Chapter 18
Argos
Apollo and Venita didn’t accompany them on the tram ride back to their suite, and Argos knew exactly why.
Theora had sounded beautiful when she came, but nothing like a cave coyote.
And the most entertaining part was, Theora didn’t even notice their absence.
She seemed distracted in an overly flustered way for the rest of the evening, in a way that told Argos exactly what she was thinking about.
Not that he could blame her. It was all he could think of, too.
But he was glad the lagoon had been the last planned activity for the day.
This would be a good time to explore that hidden tunnel in the closet, if he could distract Theora enough to get away without explaining himself.
Besides, he needed to hunt. Badly. Walking around sightseeing at a casual pace wasn’t exactly what he’d call exciting.
And what had happened on the ferry, well… he had gotten no exertion out of that.
Not that it mattered…Theora’s pleasure was enough.
Enough? It was everything.
He’d set out to prove a point and managed to get himself into more trouble than he was ready for. The thought of touching Theora had passed through his mind occasionally, but now? If he wanted to remain in an honorable position with the Sovereign, he needed to tamp down those feelings quickly.
He feigned an itch beneath his nose just so he could smell his fingers, still marked by her intoxicating scent.
Theora tugged on his arm, pulling him from his meditations.
“Stop that,” she hissed.
“What?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin before he could stop it.
Her blush was so pleasant to experience. It made heat waft off her chest, her pulse ticking rhythmically on the side of her throat.
The same long, beautiful throat he’d held in his hand not long ago.
Fuck.
“Cease,” she said quietly. Behave, she meant. “Come inside and wash your hands.”
“Come inside?” he repeated, for her ears only.
She blushed further, realizing her mistake. “You’re asking to get murdered.”
She stormed into their wing, with Argos following casually, and she hastily took out some lounge clothes and locked herself in the bathroom to change.
“I’m going to sleep,” she said through the door.
“Okay.”
“We have our next session tomorrow morning, so you should sleep soon, too.”
“Yep.”
“Don’t go anywhere. I mean it.” Her voice was even more annoyed. “I don’t want to wake up to find out that someone got eaten or something.”
Argos smirked. “I don’t eat people. Just drink their blood.”
“Not funny.” Theora finished her nightly beauty routine before exiting the bathroom, her attitude suddenly shifting to awkwardness when their gazes met. “Just so we’re on the same page about this, what happened today was a onetime deal.”
He blinked away the memory of the hungry look in Theora’s eyes when she was looking up at him on the ferry. “Yeah. No. I get that.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary to touch each other at all now, if there’s no one around to see.”
“Completely agree.”
“You’ve proven your point quite thoroughly, so…that’s done.”
Argos raised a brow. “Thoroughly, huh?”
Even if Theora’s glare remained displeased, he could smell that she was reliving that ferry ride, same as him. He wanted to taste her again, wanted to make her come even harder.
“Okay,” Theora said quickly, before hurrying off to bed. “Fine, then.”
“Fine,” he agreed, heading out to the living room.
“Wash your hands.”
He paused, smirking. “I will.”
He didn’t. He changed his clothes and waited until Theora’s breath was even and unbothered, before quietly emptying his suitcase and tearing out the lining to reveal a hidden compartment.
Inside was a three-foot-long blade, narrow but still substantial, made wholly of woven silk.
A material that metal detectors couldn’t trace.
From another nook of the lining, he removed an armored shirt and donned it quickly.
If they thought he was actually going to go an entire week without a weapon or armor, they clearly knew nothing about Warriors.
He dumped his clothing back into the suitcase and made his way to the tunnel door, ascending the small pull-down ladder armed and ready. The key was in the lock, so he brought it along with him, locking it behind him to keep Theora secure inside.
The tunnel network here was dark, dirty, uneven.
Clearly unused for quite some time. He followed his nose until he could smell civilization under his feet.
The farther he went, the more familiar the scents.
The farmer’s market. The lobby. The familiar shifting into the unfamiliar. The other side of the colony, perhaps?
By then he had been wandering around for hours, tracking and backtracking, avoiding well-used tunnels, and he was beyond agitated.
He needed something to kill, or at least something to stalk—he hadn’t been hunting for an entire day, and for such a large colony, there seemed to be a lack of physical excursions, of ways to blow off steam other than the gym.
And then…hope. The hint of something like…honey.
He grinned. When he’d exited the suite, he hadn’t anticipated the opportunity to actually kill Pyre. Theora wouldn’t like it—she certainly hadn’t appreciated the first kill he brought her. But he’d accepted the mission of protecting her for this very reason. To avenge Izzi.
After all, Pyre had been the only one to suspect him of anything, and if he could get away with killing a war commander, he could certainly pull off killing a queen.
He followed the scent until it was clear that he had found the Vespulan wing. There was a door, chained as his had been, but it was locked from the inside of the wing.
He checked his watch. He’d been prowling around all night, and it was now early morning. He could pull this off, if he could get rid of this chain quietly enough.
But he suddenly paused as another familiar scent caught his nose.
He lay on the ground, attempting to see through the small crack in the door.
Light, but nothing else. He heard whispered conversation but couldn’t make out the words.
Still, his nose could never deceive him.
He could single out Pyre and her gaggle of maids.
And he could most definitely smell the polite nuisance that was Apollo.
So, he hadn’t been crazy at lunch when he’d smelled a Vespulan all over Apollo. It had been subtle, as if the prick had washed and changed before he’d joined them on the excursion. Perhaps only his hair had kept the scent.
Dark sentinels.
Argos checked his watch again. It was getting close to the next peace talk session, wasn’t it?
He had to make a decision quickly. He could break in and kill Pyre, end all these games now.
But there were twelve handmaidens to get through, and he’d most likely have to kill Apollo, too—and though that wasn’t a loss that would keep him up at night, it might cause a bit of a mess that Theora wouldn’t appreciate.
Or, he could get back to the room and warn Theora. They could come up with a strategy from there…but so could the Vespulans.
Argos paced for the moment, the itch to kill gnawing at him.
It would be so much easier to just break in and kill them. Far more efficient. Far more…satisfying.
Those were all valid desires of his prey drive, a risk worth taking…when he’d had no one to look after.
Your place is with Theora. You abandoned her all night as it is.
With a growl of frustration, he rushed back toward their wing of the resort, just praying he could navigate it more quickly this time. Praying he wouldn’t be too late.