The Chosen

by Theresa Meyers

  “Did you have another suggestion, other than spending years building some sort of air flotation device to ferry us across?”

  Remington opened his mouth then snapped it shut, making his teeth click together. He paused for a moment. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Come here and I’ll cover your back.”

  This was not at all what he’d had in mind when he’d been thinking of them covering one another’s backs. China swept her hand over the surface of the rock, collecting a handful of the gelatinous muck. She slapped it onto his back and shoulders and began to spread it out. It clung to his skin and clothing, oddly warm and slippery feeling.

  “For the record, this is disgusting.”

  China snorted. “And getting sprayed down with viperanox guts isn’t?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Turn.”

  The only good thing about having China smear the slime over him was that she touched nearly every inch of him. Every gliding touch of her hands amped up his physical attraction to her another notch. “Make sure you get a nice thick layer on me,” he said as she rubbed the substance over his thighs. He was hoping she’d go higher.

  She arched a brow at him. “I think you can get the rest yourself. My turn.”

  For the first time since they had passed the River of Scorpions he had a reason to smile. He scooped up a handful of the nasty mucus. It oozed through his fingers and clung to his hands. He smeared it over her form, taking extra precaution to make sure there was a good layer of the stuff on her very nice breasts.

  China wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Now I’m wishing we had water.”

  “Then it does bother you more than you were letting on.”

  China glared at him. “I’m doin’ my best to make do with our situation. You could try the same.”

  The river was narrow enough, not more than a ten-foot stretch, but it was still too wide for a man to just jump across. Remington took their packs and threw them across. One made it; the other didn’t. It dissolved into a thin brown ooze on the surface of the acid.

  China groaned. “Please tell me that pack wasn’t the one with the codex and the statue.”

  “It wasn’t. That was our food supply.” He tossed the Blaster as well, landing it safely atop the remaining pack. He let out a sigh of relief.

  China caught his gaze. Panic was showing in her eyes. “How deep do you think it is?”

  Remington frowned. There was no way to really tell. “As long as this stuff works, it won’t matter. I can swim across . . . with you.”

  But that first step was a doozy. If the slime didn’t protect them, if it had just been a fluke, then he was likely to lose a limb and die a swift, horribly painful death. Of course, considering their surroundings, if he didn’t try it he was going to die a long, agonizingly protracted death by boredom and starvation.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Any last words you wish to say to me before I leap to my death?”

  Her mouth trembled a bit, and he instantly felt like a cad for teasing her. “Don’t say things like that. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to survive.”

  So much for being lighthearted, he thought. He made sure even the bottoms of his feet were covered in slime before he lowered his foot slowly into the river. The liquid was hot, but it didn’t sear his skin.

  He slipped his other foot in, prepared to tread water until she got in so he could swim across with both of them. His feet touched bottom, and the liquid reached up to his chest. Remington glanced back at her. “Come on in, the water’s fine.” He was braced for the mucus to wash away, and his skin and bones with it. “Hurry up.”

  China snorted. “If you don’t mind, I’ll hold back on hoopin’ and hollerin’ about it until we reach the other side.”

  She sat on the edge of the riverbank, took a few fast, deep breaths, then one big long draw of air, and held her breath as she slipped into his arms.

  Remington swam as fast as he could with a one-armed stroke across the river and hoisted China up on the bank. The slime dripped off of her, running in rivulets and puddling around her in silver pools. A burning sensation in his legs told Remington his own coating of slime was wearing off quickly.

  He pulled out of the river and looked at his legs. His pants were disintegrating below the knee and his boots were steaming. “That stuff worked better than I expected, but not quite good enough.”

  He tore off the boots and his socks, leaving his feet bare. “If Diego’s right, we’ve got a few more tests before we can reach the Book.”

  China groaned.

  The walking got tougher as they went on. The tunnels twisted, rose, and fell. The slime had dried to a thin crust that she picked at as they walked, trying to peel it off her skin. China was so damn hungry her stomach growled nearly as loudly as a hellhound, and they’d long since run out of both food and water. Her body was feeling the lack of food, and her feet were beginning to drag.

  The floor dipped below her foot, making China’s ankle roll under. At first she thought it was just the uneven surface of the paving stones. But as she caught herself to keep from stumbling, she heard something out of place in the cave-like room they’d just entered.

  Click.

  “Remington . . .”

  He turned and looked at her, swinging his coil illuminator in her direction. “Did I just hear something click?”

  She nodded and moved closer to him, grasping his arm as the rumble of stone grinding against stone echoed behind and above them. A limestone slab slid down and blocked the doorway behind them. From the ceiling dropped a series of shining obsidian blades on either side of the room. They began to swing in opposite directions, crisscrossing paths in the middle, making it impossible to dodge between one swipe of a lethal blade and the next.

  Remington held her back behind him, watching the movement of the blades that flashed each time they passed the beam of the coil illuminator. “We should have anticipated this and been more careful.”

  “So this is what the wind of blades meant,” China muttered. “At least they named it accurately.” The air puffed into her face, blowing her hair back each time a blade swung by.

  Remington watched the blades move, analyzed them. “There’s a space between them in the arc of their swing. If we time things just right, we should be able to make each space and move between them.”

  He grabbed her hand and crouched into a running stance. “We’ll make a run for it on the count of three. One. Two.”

  “No!” She yanked her hand from his. “There’s no clear path. Our movements have to be to a precise beat to make it through the blades.” She began to hum a tune as she watched the blades.

  He crossed his arms. “And you have a better method?”

  A glint of amusement lit her eyes. “I think we should go dancing.”

  He glanced at the blades and frowned. “Dancing? Now?”

  “It’d at least make death a bit more fun.”

  Remington sighed, grasped her hand lightly, and spun her about, putting his hand at the base of her spine and holding her arm extended to the side to waltz with her.

  “This what you had in mind?”

  “Well, it’d be better without the swinging blades of death, but I suppose it’s the only chance we’ll get.”

  He tracked the movement of the blades. “Keep humming that tune.”

  She obliged, and together they began to sway. Remington glanced at the blades, counting silently in his head to the time of her tune. One. Two. Three. One. He moved them forward. Two. Their feet came together, and he pressed his hand against her waist, signaling her to quickly turn as the first blade came swinging back. Three. He took a quick step backward as the blade finished passing behind them, waiting a beat before moving forward on the next step. The stream of air caused by the blade ruffled the back of his hair. That was close. Too close.

  Over and over they repeated their waltz step and turn, slowly dancing across the room in time to the soft hum of her
voice. Beneath his hand her body relaxed into the rhythm, and China closed her eyes, content to follow his lead.

  It would have been easier to get caught up in the moment, to believe they were just dancing at some social soirée among his college friends in the midst of a ballroom aglow with gaslight. Remington wished he could relax into it as she did, but he kept the relentless, repetitive count going in his head. Their very lives depended on it. So he did the next best thing and looked his fill at the smooth planes of her cheeks and the dark fan of lashes resting against them. She looked, in a word, angelic. His gaze dipped lower to the lush mouth pressed into a near kiss as she hummed.

  And with the passing of each blade he realized how much he liked having China in his arms just like this. Enough that he could easily imagine them in a different place and time having a life together. Pure fantasy, but why not indulge himself if he was more likely to get hacked to pieces than have it become reality. Five more blades to go.

  Her body was so light, so agile, and fit his hands so perfectly. They moved in sync, their bodies understanding the motion of the dance now, so he no longer had to count. And for a brief bit of time, Remington relaxed into the moment too.

  The last blade passed them, and he bent to capture her mouth in a kiss. Her lips buzzed against his as she hummed. Her eyes flew open at the touch of his mouth against hers as they came to a stop. Even though she’d stopped humming, the buzz moved through his system. He wanted her. Plain. Simple. Now.

  A confused and bewildered look flitted through her eyes, and she pushed back from him. Her reserve fell firmly in place. “You’re a fantastic dancer,” she said, her voice soft and a bit wistful.

  “It helps having a good partner who’s light on her feet.”

  A blush infused her cheeks. She turned and started walking down the tunnel on the other side of the room of blades. She turned. “Are you coming?”

  “Just taking a moment to catch my breath.”

  The truth was Remington was enjoying the view. He watched the fabric of her dress shift over her ass as she moved and decided maybe her winning an argument now and again wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It had gotten them through the room without being cut to shreds or losing anything vital—that had to count for something.

  But he was growing tired of the journey. He was tired, hungry, and cold. He stopped in his tracks for a moment. Cold? That didn’t seem right at all.

  “Hey, Remington . . .” she called from up ahead in the tunnel. “You might want to come and see this.”

  The moment they entered the next chamber, he knew something was off. The walls themselves seemed to glitter, and the floor was slick. There was no exit. It was a dead end. At least to the untrained Hunter that’s what it would look like. Remington knew better. There had to be an exit. Somewhere. “Watch your step. I think it’s ice,” he warned.

  China exhaled, and her breath turned into a cloud of white. Her skin shrunk, and a shiver wracked her frame. But Remington was far worse off. Without his shirt his chest and back were exposed to the bitter chill as were his bare feet. “What is this?”

  “I’m guessing it’s the place of biting cold.”

  Her jaw began to quiver, her teeth clicking together. “Looks like Hell frozen over.”

  Remington shot her a smile. “Then we must be getting close to the Book.”

  But it was no laughing matter to her. Unless they got out of this ice box and soon, they’d freeze to death. Her stomach was already quivering, despite her rubbing her arms with her hands to create frictional heat. “How do we get out?”

  Remington’s lips looked different. They were losing color. Turning blue.

  “Until we can figure that out, come here.” He motioned with his hand for her to come closer.

  China didn’t hesitate. Desperate to conserve heat, she cuddled into him. “I wish we were in Arizona right now.” Her body wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “Think of the sunshine warm on your back.” His voice was so smooth, so inviting that China closed her eyes and imagined the warmth of the sun hitting her back and her neck. She drifted off for a bit, relaxing against the heat.

  Remington was fairly certain his balls were about to freeze off completely. If it hadn’t been for China snuggled up against his chest and groin, they very well might have. He shivered as he kept looking for some sign, any sign marking the exit.

  He nestled his cheek against her head, curling himself around her to keep her warm. And if he were to be honest, because she felt damn good. Her hair still smelled faintly of vanilla, but also of the water from the river and of woodsmoke from the torches the bone warriors had used to light the temple. He couldn’t do anything about their situation, but he could enjoy what he could of their current predicament.

  He rubbed his hands over her arms. Even when freezing cold they were silky smooth. She fidgeted, moving a little, her thigh brushing up against his groin. The heat there was instant, and he grew hard just thinking about the texture of the skin on her thighs. Stop it, he firmly told himself.

  Kissing her on the submarine had been a bad idea. Hell, this entire trip had been a bad idea, but he was stuck now. Well and truly stuck. And the only way out was to keep pushing forward.

  He slid his foot back and forth over the ice, brushing the layer of frost away from the ice beneath. A faint shadow caught his eye. Remington straightened, jostling China awake with the movement.

  “Wh-what is it?” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

  “It looks like a triple cross, just down there. Or am I seeing things?”

  China breathed on the spot on the ice, rubbing it vigorously with her hand to get a better look. “It is!” Buried there in the ice was a wooden triple cross.

  “So what do we do?”

  Normally Remington would have said dig, but there was no point. “Hand me the Blaster.”

  China dug it out of the pack and handed it to him. Remington fired it up and waited for it to charge. The hum alone made him feel warmer. He took aim at the spot in the floor, made sure she was back away from where the edge of the blast would hit, took aim, and fired. ZZZZoottt!

  The floor collapsed in a rush of water, sending them spinning down as if they were in a drain. They came to rest on a smooth stone floor, sopping wet.

  Remington laughed. “You wanted water to wash off with. There you go.”

  China smacked him on the arm with her hand. “You did that on purpose!”

  “How? Did you see any other means of getting through that floor?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you complaining about? We got out didn’t we? You’re not cold anymore, are you?”

  “No, but I’m wet.”

  Remington did have to admit she was right in that regard. The black dress molded itself to her body, outlining every dip and curve of her very female form. A gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with food bit hard in his belly.

  He forced himself to focus. “The sooner we get up and get moving, the sooner we’ll be out of here.” His tone was short, abrupt even, but he didn’t like losing control of himself around her.

  “How do you know that?”

  He whipped around and glared at her. “I just know.”

  “You think you’re so superior!”

  “Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I spent all my efforts trying to measure up.”

  She stared at him blankly for a moment. “Measure up?”

  He gave her a boyish grin. “Winn was the oldest—the apple of my pa’s eye. He could always run faster, shoot farther, and was stronger.”

  “Well, of course, he was older.”

  Remington brushed aside her comment with a flick of his hand and kept going. If she was going to understand this, she had to hear all of it. “Colt was my mother’s favorite. She made no bones about it, and neither did my pa. He was the one my pa let stay home. She’d bake Colt cookies when I was with my pa and Winn out on hunting trips, field-stripping weapons, cleaning their gear, knee
-deep in battling Darkin.”

  China’s face fell. “You never saw how much they loved you.”

  “Oh, I knew they loved me, intellectually speaking, but I didn’t always feel it. And since I couldn’t be the center of either of their affections, I decided I’d be the best educated of my brothers. The most in command of myself and my destiny. I would not be dictated by the Legion like Winn, nor would I strive to be the spitting image of my pa, like Colt. I was going to be my own man.”

  “That’s why you’re so damn hot and cold.”

  He locked gazes with her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “When you’re killin’ things in the hard places where death puts on a staring match with you, you turn ice-cold. Vacant. It’s like all the life gets sucked right out of you, and your eyes look like nobody’s home.”

  Remington frowned. He had never looked at himself at those times, so it was difficult to argue the veracity of her claims.

  “And when you kiss me . . .” A delightful blush infused her skin. “Well, you’re just about the hottest thing there is. All intensity. Like staring at the sun. Both sides of you are deadly—just hot and cold.”

  “I’ve always been in the middle. I was born there.”

  China grabbed hold of his arm and looked up into his face. “But it doesn’t make you less. It makes you more. Don’t you see? Colt is ruled by his passions and doesn’t always think before he acts. Winn is too busy thinking everything through to commit until it’s nearly too late. You are the balance. You complete them.” She paused for a moment, her eyes turning a shimmering silver. “You complete me.”

  Her comment floored him.

  He’d never considered them together as a couple, if only because she was Darkin and he was a Hunter. But what if? What if it were possible?

  Perhaps if they’d been in a different time and place it would have been. He liked her. He truly did. And she certainly knew how to engage his baser instincts, as well as his intellect. But was it enough to close such a huge gap? Because despite all those things, he didn’t know if he completely trusted her.