"Later, then. When we return to your home. You can obtain these bullets and show me how this weapon works."
"All right," she said. Though Grace wasn't sure she wanted him to handle a loaded gun. Nor was she sure she wanted to take him to a gun range. "But how are we going to get it home? We can't even pick it up."
He turned back to the gun, letting his hands hover over the top, and closed his eyes. One minute melted into another. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth, and his bronze skin paled. Grace didn't utter a sound, didn't move. She didn't know what he was doing, but she was loath to interrupt.
Finally, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. He scooped his hand under the gun and lifted. Instead of sinking past an immaterial palm, the gun remained cradled.
"How did you do that?" Awe laced her voice. She took the weapon and tucked it in the drawstring waist of her sweats.
He ignored her question. "Come," he said, stalking to the entrance. "I wish to find these Argonauts."
"They have guns of their own," she warned him. "I saw them."
The dire warning didn't cause him a moment's concern, though his gaze gleamed with a tiny flicker of pleasure that she sought to offer it. "They will not even know we are here. We are like ghosts, remember?"
They were forced to crawl on their hands and knees until they reached the cave's entrance. Grace loved the way her knees glided through every rock and twig, but wondered why Darius didn't do his instant transfer thingy. They reached the end, and she eased to her feet. The heat and humidity of the Amazon threatened to roast her, and she was no longer so thankful for her sweats. Familiar scents drifted to her nostrils: dewy foliage, orchids, and recent rain.
"How does one protect oneself from a gun?" Darius asked, ushering her beyond a flourishing green bush.
"Kevlar vests. That's what the police use, anyway."
His expression turned pensive. "I would like some of these vests."
"Maybe we can order you some on the Internet. I'll do a search-"
Her body tingled in strange rippling waves, and she gasped. A piece of fruit had sailed through her and smashed into a tree. Laughter drifted to her ears, not human, but amused all the same. Two more missiles sailed through her as Darius whipped around. He launched himself at her, tossing her to the ground. His weight crushed her.
"How have you been spotted, woman?" he demanded.
"Those damn monkeys!" She glared up at him, blaming him for her trials, slowly becoming aware of the perfect fit of their bodies and the warm, seductive scent of him. "You said no one would know we were here."
"Monkeys are responsible?" His lips compressed, and if she weren't mistaken, amusement twinkled in his golden eyes. She paused. Golden again? The only time they'd been golden like this was right after he kissed her. What made them change? "Animals can see what the human eye cannot," he said.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"Perhaps."
"What I want to know is why he didn't throw anything at you."
"My guess is that he knew I would have him for my next meal if he did so."
She liked this side of Darius, playful and teasing.
Grace smiled.
His gaze veered to her lips, and heat suddenly seared his eyes. All traces of merriment fled from his expression. Her own smile faded. Memories of the last time he'd lain on top of her licked through her mind. And just like that, she wanted him again. The knowledge angered her. How could she desire this man?
She must have moved, must have arched her hips, because Darius hissed a torrent of air between his teeth. His muscles were tense, and he was leaning toward her. Closer, closer still.
In one swift motion, he jerked to his feet.
"Up," he commanded, his tone inexorable. "You're wasting time."
Wasting time? Wasting time! Her? Irritated, Grace stood and anchored her hands on her hips. "It's going to be nothing but good times with you. I can tell."
Darius led her around for the next hour. The heat obviously agreed with him. While he looked as refreshed and vibrant as if he'd just stepped from a yoga class, dirt glued itself to her clothes and body. Even her hair was weighted down and wilted. She was a ghost.
Wasn't she supposed to stay clean and untouched by the elements?
"I hate this place," she muttered. Already she was tired and thirsty. And cranky. "I need a coconut smoothie."
The man responsible for her distress finally halted. "There are no Argonauts here."
No shit, Sherlock . Yes, definitely cranky. "I'm telling you, they were here."
"I believe you," he assured her, as if that had never been in question. "Their footprints are everywhere." He scanned the trees. "Do you know the names of the men who helped you?"
"Yes. Jason and Mitch. And Patrick," she added.
"I need their surnames, too."
"Sorry." She shook her head. "They didn't offer, and at the time I didn't care to ask."
Darius fought a wave of disappointment. He'd hoped to find the men, question them and finally gain at least some of the answers he sought. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could reclaim Javar's palace-and the sooner his life returned to normal. No more chaos. No more unquenchable desires.
No more Grace.
His lips lifted in a scowl. She was quickly propelling him to the brink of madness. The way she moved, sultry, swaying. The way she spoke, challenging, lilting. The way she watched him with hunger in her eyes-hunger she couldn't quite hide.
She didn't want to want him, but want him she did. Very much.
And he wanted her right back-alarmingly so.
After he'd uttered the binding spell, he'd seen inside her mind and knew she ran from her own desires. Knew her brother, Alex, did the same. They'd watched their father slowly deteriorate, then quickly die. Grace had loved her father for the kind, gentle man he'd been, but watching him fade had been so painful she'd retreated to fantasy, imagining herself anywhere but home. Imagining herself in all kinds of exhilarating situations. A crime fighter of unequalled strength. A lady pirate who sailed the high seas. A siren who lured men to her bed and pleasured them into unconsciousness. The last intrigued him most.
She craved excitement and passion and all the things she'd created in her dreams, but so far life had offered her none of those things. Nothing managed to live up to her expectations. She'd known one disappointing adventure after another… until she stumbled through the mist. Then she'd finally found the exhilaration she had always craved.
How could he consider ending her life, when she was only just now beginning to experience her dreams? The question plagued him because he knew the answer, he simply could not accept it. Though he might want her to live, he would fulfill his oath.
Darius sighed. He was wasting time here, time that he didn't have to spare. His powers were already weakening. He wasn't sure how much longer he had before he weakened completely.
"Let us journey back to your home," he told Grace. He didn't wait for her response, he simply wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
"Wait. I want to head into town and ask around about Alex," she said. "That's why I brought his pic-" Before she could finish her sentence, he pictured her home and those very walls materialized around them.
CHAPTER 12
The New York morning announced its presence by shooting rays of sunlight through Grace's living room windows. Cars honked outside; the people above her stomped across their apartment, shaking her ceiling.
"You have got to stop popping me in and out of places. I'm this close-" she told Darius, pinching her thumb and finger together "-to having a heart attack. And besides that, I wasn't ready to leave," she snapped. "I wanted you to take me into town so I could show Alex's picture around and ask if anyone had seen him."