Enslaved (15 page)

A man exited the small A-frame building on the end of town Gryphon had scouted out earlier, locked the door behind him, then headed for his car across the parking lot, tossing his keys in the air and catching them again as he whistled. Gryphon shifted on the asphalt to look around the other side of the pickup, watched as the man climbed in his SUV and closed the door, then started the ignition and backed out of the lot.

“What now?” Maelea asked.

The parking lot light above was burned out, draping the area in darkness. Without answering, he tugged Maelea toward the door, continuing to stay close to the building so no one could see them.

He already knew the store didn’t have a security system, but that didn’t mean a night guard wouldn’t be driving by sometime tonight.

He used his elbow to break the glass on the door. It shattered and sprayed across the floor inside. Reaching in, he unlocked the dead bolt, then pushed the door open and dragged Maelea in after him.

Glass crunched under their boots. The shop was dark. Tables were laid out with clothing and supplies. Coats hung on one wall, boots were lined up against another. To the right, a long counter ran the length of the room, and behind it, another glass case was filled with weapons.

He went there first, tugging Maelea along with him. Grabbing a military-grade flashlight from a table, he smashed in the glass, then opened the cabinet door and stared at the knives and daggers.

“What is this place?” Maelea asked.

“Army surplus store.” He chose three knives, each with a different blade, knew it had been too much to hope for guns—those would have come in handy if Nick and his men found them. He turned and looked at the cash register.

It was old style, with push buttons and a locked drawer, not new and high-tech electronic. Using the tip of a knife, he fiddled with the lock, jimmied the drawer open. No money sat inside. The owner had obviously emptied the drawer before closing up shop.

Petty cash. The guy had to keep some kind of money around for emergencies.

Gryphon rifled through drawers until he found a zippered pouch. Inside he counted at least three hundred dollars in different bills. Not ideal, but enough to get them the hell out of here. He tucked the envelope into the waistband of his jeans, then turned and scanned the store for a thigh holster for his knife.

He moved through the shop quickly, grabbing supplies they’d need, pulling Maelea along behind him, handing her coats and blankets to hold with her free arm while she continued to protest his every move. “Why do you need this? What’s that for? You can’t carry all this stuff, you know.”

Skata
, she never stopped talking. It was beginning to grate on his nerves. He grabbed a length of rope, tossed it on the pile she was carrying, turned, and scanned the room one more time.

“Someone’s going to find us,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time. I bet police are on their way right now.”

His gaze zeroed in on what he’d been looking for and he smiled.

He reached across the table, picked up a set of handcuffs.

“What are those for?” she asked in a startled breath.

Gryphon’s grin widened.

Before she could sputter off another protest, he tugged her toward the door. “Come on, we’re done.”

They went out the way they’d come in. Maelea nearly tripped and dropped the load she was carrying, but Gryphon caught her at the last second. The heat of her body warmed his side, slid across his arm. And that flare of desire burned hot all over again. A desire he knew—now that he was thinking clearly—would only distract him from his goal.

A siren rang out down the street. Gryphon’s head swiveled that way, and he didn’t miss the burst of hope in Maelea’s eyes or the way her pulse picked up speed against his fingers. “Come on.”

He stopped at the rusted pickup truck he’d checked earlier, pulled the Ford’s door open, and pushed Maelea inside. She grunted as the supplies fell out of her arms and splayed across the seat and floor. “Hey!”

He climbed in after her. Tugged the door shut, looked all around for keys.

Come
on.
This was a small town in the middle of nowhere. There had to be keys in here some—

He pulled the visor down. A set of keys dropped into his lap.

Victory pulsed in his veins. He slid the key into the ignition and felt the motor hum beneath his feet. When the passenger door creaked open, he threw out a hand and grabbed Maelea by the wrist before she could get away.

“Let me go!” she hollered.

“Not a chance, female.”

He snapped a cuff around her left wrist. She gasped in surprise and outrage. Then he snapped the other cuff to the grab handle on the dashboard.

“You son of a—”

“You need to come up with new curse words, female. Yours are getting old.” He shoved the truck into reverse, backed out of the lot, and shifted into drive. The passenger door slammed shut.

Maelea struggled to free her wrist from the cuffs. “You’re not keeping me here, you bastard!”

He swerved around a dog in the road on their way out of town. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spotted a cop car pulling into the lot they’d just exited, lights flaring, siren roaring.

Too
late, boys.

A smile twined its way across his face as they left the town behind. He ignored Maelea’s thrashing and string of curses, instead breathed in the fresh air sailing through the open window. For the first time since he’d come back from the Underworld, he truly felt free.

They made it five miles up the winding mountain road before he slammed on the brakes.

Maelea, still struggling to free her arm from the handcuffs, flew forward, hit the dashboard, and bounced back. She groaned at the impact. “What the hell…?”

“
Skata.
”

She gave up fighting long enough to rub her forehead with her free hand, but her words died off as she stared ahead at what blocked the road.

Three sets of eyes glowing green in the darkness peered back at them. Three sets of eyes that were definitely not human.

Chapter Nine

Maelea stared at the monsters moving toward them in the dark—daemons from Atalanta’s army—with the bodies of men, faces of cats, horns of a goat, and ears of a lion. They were dressed all in black, each at least seven feet tall, carrying lethal blades as long as her forearm. But their hands…She didn’t miss the claws wrapped around the handles of those swords or the way they gripped the blades with the intent to swing and annihilate.

“Why—why are you stopping?” she asked. They should be flooring it right now, not stopping!

Gryphon shoved the truck in park, reached back for the blade he’d tossed into the extended cab. “Stay here. Don’t move. Lock the doors.”

Lock
the
doors?
Was he serious? As if that was going to stop those things if they came after her?

She jerked on the handcuff wrapped around her wrist, panic building in her chest. He’d not only
almost
gotten her killed in those caves, he was about to get her killed now. “Let me go!”

He popped the driver-side door, stepped out of the old truck with his weapon. “I’ll be right back.”

No.
No!
“Gryphon!”

He ignored her scream, slammed the door, and stepped in front of the truck, its headlights hitting his back to highlight the muscles in his shoulders and torso and down through his butt and thighs.

Through the window she heard the daemon in the middle—the one she could no longer see—sniff and growl, “Argonaut.”

“Yes, I am,” Gryphon said in a clear voice. “And I’m wondering which one of you wants to die first.”

As a unit, all three daemons moved forward.

Oh, gods. Oh,
gods
, this was not about to happen.

Maelea cranked on the handcuffs, gritted her teeth, and tried to pry her hand loose, but the cuffs were too tight, and all she was doing was bruising her hand and tearing up her skin. Damn Gryphon for handcuffing her to this stupid truck. Damn him for slipping the key in his pocket. If he got killed out there, she’d never get to the key before those monsters devoured her.

Panic consumed her as the first daemon arced out with his blade and Gryphon’s sword clanked against metal. The floor of the truck vibrated. She watched in horror as Gryphon shifted, turned, kicked a second daemon in the stomach, sending that one sailing backward. He sliced the third across the shoulder. Blood sprayed over Gryphon and the ground. Gryphon swiveled, ducked, barely missing a blade to the chest, then sliced out and around again and again, forcing the monsters back from the truck, pushing them deeper into the shadows and away from her.

He was mesmerizing. The panic slowly dissipated and the vibrating stopped until a strange calm came over her. Even though she wanted nothing more than to run, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Memories of what she’d heard in the colony flashed in her mind, the way he’d gone berserk and annihilated those daemons in that village. How he’d turned on his own kin. But this didn’t look like a warrior who was losing control. If anything, he was the perfect combination of danger and strength…and very clear, very focused, intent.

Minutes later it was over. Three dead daemons lay in the middle of the road, steam rising from their bloodied bodies. The truck’s headlights illuminated Gryphon’s heaving chest as he stood over them, his skin covered in streaks of red and other things Maelea didn’t want to acknowledge. She watched as he reached down and lifted the head of the closest daemon by the scalp, but when he used his blade to decapitate the beast, bile rose in Maelea’s stomach and she quickly looked away.

Adrenaline coursed through her system. She swallowed hard, tried to ignore the scraping sounds coming from the road. A mixture of relief and dread whipped through her as she waited…for what, she wasn’t sure. Would he turn on her now? Even though he seemed calm, that was no guarantee she wasn’t next.

Her anxiety peaked as footsteps echoed close. She finally looked up. The monsters’ bodies were gone. The headlights now glowed bright against nothing but empty, bloody pavement. The door to her left creaked open, and she looked in that direction, pulling on the cuff around her wrist, wishing she had some kind of weapon to defend herself.

Gryphon tossed his blade behind the seat, then climbed into the vehicle, barely sparing her a glance. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

The door slammed, and he shifted into drive. As they moved forward, leaving the sights and sounds and smells of the battle behind them, Maelea couldn’t help but stare at the man beside her who suddenly looked less like a maniac and more like the warrior he’d once been.

That last thought stayed fresh and foremost in Maelea’s mind as she settled back against the seat, careful not to say anything, thankful she wasn’t close enough to touch him, because this new Gryphon was even more enticing than the last. Attractive to her in ways that had nothing to do with the darkness inside him. To keep from focusing on that fact, she tried to understand what he could possibly want from her. Now that he was free of the colony, had weapons and cash and supplies he’d need for wherever he planned to go next, why would he possibly want to keep her around?

You’re female. Why do you think he wants to keep you around?

Her gaze strayed in his direction. With both hands gripping the wheel, he remained focused ahead, but the dashboard’s lights illuminated a muscle twitching in his strong jaw, his thick arms, his broad, warrior chest. Heat burst in her stomach as she remembered that body pressed against hers in the tunnels. And she heard his voice on that cliff when he’d held her tightly and announced he wasn’t letting her go after all.

I
need
you.

The heat burst to a full-blown flame. She averted her eyes, swallowed hard. Told herself it was the darkness making her think differently of him. So afraid it could be something more. Something that would eventually hinder her goal of getting to Olympus.

Olympus. That’s what she needed to stay focused on.
That’s
what she needed to remember. Not how heroic he looked. Not how he’d saved her—again. Not how freaking amazing he looked right now, sitting across from her, bruised and scratched and incredibly sexy.

Dear gods. At the next stop, as
soon
as he uncuffed her, she had to get away. She didn’t trust herself around him any longer.

She looked out the side window into the darkness of night as she narrowed her strategy. But her mind came to a screeching halt when she saw the glowing red orbs of light flickering off behind the trees. Orbs of light she knew without a doubt were searching for her.

***

A heavy weight pressed down on Titus’s chest as he made his way up to the fifth floor of the castle. Thoughts of what Nick had told them about the tunnels still echoed through his mind. As did Nick’s unspoken words.
He
deserves
this. He’s not been right in the head since he came back from the Underworld. It was only a matter of time before something happened…