Maelea huffed and leaned forward, bracing her hands against her knees as she worked to suck back air. Black hair fell over her shoulders, shielded her face from his view, but her features were branded into his brain—those dark eyes, that pale skin, the plump, pink lips he now knew were meant for kissing and a whole lot more. With the danger passed, memories of those lips, of that kiss that had rocked his world, rushed to the forefront of his mind. Followed by a dark desire that seemed to strengthen every second he was near her, pulling him toward her like a magnet.
Who the hell was she?
“Do you think…?” She swallowed, turned to look behind them, drew in another gulp of air. “Do you think we lost them?”
“I don’t think they followed us. I don’t think they see well in sunlight.”
He slid the sword into its scabbard at his back, perched his hands on his hips, studied her as she nodded and regulated her breathing. Tried not to be impressed but failed. She’d held her own back there. She hadn’t had a weapon, but she’d fought against the kobaloi just the same. And she’d saved his ass on the way out. If she hadn’t been pulling him, he’d have slipped back down when that beast bit into his leg. He’d likely be lunch right now.
He looked down at his leg, for the first time taking stock of the damage. His pants were ripped at the calf and five large puncture wounds in the shape of a half circle oozed blood. Pain immediately registered in his leg, but he ground his teeth and ignored it. He’d heal, he didn’t doubt that. Argonauts healed faster than most. His gaze strayed to his arms, and the ancient Greek text that ran across his skin, marking him as a guardian of his race. Disgust rolled through him. Not that he was an Argonaut anymore—or deserved to be. Not after the things he’d done.
Forcing back the memories that threatened to creep in and consume him, he looked out over the valley and realized night was coming fast. They needed to find shelter before that happened. Needed to rest and regroup. And he needed to figure out how he was going to find Atalanta, now that he was free.
“Where do you think we are?”
Her soft voice brought his head around again. Her sleeve was ripped at the shoulder, and her clothes were dirty, but he didn’t see blood anywhere, which was a good thing. Since he’d decided to keep her with him, he didn’t need anything slowing them down.
“No idea.” He scanned the valley again, didn’t recognize it. “A ways from the colony, that’s for sure.”
Thank the Fates for that little blessing. He had no doubt Nick and his men would be looking for them. But if they ventured into those tunnels, the kobaloi would slow them down. It wasn’t as if anyone in the colony wanted Gryphon to stick around. With any luck, Nick and Orpheus and the others would just give up searching for them altogether.
Orpheus.
Thoughts of his brother spiraled in. Of the sacrifice Orpheus had made going into the Underworld to rescue him. Of the sacrifice Orpheus had been willing to make to leave the colony with him after the mess yesterday. Gryphon’s chest pinched tight as he pictured Orpheus and Skyla together, and he rubbed a hand over the spot, wondering what the hell was causing the pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but Gryphon had been dead inside so long, he couldn’t imagine it was an emotion. He didn’t have emotions anymore. Likely it was nothing more than a muscle spasm from running. Like before.
Maelea pushed up to her full height, and the movement dragged at his attention, pulled his mind away from Orpheus and back to her. In the sunlight she looked taller than she had in the tunnels.
She wasn’t Misos. He couldn’t sense even a drop of hero blood running through her veins. What had she been doing at the colony these last few months? Residents of the colony could come and go as they pleased—they weren’t prisoners, not like him. So long as they took measures to make sure they weren’t followed, they were free to do as they pleased. But she’d clearly been escaping. What was the female hiding? Or what had she been hiding from?
“Well,” she said, looking out over the valley herself. “I guess that’s it then. Good luck wherever you’re heading.”
He grasped her by the sleeve before she made it a step away, and tugged her back to face him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You said if I cooperated and helped you get out of the tunnels, I’d be free to go. I did that.”
“That was before.”
Her eyes narrowed with distrust. “Before what?”
“Before I realized I need you.” He didn’t miss the flash of fear in her eyes at his words, followed by the quick burst of anger. Anger that told him keeping her with him might not be the smartest idea he’d ever had, but it didn’t do a thing to change his mind.
“But you said—”
“Forget what I said before, female.” His hand tightened around her upper arm. “Focus on what I’m saying now. You’re not going anywhere. Not without me.”
Chapter Eight
“My lord, we have…a problem.”
Seated on his blackened throne in the heart of the Underworld, Hades turned his attention from the view of the boiling red sky he’d been gazing out at to Orcus, the four-foot-tall gnomelike troll whose one and only job was to monitor that fucking stain Maelea.
“Be careful in how you present this problem, Orcus, or it will be the last you ever voice.” Hades was in a piss-poor mood already. Not only had his wife, Persephone, been summoned back to Olympus for the miserable summer, but Maelea hadn’t shown herself in months. The stain knew he was hunting her, so she was hiding somewhere, likely with those pathetic Misos. Only no one knew where their precious colony was located. He’d had hellhounds searching for Maelea for months, and they’d come up empty. Not even Orcus, who always knew where she was, could find her.
Hatred brewed hot in Hades’s veins. Because Maelea had not only helped Orpheus find the Orb of Krónos, but had helped the Argonauts, she had to pay. Fuck the Fates and their so-called rules that said he couldn’t touch her unless she ventured into the Underworld. Fuck his wife’s inevitable reaction. He didn’t care what it cost him. He wanted Maelea dead and gone once and for all. It had become his obsession.
Orcus, knowing the extent of Hades’s fury, swallowed, tapped his long clawlike fingernails together. “Yes, my lord. It seems Maelea is on the move.”
Hades pushed himself forward in his throne, excitement bubbling in his chest, the first he’d felt in months. “That’s not a problem, you moron. It’s what we’ve been hoping for.”
“Yes, my lord, I know. It’s just…”
Hades rose out of his chair and glared down at the pathetic creature, his patience at its breaking point. “Spit it out already, Orcus.”
“Somehow she ended up in a tunnel. She and…an Argonaut.”
Those fucking miserable Argonauts. Always interfering. Orpheus—the son of a bitch who’d become a good-for-nothing Argonaut, thanks to Lachesis the Fate—obviously had a soft spot for the stain. “They left together?”
“It looks that way,” Orcus answered.
An Argonaut would be of use getting her settled somewhere, but out in the open, Hades’s minions would be able to track her. One measly Argonaut was not a detriment to Hades’s goal. And if Orpheus was killed in the process? Even better. “I’m still not seeing the problem, Orcus.”
Orcus wrung his scaly hands together, looked right and left. “My lord, the tunnel they were in…” He swallowed, finally looked up at Hades. “It was the Tunnel of Arima.”