Jewel Of Atlantis. Gena Showalter
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pot and he would have willingly gone.
His boot struck a cluster of pebbles, skidding them forward and tripping him. He righted and rubbed the wound on his thigh. Every action increased the pain there.
You need to clean that, as well as the one on your neck.
“As soon as I find shelter, I’ll use the first aid kit in my bag.” Not that the antibacterial ointment would do any good. He’d been using it for two days to no avail.
You received these wounds yesterday, yes? From the vampire?
“Yes.”
And they’ve only grown worse? That is not good. Not good at all.
He caught the underlying foreboding in her tone. “Do I need to worry about morphing into a bloodthirsty phantom of the night?”
His dry tone raised her hackles. You should not joke about something so serious. Did the demon bite or scratch you today?
“Are you kidding? The bastard barely got near me.”
She sighed. Neither of us has reason to worry, then. For now. Besidesyour monstrous ego, you should be fine.
He was tired, though. God, was he tired. He hadn’t lied. He needed food and a bed as soon as possible or his legs were going to give out on him. The bath and the woman were optional at this point.
A cool wind wafted past him, gentle and welcome, offering a bit of comfort to his stiff muscles. Darkness was reaching the point of total black, like a tomb, where he wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing.
Down the road, he noticed a slash of white against the shadows. After a moment, he realized that slash was actually a person, slowly padding in the same direction he himself traveled, just twenty paces ahead of him. Gray tensed and reached for his gun, never slowing his gait. He had two bullets left in the clip.
He’d only need one.
You may rest easy, Gray. The nymph will not bother you.
“Nymph?” He paused briefly, the word dancing through his mind. “An actual nymph? As in a female with such a high sexual drive, she leaves her partner in a coma of pleasure?”
Will you get serious?
“I am serious. Do you know her? Can you introduce us?”
She growled low in her throat. For your information, the surface legends are wrong. Most nymphs are males.
Male? “No way.”
Look closely and see for yourself.
He did, his gaze probing deeply into the creature’s back, taking in the small details. Broad shoulders. A masculine gait. Large, booted feet peeked out from the robe’s hem.
A shudder raked Gray, and all thoughts of pleasurable comas vanished. “That man needs to die simply for ruining my fantasy.”
He will not be as easy to kill as the demon. Nymphs are the greatest warriors in the land, stronger even than dragons, though they never strike first. As long as you leave him alone, you’ll both walk away unscathed.
“I’ll remember that.” The closer Gray came to the nymph, the taller he realized the creature was. Taller than him, actually. An amazing feat considering Gray stood at six-five and usually towered over everyone he encountered. Keeping his weapon ready just in case, Gray maintained a wide berth as he passed.
The imposing white-robed male grimaced, glanced over at him, and waved a hand in front of his surprisingly feminine and starkly beautiful face. He barked something in a deep, guttural language.
“What did he say?” Gray asked as soon as he was a safe distance away.
That you reek of ash and death.
“Well, aren’t I the special little boy today.” Nearly eaten alive, then aromatically insulted. He sniffed himself, and his lips pursed. Okay, so he did smell a little.
He delved deeper into the shadows, listening for telltale signs of footsteps or the cock of a weapon. As his mind-companion predicted, the nymph left him alone.
Only when he’d gone a mile farther, however, did he relax his guard. He breathed deeply and let his gaze wander. The beauty here amazed him. Dew sparked like diamonds atop the brilliant green foliage. The whisper of waves created a melodic rhythm, and the scent of pineapple and coconut fragranced the air. Throw in a La-Z-Boy recliner, a fridge loaded with ice-cold beer, and a dozen dancing hula girls—naked of course—and he’d be in heaven.
Can you think of nothing besides women and sex?
“Sure I can,” He jumped over a pile of rocks, never breaking stride. “Why don’t you take off all your clothes and tell me who you are and why you’re helping me.”
At first her only reaction was a gasp, and he would have given anything to see her expression. To see her. He suspected she was blushing. Would her blush color only her cheeks, or would it spread, delving further, along her collarbone…her breasts?
He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.
We can discuss that later, she finally said.
“You keep saying that, and to be honest, I’m sick of hearing it. I don’t even know your name.”
Silence.
“A name is such a simple thing. Surely you can tell me yours.”
I can’t.
“Yes, you can. Open your mouth and let sound come out. Try it, you might like it.”
No, I truly cannot tell you. Because, well…because I don’t have one, she admitted reluctantly, shamefully.
His brow furrowed. Not have a name? Everyone and everything had a name. Was she lying, perhaps? No, he decided in the next instant. Her shame was too real. Which left the question: why didn’t she have a name?
Instead of pressing for more details, he said, “Why don’t I call you Babe? It’s short, easy, and perfect for you.”
I am not an infant, she said, clearly offended.
“In your case, the word means hot and sexy.”
Oh. Ohhh. He imagined her smiling dreamily. Still, I think. I prefer something less suggestive. You may call me…Jane Doe.
“Now it’s my turn to nix.” He chuckled. “I’m not calling you by a name I use for dead female bodies I can’t identify.”
She sighed. Will you call me Jewel?
He experienced a jolt of surprise that she had picked that name, since it was the whole reason he was here. Is that why she chose it? he wondered suspiciously. Probably. Clearly, she could read his mind, as well as toss her voice inside. He’d have to be more careful about what he considered. “Jewel it is, then.” He rolled the name across his tongue, savoring its taste. He hadn’t seen her face, but anyone with such a flat-out sexy voice deserved a flat-out sexy name, and Jewel did fit the bill.
He skirted around a pile of rocks. “Why did you help me, Jewel?”
She exhaled slowly, and the breathy trickle caressed his nerve endings, tickling like the tip of a feather. I need your help. She sounded defensive. Unsure.
“Help doing what?”
Saving me. I’ve been imprisoned again and I—
“Again?” He stopped and his backpack slammed into his spine. “What the hell for?”
For being me. I believe you surface dwellers would say everyone wants a piece of me.
The scolding edge