There were more similarities between her and the ever-reckless Calistos than he had thought, but he had the feeling that unlike her brother, her power wasn’t over the air.
It was something far darker.
And far more deadly.
Chapter 5
She was beginning to believe her name was Calindria. The more this god of death said it, the more it felt right for her. Fitted her. She was also beginning to believe that she had known him once, so long ago the memory of him was a dim flicker in a far recess of her mind.
What she couldn’t bring herself to believe were the things he kept telling her.
Calindria moved forwards, exploring the new cavern. It was enormous. The ceiling had fallen away in places, formed rubble and boulders three times as large as the seven-foot-plus male who stalked her. She glanced back at him. Was he an illusion?
He was as dark as a nightmare, glowered at her whenever she made him keep his distance or said something he didn’t like. His silver irises kept gaining a strange ethereal blue shine too, something she was coming to associate with his mood. Whenever it darkened, his eyes gained that blue fire. In the last few hundred feet of the tunnel they had just exited, she had decided to attempt to decipher what feelings made his eyes change, so she could use them as a sort of emotional barometer.
A way of judging whether he was liable to want to hurt her again.
She was no fool.
He had wanted to hurt her when she had pushed him too far, had only reined himself in when she had spoken his name. Another thing she filed away. There was power in his name when she wielded it.
She glanced at him again, found him studying the ceiling of the cavern, his eyes brightening as he pinpointed the places where the winged creatures hung from it by their bare feet or loitered on ledges, watching them. Once, she had been held in a cage in a cavern more like this one, where she’d had company other than the two guards. The vicious black beasts had regularly flown to her cage to attempt to reach her, their tiny sharp claws catching her flesh at times as she had tried to evade them. The guards had always chased them off for her.
She’d had the impression the creatures had wanted to eat her.
Well, if they tried now, she would kill them.
Calindria looked at her hands, closed her eyes as she saw another flash of the guard she had touched turning to ashes, withering before her.
“Is something wrong?” Thanatos’s deep bass voice rolled over her like a wave, one that washed away the sickening memory that haunted her.
She shook her head and then frowned and whirled to face him when she realised he was closer to her now. Her eyes dropped to the smaller distance between them.
“I told you to keep your distance,” she snapped, panic rippling through her to shorten her temper.
He arched a black eyebrow at her and huffed as he backed off a step. His huge onyx wings shifted and he stretched them slightly, busied himself with preening them as she went back to looking around the cavern, seeking a path to take. Only she couldn’t concentrate while Thanatos was stroking his hands over his feathers, carefully tending to them, as if they were precious. Questions bubbled up, ones she wanted to voice but held back, because she didn’t want to get comfortable around this male.
Did his feathers feel soft? How strong were his wings? What was it like to fly? Did he love his wings as much as it looked like he did?
Would it be such a bad thing to be more comfortable around him, to trust him?
The answer to that question hit her hard. Yes. Yes, it would be bad to trust him. She didn’t know him, still wasn’t sure whether or not he was with the enemy, or a fabrication created by this realm as another form of torment.
Until she was sure of him, she wouldn’t trust him.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he trusted her.
She hadn’t failed to notice how on edge he was around her, how whenever he gazed at her he would go from relaxed to tense, would seem shocked at times, as if he couldn’t believe he had been lowering his guard around her. She didn’t think that reaction was because of this realm, or because he needed to be alert at all times, prepared for those who were no doubt looking for her by now, aware of her escape.
She had the feeling that he didn’t want to trust her, just as she didn’t want to trust him.
He didn’t want to be comfortable around her either.
Calindria began walking again, frowned as the gentle plip of water striking something reached her ears and followed the sound.
Thanatos stalked after her, her constant shadow. At least he kept his distance this time, although she wasn’t sure that was a blessing when he spoke.
“Your family did not abandon you. They sent me to find you.”
She scowled at the boulders that blocked her path. “You have told me that many times now. You should try telling me something new. Perhaps I would believe that.”
She grunted as she scrambled over the first huge rock, struggling to find purchase, and eyed the next one. Her legs were getting stronger, the water she had imbibed reviving her and the exercise she’d had putting life back into her muscles. She glanced at the dark grey cloth wrapped around her right hand as she reached for the next boulder. The deep cut across her palm still stung from time to time, but she felt sure the bleeding had stopped now and it was healing.
“Calistos did not die.” Thanatos’s baritone echoed around the cavern, stirring the creatures. “You did.”
Calindria stilled with her hand on the boulder, twisted at the waist and looked back at him where he stood on the ground below her. His handsome face was deadly serious, his black eyebrows pinched together above his silver eyes, his broad mouth set in a flat and unyielding line.
She frowned as she pushed away from the boulder and came to face him, looking down at him. “I do not feel dead. I do not know what dead feels like, but I still feel alive.”
It dawned on her that this was the reason her father had sent Thanatos to find her—because he was the god of death.
She stared at him, struggling to take in the fact that she was apparently dead.
“I have been to the Elysian Fields many times… have seen those who call it home and have even spoken with some of them.” She eased back against the boulder, resting for a moment as she tried to make sense of what Thanatos had told her. “All of them had appeared real enough, as if they were flesh and blood… but while they could touch each other, they could not touch me. They were as ghosts to me, but solid to another of the dead. If what you say is true, then I should be as a ghost to this world too… yet I am not. I can touch and be touched.”
His broad bare chest heaved in a deep sigh. “While what you say is the truth, it does not apply to you. Your soul was not weighed by Hades. It never reached your father. Those in the Elysian Fields are souls, judged and sent there by Hades… but you appear to be something else.”
Something not a soul and not alive. That wasn’t a comfort at all.
Calindria glanced at her hands again, shook them and tried to ignore the feeling in her gut that said her power might come from this death she had experienced. She turned away from Thanatos too, clambered up the boulder and then the next one, scrambling for the top she could see just ahead of her. The sound of water dripping grew louder, encouraging her, giving her the strength to keep going.
Her hands and feet were sore, and she was tired when she finally reached the top. Sweat trickled down her spine as she hauled herself over the final boulders and picked her way down the other side. The moment she was within reach of the flat ground, she took in her surroundings.
Paused as she spotted a cenote off to her right, rimmed with stalagmites in places. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, their rough faces slick with water that dripped from their tips into the pool below.
Calindria was sure she had never seen so much water. She hurried down the boulders and quickly crossed the flat ground to it as Thanatos’s wings beat the air behind her.
“Wait!�
She glared at his hand and backed away. “What—”
Every muscle in her body locked up tight, clamping down on her bones as Thanatos drew his enormous sword. Fear crashed over her, threatening to sweep her away, but it was quick to fade as rather than stabbing her, he stormed past her and jabbed at the water with his blade.
She frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Not everything in this realm is a lie,” he growled and kept plunging his sword into the dark water. “Some things are very real.”
She was beginning to think he was very real.
“It’s only water,” she started but fell silent when he glared at her.
“I encountered a great serpent in a pool like this… lying in wait.” He huffed and returned to his mission to stab every molecule of water in the cenote.
“What happened to it?” She edged a little closer to the pool, curious as to whether there was such a beast hiding in this one, just waiting to strike at her or Thanatos.
He looked at her again, his tone blunt. “I killed it and I ate it. It did not taste good.”
Her stomach growled and her eyes widened as his gaze fell to it. She covered it with her hands, feeling a little like a fool as she tried to hide from him the fact she was hungry. Or perhaps she was trying to hide her bare skin from him. Whenever he gazed at her, whenever his eyes raked over her body, she felt it like a caress, and it was beginning to unsettle her.
“When was the last time you ate?” He sheathed his sword, apparently satisfied that there wasn’t a monster in the pool.
She shrugged. “They rarely fed me and I am not sure how much time has passed since they last offered me a scrap of their food.”
He tilted his head back and eyed the chittering creatures loitering near the ceiling. “I could get you food.”
She wanted to say no, but the thought of any food, even food that didn’t taste good, was too appealing. “How will you cook it?”
He looked at her again, his black eyebrows dipping low, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. “Cook it?”
Her hand lifted to her mouth as a thought passed through her head. “Don’t tell me you ate that serpent… raw.”
He hefted his shoulders in a shrug, moving his wings with the stiff motion, and looked anywhere but at her. She supposed she couldn’t judge him for eating what he could get, but still. He might not have his limits, but she did. Eating cooked meat was one thing, eating raw meat was another thing entirely. She wanted to vomit at just the thought.
Aware he was growing awkward as she stared at him, she shifted her gaze to the water, bent over and waved her hand through it. It was on the cool side, but it would do. She scooped some into her hands. It was clear too. She lifted her head and looked at the ceiling. The rock had to be filtering it somehow. She scooped more up and drank it, her awareness of Thanatos increasing as he leaned over the pool and drank too, and didn’t stop there.
She tried not to stare as he scooped more water up and washed his face with it, as he ran his hands over his raven hair to tousle the thick, short strands. He made it impossible to tear her gaze away when he swept water over his shoulders and chest, washed his arms, ridding his body of black dust.
Good gods.
She swallowed, her mouth turning dry, as he stood and ran his hand over his hair again, water droplets chasing over his powerful torso, clinging to his muscles in places.
His silver gaze slowly slid to her, widening slightly, and she swore in a split-second before she dropped her gaze to the water, a hint of colour touched his cheeks.
Calindria stared at her reflection, trembling slightly as she listened to Thanatos moving away from her, as she tried to shake the thrill that had chased through her upon seeing him wash himself, and the heat that had followed when she had drunk her fill of his body.
As the distance between them grew again, her reflection came into focus, and she frowned at it. She had been right earlier. She was older than she had thought, and it made sense now. If she had been trapped in this realm for six centuries, then she was close to eight hundred years old now, her youthful years left behind her long ago.
She looked herself over, her eyebrows dipping low as she saw all the ingrained dirt on her legs and her stomach, and her arms. An urge to wash herself suddenly surged through her, and she had the terrible feeling it was because of her company. She didn’t want to look like some sort of wild creature in front of Thanatos.
She stepped into the water.
“What are you doing?” Thanatos boomed.
She tensed and jerked to face him. Blinked. “Washing myself.”
He was quick to turn his back on her, went so still she was sure he could pass for a statue. She kept an eye on him as she removed her makeshift bandage. The cut was healing as she had thought. She washed it and then the cloth, thought about bandaging her hand again and then decided against it. The wound was no longer bleeding and it would heal faster with air getting to it.
She used the rag to wash her arms and chest, and her face, and then scooped water over herself. It ran down her legs and splashed into the pool, and Thanatos’s shoulders tensed whenever the sound of it filled the cavern.
Part of her felt sure he would peek, knew the guards who had been her only company for centuries would have if she had bathed in front of them.
Only he didn’t.
And for some reason, that had her softening towards him.
But she couldn’t let him see how touched she was by the fact he had not only repeatedly shown concern for her welfare, but was being honourable too, giving her privacy at a time she knew she should feel vulnerable. Only she didn’t, not with him.
If he saw that she was softening towards him, then he would try to convince her to let him fly with her, and she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let him touch her.
Because she really didn’t want to hurt him.
She finished washing herself, stepped out of the water and waited for it to settle before she checked her reflection again. She was cleaner now, but her blonde hair was still matted and filthy. It irritated her as she tried to untangle some of the knots in it, hung heavily against her back and stuck to her damp skin.
She looked at Thanatos.
Or more specifically, his sword.
“Lend me your weapon.” She turned to face him.
He twisted at the waist to look at her. “Lend you my what now?”
“Your sword.” She pointed at it where it hung from his hip.
He glared at her, a flicker of blue emerging in his silver irises, and his hand went to the grip of his weapon in a very protective gesture, as if the thought of letting her near it disturbed him or set him on edge for some reason. “Why do you need my sword?”
“I do not intend to kill you, if that is what you are thinking.” She grabbed the matted length of her hair and lifted it. “I intend to kill this.”
“You want to cut your hair with my sword.” He frowned harder, and she sighed and rolled her eyes, because he was making a big deal about nothing.
“It will not blunt it.”
He huffed. “That is not my fear.”
“I said I would not kill you.” She risked a step towards him, eyeing the weapon again.
His long fingers flexed tightly around the hilt, making her feel that if she wanted it, she was going to have to prise it from his grip. That wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t touch him. It also made it clear just how little Thanatos trusted her.
“I doubt you could,” he scoffed and chuckled softly. “You are so small.”
She scowled at him now. “I am not small.”
She might barely reach his chest and her build was far slighter, but that meant nothing. She was powerful, more powerful than he knew. If she wanted the sword, she could get it. The darkness purred that at her. Thanatos wouldn’t be able to stop her. All it would take was one touch.
She shut down that line of thought. Never. She didn’t trust Thanatos, but he had been kind to her. So far.
He did his best to make her remove that caveat she had tacked onto her thought by lifting his right hand and doing something with the thick black metal vambrace that covered his left forearm. Part of the design near his elbow slid upwards towards his biceps and silver glinted, catching her eye.
A blade.
He had another blade in his vambrace. What a clever little god he was.
He finished sliding it free and walked towards her, but stopped as she backed away, maintaining the distance. Rather than trying to hand it to her, he placed it on the ground and moved away from her. She hurried forwards and snatched the short dagger.
Thanatos watched her closely as she inspected the blade he had offered, as she pressed her finger to the sharp tip of it. “Careful.”
Calindria eased the pressure of her touch, not wanting to cut herself again, and grabbed a fistful of hair, dragging it over her shoulder. When she sawed at it with the blade, the strands easily separated and relief swept through her as she tossed the first length of hair aside. She attacked the rest, cutting it just below her shoulders, not wanting to take too much off it so she didn’t risk catching her skin by needing to use the blade high up her back near her neck.
When she was done, she looked at her reflection in the pool again, breathed a sigh of relief as she felt pounds lighter and a cool breeze caressed her back, drying her damp skin. Skin that felt too tight as Thanatos gazed at her.
She swallowed as she straightened and stared right into his eyes. What did he make of her now that she was clean and her hair was a little more tamed?
He held his hand out to her, silver gaze holding a flicker of blue that she was sure had nothing to do with anger or irritation this time. That gaze scalded her as she braved a step towards him, growing more intense and sending another wave of shivers tripping over her bare skin as she risked a second step, closing the distance between them.
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