God, she hoped he was being honest with her.
Unable to stay still, she walked around the fire pit three or four times. Stopped and looked again to the tunnel where her host had gone. When he’d suggested he be the one to go get her pack, she’d agreed. Had that been a mistake? Was he even now selling her grandfather’s weapons and ammo on the prison’s black market, or whatever they called it?
She should have gone with him—
The sound of heavy footfalls brought her head up, and when she recognized the scent, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.
The Jackal emerged from the darkness, and he had something in his arms.
“I got some food,” he said as he headed by her. “I figured you must be hungry.”
When he kept right on going, she didn’t immediately follow, and he glanced over the provisions at her. “Are you coming?”
“We’re not staying here?”
“Does it look like there’s a bath where you’re standing.”
Falling into step with him, she peeled her pack from his shoulders and strapped it on. “So where’s this bath place?”
“Close.”
Some distance along, he stopped short. Looked both ways. Triggered something. “We’re here.”
As a section of the rock walling slid back, Nyx recoiled. But not because things smelled bad.
On the contrary, the scent of clean water was as obvious as it was a surprise.
Nyx walked forward, called by the relief from the cloying aroma of earth. As she entered a narrow passageway, she rushed forward, her way lit by candles that flared one by one down at the floor. In the back of her mind, she had the sense that he was lighting her path, willing the wicks to life.
Then she made a corner and faltered as she confronted a dense black space. The sound, though . . . oh, that was gently falling water. And there was humidity in the air—and warmth.
The Jackal stepped into the darkness behind her. “This is where I go when I need . . .”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Then again, as candles flared in a broad circle around a natural spring, he didn’t have to.
“Oh . . . my God,” she whispered.
From somewhere in the ceiling, a natural flow of water dropped into a ten-foot-wide pool, some kind of heat vent down in the natural basin bubbling the clear water and causing steam to rise up.
“I thought you might like it here.” He put the bundle down. “So, yes. At any rate.”
He sat on the smooth back of an enormous boulder, unpacking bread and what looked like cheese. There was also an old-fashioned milk bottle filled with something the color of a red poker chip.
“This is not fancy,” he said, “but you can have it all.”
Nyx approached him and lowered herself onto the granite “sofa.” “What about you?”
“I can find more for me. It’s more important for you to be strong.”
He leaned to the side and took something out of a hip pocket. Flipping the cloth free of its folds, he made a little table and then laid out the picnic.
“I wish I had something better to offer.” He opened the glass bottle. “This tastes wretched, but it has singlehandedly kept me from getting scurvy.”
He took a deep drink and swallowed. As he closed his eyes, she thought it was a little odd that he was savoring the stuff as if it were wine—
His lids flipped up. “It’s safe.”
“Safe?”
“Untampered with.” He offered the drink to her. “I didn’t make it, so I have to be sure it’s okay for you.”
Nyx took the glass container, her fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
He nodded and then tore off a piece from the loaf. As he chewed, he closed his eyes again. Then he did the same with the cheese.
“This is all safe as well.”
Putting her lips to the open neck of the container, she had a thought that his mouth had been where hers was now—and that really shouldn’t have mattered.
As she took a test taste, she frowned and looked at the red liquid. “This is Kool-Aid. Or at least that’s what it tastes like.”
“What is that?”
“I’m not sure whether this has any vitamins in it.” She drank some more. “But it’s good.”
Funny how everything was relative. Back home, she would have given the swill a solid pass. Down here? It was strangely comforting.
“I haven’t had this since back in the seventies,” she murmured. “I used to make it for Posie before her transition.”
“Another sister?”
“Yes, the youngest in the family. Do you want some more of this?”
“No, it’s all for you.”
“I’m willing to share.”
When he just leaned back on the rock wall and extended his long legs, she shrugged and finished what was there. Then she hit the bread, which had been baked fresh and tasted pretty damn good, and the cheese, which had almost no taste but was definitely not spoiled. She ate fast, her hunger much sharper than she’d thought.
Then again, the sense of imminent danger made her feel like she could be interrupted, in a bad way, at any second.
And then the food was gone.
Nyx shifted her eyes to the swirling water because things got too intense when she was looking at him. But as the silence went on, she had to glance over at the male.
His eyes were closed, his breathing even. But he wasn’t asleep.
“Finished?” he said softly.
“Yes.”
His lids opened, but not very far, that vivid blue stare glowing.
“How many people know about this place?” she heard herself ask.
Why does that matter, she thought. Even though she knew exactly why she was making the inquiry.
“Kane and Lucan. Two others. But they won’t come here. I told them to stay out.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Why do you think.”
The female—Nyx—looked to the falling water again, and as the Jackal recognized where her eyes were, he also knew where her thoughts had gone. She didn’t want to speak them out loud, and he respected that, but her scent was giving her away.
“No one will come here. You’re safe,” he said.
“I don’t feel safe.”
“You have your weapons.” He thought of Lucan. “And I’ve seen you use them.”
“I didn’t cut that male.”
“You would have if he’d moved.”
“True.” Her eyes returned to his own. “What is he?”
The Jackal debated playing dumb, but just shook his head instead. “That’s his story to tell, not mine.”
“So he’s not just a vampire.”
“Not my story.” He let his stare drift down to her lips. “Do you want to get into the water?”
“Are you going to stay here?”
“I’ll give you my back. If you want it.”
As he waited for her response, he reminded himself what this was all about. They were using each other, and it was a relief to set those boundaries. Meanwhile, inside his body, down to his very marrow, things stirred, things he had not felt in so long that he had come to believe and accept that they had been killed, casualties of his prison experience. This female had proved otherwise, and he was not losing the opportunity. But more than that, there was the satisfaction that in laying with her, he would hurt another, hurt the one who had done such damage to him. Even if he was the only one who knew it—and he was going to have to keep it that way—the rebalance of power, the reclamation of his autonomy, was nourishment to his blackened soul.
Before he could act upon his instincts, however, something occurred to him.
“Why did your family send you on this suicidal mission?” he asked abruptly. “Have you no brothers? No sire?”
Her brows arched. “Males aren’t the only people who are capable of things.”
“No. This should have been carried out by a male relation of your bloodline. Have they no shame?”
Nyx seemed to need a moment to gather herself. “Wow. You know, in the hundred years since you ended up down here, a lot has changed. They let us girls drive cars and hold jobs—oh, and we can vote. Or, well, if I was a human, I could vote. But still.”
“I have offended you,” he said levelly. “For that I am sorry.”
Nyx tilted her head. “But wait, lemme guess. You’re sticking with your dated and sexist position.”
“You expect me to apologize for wanting to protect females? You will not get that, now or ever.”
“‘Protection’ is another word for subjugate.”
“It is? You must explain.”
“You think you need to protect me because I’m weaker than you are.”
“I can most certainly lift more than you can.”
“And that’s everything? Please. Spare me the caveman routine.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Your problem is that you think being able to bench-press a car gives you the right to dictate things that are none of your business.”
“You’ll have to remind me of this when I ensure your safety against the guards.”
“I’ll save myself, thank you very much—”
“It must be nice to know everything about everything. And you accuse me of being an overlord? All you need is a castle and a moat and you’re a medieval knight. At least in your own mind.”
“That’s where it counts most, buddy—”
“Fates, you can’t ever concede a point—”
The two of them were speaking faster and louder, and in the back of his mind, he knew what was happening. Both of them were uneasy with the sexual attraction, unsure of how far to take things, but dearest Virgin Scribe, he was hungry. For her.
And she was the same. Her scent had changed, and everything that was male in him recognized her arousal—and was driven to do something about it.
“—males like you boxing us in, making us feel less than—” She stopped. “What.”