Read Oceanborne Online

Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

Oceanborne (3 page)

“No, no taverna, although I could use a shot of ouzo.” He shook his head. “There's no one on this island at all.”
“That's incorrect.”
His eyes narrowed. “I assure you that—”
“You're here and I'm here. That makes two of us, so you can hardly say that the island is deserted.”
She started to rise and he offered his hand. She took it as if it were her due, as his mother or sisters might. He could almost say that she was regal, for a human. And the brown eyes that met his showed not the slightest hint of fear. Her hand was warm, her grip strong.
“So, Orion Xenos.” She pried her hand loose from his and went to stand near the opening to the cave. “What were you doing here? And where's your boat?”
“Lost it,” he said. “I was swimming, and it broke loose from the anchor and the tide took it.”
“You lost it.” She sounded unconvinced. “You happened to be out for a swim off a deserted island in a storm and lost your boat. Interesting.”
“I'm sure you have a much more reasonable excuse for why you were sightseeing in this weather.” He went to stand beside her. The rain was coming down in sheets, the wind and waves making it difficult to hear.
She looked up at him. “I'm an archeologist. An underwater archeologist. I'm heading up an expedition and I came out to check on the site. The Greek government frowns on antiquity thieves. I wanted to make certain that no one was attempting to dive our site.”
“Your site?” He arched a brow. “You're a foreigner. American? This is Greek territory. It can hardly be
your
site.”
She ignored his comment. “My father was British. I was born in Cornwall. I have dual citizenship.”
“Wonderful. Another foreigner here to plunder our national treasures.”
“Not simply treasures of Greece, but artifacts and knowledge that belong to the whole human race,” she corrected him. “And we're a fully accredited expedition, here with the blessing of the government. We haven't come to steal anything, only to preserve what is being lost every day.”
“To thieves?”
“Thieves and natural forces.”
“So we should be grateful to you.”
She shrugged. “Your country simply doesn't have the resources to protect the thousands of sites that are in immediate danger. We're excavating the remains of a Phoenician sailing ship that sunk over three thousand years ago.”
“That old?” He tried to look impressed. Among his people, three thousand years might be a single lifetime but, he had to remind himself, he was dealing with a less-developed species of humanoid.
“Possibly. The Phoenicians had regular trade routes that plied the seas from Spain to Africa. We've found shards with the image of the goddess Ashera, and a single gold coin. We think this vessel may have been carrying tribute to her temple near Larnaca.”
“Ashera?”
“You Greeks know her as Astarte, goddess of—”
“I'm familiar with Astarte,” he said, cutting her off. “I'm not totally ignorant.”
Ashera, my aching loins!
He knew the ship in question. The vessel had gone down in a storm much like this one. She was certainly Phoenician, but the woman's time was off by at least five hundred years, and the tribute carried was for Melqart's temple, not Ashera's. The vessel had remained untouched with good reason. Anything with the stench of the Phoenician god of war was best left alone. Melqart guarded his belongings jealously. Human meddling in his possessions might be what had drawn the shades here and cost the lives of the German tourists.
“So, how has your
excavation
gone so far? Any accidents?”
Elena's demeanor cooled. “What an odd question. Why would you ask such a thing? And, no, there haven't been any
accidents
. I know what I'm doing.”
He grimaced. “Obviously. That's why you've wrecked your Zodiac and you're cast ashore on a deserted island with a total stranger whom you suspect may be some sort of antiquities thief.”
CHAPTER 3
“
A
re you always so frank?” Elena asked. He was right on. She did believe he was lying to her. Orion Xenos's half-baked tale about swimming and losing his boat was pitiful. He was involved in something illegal—she would have bet her 1989 Vespa on it. If Orion wasn't here to steal antiquities, then he was a smuggler.
Yet, she had to admit, she found him charming, and very sexy, despite his poor choice in bathing suits. The red stretchy garment was several sizes too small and left little to the imagination. Of course, endowed as he was, it was hard to picture swim trunks that would hide his male attributes.
“Usually,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“You asked if I always speak my mind, and I usually do.”
“Right.” She wanted to ask where he'd found the red trunks, since he'd been stark naked when she'd pulled him out of the drink, but there didn't seem to be a way to do so without taking the conversation into areas she'd rather avoid. “A shame your boat wasn't washed up on the beach instead of drifting out to sea. We could have used it.”
“Not for a while. That surf is wicked.”
A loud clap of thunder caused her to draw back from the mouth of the cave. The rain was coming down in torrents, and the temperature was dropping. Her clothes were still wet, and Elena had a feeling that the shelter was about to become uncomfortable.
“You're shivering,” he said.
Elena rubbed her arms. “I'm fine.” She suspected that it was more the company than the cold that had her trembling. She'd always had a weakness for bad boys.
To a degree … She'd spent her lifetime surrounded by men, first as a child on her father's expeditions and later in her science and higher math classes. Archeology had traditionally been a man's domain, but eager young women had flooded the field in the past few decades. Not, however, in the area of underwater archeology. She'd fielded passes from would-be Romeos since she was thirteen, evading and sometimes relishing brief encounters with college professors, treasure hunters, and boat mechanics.
She liked to think that she was a good judge of men, and although Orion appeared to be a genuine rogue, she didn't think that she had anything to fear from him. Her instincts for self-preservation had developed early, and if all else failed, she could always fall back on her years of training in the oriental arts of self-defense.
“I assure you, I'm a gentleman where the female of the species is concerned.”
She glanced sideways at him. He seemed bigger in this closed space, and those muscular arms and wide shoulders were more than a match for his movie-star looks. “It's good to know this isn't where you bury the bodies,” she quipped.
Orion laughed. “I've met women archeologists before, but they had chin whiskers and bad breath. Plus, they all confined their digging to above ground.”
“It's a family business. My grandfather pioneered underwater research in the Black Sea, and my father followed in his footsteps.”
“Your grandfather wasn't Howard Carter by any chance?”
“No, afraid not.” Elena shrugged. “Different branch of the family. Although they both were well published in their field.” Why had she told him that? Did she think he'd be impressed? And how did she always manage to bring up her father, even with total strangers?
Thinking about him was still painful. She'd been nine years old when he'd died, but he remained with her every day. She favored her mother in appearance, except for the eyes. And it was Randal Carter's eyes that looked back at her every time she glanced in a mirror. Damn but she missed him.
“Your English is excellent,” she said to Orion, in an effort to change the subject. “Did you study abroad?”
He nodded. “I've always found language fascinating. You, for instance, are an enigma. Your dialect is upper-class European, but your idioms are American, and you have a trace of a Southern accent.”
“Guilty.” She chuckled. “Boarding school in Switzerland and London, university and grad school in Texas.”
His green eyes twinkled with mischief. They were large, haunting eyes, with an exotic slant to them, almost as if a bloodthirsty Scythian lurked somewhere in the shadowy past of his family tree. “Seems we have a lot in common,” he said smoothly.
“You attended the Girl's International School in Geneva?”
“What? You're prejudiced against transvestites?” He chuckled. “No, what I meant was that we both seemed to have benefited from an unorthodox but classical education.” He motioned toward the back of the cave. “How familiar are you with this island? This cave houses some of the finest examples of Bronze Age Linear B script that I've ever seen.”
Elena regarded him suspiciously. “Painted on the cave walls, I suppose.”
“First documented in 1911 by Dr. David Jones, one of your fellow Americans. I can't believe you've never heard of them. Photos of them are illustrated in Branford-Edmonds's text on early Minoan writing.”
“No, I've never heard of them.”
His gaze met hers, the intensity in his liquid green eyes was almost mesmerizing.
“Is this a variation on “ ‘Come up to my apartment to see my sketches'?” she quipped, but her resistance to his suggestion was rapidly draining away. She did want to see whatever was painted on these walls.
“You can trust me, Elena,” he said. “I'd never harm you.”
I can count on him to protect me
, she thought. She glanced away, her eyelids suddenly heavy. Why did she feel so lightheaded? Yet, her desire to inspect the Linear B script intensified with each breath she took. Suddenly, it was important that she not leave this spot without seeing it.
The cave was small, she told herself. It was not as though she was wandering off into the bowels of Athens with this man. They were already here, and she could see the back wall of the cavern. What did she have to lose?
Orion's strong fingers closed around her hand. “Shall I show you?” he asked. “Do you want to come with me?”
She nodded. She did … but … another moment and she'd fall asleep on her feet. “What are you …” She swayed, lost her balance, and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. What was wrong with her? Had she struck her head when the Zodiac turned over? Was she suffering from a concussion?
“It's all right,” he murmured. “I can show you such wonders.”
Where had she heard that line before? She was vaguely aware of Orion picking her up and thought she should have been concerned, but he smelled good and his chest was warm when she laid her head against it. The cave seemed to be moving. She felt as though she'd finished off a full bottle of Achaian wine, but she knew she hadn't had a drop of alcohol today. Could he have drugged her?
“You promised to take care of me,” she reminded him sleepily.
“And I always keep my word.”
He was carrying her toward the back of the shelter. The ceiling was low here, and the walls close on either side. She tried to force her eyes open to see the Linear B paintings, but she felt so sleepy and it was too dark to see clearly. “Are you a scoundrel, Orion?” she managed.
He kissed the crown of her head. “Don't worry. You're safe with me.”
“I never …”—she yawned—“… on the first date.”
He chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind … if the subject comes up.”
Sweet sensations tumbled in the pit of her stomach. If she was drunk, it had been some good stuff. She inhaled deeply, taking in the clean ocean scent of him, trying desperately to stay awake and in charge of the situation.
His lips brushed hers in a tender, teasing kiss that made her breasts tingle and bright ribbons of iridescent desire tighten in her womb. She sighed. If this was ravishment, bring it on. She slipped her arms around his neck. “Promise me you're not … a serial killer?”
“You can depend on it.” He kissed her again, and this time his mouth lingered on hers and the warm tingling flush washed through to the tips of her toes. His kiss deepened and she opened to take him in. He tasted as good as he smelled, and the sensation of his tongue against hers was so intriguing.
“Orion?” She pulled away and drew in a deep breath.
“It's all right,” he said. “Nothing bad will happen.”
But as she watched, he reached out and touched the wall. Abruptly, where there had been solid stone, an opening gaped, and Orion ducked his head and stepped through it.
“How?” she began. “What is this?”
“A stairway. Don't be afraid.”
Still carrying her, Orion descended the stone steps into total darkness. The air here was damp and heavy with the odors of salt and seaweed. Elena struggled in his arms. “I don't like this,” she said. This was the same feeling that she'd had inside the Great Pyramid of Giza. She could feel the weight of the stone closing in around them.
“You will. Trust me.”
Trusting you is what got me here,
she thought, but she didn't have the strength to fight him. Sparks of fear skittered down her spine, and she imagined herself breaking free of his embrace, racing back up the steps to the cave and slamming the door. But, try as she would, she couldn't muster the energy to lift her head. “What have you done to me?”
“It's just an illusion. Don't worry. There are no lasting results, and I've told you, you're safe with me.”
“An illusion? A dream? I'm dreaming?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Just a dream.”
“I didn't split my skull on a rock?”
“Word of honor.”
Down and down they went. She might have drifted off to sleep. She couldn't be certain. But when she opened her eyes again, they were no longer in a cave, but a large hall with marble floors. Glowing lights shaped like conch shells adorned the coral walls. The ceiling was high and glittered with artificial stars set into what appeared to be swirls of sea foam and a suggestion of waves. “What is this?” she whispered. “Where are we?”
“The
Keftiu
built this palace in natural caves under the ocean floor. You know them as Minoans.”
He lowered her to her feet, and she found that her strength had returned. She turned full circle, eyes wide in astonishment. Stone benches lined the walls, and above them, painted scenes of the sea stretched the length of the corridor. There were stylized skates and rays, lines of leaping dolphins, dancing crabs, and fish of every size and color. Sea snakes and octopi frolicked in blue water amid a rainbow of ocean kelp and grasses and beautiful ferns.
“It's wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But how is it possible?”
He smiled. “Did you think I was taking you to Hades?” He pointed to a low doorway halfway down the hall, flanked by crimson-and-white striped columns. “Beyond, in that chamber, there are pottery tablets inscribed with early writing. There are some good examples of both Linear A and B writing, as well as crude hieroglyphics.”
“All three types together? Have they been translated?”
“Some. Most are poems and prayers, but at least two sections describe healing techniques for setting broken bones and curing illnesses caused by long periods at sea.”
“Show me!” she said.
“Nothing I'd like better.”
“You spineless jellyfish! How dare you come into this chamber?” Alexandros leaped across the broad marble table to where his half-brother cowered and put a knife to his throat. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't slit your traitorous throat?”
“Poseidon has pardoned me,” Caddoc wailed. “You have no right—”
“To spill blood in your father's throne room,” Lady Athena finished. “Put your blade away, prince.” She laid a gentle hand on Alexandros's shoulder. “He isn't worth defying the king over.”

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