At Casey’s perplexed expression, Helene came around the bed. “I imagine you have a thousand other questions, but for now, try to rest. When you wake, Nick will tell you anything you want to know. Now sleep, Casey. And don’t worry. Tonight nothing will harm you.”
“Thank you, Helene.”
Alone, Casey leaned back in the plush chair and studied the room she’d been given. Pale blue walls on three sides matched the comforter on the bed. Two club chairs separated by a small side table occupied the corner. An enormous stone fireplace, already burning, took up nearly one whole wall. But the far wall held the most interest. It was made entirely of stone, and a small, naturally occurring opening formed a porthole-type window that had somehow been sealed with glass and covered by a variety of branches which, she imagined, camouflaged the opening from the outside. One look out into utter darkness signaled that this part of the cavern must form the edge of some massive cliff.
So strange to be in a room in a cave. Kind of like the Anasazi tribes in the Southwest. Big villages built deep into the rocks for protection.
Tired to her bones, she rose and pulled the small blue drapes to block out the darkness, blew out the candles on the walls, then tumbled into bed, not wanting to think about what had happened to the Anasazi. Or about hiding places or predators. Or kings or countries or gods or heroes. She just wanted to think about…nothing.
But it didn’t work. As soon as she closed her eyes she saw the fight in her grandmother’s store. The fire. And…Theron.
Why had he really come back for her?
Not to finish what they’d started in her house, that was for sure. Not that she even wanted to anymore.
Liar.
Casey rolled to her side and closed her eyes tight. Stupid thoughts. Where Theron the Wonder Hero was concerned, she needed to watch her back, be on guard, not let him get to her the way he had the first time they met. The way he’d manhandled her on the hike up here was proof of that, wasn’t it? If he was his race’s idea of a hero, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know more about her lineage.
She let out a long breath as her muscles relaxed one by one and sleep tugged at her. And though she fought it, she pictured Theron’s face. His dark eyes. His lush lips. The perfectly shaped nose and the small scars from battles fought and won. Saw, clearly, the smoldering look across those chiseled features when he’d bent and kissed her with the slightest brush of skin against skin that night at her house. And felt the rush of arousal in response that heated her blood.
Damn, but for all her posturing she was in deep trouble. Even with all that she’d lost today, she had a sinking suspicion events hadn’t turned her world upside down. He had. And that feeling had nothing to do with daemons and heroes and kings and half-breeds. It had to do with one man who, somehow, had wormed his way into her soul from the very moment she’d laid eyes on him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dana was in a foul mood and it was getting fouler by the minute. As she drove back into Silver Hills—a town she thought she’d left behind nearly an hour ago—turned onto Old Cornell Road and passed XScream, she flipped the building the bird just for the heck of it.
She hadn’t bothered to tell Karl she wasn’t coming back—ever—and she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over that decision. As far as she was concerned, he could go in the back room and fuck himself for all the nasty things he’d said and tried to do to her.
And who the hell was Nick to order her to go to the colony anyway? He might be a good lay now and then, but that didn’t give him the right to tell her what to do.
Her blood pressure shot up a level as she neared the lake and thought about the stupid-ass men in her life. Had she seriously thought Nick was forever material? Man, she really was delusional. She needed to get out of this town and away from the Misos before she did something stupid, like murdered Karl, and outed the colony to the humans once and for all.
As if that would improve things for her.
Dana blew her bangs out of her eyes as she pulled into Casey’s driveway. She knew Casey wouldn’t be home yet from the store and figured that was a good thing. She wasn’t in the mood to chat, and she hated drawn-out good-byes. The one at the store had been bad enough. She’d only come back here because she realized too late that she’d left her cell phone at Casey’s house the other night, and she needed it back if she was going to keep tabs on the colony. Even she wasn’t stupid enough to cut all ties. The GPS Nick had put inside everyone’s phones was her one link back if things got hot for her out in the real world.
As she killed the engine and stared at the front of Casey’s cute one-story, she couldn’t help thinking back to the way Casey had looked today, standing behind the counter in her store, surrounded by all those books.
And she couldn’t help but think of the way she’d smelled either. The scent of death was growing around her. When Dana first picked it up at the club, she’d hoped she was wrong, but every time she’d seen Casey since that night a few weeks ago, that wretched scent was getting stronger.
A wave of despair washed over her, and for once she wished she was full Argolean and not prone to stupid human emotions. Misos were supposed to be stronger than the average human, but in Casey’s case, that wasn’t true. And dammit, it wasn’t fair. Especially because Casey was one of the sweetest people—Misos or human—Dana had ever met. The only bright spot was that Casey didn’t know what she really was.
Man, Dana, your powers truly suck. Of all the gifts a Misos could have, she’d been saddled with the worst one of all. She could sense disease, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She wasn’t a healer. She wasn’t anything important. She was simply…a sensor. The prelude to the Grim fucking Reaper.
With a scowl, she pushed the useless thought out of her head as she popped the door and eased out of her red Saturn. She was ninety-eight years old and she had a couple hundred years to go before she made it to the Isles of the Blessed. If she made it to that elusive plane where the favored heroes dwelt. Knowing her dumbass luck, she’d wind up stuck in Tartarus for all the bad shit she’d done in this world.
And since that was just the king of all depressing thoughts, she wasn’t going there either.
She trudged up the three porch steps and dug around in the potted yellow chrysanthemums Casey’d planted until she found the hide-a-key. Shaking her head, she told herself to convince Casey to find a better hiding spot. Any two-bit thug would find this in a heartbeat. That despair came back full force when she realized neither of them would be around for that conversation.
Don’t dwell on it. Not your problem anymore anyway.
The house was cold and empty when she stepped inside. She flipped on a light in the living room and glanced at the coffee table where she was pretty sure she’d set her phone the night she and Casey had watched National Treasure and polished off a bottle of wine.
No phone.
Deciding that maybe Casey had moved it to the kitchen, she headed for the back of the house, twirling her key ring around her fingers as she moved while humming a few bars from Linkin Park’s “In the End.”
She was so preoccupied, she didn’t notice the change in temperature until it was too late. Until she was already stepping into the room and her breath was curling in wisps of white around her in the suddenly frigid air.