by Hall, Linsey
“So, this is it then?” Andrasta asked brightly as she hopped onto the dock. Her bow was still strapped to her back, quiver full, and he figured that she didn’t go anywhere without it, even if she was on the hunt for a man rather than a battle. His jaw tightened. As soon as he realized it, he forced it to relax.
Not his business. She could do what she wanted with her body. The fact that he was lusting after it was nothing but stupid.
But he couldn’t keep his gaze from following her up the dock, the sway in her step and the fresh scent of her dragging him along like a mutt on a leash. She was a pillar of ivory skin and golden hair that stood out like a beacon of light against the gloomy buildings. He sighed and followed the pull of her.
“Bar is two buildings down on the left,” he said to her back.
He stepped onto the shore behind her and followed her down the muddy, deserted street. Ramshackle wooden buildings rose two stories on either side of them, though Cam wouldn’t have bet that the second stories were habitable. He made a point to sleep on the Clara G. whenever he was in Havre. It wasn’t just the accommodation. Being around so many people for an extended time made him antsy.
“Sounds good. Can I buy you a drink? You know, for all the help?” she asked over her shoulder.
“You’ll owe me more than a drink.”
They’d nearly reached the door to the bar, and she turned to look at him. Her raised brow made him curse.
What kind of more? it said. The wicked tilt to her lips suggested that she had an idea.
He shook his head, trying to force the thoughts away. She shrugged and turned to push into the dirty little bar.
“You do take me to the nicest places,” she said out of the corner of her mouth when he joined her in the entryway of the bar. It was twice as big as the Caipora’s Den and half as nice, which was saying something.
“Anything for you, sugar,” he said, then frowned, not knowing where the joking side of him was coming from.
“Sure.”
They approached the long bar together, Cam’s shoulders tensing as he took in the heads that swiveled to check out Andrasta. But her glow had faded to a faint luminescence of her skin. The men were looking for a different reason, and though it made something in his brain squeeze hard, he ignored it.
He let her buy him a beer from the unusually friendly bartender, who must be new if she was still so friendly in this hellhole, and then scanned the motley crowd for the person he’d come to meet. He gestured with his beer at the rangy, dark-haired man sitting at the end of the bar. “I’ve got to go talk to him. Can you keep yourself entertained?”
She grinned at him. “It’s what I came here for.”
He frowned, then left her to it.
“Harp,” he said as he approached the man who was sitting on a barstool looking longingly after the friendly bartender.
Harp, one of his few friends, spun to face him with a smile. “Cam! About time. Did you get it?”
Cam nodded and took a seat on the barstool next to his friend and colleague. He glanced behind him to see Andrasta talking with a hulking bodybuilder of a man. That hadn’t taken long.
He frowned and turned back to Harp, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it over. “Got it off Riley in a fight at the Caipora’s Den.”
“In the ring?”
He nodded, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fist at the memory of the fight he’d been in just before Andrasta had shown up. It had felt good to hit the bastard. Better yet to get the name of the man who had the location of the Rosa McManus specimen. The rose had proven extraordinarily difficult to track down.
“Find this guy, Harp.” He nodded at the slip of paper as he passed it over. “Name’s Lorenzo. He knows where the Rosa McManus grows. I’ve got to go out of town for a while and won’t be able to do it. Wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to. But you know how it is.”
Harp nodded. “Got a time limit on it?”
“As soon as you can. The Rosa McManus sample we had turned out to be as effective as we thought. Before we realized that the bastard who gave us the first sample didn’t know where the rest grew, we’d planned to start trials next month for two different drugs. Important ones. Alzheimer’s and Crohn’s. I’ve been after those two for years, and our lack of enough Rosa McManus is the only thing that stands in the way. Call me once you’ve found Lorenzo.”
“Alzheimer’s and Crohn’s? Jesus, Cam, if you sold this stuff you could make a mint.”
Cam shrugged. “Not about the fucking money. Just find him.”
He took a swig of his rapidly warming too-light beer and glanced over his shoulder at Andrasta. Had she just looked away from him? And was that bastard’s hand on her ass? He felt a growl rise in his throat.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll find him. When will you be back?” Harp asked.
Cam turned back to Harp and dragged a hand over his face. Fuck, she was making him crazy. “A week? Two, max. But I’m counting on you to find this guy by the time I get back. I’ve been working on this a long time. Now that we’re so close, with the key ingredient isolated, I can almost taste it.”
Ana leaned back against the bar, listening with half an ear to Kon, the Incan god of wind and rain, trying to chat her up. A babble of other languages floated through the bar. Mostly, though, she was listening to Cam’s conversation.
He was hunting down a cure for Alzheimer’s and Crohn’s? And it wasn’t about the money? She’d underestimated him.
She caught sight of Cam swiveling to look at her and jerked her head up to look into Kon’s eyes. He really was handsome. She jumped a bit when she felt his big hand on her ass. A jolt shot up her body, illuminating her nerve endings like lanterns flicked on one by one.
He might not be exactly the man she wanted—as much as she hated to admit it, that man was sitting down the bar, talking fancy roses meant to cure diseases—but the arousal that had been riding her hard since she’d gotten to earth was pretty pleased with Kon’s advances.
She turned her back to Cam and smiled at Kon. He grinned down at her. He really was much more fun than the Celtic gods. But then, who wasn’t?
“Can I get another beer?”
Ana started at the sound of the voice, so rough that it dragged across her skin and made her shiver. Cam. He was standing right behind her. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. Slowly, her heart in her throat, she turned her head to look at him.
But he wasn’t looking at her. He had eyes only for the pretty bartender. But if he only had eyes for the bartender, why had he come over to Ana’s side of the bar to order his drink? She licked her lips, hoping that he’d turn to look at her.
He didn’t, though she swore she could feel the tension radiating from his stiffened muscles and the clenched fists that rested on the bar. Confused and disappointed, she turned back to Kon.
“Thanks,” Cam said as his drink was handed to him.
His voice sent a shiver through Ana, a sound that sucked all the noise from the rest of the room until just the echo of it remained in her head, trapping her. Unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder to see that he’d walked back to his friend. She felt a twinge of disappointment, then cursed herself for being an idiot.
She’d come here for some company, to make up for all the lost time she’d spent hanging around alone in Otherworld. Cam was too complicated. Being involved with him would get her heart broken again.
She needed a distraction.
“Kiss me.” She reached up to grab Kon’s big shoulders.
He grinned, a sexy white swath that cut across his tan face. His green eyes sparkled with appreciation as he yanked her toward him and captured her mouth with his own. Hot and hard, he kissed her, and a jolt of lust streaked through her.
Yes. This was what she’d been missing. This was what she needed. Just as she opened her mouth to return his kiss, hard hands gripped her upper arms and lifted her away from Kon.
“Time to be going.” Cam’s
voice, rough before, was gravel at her ear as he all but carried her out of the bar. Kon yelled after them, but he shut up as soon as Cam swung his head around to pin the man with a gaze that promised pain.
“Hey!” she said as the bar door swung closed behind them. “I was having a good time.”
“I saw,” he growled down at her. “But it’s time to go. I’ll carry you back if I have to.”
The idea made Ana swallow hard as she looked up at him. He towered above her, his huge form cutting out the weak glow of the streetlights so that she couldn’t make out his expression. But his anger—that she could feel. It enclosed her as tightly as the humid air of the jungle.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand. His big stride ate up the muddy walkway, and she had to trot to keep up.
“What the hell is your problem?” Though she had to admit that part of her was thrilled he was dragging her out of the bar and that she was holding his hand. He was the one she really wanted. No question. She’d have really regretted it with Kon.
“You’re my problem.”
They’d reached the boat, and he lifted her by the waist to swing her on board. His hands burned into her skin. He hadn’t touched her since last night when she’d found him in the Caipora’s Den. He released her too soon and made quick work of untying the boat.
“Where are we going? We’re leaving Havre already?” she asked.
He grunted and pointed to some moorings a short way from shore. What a caveman. But her eyes followed him as he climbed quickly into the pilothouse and gunned the engines.
She stood, her breathing too heavy and a faint sweat on her skin as he maneuvered to the moorings. He killed the engines. Silence crashed around them. His speed made her dizzy as he tied off to the two moorings so that the boat wouldn’t drift—but then, he was performing a two-man job in the middle of a river.
The lights of Havre gleamed in the distance, fainter now. The little village looked romantic rather than shabby from far away.
She rubbed her arms, looking for a distraction from the heat between her thighs. It’d been too long. And earth was just too much. All the energy of the bar, all the joy and anger and lust that had bombarded her since she’d stepped into Havre, was wreaking havoc with her senses. It was nearly overwhelming.
“Why are we all the way out here?” she asked.
“Safer.” He was stomping about the boat, checking lines and the machinery, his movements too jerky and forceful for a normal nighttime routine. With a start, she realized he was as worked up as she was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cam threw the last of the lines into the hatch and stood over it, chest heaving. He clenched his fists, staring down into the blackness of the hold as he tried to get himself together.
He’d just dragged her out of the bar. Tossed her on the boat. What the hell had he been thinking?
But as soon as he’d seen that bastard’s mouth all over hers, something in him had snapped. It felt like he was only now gaining consciousness, his mind surfacing from the black tar of jealousy and rage that had swamped it.
Damn it, it wasn’t his business who she kissed. He stared down at his hands, too big and too strong. Strong enough to do damage. But he’d used them to drag her out of the bar and down the street. He had no idea how gentle he’d been. Probably not enough. It didn’t matter that she was immortal and would heal. He shouldn’t have done it.
He heaved a disgusted sigh. He was an asshole, and worse, he couldn’t seem to help it. He hadn’t deserved the affections of someone like her in the past, and he didn’t deserve them now.
“Why the hell did you haul me out of there?” Andrasta’s voice sent a jolt through him.
He looked up to see her standing only a couple feet from him, her back against the wall of the bunkhouse.
“You don’t care about me, so why do you care who I kiss?” she asked.
He shoved his hand through his hair, unsure of how to answer because he didn’t understand it himself. He did care about her, damn it, and it felt weird as hell. Gods shouldn’t have emotions, yet he had. And still did.
He had them because of her. He’d felt nothing before he’d met her all those years ago. She was brave, skilled, smart, and beautiful. More than that. Yet it wasn’t just those qualities that had drawn him to her. They were admirable qualities, but not enough to incite the birth of emotion in him.
The problem was, he had no idea why she had triggered it. It was the damned mystery of his life.
Worse, being with her for the last day and a half had reminded him how much he’d liked her company all those years ago. How much he liked her.
It was unnatural. He was unnatural. A failed god who felt emotion. It was a mess inside his head that he tried to silence however he could.
Except he couldn’t silence it with her.
And now she stood in front of him, tiny and curvy and strong and irresistible, her breath heaving. It shouldn’t have sounded louder than the howls of the animals in the jungle, but it did. It reached inside him and squeezed, drawing him to her.
He crowded her, pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her head.
“Cam?” Her voice trembled, but the way she licked her lips, the way her eyes heated, gave him all the clues he needed.
She wanted him. Hell, she was fresh from Otherworld. She wanted anyone. He remembered what it was like to arrive on earth and be sensitive to all the feelings that weren’t present in Otherworld. It made one hot as hell in a way that wasn’t entirely natural.
The knowledge that she’d have settled for the guy back at the bar didn’t deter him. She wanted anyone, and he wanted only her. It made a pang of loneliness shoot through his chest. But it wasn’t enough to push him away from her. He’d wanted only her since he’d seen her so many years ago. He’d wanted her enough to ruin her life, to change his.
“Andrasta,” he rasped.
Her face tilted up to meet his, desire in her eyes.
“It’s Ana,” she whispered, gripping his shirt with her small fists. Her cheeks flushed and she licked her lips again. “What are you doing to me?”
He leaned in, close enough to feel her breath. Held himself back with the knowledge that for her, it was just the effect of being on earth, being bombarded by all the feelings that were repressed in Otherworld. It wasn’t about him. But he couldn’t stop himself from answering. From prolonging this torture.
“Nothing. Ana.” He liked the way her name felt on his tongue. Andrasta was from the past. Ana—the same, but so different—was from now. He wanted to do all the things to her that he’d never had a chance to before.
His shaft pressed painfully hard against his fly, and his breath came harshly as he resisted the urge to pull her against him. There were so many reasons not to.
Like the fact that she didn’t stand a chance of getting out of Otherworld. Not unless he went back. And there was no way he’d be doing that. The mere idea sent a cold wave over him.
“You’re right, Ana. I don’t care about you.” The words scraped his throat, leaving scars that would stick. It was a bastard thing to say, but it was the only thing that would break the moment between them. “You were making a fucking scene in that bar, and I didn’t want to leave anything memorable for the gods to track us with if they followed your signal downriver.”
He pushed away from her, steeled his heart against the sight of her shocked and trembling against the wall of the bunkhouse.
He was a bastard. He’d never deserved to be a god, not with his fucked-up wiring, and he certainly didn’t deserve someone like Ana. He’d screwed her by getting her stuck in Otherworld. Then he’d run from his responsibilities there and run from her, abandoning her to a miserable fate.
From her perch on the boat’s roof, Ana eyed the jaguar lounging on the shore. He blended into the shade of the jungle.
The sound of Cam starting the engines had woken her a few hours ago, and she’d joined him on deck. She’d climbed onto the rooftop to act as look
out while he piloted them downstream. Now that she’d been gone from Otherworld for two nights—the longest she’d ever stayed away—she was sure the other gods knew she was gone. Getting to Druantia first was the only thing that would save her.
The sun beat upon her skin as she peered into the jungle, trying to keep her mind on her task and off of last night.
After Cam had delivered his parting shot and stormed off, she’d lain on the sparse mattress in the bunkhouse, in sheets that smelled of Cam, with the doors and windows open in an attempt to cool off.
The breeze hadn’t been nearly enough to douse the fire within her. Despite their past and the fact that he was a moody bastard, she wanted Cam. What she’d gotten was her own hand.
She’d tried to keep quiet, but at a certain point, she just hadn’t cared. Cam had been a jerk. Whether he meant what he said or not, she wasn’t sure. But she’d gotten off to the thought of him anyway. Like hate-fucking. But solo.
When she’d finally lain exhausted on the bed, with the worst of the damnable tension and arousal gone, she’d decided to pretend that their near-kiss had never happened.
“Why is your boat named the Clara G.?” She asked over her shoulder from where she sat on the roof. She couldn’t stand the silence or the tension anymore. Had Clara been a woman he’d once loved? She was just curious. Not jealous. There was a difference.
Fates, she was a bad liar, even to herself.
“It’s named after the original owner’s wife. Clara Goddard. First female pilot on the Yukon River. Bad luck to change a boat’s name. And I like the idea of her.”
Ana grinned, absentmindedly twirling an arrow in her hand. He liked tough women. No surprise, from such a tough man.
She watched the jungle pass by, enjoying the unfamiliar sight. If she longed for life and excitement, this was the place to get it.
“So your pharmaceutical company is close to a couple big cures?” she asked.
“Yeah. Medicines that could cause remission.”
“That’s really nice.”
“It’s fun. I like it down here, and looking for new plants for cures gives me something to do.”
