The Mythean Arcana Box Set

by Linsey Hall

  When she’d first learned that Cam might still be alive, she’d been afraid he’d want to kill her for shooting him with the arrows. Over the years, she’d repressed all the good memories of him and focused on the bad. After the nightmare she’d gone through, she hadn’t been able to help herself. But maybe repressing the good hadn’t been fair to Cam. “He doesn’t. And I’m fine.”

  “How is Camulos?”

  “Um, not bad.”

  “Not bad? You’re holding out on me. What’s going on? Come on, ‘fess up.”

  How did she even start? “He’s complex.”

  “Complex?”

  “We’ve got history. You know that.”

  “You still have feelings for him. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “You’ve got great hearing tonight.”

  “Try morning. It’s three AM here in Scotland.”

  “Damn, sorry about that. I guess with everything that’s going on here, I lost track of your time.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Tell me about Camulos. He was your one big love.”

  “That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t love. I was too young for love. And I’m not looking for that, anyway. I want to experience everything I missed out on while I was trapped in Otherworld.”

  “Maybe you’re not picking the right things to make up for. There’s something to be said for quality over quantity. What I’ve got with Warren is incredible. Way better than partying and hookups. I want something like that for you, too.”

  So do I. To be loved like Esha is would be amazing. Ana started at the thought, then crushed it. “Well, it’s not what I want.”

  “Liar. You just don’t know how to cope with strong feelings anymore, after being locked up in Otherworld for so long. You say you want to party and hook up with a bunch of guys, and that’s great and all, but I think you’re hiding.”

  She bristled, then fought it back. Esha was just trying to help. But she wasn’t right about her. “It doesn’t matter anyway. For me to be able to escape Otherworld, he would have to go back.”

  “What?” Esha cried.

  Ana relayed what Cam had told her about the power balance in Otherworld requiring a war god of appropriate skill. It made her chest feel heavy and her mind feel cluttered just to think about it.

  “There’s no way he’d be willing to return?” Esha asked.

  “No way. And no surprise. It’s utterly awful there.”

  “Damn. That’s just… damn.”

  “Yeah. Now you see why it doesn’t matter if I did want something more. It’s impossible when one of us is going to end up in Otherworld.”

  “Look, if there’s anything I can do, let me know,” Esha said. “And you know I love you. I think you should have other people who love you too.”

  Ana’s heart thudded with pathetic gratitude to her only real friend. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, well, come see me soon.”

  “I will. We’re actually headed that way. We fly out tomorrow.”

  They said their goodbyes and Ana pressed End. She stared down at the phone, wondering if Esha was right about her not being able to cope with real feelings.

  No way. She was coming to earth because she missed all that.

  And even if the idea of Cam caring for her made her heart ping around inside her chest like a pinball gone mad, it didn’t matter because one of them had to end up in Otherworld.

  But she wasn’t the same girl she’d once been, who’d thirsted for love and approval. She was a goddess, even if she didn’t really want to be one, and she was tough and independent and she didn’t rely on anyone. She realized that she was pounding her fist into her palm in time to her exclamations and stopped.

  Loving someone was the worst way to rely on them. She relied only on herself. That’s who she was.

  And she was going to go into that bar to pick up a man and prove Esha wrong. She shoved the phone into her pocket and spun, pushing open the door. A blast of noise hit her.

  Shit, she was being an idiot. She scowled and let the door swing shut, dropping her back into the quiet dark of the alley. Of course she wasn’t going to go in there and pick up some guy while the gods could possibly be on her tail. She should head back. And if she were honest with herself, she didn’t really want some other guy.

  She huffed, then set off down the alley toward the main street, turning onto the boardwalk toward their hotel. A stumbling pair of drunken shifters lurched in front of her, their tails hanging down behind them as if they’d let their inner animal escape a bit.

  The roar of a crowd caught her attention, and she glanced left. There was an empty lot situated between two buildings, a fight ring in the middle, like the one in the Caipora’s den. It must have been darkened when she passed by it the first time. Lights now shined down on an empty ring, but from the sound of the cheers, the fighters were making their way to it.

  She wanted to step off the boardwalk and wind her way through the crowd toward the ring so that she could feel the action and energy in the air. So that she could feel something other than the angst and desire that Cam dredged up in her. The din of the jeering Mytheans drowned out the howls of the jungle creatures. Maybe it could drown out the howling in her mind.

  She’d just turned her head to keep moving toward the hotel when she caught sight of a flash of familiar ginger hair. Cam was climbing into the ring, his chest bare and his fists wrapped in white.

  She stepped off the boardwalk and headed toward the ring. With some threatening glares, she managed to push her way to the front, so close that she could see the dark splotches on the floor of the ring. Blood from previous matches.

  Her eyes raked Cam’s form, desperately tracing over the muscles that curved and cut across his bare torso. The lights gleamed off of his wide chest and caressed his chiseled arms and shoulders.

  Ana dragged her gaze away from Cam to look for his opponent. After a moment, an enormous man climbed into the ring. He looked to be part giant, at least seven and a half feet tall and half as wide. The crowd roared.

  “Cam.” The whisper slipped through her lips before she could stop herself.

  He looked toward her as if he’d heard her, his gaze finding hers across the night. His eyes flashed. He turned to face his opponent.

  Her heart clutched. She glanced nervously at the giant. But Cam was big too. Probably only a foot shorter than his opponent. All gods were bigger than the average mortal. Except her, the formerly mortal halfling.

  He stood in his corner, as relaxed as if he was on the beach, and watched the other fighter. His slate eyes were calm, his pale skin and red hair gleaming in the light. He lived out here in the jungle, all northern warrior in the southern heat.

  He would be fine. Just fine. But she clutched her bow all the same, seeking what little comfort she could.

  The screech of a whistle cut through the night, and Cam strolled to the center of the ring to face his opponent. The fight started too soon, before she could brace herself for the smack of fists on flesh.

  Cam took the first punch, an anvil to his shoulder that sent him back a step. He grinned. They circled each other, and Ana’s heart lodged itself uncomfortably in her throat.

  Cam landed a punch to the giant’s right cheek, another to his midsection. He was more than holding his own in the fight, despite their difference in size, and Ana found lust competing with her fear. His face looked mean, ready to hurt, and a different kind of fear crept along her nerve endings. The good kind.

  She shivered, drawn unconsciously toward the ring. He was so big. So dangerous. So everything. Her hand tightened in a fist of want.

  She was so screwed.

  ~~~

  Cam’s muscles sang and sweat dripped into his eyes as he delivered the punch he was sure would end the fight. The big bastard across from him reeled on his feet, suspended almost comically, and then crashed to the ground. Cam stood over him, breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

  This hadn’t cleared his mind as he�
�d hoped it would. It might have worked, if he hadn’t seen Ana standing outside of the ring.

  “Round goes to Cam!” a deep voice hollered from the corner of the ring.

  It was time to get the hell out of there and away from this crowd. Away from Ana. He climbed between the ropes just as his opponent was dragged beneath them. He grabbed his shirt from where he’d left it draped over one of the lower ropes and pushed his way through the crowd so that Ana couldn’t catch him if she followed.

  The aggression of the fight, the bloodlust, still rode him hard. Combined with everything he was still feeling, he needed a few more minutes before he saw her again. He was starting to lose control where she was concerned. Combined with his high from the fight, it was a dangerous combination.

  He unwound the wrapping on his hands as his long strides ate up the street. The tiny hotel lobby was empty and he slipped up the stairs. When he finally made it to the shower, he groaned as the water poured down over him. He shouldn’t feel old. But he did. His shoulder and jaw ached where his opponent had popped him, and his brain felt beaten up from the ride he’d taken it on these last couple days with Ana.

  “Cam?”

  At the sound of Ana’s voice, Cam dropped his head back beneath the spray and squeezed his eyes shut. She was back already. Damn it, he would have to go out there and keep his hands off of her. He dragged a hand through his hair, shook his head violently.

  There was nowhere else to go, so he stepped out of the shower and dragged his dirty jeans back on, ignoring the shirt that was too streaked with sweat and boat grease to consider wearing. He’d been in such a damn rush he’d left his change of clothes on the bed.

  He walked into the room to see her sitting on the bed. She rose from her seat on one of the beds and looked at him with big eyes that raced over his body, searching for wounds from the fight. The dim bulb that hung in the center of the room cast a soft glow on her shining golden hair.

  Her gaze snapped to the side of his face and she approached him, standing so close he could smell the fresh scent of her. She reached up with a tentative hand to stroke his injured cheek. He stood, his muscles tense and his breath stuck in his lungs.

  He ducked his head and hissed at the contact.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re hurt.”

  It wasn’t pain that forced the noise from him. It was the touch of her skin on his. The heat of her so close.

  His eyes met hers, and what he saw within had his blood pressure spiking and his fists clenching.

  She wanted him. He’d seen it in the eyes of all the women who approached him after a match, wanting to see what a man like him was really like. This time, though, it felt different. There was a desperation and a heat in her eyes that wasn’t entirely normal. She wanted him, yes. But her body was still reacting to earth. She wanted anybody. Needed anybody.

  He wanted to be that anybody. Even if just for tonight. Even if she was too good for him. The thought made a spike of pleasure shoot through him. It took everything he had not to reach out to her. To touch. To taste.

  To take.

  He spun from her. “Go to sleep, Ana.”

  He stalked to small sink, bent over it, and gripped the enameled metal so hard he feared he’d crush it. He prayed to gods he’d never worshiped that she’d go to sleep. That she’d stop looking at him with hungry eyes.

  He didn’t hear her footsteps, and after a moment he couldn’t help but let his gaze be dragged around to her. She still stood in the center of the room, one hand rubbing her arm absentmindedly while she stared at him with her bottom lip bit between her teeth.

  “Fuck,” he rasped.

  What she wanted was plain on her face. What he wanted was plain on her face.

  Pulled by the magnet of her, he strode to her, reached out and yanked her to him. Hard. He delighted in the gasp that escaped her lips just before he claimed them with his own.

  His kiss was rough, lacking any finesse. It was made of the want and frustration and anger that propelled him toward her, made him desperate to feel her with his hands, his lips, his cock.

  Her moan feathered over his lips and her hands fisted in his hair so hard it stung, which only propelled him farther down the rabbit hole of his complex desires. If he made this just about her, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t deserve her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Wait.” Ana tore her mouth from Cam’s, mourning that last delicious taste of him. She panted, trying to get hold of her mind as his hard, rough hands ran down her body. “This is—is a bad idea.”

  She knew it was, deep inside, but all her arguments were starting to sound really frail.

  “Shh.” His raspy voice at her ear made her knees tremble and her skin prickle. He held her head still in his big hand and bit her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. “You need this. I know that you need this.”

  Fates, she did. She wanted him. Cam, the man who had screwed up her life and stuck her in Otherworld. But more than that, she was burning up inside from the unholy lust that had gradually been building since she’d come to earth, stoked by the heat of Cam’s hot looks and touch. Trying to slake it with other men had only left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Now it felt like a live thing within her body, demanding to be fed.

  “We can’t get involved. This will only end badly. One of us will end up in Otherworld. If this becomes something…”

  “Bullshit,” he rasped. “This isn’t a thing.”

  He didn’t sound like he believed his own words. He leaned his forehead against hers. His chest rose and fell in deep bellows, pressing in tantalizing rhythm against her chest. She did this to him? Made him want her so bad? Shiver.

  He felt as big and as intimidating as before. But his immense body was strung taut with desire for her. The idea made her so hot that she swore her pussy vibrated with it.

  “This isn’t an us,” he said. “It’s one night, nothing past it. This is just me, doing something for you. Let me make you feel good.” He dragged his teeth down her neck, a spike of pleasure-pain that made her shudder. “No reciprocation required, and we’ll worry about the future when it comes.”

  “Out of the goodness of your heart?” Her laugh was a little desperate and a lot wanting. And could she really ignore all that the future held?

  If it meant a night with him, then yes.

  “The goodness of my heart’s got nothing to do with it. ’Cause I can’t take your needy looks anymore. The heat in your eyes. The way you smell when you get hot. It’s driving me up the fucking wall.”

  A low moan rose in her throat; she forced it down. To make this big, hard, scary man feel all that?

  “Just let me touch you. Make you feel good. Then we walk away. Tomorrow is normal.”

  “Nothing for you?” Did he really mean he didn’t want her to see to his pleasure too? Did she even want that? To just take from him?

  “Oh, there’ll be something in it for me.” His hands bit into her hips, almost too hard. But hard enough to tell her he was going over a ledge.

  Go over. Don’t make me ask you for this terrible thing.

  “I’ll make you feel good,” he said. “Real good. And when you come back down, that fucking lust will be out of your eyes and the want will be out of the rolling of your hips when you walk and I can get some fucking peace.”

  Whoa.

  He ran his hard hands down to her hips and pulled them flush against the erection that burned through the heat of their clothes. He made her feel what she did to him, and she liked it.

  “Say yes, Ana.” His voice was the roughest, most delicious sandpaper against her skin, lightly dragging until goose bumps appeared in its wake.

  She moaned, her stupid arguments long fled from her mind, and hoped he’d take it for an assent without her having to verbalize her fall into idiocy.

  “I gotta hear the word,” he growled into her ear, punctuating the statement with a thrust of hips.

  Evil man. Don’t make me say it. Just
do it so I don’t have to feel complicit in my own stupid decisions.

  “Last call.” He bit her shoulder, hard enough to threaten, to hurt. It only made her desire flare higher. To know what he offered. What he promised.

  “Yes.” The word was high, reedy with want.

  He growled his satisfaction—a low, terrifying, hellishly arousing sound—and scooped her off her feet and tossed her on the bed.

  The mattress bounced beneath her, too thin and as cheap as the rest of the seedy hotel room. He towered above her, broad chest heaving and muscles tensed. Desire and need shone on his face and a shiver raced through her.

  She’d had plenty of partners—she was two thousand years old, after all. But never one as big or powerful or commanding as the one towering over her and sliding the belt from his jeans.

  She swallowed nervously and scooted back on the bed, unable to deny that fear spurred the heat racing through her brain. He wouldn’t hurt her.

  But he looked like he could. And it made something flare inside of her.

  “Lie down.” His voice was harsh, hot. Like he had a job to see to.

  She did, unable to resist and not caring that she was a goddess who did whatever the hell she pleased. Apparently, whatever the hell she pleased was following this man’s brusque orders.

  “Hands above your head.”

  They shot above her head as if of their own volition. The cold metal bars of the spare headboard brushed her wrists, making her realize that she’d thrust her hands through the spaces between the bars.

  The bed dipped under his weight when he kneeled by her hip. His scent—shampoo and the heady deliciousness of his arousal—enthralled her as he leaned over her, chest hovering above her face. His heat and size surrounded her, made her feel smaller than she ever had.

  Something—his fingertips, probably—brushed gently against the scars on the insides of her wrists. His face was so close to them. Seeing them.

  “Don’t,” she whispered. They were the physical evidence of all that had gone wrong between them. Of her mistakes.

  He stopped, silent, and then the bite of warm leather wrapping around her wrists made her gasp. “What are you doing?”