“Tsk—tsk. I must say, I am truly hurt, Erias. And here I thought the centuries of camaraderie had finally softened you to me.”
He knew that female voice all too well, one spoken so sickly sweet it was like candy, guaranteed to rot you from the inside out. “What brings you to my humble abode, Goddess?” He asked, forcing pleasantries in a cold, distant voice. Palming a bar of soap, he began rubbing it over his finely tuned muscles. He knew she was watching his every move. “I asked what brought you?” he repeated.
She cleared her throat a few times before responding. Nervous was she? “I, um—yes.” She stiffened her posture, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder. “I came to tell you that your services are once again needed.” He nodded. It went without saying. She only ever appeared when she wanted something from him. “There is a small team gathering to ascend the mountain. They are on some sort of fact-finding mission. I want you to make sure they do not find any…facts.”
Turning around, giving her a full frontal, Erias just stared at her. “I fail to see the problem here. Plenty of researchers, scientists and the like have been to the summit and back again searching for “facts” and have never come close to finding anything more than speculation. What makes now so important?”
Her eyes were glued to his groin he’d noticed; his question left unanswered. A small smile crooked the corner of his mouth as he decided to play a little game with the goddess. Slowly, he moved the soap lower, lathering it across his stomach. Her eyes followed the tiny circles he made lower, lower, until he rested on the sweet spot. He used two hands, lifting, massaging, nearly laughing when her tongue darted from her mouth, wetting her lips. Heated desire sparked behind those heavy lids, and though he had no discernible interest in the woman, he was still a man, and her undeniable interest never failed to send a tremor of unwanted need coursing through him.
“See something you like, Goddess?” he purred, dropping his voice to a low, sensuous rumble.
She blinked, then blinked again. “No.” Her pale lids squeezed tightly together, long lashes spiking over her freckled cheeks as she tried to banish the erotic thoughts swimming through her head. Erias was one of her tastier creations and it really twisted her panties to know that she could look but never touch. Angel would sooner slice open her gut and hang her from her entrails before he allowed that to happen. Who would have thought the man born of sin and lies would uphold the vows of marriage to such an honorable degree? “Never mind the details. J—just get it done. They are not to reach the gates. Especially, the female.”
In a blink, she was gone. “Fu-uck,” he moaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. Not that he wanted the woman. Not in a million years, but damn him to hell, Persephone seemed to have some gravitational pull when it came to that thing, and he could control its reaction no more than he could control a hurricane.
Turning off the water, Erias wrapped himself in a towel and stepped out of the shower. It had been nearly one hundred years since the last time his services had been called to order. He hated that he would have to do it again. Another job. And not the kind he preferred. Nine to five at least came with a paycheck. No, this kind generally came with cuts, bruises, broken bones and the occasional concussion. Once, he even had to regenerate a limb. Not the best week he’d ever spent in bed, that’s for sure.
Glancing down at his raised appendage straining against the fabric of the towel, he realized he had one more job to finish before he could focus on the next one. This one simply couldn’t wait.
Chapter 4
“There!” Tabby exclaimed. “Just over that ridge, I see it!” She looked to Tim for confirmation. “I’m right aren’t I? That’s it?”
Tim nodded as his jaw fell slack. “Yeah, that’s it all right.”
“Boys and girls, welcome to Hell’s Gate,” Harold said in awe as Hadley and Sebastian mirrored his expression.
Kris and Cheyenne shared a look of excitement before running full on toward their discovery. It was right where the history books and scholars said it would be; nestled into the northwestern wall and sheltered from the elements stood the ancient stone structure.
Towering arches made of glistening black marble supported the heavy ceiling every twenty feet as far as the eyes could see before being swallowed by the looming darkness, forming a sort of hall with small alcoves where Cheyenne imagined candles or oil lanterns once stood to light the ancient Vikings way as they tunneled deeper into the mountainside. At night, the polished marble would have glistened under the dull illumination like pools of black water.
Even more expertly crafted arches lined the eastern wall opposite the mountain creating a massive pass-through that overlooked the snowcapped ranges as far as the eye could see and allowing slashes of warm sunlight to filter through, easing the heavy shadows blanketing the hall.
Harold was lecturing on the use and construction of the design to the rest of the team while Kris and Cheyenne explored the structure more scientifically. “Civilizations used the arches in a lot of their building designs because it was a structurally sound, efficient method. With the development of the keystone, the weight was evenly distributed eliminating the need for things like mortar. It was ingenious. The old way was definitely the best way. Think about it, two thousand years later, and they’re still standing. Then you look at the shit we make, doesn’t even last one hundred years in most cases.”
“Hey, Harold,” Sebastian called over his shoulder as he left the group to join Cheyenne and Kris, “would you two like some time alone?” He laughed at Harold’s puzzled expression before indicating the hand Harold had been resting against the marble column, absently caressing it.
Harold let out a low growl of annoyance before snatching his hand away and continuing on with his lecture.
While the group was held rapt by their find and Harold’s history lesson, Cheyenne pulled out her field journal and began jotting down notes about their findings while Kris snapped endless pictures with his digital camera.
Cheyenne noted the appearance of the building, the approximate age and where they found it in relation to the map, complete with coordinates so they could register their find.
“We are going to grace the cover of Geography magazine, mark my words, Chy. This is the find of the century,” Kris said excitedly, snapping another series of photos.
“Absolutely. This is going to make history books.” Sebastian crouched down behind her creating a V with his legs on either side of hers, and peered over her shoulder to see what she was writing.
Cheyenne tried her best to ignore it when his hands “accidentally” found their way to her knees, and his head “innocently” rested on her shoulder, so they were cheek to cheek. She knew Sebastian had a crush on her by the way he had been slowly wheedling his way closer to her over the past few months. And though he was a very attractive guy in a frat–boy–gone–surfer sort of way, she couldn’t ever see him as anything more than a friend.
Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she’s decided it was a matter best left ignored for the time being, but the fact that he would have to be let down soon was becoming painfully evident by the increasing amount of touch time he had been making lately.
“Sebastian,” Kris said irritably over his shoulder as he snapped another picture, “don’t you have better things to do?”
Cheyenne noted the fire burning in his eyes when he glanced over at the two of them and couldn’t help but wonder where his anger was coming from.
“Actually, no, I don’t,” Sebastian said his usual cool tone.
Spinning around, Kris slung his pack across the floor where it landed at their feet. He stared pointedly at Sebastian. “Now you do. In the left-side pocket, there’s a new battery pack and flash equipment.”
With a disgusted grunt, Sebastian rose to his feet and snatched the pack from the floor, then walked over to join Kris. “Yes, Master. Right away, Master. Anything you say, Master,” he grumbled as he went.
Not kno
wing, or caring about exactly what just went down in front of her, Cheyenne concentrated on her writings, leaving the squabble for the boys to handle, alone.
“Next year after all the media coverage and interviews and photo shoots, I say we make a trek back to the Bahamas and see what we can do about proving that Atlantean myth right.” Hadley stopped beside her; her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
Cheyenne peered up from her notebook and gave her an indulgent smile. “I think you’re just looking for a good excuse to work on your tan.”
“A good tan is just as important as history any day, Chy. You of all people should know that,” Cathy interjected from her outlook point several feet away.
Cheyenne glanced down at her too pale skin and had to concede the notion. If only she should could tan as easily as they did, but instead she always ended up with a mottled farmer-ish type tan that more often than not began as a raging burn.
Moving ahead, they followed the narrow hall deeper inside the mountain. “Shit, I can’t see a thing up here. Hey, Chy, give me your light would ya?” Kris asked as he led the way.
Digging blindly through her pack, Cheyenne handed him her Maglite.
“Headlamps on everyone, darkness looms ahead,” Cheyenne warned, fastening hers to her head.
“Joy of joys,” Tabitha said caustically. “How I love exploring the unknown when I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face. Tell me, how are we supposed to discover anything when we can’t see anything?”
“Majick.” The deep, throaty, distinctly male voice ruptured the impenetrable sea of black around them and ricocheted off the walls making it impossible to discern what direction it was coming from.
Cheyenne spun around, seeing only small, luminescent balls of light from the others’ head gear that left her temporarily blinded. Not that she had had hope of seeing anything in the first place. Where was he? Behind them? In front of them? It was impossible to tell.
“Hands!” she screamed at her team. One by one they quickly reached for each other, forming a line in which they were all linked. Tabitha whimpered while Tim tried to whisper soothing assurances. The rest of the team was deadly silent, understanding the need to get their bearings against the ocean of darkness. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The man made a tsking sound as the thundering of his heavy boots came closer. Cheyenne’s heart beat a frantic tempo as her thoughts scattered to the welfare of her team. What had they gotten themselves into? She loved their explorations and the easy banter they shared, but right now, with what she knew had to be a crazed killer—because come on, who in their right mind, besides the eight of them, would be hanging out in a creepy, run down, ancient ruin on top of a mountain just for the fun of it?—she wished they were all back in the safety of their respective homes watching television.
“What I want is for you to leave. Now.” His tone was forceful and demanding.
Cheyenne was having none of that.
Stiffening at his obvious threat at doing them bodily harm, Cheyenne found her inner strength, directing the anger from years of female oppression onto him. “Well, people in hell want ice water. Who do you think you are telling us what to do? I suggest you move aside, creepy man, and mind your own damn business,” Cheyenne demanded.
“M-maybe we s–should just leave,” Cathy said worriedly in the mousiest, most unimposing voice she could muster.
The man ignored her, letting out a rumble of mild amusement. “Lady, I am your worst nightmare if you choose not to heed my warning. I suggest you listen to your friend here and move along.”
Cheyenne could tell he was closing in, though his approach was now completely silent. She suddenly felt something akin to prey. He was the hunter and they were the hunted, though her instincts were telling her that she was the primary target here.
“You’re threats don’t scare me, pal. Save it for the next group ‘cause we ain’t buyin’,” she claimed, hoping to God that her less than steel nerves wouldn’t betray her. “Come on guys, we don’t have to take this crap from some shadow dwelling mountain squatter.”
In the next heartbeat, Cheyenne was separated from her team with her back pressed firmly to the stone wall behind her. At least, she assumed it was behind her, but in the pitch black as they were it was hard to keep one's bearings straight.
A wall of hot flesh seared her front from chest to thigh, and a large set of hands formed manacles around her wrists, which were pinned at the sides of her head.
Hot breath washed over her ear as the man leaned closer. “It wasn’t a threat, lady. It was a promise.”
Cheyenne’s own breath was held captive in her chest as her blood heated and gooseflesh erupted over her body at the low, sultry timber of his voice. She couldn’t understand the insane reaction her body was having to the stranger before her, but as the short whiskers on his jaw scraped deliciously across her cheek, she felt some of the fight fizzle out of her, replaced by the overwhelming desire to press herself closer and inhale the masculine scent of him until she was drunk from it.
Erias’s own body heated as the petite woman’s chest rose and fell against his. He could feel her heartbeat racing like a hummingbird’s wings through her many layers of clothing. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled his nose as he breathed deeply of her.
With his enhanced Guardian vision, Erias could see in the dark even better than in daylight and looking at this woman now, her patrician face, flawlessly pale peach skin framed by deep Auburn waves that fell just past her shoulders; he could see that she was terrified, though she was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. He was kind of impressed, actually.
Erias leaned in closer, intent on filling his lungs with her intoxicating aroma, when a sudden shooting pain assaulted his groin and quickly traveled to his legs, which trembled uncontrollably. Doubling over, he threw a hand out to the wall to catch himself as the female slid out of his hold.
With his testicles practically lodged in his throat, he gasped for air. Suddenly, she was beside him, leaning into his ear, her warm breath teasing his senses.
“Lesson one: keep your hands to yourself.”
He chuckled despite the pain and the overwhelming urge he had to throw her over his knee and give her a good spanking. “I shudder to think what lesson two would be.”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.” Cheyenne spun away, feeling a sense of giddiness at her success. Finally, three months of self–defense classes had paid off.
“For the sake of not being murdered,” Hadley squeaked, “I vote that we get out of here.”
“I second that,” Tim said from somewhere in front of her.
“Uh, yeah, Chy, I don’t know what you did, though I can guess, and I have to say, I agree with them. We should go before he recovers himself and decides to take our heads or something,” Kris’s shaken voice said from beside her.
“Okay,” was all Cheyenne offered. The last thing she wanted to do was give away any details of where they were staying or the fact that they would be back. The last thing they needed was that psycho showing up at their B&B or waiting for them when they came back.
Erias dropped to his knees and cupped his balls as soon as they were gone. Damn it, but that woman had one hell of a knee on her. It felt like they had been shoved into his esophagus. As it was, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be pissing straight for days.
At nearly six-foot-eight, he had mad respect for a woman her size that could drop a man like him and have him practically calling for his mommy. Not that he was. He was way more man than that.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Erias pulled himself to his feet and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Listening to the droning ring as he waited for the line to pick up, he revisited the moments before his future children were decimated, and smiled. That woman was truly a piece of work. She had a fantastic face and curves to boot. Milk definitely did that body good.
“Hello,” the gruff, half-asleep voice answered.
�
��Behr, it’s me, Erias.”
“Ah, E. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” Behr said caustically.
Erias gritted his teeth as he tried to maintain composure and not send a god blast through the phone to burn the smart ass into submission.
“I need a favor.”
“Well, duh, I kind of figured that one out all on my own when I woke up to my phone buzzing incessantly and looked at the clock. Then I thought, gee. I wonder who would be calling me at three a.m. Then I said, Behr, you better answer it. Most likely, it’s Erias with another of his ball busting expeditions, and he wants you all over it, covering his ass like a cheap whore.”
“Yeah, a cheap whore that's bound to give me the clap,” Erias tossed back. “Look, I need you to guard The Gate for a bit.”
“The Gate?” Behr coughed, all signs of play having flown instantly out of the window at the mention of it. “As in The Gate.”
“Did I stutter?” Erias snapped into the phone. “Get your ass down here, pronto.”
“Excuse me, I’m not your lap dog. You don’t just call me up and demand my services. You don’t say jump and expect me to say how high.”
“I did and I am. Get your ass down here before I fry it,” Erias growled.
Half a second later, Behr was standing before him, pulling on his leather duster and tugging his long, shoulder-length brown hair into a queue. His expressive blue eyes look up at him expectantly.
“What the hell is wrong with your face?” Erias sneered.
Behr laughed. He knew it would bother E to the heavens and back, and that’s precisely why he grew it. “It’s called a goatee,” he said, smoothing his palm over his chin. “The ladies really like it. Can’t keep their hands off of me.”
Erias rolled his eyes. “You look like you ate a shit sandwich.”
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