggled against his hold, finally realized she was trapped, and slowed her flailing. But when he reached down with his free hand to unbutton his jeans, her gaze shot to his waistband and her eyes flew wide all over again. “D…don’t.”
The tremble that ran through her body had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with fear. His gaze strayed to the cream-colored bra against her much paler flesh, then lower to the bit of nude lace at her hip peeking out where he wasn’t pressing into her. And against his groin, her stomach tightened. Followed by a rush of heat. A whole lot of heat he wasn’t sure came from only her.
He looked back into her eyes as something sharp stabbed his chest. Not her fingers this time, since they were still bound above her head, but…an
emotion? No, definitely couldn’t be that. He hadn’t felt a damn thing other than empty since returning from the Underworld. It had to be something else. Leftover adrenaline from nearly being discovered or even a muscle spasm from almost drowning.
Cool air washed down his spine, spread beneath the waistband of his jeans, sent a shiver over his skin. Enough dicking around. If they didn’t warm up soon, they were both going to die from hypothermia, and then this argument would be nothing but a past-tense waste of time.
Eyes still locked on hers, he toed off his boots, kicked them across the rocks. A buzz echoed in his head, but it wasn’t like the screaming voice he was used to. This, at least, was manageable. He popped the button on his jeans.
Against him, she sucked in a breath and went still as stone.
People were afraid of him. He was used to that reaction. But hers pissed him off more than most. Why, he didn’t know.
“I told you before, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, working not to yell as he pushed his pants down and wrestled his way out of them, leaving him in nothing but soaking-wet boxer briefs. “If you cooperate, that still holds true.”
He let go of her hands, pushed her arms to her sides, and wrapped his around hers, crushing her to his chest. She drew in another startled breath but was smart enough—this time—not to fight back. He turned them both around and sank down to sit on the rocks, holding her close as another shiver racked his body.
“Wh-why are you d-d-doing this to m-m-me?”
Now that the fight had left her body, the shock was crashing in hard. He loosed his hold, rubbed his hands up and down her arms to stimulate circulation. “I’m not doing anything but trying to break free. Just like you.”
“You d-did that.” She bent her elbows, drew her forearms up against his chest. “You d-d-don’t need me now.”
He didn’t, technically, that was true. At least not after he got warm. Keeping her around wasn’t an entirely ludicrous idea, though. There was no telling where this cavern let out, or who’d be waiting for them when they finally made it back to the surface. Any hostage was better than no hostage.