An image sparkled inside his mind: Anya chained to his bed, legs parted, core glistening. His cock swelled. Again. "Sorry. Not that, either."
She shrugged as if she didn't care, but he saw hurt in her eyes. She stared down at her sandaled feet and kicked a rock. "Don't be surprised if I sneak up on you and take your head."
"Thank you for the warning."
"My pleasure. Shit!" she suddenly cried.
He stiffened, going for a weapon. "What is wrong?"
"I was looking at my feet."
Gradually he relaxed. "And that is bad?"
"That's horrible! The worst thing ever. I never look at my feet."
His gaze shifted to her toes, painted a wild shade of red. "I think they are adorable." He didn't give her time to respond. Cheeks heating, he said, "Perhaps I will make time in my schedule to sneak up on you."
A slow grin lifted her lips, her expression tender. "You are so cute, thinking you have that kind of skill."
He had to press his mouth together to keep from returning the grin. The woman amused him as much as she aroused him.
"Maybe I'll look for those artifacts, too," she said, almost as an afterthought. "If I find them, I might lock you inside that cage. Then you'd have to be nice to me."
Before he could growl a response, she grinned again, gave him a finger wave and disappeared.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, ANYA dogged Lucien's every step when she wasn't stealing to keep herself sane. Even when he was escorting souls. She hated when he visited hell. Hated the heat, the smells, the taunts and jeers that emerged from the dark yet fiery pit. Always Lucien tried to act unaffected by them, but she could see the unease in his eyes. That saddened her. He'd seen the worst the world had to offer over and over again, and had had to anesthetize himself to survive.
Now she wanted him to see the best; now she wanted him to feel.
She told herself she wanted those things because it would be entertaining to watch the prince of doom and gloom let some light into his life. She didn't look deeper than that because she was afraid of what lurked beneath the explanation.
She sighed, knowing she should have given up on Lucien days ago. Attacked him, at the very least, or drawn him away from the temple for a flash-chase. But she suspected he wouldn't raise a hand against her and knew he would refuse to follow her. So she remained invisible and stayed close. Besides, whatever he learned about those artifacts, she learned, too.
After she'd mentioned looking for them herself, she'd realized she did indeed want them. Once she had one of those babies in her hot little hands, she'd make him beg for it. Gods, his expression was going to be priceless. Especially when she turned him down and bargained with Cronus. Her life for an artifact. Talk about a win-win situation!
"Go away, Anya," Lucien whispered.
He couldn't see her, but she stuck her tongue out at him, anyway. Those were the only words he'd spoken to her all week. If he said them again, she planned to materialize and slap him across the face, then quickly disappear.
"I am serious."
He always knew when she arrived. Once he'd told her that he smelled her. She'd been pleased, because it meant he was aware of her. She was still pleased by it, but damn if it didn't ruin her element of surprise.
Right now, the warrior stood in the Temple of the All Gods, peering at the bare, cracked walls with savage intensity. He and the other Lords had come here every day, their determination awe-inspiring in the face of their failure to find anything.
No wonder I want him so badly.
Lingering at Lucien's side was foolish and dangerous. It only intensified her desire for him. Seeing his butterfly tattoo on a regular basis was causing all kinds of naughty fantasies to play through her mind. Like: spending hours licking it. Like: taking Lucien's cock into her mouth while caressing it. Like: finger painting it with chocolate sauce and having it for dessert.
He'd probably try to stab her if she suggested any of those things. She'd never met a man less sure of his appeal and more outraged when a woman tried to tell him of her desire. How could others not see how mouthwateringly sexy he was? How rugged? How he tempted feminine instincts on every level?
Lucien bent down and once again sifted through rock and sand, looking for gods knew what. Sunlight stroked him lovingly, the bitch. He's mine.
"Go away, Anya," he repeated.
Grrr! She materialized. Rather than slap him, though, she sat on a boulder beside him. He was shirtless again, his skin slightly burned, cut up and bruised.
He didn't face her. "I said go away."
"Like I'm going to obey you. You aren't my daddy. Unless you want to be. 'Cause I've been a bad, naughty girl and I need a spanking."
A pained groan escaped him. "Anya. Please." Sweat trickled over his spine, illuminating a few of the scars scattered there.
She reached out to caress them, but froze when one of the warriors called out.
"Lucien. Your woman…" The speaker was Paris, she realized. His voice was strained, even more so than before. Not getting any out here, was he? Poor man. Without sex, Paris weakened. If he could have brought a woman with him to fulfill his needs, all would have been well in his world. But he couldn't sleep with the same woman twice. Promiscuity, the lecherous demon, wouldn't let him.
Anya knew the trials of a sex-curse and sympathized. While hers was the opposite of his, preventing her from ever going all the way, both curses dictated their actions and jacked with their free will. It sucked rotten eggs.
Nothing can bind me but that curse, she thought darkly. She'd been bespelled before she'd acquired the ability to escape confinement, so the curse had already been a part of her. There was no escaping it.
Her gaze returned to Lucien and her shoulders sagged. No, much as she might wish otherwise, there was no escaping it.
"Just stay where you are," Lucien shouted to Paris. "She is my responsibility."
His responsibility? She didn't know whether to be delighted or insulted. "Why not let your friends come over here and play with us?"
He glanced at her through slitted eyelids, a fast look/look-away motion. Still, the moment his gaze hit her, moisture flooded between her legs. Her stomach tingled and her skin ached for him. He was pure sex appeal, all sweaty and dirty and manly. Yum.
"What are you wearing?" he croaked.
"A maid's uniform. You know, to help you dust."
He cursed under his breath. "Just as before, my friends are beyond the stone," he told her, "and they will remain there, working. They do not need a distraction."
How many times would he tell her she was a distraction? She eyed the crumbling stone cupped in his palms and frowned. Maybe, if she proved useful, he'd see her as something more. "I remember this place in its prime. Before it was moved down to earth, we were taught here, the other deities and I. How to control our powers, how to act properly, blah, blah, blah."
Lucien couldn't hide the interest that colored his face. "I was never allowed inside," he admitted. "We went only where Zeus did, and he didn't choose to spend time here."
Eck. To be bound to that temperamental shithead would have been torture. "A pity the place is so damaged now. You might have liked it."
"What did it look like?" he asked, dropping the chunks and sifting through another handful. Each pebble he found he held up to the light, turned to study every side for markings then discarded over his shoulder.
"Towering statues circled the entire temple. Ivy rode some of the walls, and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies glistened from the floors. I'm sure old glory-seeking Cronus will spruce everything up when he and his brethren of assholes take over."