"I did not deem it necessary," he said, releasing her. His face was pale and those lines of tension were back.
He did not deem it necessary , she silently mimicked. What about what she deemed necessary? Scowling, she padded to the kitchen, placed her gun inside a drawer and poured herself a tall glass of ice water. She drained every drop. Only after she'd consumed three more glasses did she offer Darius a drink.
"Have you anything other than water? Something with flavor?"
"I could make lemonade." Not that he deserved it.
"That will suffice."
She withdrew several lemons from the refrigerator, beat them against the counter to release the most juice, then sliced a hole in the top of each. She squeezed the tangy liquid into a glass and added sugar substitute-she did not keep real sugar anywhere near her-and water. She slid the drink across the counter.
Having watched her mix the contents with a leery eye, he lifted the glass and sipped tentatively. She knew the exact moment the sweet-and-sour flavors blended into his taste buds, knew the exact moment he wanted to howl with pleasure. His strong fingers gripped the cup, curling around the glass with surprising gentleness; his eyelids grew heavy, causing his inky lashes to dip over the sensuous planes of his cheekbones.
As he swallowed, his throat moved. A wicked shiver dripped along her spine, and she had the sudden urge to lick him there. I'm turned on by a man's trachea. How pathetic am I ?
"Surely that is ambrosia," he said. Thankfully his color had returned. He reluctantly set his empty glass on the countertop.
"I don't mind making more if you're-"
"I would like more," he rushed out.
If he reacted like this to lemonade, how would he react to chocolate? Spontaneous orgasm? Maybe she had a Hershey bar hidden somewhere…
He consumed two more glasses of lemonade in quick succession. He requested a third, but she'd run out of lemons. His disappointment was palpable, but he shrugged it off.
Watching her with heated eyes, he licked the last drop from the cup rim. "You asked me earlier what power my medallion possessed. I will show you now," he said. "First I will need your brother's surname."
"Carlyle. Like mine."
He arched a brow. "Is that common here? To share names?"
"Yes. You didn't share the same name as your family members?"
"No. Why should we have? We are each individuals and our names are our own."
"How do you show your family relationship, then?"
"With our affection for each other." Darius removed his medallion, and as he held it in his open palm, it glowed a brighter, eerier red. "Show me Alex Carlyle," he said to the dragon heads.
Four beams of crimson sprayed from both sets of eyes. They formed a circle in the air, and the beams grew wider by the second. Grace watched with fascination as the air began to crystallize.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
Alex's image appeared in the center of the circle, and all questions were forgotten. Her jaw dropped open in shock. Dirt, sweat and bruises covered her brother from head to toe, and as she took in his appearance, her blood ran cold. He was pallid, his skin so pale she could see the faint tracings of his veins. He wore only a pair of ripped, stained jeans. His eyes were closed, and he huddled on a muddy floor. Tremors raked him. From cold? From fever? Or fear? The room was sparsely furnished with a small bed and a chipped wooden nightstand.
With one hand she covered her mouth and with the other she reached out, hoping to smooth his brow, hoping to reassure him that she was here. Just like in me cave, her fingers drifted through like a mirage. Feeling helpless, she dropped her hands to her sides. "Alex," she said shakily.
"He cannot hear you," Darius said.
"Alex," she said again, determined to gain his attention in any way necessary. How long since he'd last eaten? What had put those bruises on his skin? What had made him so pale? She bit back a deep moan of distress.
"Do you recognize this place?" Darius asked.
"No." Lips trembling, gaze never straying, she shook her head. "Do you?"
"No," he sighed.
"It's a motel room, I think. Find him," she beseeched, watching in horror as her brother rolled to his side, revealing two bloody puncture wounds on his neck. "You said you would."
"I only wish it were that easy, Grace."
At last she switched her attention, flashing Darius an accusing glare. "You found me."
"We were connected through the spell of understanding. I simply followed my own magic. I have had no contact with your brother, nor does anything bind me to him."
Alex's image began to waver just as a woman approached him. She was the most beautiful woman Grace had ever seen. Where Alex was long and lean, the woman was small and delicate with flowing silvery-blond hair. Pixie features, porcelain skin. She crouched beside him and gently shook his shoulders.
"Who is that?" Grace demanded sharply.
Darius narrowed his focus. "That is Teira," he said, an undercurrent of incredulity in his tone. "Javar's wife."
"I don't care whose wife she is, as long as she leaves my brother alone. Is she cruel? Will she hurt him? What's she doing to him?"
Just as quickly as it appeared, the image faded completely.
"Bring them back," Grace commanded.
"The medallion shows me a vision for only a small period of time, and never the same person more than once."
No. No ! She controlled the urge to stomp her foot, to whimper. To cry. "Take me to Alex."
"I wish that I could, but I do not know the surface."
"You said you found me because we're connected. I can give you one of Alex's belongings. Or a photograph of him." Nearing a point of desperation, she jerked out the photo of Alex from her pocket and wrapped Darius's fingers around the folded edges. "You can connect with this and find him."
"That is not how my powers work, Grace." There was no emotion to him now. He'd reverted to his indifferent, unperturbed self, the part of him she so longed to shatter. Blue eyes hard and cold, he set the photo aside.
A single tear slowly ran down her cheek. "You have to help me." Gripping the fabric of his shirt, she said, "He's sick. I don't know how long he's gone without food or water. I don't know what that woman planned to do to him."
"Teira will not hurt him. She is ever gentle and caring."
"He needs me ."
"I have given you my word that I will help you find him while I am here. Do not doubt me."
"I don't doubt that you'll help me, Darius," she said brokenly. Hollowly. She stared up at him with watery eyes. "I just wonder if we'll get to him in time."
At that moment, Darius knew she meant Atlantis no harm. Knew she only wanted her brother safe and whole. Her emotions were too raw. Real. He hated himself for it because he could not let that change his purpose. He might loathe the man he'd become, the man he willingly was-a killer and a user-but that changed nothing.
When Grace learned that he was helping her only to destroy Alex, as well as Grace herself…
Tensing, he forced his mind on the matter at hand. Why was Teira with a human? Where were they being held? Their cell was a surface dwelling, yet Alex had been bitten by a vampire-a fact Darius wouldn't tell Grace.
The female dragon's presence added a new complication. Was she prisoner or captor? A loving woman who possessed a sweet nature and giving heart, she would not make a good captor. Yet Javar would never allow his wife to be taken. Unless he were dead.
That Darius once again found himself back to that line of thought unsettled him. He had, perhaps, another day here before he must return, yet he was no closer to answers than he had been when he first arrived. Instead the mystery had sprouted new, twisted limbs.
"The key is the medallion," he said. "I must figure out which human has the most to gain by possessing it."