her think of torchlight, it seemed right for her to turn toward Brandt and move in for the kiss they had been heading for ever since he’d taken her hand to lead her out of the crowd.
Except she froze midturn, her eyes locking on a dark rectangle outlined in silver moonlight.
There was a doorway in the lower tier of the pyramid.
Brandt whispered, “That wasn’t there before. Was it?”
“I don’t think so.” Actually, she knew for a fact that it hadn’t been, but didn’t want to seem too sure. Nightkeepers were supposed to fly under the human radar. But her pulse kicked and her hands started sweating in earnest.
He glanced down at her, eyes alight. “Want to check it out?”
She hesitated. Of course she wanted to check it out—she was dying to get in there, her anticipation fueled by a combination of her inner adrenaline junkie and cultural conditioning—but logic said she should ditch him before she entered the ruin. If the doorway had opened because of some equinox-
triggered spell put in place by the ancients, possibly one that required the presence of Nightkeeper blood, then she shouldn’t let the human anywhere near it.
But what if it was something more banal, like a new passageway opened by a rock slide? If it didn’t have anything to do with the magi, there was no harm in exploring it with her spring-break hookup.
Or, more accurately, there was no more harm than there would be for two full humans who had snuck into a national park with zero equipment, experience, or mandate to set foot inside the pyramid.
But because of her warrior’s blood, that caution quickly lost to the urge to explore. What was more, a glance showed that Brandt was full-on channeling his inner Indiana Jones, practically vibrating with the urge to get his ass through that door and see what was on the other side.
When she hesitated, though, he said, “We don’t have to. We could just sit and watch the fireworks.”
But the energy between them changed when he said it, making her suspect that if she went with option B, she’d find herself back on the beach while he returned to El Rey alone. Which so wasn’t happening.
Besides, she thought, her brain skipping from option to option almost faster than her consciousness could follow, if the door is Nightkeeper-made and keyed to the presence of mageblood, then it being open now is . . . She trailed off, not even daring to say it inwardly. But what if the barrier had reactivated, if only at this one small spot?
If the magic was back online, then theoretically, she should be able to put Brandt to sleep, and even make him forget what he’d seen. Granted, she didn’t have her bloodline mark, but the sleep and forget spells were lower-level magic. She might be able to pull them off.
So either the door was magic, in which case she should be able to handle the damage control . . . or it wasn’t magic, in which case she was about to go exploring with a seriously hot, mega-interesting guy, during the equinox, when her blood was already on fire. Win-win.
Digging into her pocket, she pulled out her key chain, unsnapped the little emergency light, and gave it a flash. “What are we waiting for?”
His slow, sexy grin was practically its own reward.
They crossed the moonlit courtyard hand in hand, and approached the pyramid. The doorway, which was set in the center of the lowest tier, looked like many of the others she’d seen over the years, with carved pillars on both sides and a lintel over the top. She barely glanced at the carvings, in part because she knew only a few of the ancient glyphs and these were badly weatherworn. The larger part of her haste, though, was the hot excitement beating in her veins, urging her onward.
Tangling her fingers with his, she used her pitiful little light to illuminate the darkness beyond the doorway. Behind them, fireworks pounded, the deep thuds reverberating in the heavy stones of the pyramid. In front of them, an ancient stone staircase led, not up within the pyramid . . . but down into the earth.
Her breath thinned with excitement. On some level, she was aware that one or both of them should probably be bringing up some what-ifs—what would they do if the penlight died? What if the tunnel was booby-trapped? She wasn’t entirely sure if that sort of thing was fact or fiction. Was this really such a good idea?
On another, more visceral level, though, she knew that hesitating wasn’t an option. If this was equinox magic, the doorway would shut in a few hours. And if it wasn’t . . . hell, either way, she was dying to see where the staircase led, and to see it with this man. Call it the hereditary bravery of a warrior bloodline, call it hormones, call it equinox madness; she didn’t care.
Glancing at him, she lifted an eyebrow. “You ready?”
He brushed his knuckles across her cheek in a soft, sensual caress. The warm glow of the penlight brought color to his face and lit his eyes, which were a deep, gold-flecked brown. He inhaled as if to say something, but stayed silent instead, and in that instant, she thought she caught a hint of reserve in his expression, the question of whether he dared share the adventure with her. But those were her thoughts, not his, she reminded herself. And there was nothing but the thrill of the hunt in his face when he grinned. “I’ve been ready since the moment I spotted you in the crowd.”
She laughed. “Lame.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m pretty sad in the pickup-line department.”
She didn’t believe that for a second, but the exchange had dispelled some of the tension, putting them back where they had been on the beach, daring each other to make the move. Then, he’d been the one to pull her into the darkness, headed for privacy. Now it was her turn to lead the way.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped across the threshold. And started down.
The air around them cooled as they descended the curving stone staircase in a silence broken only by the sound of his boat shoes, her sandals, and their cadenced breathing. The interlocking stones that surrounded them were uncarved and unadorned, and slippery with a layer of moisture that grew heavier as they went. The air, though, stayed fresh, suggesting that there was an outlet nearby.
“I can taste salt,” Brandt said from close behind her. She was very aware of the heat of his big body, the brush of their clothing, and the feather of his breath along her jaw as he looked over her shoulder, both of them depending on the small penlight.
“Maybe this leads all the way back to the lagoon.” She tried to remember if there was a cliff along the beach, someplace where the native limestone base ran down to the water.
“Or an underground river,” he suggested. “There’s almost no surface water in the Yucatan—it’s all subterranean except for where the cenotes punch through. The ancient Maya used to throw sacrifices into the cenotes, hoping to appease the gods, and—” He broke off. “And I’ll shut up now.”
She glanced back. “Archaeology student?”
He shook his head. “Architecture student. But a geeky one. Day one, when my buddies headed for the cantina, I hit the museum.”
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation that didn’t play, though she couldn’t put her finger on what seemed off about it, or why the realization kicked her pulse higher in a good way rather than bad. Then her pitiful flashlight beam showed that they had hit the end of the staircase, and she couldn’t think of anything except what might lie beyond, where the walls fell away and there was only darkness. She smelled brackish water and thought she heard a liquid drip up ahead, so when she reached the edge of the last step, she aimed the light down, making sure there was something solid for her to step onto.
Without warning or preamble, a crack-boom split the air, and fireworks lit an almost perfect circle far above them with yellow, orange, and red sparks. The illumination brightened the interior of what proved to be a high, arching cavern. Graceful stalactites dripped down, reaching toward a circular pool of rippling water. At the apex of the arched ceiling, a sinkhole had punched through, letting in the night sky, where blue-green pinwheels twirled outward in concentric firework rings.
