Her eyes bulged, and her face turned purple. Mouth floundering open and closed, she pointed a trembling finger in the direction he’d been headed.
He tightened his hold. “Did you harm her?”
“She didn’t,” a gorgon next to the banshee assured him. Despite her calm tone, the snakes growing from her head slithered and hissed with aggression. “All she did was snag the dress as your charge raced past us.”
Truth? “If you have lied, Iwillfind you. Both of you. I’ll kill you and everyone you love.” He released his hostage, and she collapsed on the ground.
“So fierce!” someone squealed behind him.
Females! He kicked into gear. Things only grew worse from there as he and the siren journeyed across a hilly expanse. Monna used the opportunity to explain all the reasons he should sleep with her. Everything from scratching an itch to giving her the baby she’d dreamed of having for so long to proving “once you go siren, no others are worth admirin’.”
“Hey! Are you listening to me?” she whined. “I said this Monna knows how to make you moan. There’s no better time to demand I prove it. Hint, hint.”
Tracking, tracking. Dirt gave way to pink sand and mile after mile of abandoned desert. Though Blythe’s scent continued to provide a path, he never caught sight of her. Somehow, she remained at bay.
“What is located in this direction?” he asked, interrupting his date’s newest diatribe.
Monna gave a slight shudder. “Wraith Island.”
Ah. Blythe sought the individual who’d hobbled her. “How far is it? How many wraiths reside there?”
“Five hours or so on foot. And one wraith? Ten? A hundred? Who knows? Anyone foolish enough to venture onto the island is never seen or heard from again. Not even our queen attempts to rule the species. The wraiths govern themselves, led by Penelope the Husk Maker. She’s responsible for tagging your phantom, which means your phantom is now hers, and you’ll never get her back. You might as well forget her and focus on a different bedmate. Hey, here’s a totally random thought I’m offering for no particular reason. I’m very bendy.”
Husk Maker. Because she drained her victims dry?
Roux picked up the pace, jogging. Running. The citizens were right to avoid the wraiths; they were extremely dangerous. Oh, the damage this Penelope could do to Blythe...
The next hour passed in silence, wind kicking sand in every direction. The grains ruffled his hair, filled his nose, and pelted his skin, stinging like needles. Nothing he hadn’t borne before. The siren, on the other hand, began to lag, despite using his body as a shield. Was she deterred from flirting? Not even slightly.
Another hour passed, seeming to take an eternity and a blip at the same time as the landscape changed again. From sunny pink sands to dark and gloomy skies overlooking rock bundles.
“Do you have a mate at home?” Monna asked. “Is that how you’re able to resist all this?” She motioned to her admittedly lovely body.
He held his tongue, supplying only a grunt.
With twenty-two minutes remaining on the six-hour date clock, a large body of choppy water came into view. Even as a thin white vapor blew over the surface, he caught sight of a bobbing dark head at last. Blythe! She didn’t appear to be drowning but swimming strong and fast toward a large island with a heavily wooded mountain rising from the center, its top shrouded with a much thicker mist.
“Stay here.” he ordered. But, when he tried to flash, he failed. Roux swallowed a curse. His oath. He couldn’t leave the siren behind.
“Sorry, lover,” she said, understanding, “but abandoning me for any amount of time isn’t how this date of ours works. If you want to flash, flash, but you gotta take me with you. Them’s the rules you agreed to.”
“Very well. We do this together.” He slung an arm around her. “Prepare yourself. This might be jarring.”
Just as before, she melted against him and ran her palms over his chest. “I’ll be sure to hang on real tight.”
Flash. They materialized directly in front of Blythe, chin-deep in the icy water. He treaded his feet, holding the siren with one hand and snagging the harphantom with the other as a wave rolled past.
Monna screeched. Blythe fought him, but it was too late. He held fast and flashed to the beach.
Upon landing on solid ground, the siren curled against him, muttering, “So c-c-cold, k-k-keep me warm.”
Blythe wrenched free from his clasp. He expected an immediate attack, but she stayed where she was, drenched and glaring, her eyes a haunting mix of black and blue. The gown clung to her water-dotted skin. And he’d considered the garment transparent before. Every curve defined...
Roux licked his lips. His flesh might be the temperature of ice, but his blood burned white-hot. The sight of her body, a perfect hourglass...
He thought he heard Monna exclaim, “So big! And still growing! By the way, you touched me first, and I consider that my permission. Stay silent if you agree.”
Focus on what matters.Right. Anger overlaid his attraction. Blythe had endangered herself as well as his mission. She must be stopped from ever doing so again.