“Listen to me. I wrongly blamed you and—”
We’re done discussing this. Change. Now.
He’d never, ever treated her like this, even when they’d first discovered who the other was, and she had no idea how to reach him, how to make him understand. Shaking, Haidee removed the robe and tugged on the new clothing. “We—we can’t leave yet. Not until we know what we’ll be facing.” She claimed the backpack and said, “Give us instructions for successfully navigating the next realm.”
When she reached inside, she found a small, yellowed scroll.
Without a word, Amun took the backpack and settled the straps over his shoulders. With every second that passed, he seemed even more removed from her, and still she didn’t understand. She didn’t blame him for what had happened, so why did he blame himself?
Because he’d failed? Because he feared failing again? “Amun,” she said, trying again to reach him. She had to reach him.
Come, he replied, striding from the cave, forcing her to follow or be left behind.
The scroll crinkled as she unwittingly tightened her grip. “I’m not going to let you shut me out,” she said, knowing he couldn’t hear her but feeling better just saying the words.
She forced herself to relax and trail after her man—and he was her man, there was no question of that now—as he headed into the unknown.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VACATION SUCKED. Strider sat in the passenger seat of the caddy William had stolen, peering out at the barren landscape and waning sunlight. This was the road trip from hell.
After the debacle with the invisible girl, who just had to be Paris’s obsession, Sienna, Paris had flipped his ever-loving lid and attacked William for not preventing the god king from leaving with her. It had taken all of Strider’s strength—and a dagger through his friend’s broken heart—to defeat the hysterical warrior.
Afterward, bleeding and far from calm, Paris kicked Strider and William off his ranch, along with the strippers. But Paris had soon realized Sienna could escape Cronus again and return to him, and without William, he wouldn’t be able to see her. So, the injured Paris had tracked them down and insisted on coming with them. Not a difficult task since they’d merely hiked to the mailbox at the end of his driveway and decided to rest. For a few hours.
Ambrosia hangovers sucked as much as vacations.
They’d been on the open road for countless hours, and for most of those hours Paris had shouted for Cronus, issuing threats and generally annoying the hell out of everyone. Finally, though, he’d quieted and now slept fitfully in the back seat, blood loss having drained him. Just before falling asleep, he’d vowed to call Lucien and demand the keeper of Death flash him to the heavens when his injuries healed.
Paris was going hunting for his female.
That kind of obsessive desire for one specific woman wasn’t smart, and Strider acknowledged that he himself had been speeding in that direction with Ex. Unlike Paris, he had willingly given the woman up, and suddenly, he was grateful. Had he continued down that path, he eventually would have fought Amun for her.
Fighting a friend for a woman was the epitome of stupid. Wrong on every level.
One, he valued his friendships. Two, no woman was worth the trouble she caused when he knew he would one day lose interest in her. Three, a Hunter really wasn’t worth the trouble she caused. Four, sex was sex. A man could get it anywhere, as proven by his time at Paris’s ranch.
He sighed and concentrated on the shitty scenery. Trees. Rolling hills. And—oh, hells yeah. A convenience store, dead ahead.
“Pull over,” he commanded.
“What?” William flicked him a now’s-not-the-time-to-joke glance. “We just got a little peace and quiet and you want to ruin it all just to piss? You’re such a baby.”
“Red Hots, dude.” He’d ruin anything for a mouthful of those. “Now pull the fuck over.”
“Oh, Gummy Bears. You should have said so.”
The car merged right, hit the service road and finally halted abruptly in front of the twenty-four-hour shop. Burly truckers hustled in and out, as well as families traveling the countryside.
William jerked a thumb toward the backseat. “What about sleeping beauty?”
“He’s not gonna kill himself while we’re gone.”
“Do you have any self-preservation instincts?” Ice-blue eyes glittered with sardonic humor. “I meant, what if he wakes up, steals our car and abandons us?”
“Easy. We steal a truck and play chase. I’ve always wanted to drive a big rig.”
“I like where your head’s at, Stridey-Man. Maybe we’ll do that anyway.”
Out of habit, Strider performed a perimeter check before exiting. During the drive, when he hadn’t been lost in thought, he’d been watching for a tail. So far, so good. Not once had he spied anything suspicious. To be honest, that was kind of disappointing. He’d expected Haidee’s boyfriend to come after him. Shit, the guy had sworn to spill Strider’s guts and remove each of his limbs. Oh, well.
He and William entered the store side by side, then split up. They still wore their swim trunks, but they also wore T-shirts and flip-flops, so they weren’t totally inappropriate as they strutted down the isles, grabbing what they wanted. Still. People stared. Maybe because they were giants compared to everyone else, both in height and muscle mass. Maybe because of the telltale bulge of weapons at their waists. Or maybe because William opened a bag of Doritos and ate while he shopped. Hard to tell.
“You see any Gummy Bears?” William called.
Strider balanced five boxes of Red Hots and five boxes of Hot Tamales in the cradle of one arm as he scanned the racks. “Nope. Sorry.” He grabbed a few Twinkies for Paris and threw them on top of his pile. They weren’t fried, but hell. Women ate sweets when they were nursing broken hearts, and Paris was definitely acting like a woman. Guy would be grateful for anything.
Strider was snickering to himself as he mixed a suicide at the soda fountain. Paris, acting like a woman. What was new about that? When the fizzing liquid reached the rim, he popped the lid and straw in place. Hard to do one-handed, but he managed it. He sipped. Nice.
Behind him, gasps resonated. He whipped around, expecting trouble with William—only to spy a scowling Lucien with his hand resting on the shoulder of a stunning redhead. She was a tiny little thing, only reaching his shoulder, but damn was she curved. Her breasts strained the lacy tank. Her waist flared around low-rise jeans. Really low-rise. So low it was obvious she wasn’t wearing any panties. She couldn’t be. Her legs were lean and long enough to lock around his back.
He wanted to curse.
“Kaia?” Strider blinked, certain this was only a nightmare. A Harpy, the deadliest race on the planet. Here. Stinking up his vacation even more. And he’d thought the night couldn’t get any worse.
“Oh, yummy. A Big Gulp.” She closed what little distance there was between them and jerked the cup from his kung fu grip. Then, without waiting for his permission, she slurped the contents. “Thanks.”
Not a challenge, not a damn challenge, he told his demon.
Still. Defeat perked up inside his head. Thank the gods the beast didn’t urge him to act. Yet.
Kaia’s features wrinkled with distaste. “Yuck! What is this stuff? Battery acid?”
“It’s a little of every kind of soda they’ve got,” he gritted, reaching out his free hand and waving his fingers. “Now give it back and tell me what you’re doing here.”
Her sensuous lips pulled back from her teeth as she hissed, her gray-gold eyes flickering with incandescent striations of silver and deep, dark lines of black. “Mine.”
That wasn’t a challenge, he mentally shouted.