Part 18 (1/2)

16.

I woke to warmth and the smell of citrus, herbs, and salt water, realizing with a jolt that the excruciating pain I'd pa.s.sed out to in the Circe's inner sanctum was gone. I was sore and stiff, but that was all. I'd healed.

Bright stones glittered into focus-hundreds of them inset to form a wave pattern in the white ceiling above me. They looked like jewels set in a ceiling of pearl.

Carefully, I moved onto my elbows and scanned the room to determine location and threat factor. I'd seen Ephyra blown into a billion bits, but that didn't mean s.h.i.+t. I'd seen stranger things re-form or come back from the dead . . .

Despite the grogginess, I sat up and swung my legs over the lounge. After the vertigo pa.s.sed, I pushed to my feet, expecting to feel some measure of hurt. But the only thing I felt was cool silk falling down my legs.

What the h.e.l.l?

I wore a slinky gown of the deepest blue. Where the light hit the material, it s.h.i.+mmered in a rainbow of colors. It was gathered at one shoulder and trimmed with light blue stones that felt cool to the touch. My feet were still bare, but clean, and thin bands of sparkling stones encased my ankles.

I ran my hand over my ribs, distinctly remembering a few being broken-at least one had punctured my lung-but only a bruised sensation remained. I touched the back of my head where I'd cracked my skull. Again, only a bruise. My hair was dry and clean, left down to fall in soft waves to my shoulders, and I saw as it fell forward that it was back to being my natural color. Both of my biceps were wrapped in jewel-encrusted bands of gold.

”I've f.u.c.king died and gone to Harry Winston's.”

I sat back down in utter confusion, rubbing my face and feeling dried tears staining a trail from the corners of my eyes to my jaw, like I had been crying in my sleep. My heart hurt as everything came flooding back. Sandra.

And Hank . . .

My mark was warm.

My mark was warm! I shot to my feet. Hank. The room spun. Okay, maybe not the best idea to stand so quickly. I stayed still, waiting for things to settle down.

The temple, the clothes . . . it was enough to believe I was dreaming or having some sort of out-of-body experience. Or that I did, in fact, die. I felt real, though. Solid. Grounded. And the fact that my mark was warm meant wherever this was, Hank had come along for the ride, too.

I swore softly, wondering if it was over, if we were out of the constant barrage of threats and torture.

Warm, humid air breezed across my skin, drawing my attention to the right where columns framed a view of a blue horizon shot with streams of pink and orange. To the left was a gallery of six white columns. Thick spiral bands of inset jewels wrapped around each one from top to bottom. If only I had a pocketknife . . .

I went toward the gallery of columns, keeping my eyes trained for movement, for an attack, going slowly because no matter how beautiful a place it didn't mean there wasn't evil underneath.

I stepped through the last set of columns and went down three wide steps into a courtyard of soft, spongy gra.s.s, dotted by delicate trees that reminded me of weeping willows, but their thin limbs were tipped with fragrant white blossoms. I stopped suddenly in the gra.s.s, wondering what I was doing, and why I moved from the temple. Maybe I should go back, let whatever or whoever had brought me here come to me.

But then that wasn't exactly my style.

A few feet ahead of me was another temple identical to the one I woke in except steam rose from the center. The sound of water lapped the sides, and a strong arm sliced up through the steam and disappeared.

I wiggled my toes in the gra.s.s and bit the inside of my cheek, suddenly unsure and self-conscious in the G.o.ddess attire. It was all hazy. I didn't remember getting here or where here was. And I definitely didn't like being kept in the dark.

I gathered the sides of the gown, went up the steps and into the temple.

Five seconds later, I stopped near the long side of the pool. All the determination to demand answers evaporated as I watched Hank, Nierian, Siren of Creation and Destruction, dip beneath the water. He came up for air at the far end. Water swirled around his hips and ran down his back as he stood. His back and one hip were terribly scarred, but the lines were faint and flat as though years of healing had occurred.

How long had we been asleep?

His arms lifted, biceps and back muscles flexing as he shoved his hair back from his face. Then, he stilled.

Arms still up, he turned and my stomach did a full three-sixty.

G.o.d, he was beautiful.

And there was so much more to him than just the beauty. It was everything I'd learned, everything on the inside, everything he had endured that added to the picture standing there all hard and lean, a fallen angel with a tormented soul and a devil's att.i.tude.

His gaze was solemn and unreadable as it swept me from head to toe and back up again. He was so still and quiet in his regard, giving off a calm vibe that conflicted with the power and intensity radiating from him. I swallowed. His arms dropped. His hands floated idly on the water.

Fires burned in the two basins in the far corners, and bejeweled columns rose from each corner of the pool. I resisted the urge to do something with my hands, like wring them on the gown.

G.o.d, please don't let this be a dream.

G.o.d, please let this be a dream.

This didn't happen to me. I prided myself on control, on knowing what I wanted and going after it. Unless, apparently, that thing was Hank.

Heart pounding, I walked down the long side of the pool, in and out of shadow, the siren tracking me with his eyes and body. He was leaner from his time in Fiallan, but no less intimidating. And wet like that, with his hair swept back from his face, full mouth darkened red from the heat in the room, and spiky wet lashes . . .

One corner of his mouth quirked, slicing a faint dimple into the side of his cheek. I'd been waiting for that, I realized, the sardonic grin. Something that told me this was Hank, and not Nierian.

”Stop that,” he said, slowly-and, sweet Jesus, the deep rumble of his voice drenched me in a wave of l.u.s.t. ”Or I'll take you up on it.”

Those were words he'd used once upon a time in another pool far, far away. I couldn't help but smile. I had a witty comeback on the tip of my tongue, but when I opened my mouth to deliver it, nothing came out. I didn't have anything to say. Warmth spread over my cheeks.

His grin grew into a blinding white smile. ”Lost your train of thought, did you?”

Normally that would've gotten a rise out of me. But I just stood there like an idiot, my blood thumping thick and hard through my veins.

As we stared, the mood went heavy and significant and highly charged. I began to wonder if siren staring could cause a mini-o.r.g.a.s.m, because I sure as h.e.l.l was getting hotter by the minute. And, Hank, d.a.m.n him, must've sensed it because he had to go and make things worse.

”Drop the gown and get in the pool, Charlie.” His hot gaze swept over me. ”But leave the jewelry.”

Oh boy.

The devil is back, I thought, catching a topaz blue glint in his eyes. He just had to go tempting me, putting images in my head that left me reeling. h.e.l.l, all I could see for a second was the material sliding off my body, leaving me naked, the jewels around my ankles and biceps glittering.

This was the Hank I knew, the one who liked to confound me and rib me every chance he got. Like now. But was it real?

Dream or not, wherever the h.e.l.l we were, I had a decision to make. One that every ounce of my physical self screamed I make in the affirmative.

I walked around the corner to the short side of the pool where steep steps led into water. I gestured to the shenti loincloth he wore. ”I see you haven't dropped trou.”

He swam over, the water licking his chin, his eyes dancing. ”Just wanted you to stay conscious until you got in the water.”

I laughed at that, but quickly sobered up because he stood again. He moved closer to the steps, and I was transfixed by the water swirling around his navel.