“Why is it so quiet?” Erias asked, suddenly becoming aware of the echoing silence around them. The lack of wailing and distant screams of agony, claws ever trying to scratch their way free, was troubling.
Behr shrugged nonchalantly. “Sleeping, perhaps?” Catching the murderous gleam in Erias’s eyes, he sighed. “Dude, I couldn’t stand the whining anymore. I put up a barrier, so I could chill.”
Erias nodded, relieved that there wasn’t some underlying reason for the pervasive quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was another clean–up mission. It had taken more than one hundred years the last time to get the persistent bastards back in their cage, and he didn’t want to relive that whole debacle any time soon.
“Alright.” He nodded his understanding. “I’m headed back. Remember,” he called over his shoulder, “eyes wide, ears open. No slips or—”
“You’ll fry my ass. Yes, I know. Believe me, I’m still recovering from the last one. At least I don’t have to wax my ass anymore. Don’t worry, I have no plans to relive that experience any time soon.”
Well, that made two of them. “Way to look for the silver lining, Behr.”
Cheyenne woke up to a darkened room with a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure what caused her to wake up, but she usually slept through the night no problem.
Reaching for the lamp, she hesitated. Even though Muscles McGee thoroughly worked her nerves, she didn’t want to be rude and wake the guy. Besides, then he’d open his mouth, and she would be forced to shut it because, honestly, she was so not in the mood for another debate, especially one where she turned out wrong and had to admit defeat. She was still roiling over the whole bedroom situation.
Groping around her comforter, she found the thin black silk and slipped it on, then headed for the bathroom as quietly as possible. Just as she reached for the doorknob it was wrenched out of her reach.
Cheyenne grimaced, shielding her eyes from the blinding light that flooded over her. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in there.” She had no idea why she was apologizing.
Slowly lowering her arm, she allowed her sight to adjust before realizing that she was just mere inches from the bare flesh of the man’s chiseled physique. And wow, this close she could make out the faint dusting of short, crisp hairs across his finely tuned muscles. As her eyes skimmed the length of him, across the rocky planes of his severely cut abs, she came to yet another, smaller patch of dark hair that started just below his navel and ended…Oh, Jesus! The man was as naked as the day he was born!
Cheyenne gasped and gaped in embarrassment. Even worse, she couldn’t take her eyes off of his manhood. My God, he was huge!
Erias cleared his throat, catching sight of her preoccupation. “If you need to get in there, you’ll have to move out of my way first,” he informed her.
“Oh, um, yes. Okay,” she sputtered, stumbling to the side so he could pass. It was all she could do not to watch him walk the rest of the way to his bed, and it was even harder not to fall to his feet and worship the perfection of his bodacious body. Because that’s what you did when you were face–to–face with a god, wasn’t it?
Closing the door behind her, Cheyenne stood in front of the sink in a haze as her imagination ran wild. She had never, ever been this attracted to the opposite sex before.
She took that back. She had never, ever been this attracted to the opposite sex before that wasn’t a part of one of her sexy romance novels. Though he carried himself with the over-inflated ego of a god and seemed to enjoy taunting those around him, namely her, was of little consequence. He was a man, plain and simple, because gods just did not walk the planet with the sole purpose of being as annoying as possible let alone did they even exist in the first place.
He did have a body of a god though, she would definitely concede to that. A woman could do her laundry on abs like that.
Realizing that the cold splash of water wasn’t nearly enough to drown out her colorful musings, Cheyenne turned on the shower and hung her robe on the back of the door in hopes of lulling her mind into a comfortable, ready-for-bed state.
Erias lay in his bed staring at the blank ceiling listening to the spray of the shower through the paper-thin wall behind his head. He could picture the female, her soft, pale skin slick with moisture as the water beaded and slid down her voluptuously curvaceous body. He was getting a hard-on just thinking about it.
Struggling to maintain his sanity, he flipped onto his stomach only to realize quickly how bad an idea that was. Sure he had inflicted lasting damage on Little E; Erias leapt from the bed, and before he could think twice, he found himself standing under the bright fluorescent lights of the bathroom, staring at the skewed imagine of the woman’s delectable frame.
Little E pulsed against his palm as if to say everything was cool, then promptly throbbed his demand to be sated.
Cheyenne felt a breath of cool air across her back that came as quickly as it went. Shrugging it off, she continued to catch the heated water in her open mouth and spill back out again. She was right; this was the perfect way to relax. Turning around again, she tipped her head back and let the length of her hair flow in a smooth column down her back.
She smiled briefly, considering how tomorrow she was going to gather her team and trudge back up that mountain. No one was going to keep her from reaching her goal, especially some mountain lurking freak with a possessive streak. No way.
Rubbing the water from her eyes, she looked up and found herself staring into a heated pair of blue ones that were currently sizing up what part of her anatomy they wanted to consume first.
Her heart lurching into her throat, Cheyenne let out a blood-curdling scream before she was spun around and a large hand was clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries.
Chapter 7
Squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of warm water spraying relentlessly in her face, Cheyenne tried to breathe steadily and not overreact. She had to get her head about her and remember her training, so she could get out of this.
“It’s okay,” Erias said low in her ear. He pulled her closer to his body, her back pressed against his chest. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
And truly, he was. Erias couldn’t explain what had brought him in there in the first place. One minute he was listening to the spray of the shower, the next he was in the shower staring at the most shapely figure he had laid eyes on in centuries.
He really hadn’t meant to frighten her, but then the unexpected appearance of a six-foot-eight, two–hundred and eighty-pound man standing naked in your shower with you had a way of doing just that.
“I’m going to release you now. Just…don’t freak out, okay?” She nodded her head, and the moment he released her mouth she bit down on his fingers and nailed him in the foot with her heel.
Cheyenne moved quickly. Spinning on her heel, she shoved him aside so hard he slipped against the slick tile and fell to the floor of the stall, narrowly missing her as she leapt out of the way.
Grabbing a towel, she ignored his grunts of pain and dashed toward the safety of the room. She wasn’t sure she would get any help using the phone after her last experience, but she had to try.
Dialing frantically, Cheyenne had to hang up and try again several times before she was able to stab the right button. She didn’t know the number for 911 in Iceland, but she figured the alternative would be just as good.
A groggy, sleep filled voice answered. “Oh God, Kris! You have to get over here. There’s a crazy man in my room, and he’s trying to rape me!” she cried into the receiver.
That seemed to wake him up. “What!”
“There’s a lunatic in my room—”
“No, I heard that part. How’d that happen? Wait, never mind. I’m coming. Just hang tight.”
He hung up so fast she didn’t have time to think beyond the relief that flooded her. Help was on the way. She just had to be patient. Which was easier said than done when she realized that
the shower was no longer running and the deafening silence that now pervaded the small room set her already frayed nerves raw.
In a panic, Cheyenne slowly turned around to face the whole of the room. Nothing. Wearily, she inched past the foot of the bed, determined to reach the door before he emerged to attack her again. Just as she reached her goal, the door flew open revealing Kris.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
Cheyenne looked into his baby blues that was currently fuming with rage and determination. Taking note of the iron fireplace poker in his left hand, she stepped to the side and motioned to the bathroom. “He’s in there.”
While he stormed off with grim determination, Cheyenne closed the door and waited for the tell–tale sounds of a fight breaking out. As the seconds ticked by in complete silence, she couldn’t decide whether to check it out or to stay put. In the end, she didn’t have to do anything.
Kris emerged a moment later, the poker hanging limply at his side and a puzzled look playing on his face. “There’s no one in there,” he stated.
“What?” Cheyenne nearly screamed. Racing past him, she peered into the bathroom herself, positive that there was no way he had gotten past her. Sure enough, though, it was empty, just as he said. “That’s impossible.”
Turning to Kris, she looked up into his troubled eyes, scrambling for an explanation. “I’m not crazy, Kris. Maybe he ran out when I called you. He even had things here. I tripped over his boots…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room. All of his things, the boots and the tote were gone, even the bed was made.
Sighing, Kris led her to her bed and pulled her down beside him. He stared at the floor and pursed his lips as if trying to decide what he was going to say next. “Why don’t you tell me how this all started.”
Cheyenne ran through the whole scenario, starting from the moment she stepped from the bathroom to discover the man’s intrusion to the moment she had called him to come help her.
“Let me get this straight. You find some strange guy in your room and instead of kicking him out on his ass or coming to me or one of the others to stay with us, you chose to sleep here anyway?” Kris asked incredulously. “I mean, not to sound harsh, Cheyenne, but what the hell did you think was going to happen?”
Cheyenne was aghast at his reasoning of the situation. Scrunching her face in disgust, Cheyenne rose to her feet, her hands balled at her sides, and looked down on him. “How dare you,” she spat.
Kris, seeing the fire blazing in her brown eyes, realized his mistake and tried to smooth it over before she lit into him. “Now just wait a minute, Chy, I—”
“How dare you judge me!” she shrieked. Kris stood up and tried to pull her into him. Jerking away, Cheyenne gave him an indignant glare. “I could have been raped tonight,” she ground out, “and you have the gall to stand here and tell me it was my fault.”
“Chy, if you’ll just listen for one second. That’s not how I meant it to sound,” Kris pleaded.
“Just get out.” Dodging his effort to reach for her again, Cheyenne opened the door and waited for him to leave.
It took several moments for Kris to get his feet to move. He’d only realized how much he loved her after they’d given their friendship a go in the romance department last summer during their trip to Greece, and failed miserably.
Of course, it was his fault. Wasn’t it always the man who fucked everything up? Just like his father, he never truly saw what was in front of his face until it was gone. If only he hadn't taken that woman back to her hotel room and had gone back to his alone that night, maybe they would still be together now.
Then again, Kris didn’t fully believe that either. Truth be told, he wasn’t really into her like that at the time. Yeah he could see how gorgeous she was. Hell, she was a total knockout. With shapely legs, creamy, flawlessly pale skin, big brown eyes and long flowing hair, she was any man’s dream.
And he had let her slip through his fingers.
Stopping in front of her, he took one long look at Cheyenne and felt a gnawing pain in his stomach when she stared pointedly at the floor as if he wasn’t even there.
Reaching up, he brushed back a lock of hair still wet from her recent shower and tucked it behind a delicate ear, allowing his fingers to linger a little longer than necessary.
“If you need me, call. It doesn’t matter the time or the reason.” She nodded sullenly. “I’ll always be here for you, Chy. I hope you know that.”
Kris stepped into the hall and when the door closed behind him, it felt like all the air had escaped from his lungs. His chest tightened, and it was all he could do not to turn around and bang down the door. All he wanted to do was to show her that he had changed, that he could be more than a friend. That she could trust him.
He knew that she had forgiven him and had accepted that they were better off friends, but he couldn’t let it go at that. His heart was back there in that room, bound and held captive by a woman who was determined not to love him in return. At least not the way he wanted.
It really dug in his craw that he had had the opportunity that most men would dream of, had held her in his arms, kissed her perfect lips, and never once appreciated the gift. In one fail swoop, he had destroyed it all, and now he was desperate to get her back.
“I’ll win you back, Cheyenne,” he whispered to himself. “I swear it.”
Cheyenne pressed her back to the headboard and stared into the brightly lit room, waiting. In one hand, she gripped the blankets to her chest to stave off the chilly night air that seeped through the ancient walls. In the other she held the iron poker Kris had left behind. She didn’t know where that man had gone, and she wasn’t about to be attacked in her sleep. She would stay up all night if she had to.
She had been running through the night’s events over and over again, combing through every detail, trying to pinpoint when and where the man could have slipped past her without her noticing.
After four hours… she had nothing.
There was only one small window in the room, and it wasn’t likely he could have slipped out of it. Even more unlikely was not seeing him go. The gust of cold air alone should have caught her attention had he opened the window. No, he had to still be here.
Determined to find him, Cheyenne slipped from the bed, poker in hand, and started her search, beginning with the closet.
Whipping open the door, she peered inside, shoving clothing and luggage out of the way. When she couldn’t find any sign of him there, she looked under the beds. He couldn’t have gone far.
When he didn’t turn up, Cheyenne slumped down on the corner of her bed and looked around the empty space. She wasn’t crazy. He had been here. It hadn’t been a dream either, of that she was certain. There was no way she could have imagined a man like that. She just wasn’t that creative!
Throwing herself back on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling picturing those long, lean muscles, that tapered waste, and thick biceps that could probably crush bones but that held her gently as if she were something to be treasured.
Remembering the moment she had first made eye contact with him made her stomach do nervous flips, and the way his long black hair framed his roguishly handsome face made her so weak in the knees, she was sure she’d have fallen had she been standing, but the one thing she regretted was that she hadn’t even gotten his name.
The room seemed so unbearably empty all of a sudden. Closing her tired eyes, she replayed their encounters in her mind’s eye, recreating every nuance of his perfectly sculpted face and body, and when she came to that rumbling voice with that wonderfully lilting accent, she jolted upright, panting at the shock and horror of her discovery.
It was him! The man from the mountain, he had found her, and now he was out to get her.
Chapter 8
She didn’t sleep a wink the night before. Stumbling her way down the stone staircase, Cheyenne held close to the wall, so she could catch herself should she fall. Her mother had always taught h
er how to make an entrance, but rolling down a flight of stairs and crash landing on her rear in front of a room full of people was not how she wanted to do it.
Glad to see her friends, sans one, gathered at a nearby table sipping at their mugs and enjoying a healthy breakfast, Cheyenne joined them.
“Hey, sleeping beauty, you look like hell warmed over,” Cathy teased, nudging her with her elbow.
Cheyenne quirked a half-hearted smile and reached across the table for a bagel. Spreading a healthy amount of cream cheese over it, she shrugged. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Aw, how come, sweetie?” Hadley asked, concern written all over her round face.
“I don’t know, maybe I’m coming down with something.”
From the far end of the table, Sebastian looked up from his plate of pancakes and stabbed his fork in her direction. “I bet I know what your problem is.”
After a moment, Cheyenne prompted him. “Go on…”
“Well,” he started, “more than likely it was an elf.”
Everyone stared at him in disbelief, waiting for a punch line. When there wasn’t one, Harold laughed aloud. “Bas, seriously, lay of the ganja.”
“I haven’t smoked any in almost…” He checked his watch. “Twenty-four hours. Besides, that has nothing to do with it,” he defended.
“Oh, really,” Tim challenged. “Then explain this elf theory, why don’t ya.”
“Okay, peep this.” Sebastian used his hands to punctuate his words. “Icelandic folklore says that there are all kinds of crazy shit going on in these parts. You name it, ghosts, trolls, Grylas, elves, they have it all. Thing is, these elves, they’re rumored to roam around day or night, blending in with their surroundings.”
“Like chameleons?” Tabitha asked, totally sucked into his story.
“No.” He scrunched his nose as if the very suggestion was offensive. “I mean like shape shifters. They can be, like, invisible, or not.”
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