the one to find them. Ached because they'd been murdered in ways so cruel she cringed from the thoughts. She knew how devastating losing a loved one was. He'd lost everyone close to him in one fatal swoop.
'Your brother,' Darius said, effectively changing the subject. 'You said he's been missing for several weeks.'
The mention of Alex served as a cold reminder of why she was here. 'He hasn't been home, hasn't called, and that isn't like him.'
'And there were men chasing him through the jungle, trying to obtain the medallion from him?'
'Correct.'
'Perhaps you should tell me everything that happened before and after you escaped me.'
She told him what she knew, leaving out no detail.
'These men,' he said, 'the Argonauts who found you in the jungle. Would they harm your brother if they knew of the medallion?'
'Of course not.'
Darius pursed his lips as he wondered just how many were involved in this tangled web of mystery-which was becoming more complicated every time Grace opened her mouth. 'I still wish to find and speak with them.' He pushed to his feet. 'The medallion is not here,' he growled. 'I have searched every inch of the cave.'
'I didn't lie to you,' she assured him. 'I lost it in the mist.'
He jerked a hand through his hair. Once again he was left unsure whether to believe Grace. Her motives seemed pure, the protection of her brother; yet her claim of losing the medallion seemed a lie. Had she stolen it, only to lose it?
As he stood there, warring within himself, his heated tattoos illuminated a dark object, glinting in the corner of his eye. He'd seen the object during his search, but had ignored it. Now he bent down and studied it. Grace's weapon, he realized. The same sort of weapon the human guards carried at Javar's palace.
'Why did you carry this?' he asked her. His fingers drifted through the metal.
'The gun?' She closed the distance between them and knelt beside him. Her heady essence wrapped around him.
'A gun,' he echoed. 'Why did you carry this?' he asked again.
'To protect myself. I bought it from a peddler in Manaus.'
'What does it do?' His voice was solemn, deep. 'As I recall, you tried to wound me with it, but nothing happened.'
'The cylinder wasn't loaded. If the cylinder had been loaded, bullets would have shot out when I pulled the trigger and slammed into you, causing injury. Maybe even death.'
Intrigued, he eyed the gun with new expectations. A complicated piece of weaponry, to be sure. The coil, the thin shaft. 'I would like to see this in action.'
'I just bet you would,' she muttered.
He flicked her a glance. 'If I make it so that you can hold this weapon, will you show me how to work it?'
'I don't have any bullets,' she said.
'Get some.'
'Where? We're not exactly in the bustling heart of a city, with eager merchants hawking their wares.'
'Later, then. When we return to your home. You can obtain these bullets and show me how this weapon works.'
'All right,' she said. Though Grace wasn't sure she wanted him to handle a loaded gun. Nor was she sure she wanted to take him to a gun range. 'But how are we going to get it home? We can't even pick it up.'
He turned back to the gun, letting his hands hover over the top, and closed his eyes. One minute melted into another. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth, and his bronze skin paled. Grace didn't utter a sound, didn't move. She didn't know what he was doing, but she was loath to interrupt.
Finally, he let out a breath and opened his eyes. He scooped his hand under the gun and lifted. Instead of sinking past an immaterial palm, the gun remained cradled.
'How did you do that?' Awe laced her voice. She took the weapon and tucked it in the drawstring waist of her sweats.
He ignored her question. 'Come,' he said, stalking to the entrance. 'I wish to find these Argonauts.'
'They have guns of their own,' she warned him. 'I saw them.'
The dire warning didn't cause him a moment's concern, though his gaze gleamed with a tiny flicker of pleasure that she sought to offer it. 'They will not even know we are here. We are like ghosts, remember?'
They were forced to crawl on their hands and knees until they reached the cave's entrance. Grace loved the way her knees glided through every rock and twig, but wondered why Darius didn't do his instant transfer thingy. They reached the end, and she eased to her feet. The heat and humidity of the Amazon threatened to roast her, and she was no longer so thankful for her sweats. Familiar scents drifted to her nostrils: dewy foliage, orchids, and recent rain.
'How does one protect oneself from a gun?' Darius asked, ushering her beyond a flourishing green bush.
'Kevlar vests. That's what the police use, anyway.'
His expression turned pensive. 'I would like some of these vests.'
'Maybe we can order you some on the Internet. I'll do a search-'
Her body tingled in strange rippling waves, and she gasped. A piece of fruit had sailed through her and smashed into a tree. Laughter drifted to her ears, not human, but amused all the same. Two more missiles sailed through her as Darius whipped around. He launched himself at her, tossing her to the ground. His weight crushed her.
'How have you been spotted, woman?' he demanded.
'Those damn monkeys!' She glared up at him, blaming him for her trials, slowly becoming aware of the perfect fit of their bodies and the warm, seductive scent of him. 'You said no one would know we were here.'
'Monkeys are responsible?' His lips compressed, and if she weren't mistaken, amusement twinkled in his golden eyes. She paused. Golden again? The only time they'd been golden like this was right after he kissed her. What made them change? 'Animals can see what the human eye cannot,' he said.
'Are you laughing at me?'
'Perhaps.'
'What I want to know is why he didn't throw anything at you.'
'My guess is that he knew I would have him for my next meal if he did so.'
She liked this side of Darius, playful and teasing.
Grace smiled.
His gaze veered to her lips, and heat suddenly seared his eyes. All traces of merriment fled from his expression. Her own smile faded. Memories of the last time he'd lain on top of her licked through her mind. And just like that, she wanted him again. The knowledge angered her. How could she desire this man?
She must have moved, must have arched her hips, because Darius hissed a torrent of air between his teeth. His muscles were tense, and he was leaning toward her. Closer, closer still.
In one swift motion, he jerked to his feet.
'Up,' he commanded, his tone inexorable. 'You're wasting time.'
Wasting time? Wasting time! Her? Irritated, Grace stood and anchored her hands on her hips. 'It's going to be nothing but good times with you. I can tell.'
Darius led her around for the next hour. The heat obviously agreed with him. While he looked as refreshed and vibrant as if he'd just stepped from a yoga class, dirt glued itself to her clothes and body. Even her hair was weighted down and wilted. She was a ghost.
Wasn't she supposed to stay clean and untouched by the elements?
'I hate this place,' she muttered. Already she was tired and thirsty. And cranky. 'I need a coconut smoothie.'
The man responsible for her distress finally halted. 'There are no Argonauts here.'
No shit, Sherlock . Yes, definitely cranky. 'I'm telling you, they were here.'
'I believe you,' he assured her, as if that had never been in question. 'Their footprints are everywhere.' He
