Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 3) (6 page)

Cernowain inclined his head. “They might, if they weren’t so opposed to the idea in the first place.”

That was the crux of it. The other gods didn’t care if Camulos was replaced. They’d prefer it. He’d grown too powerful. When the mortal kingdom of the Trinovantes had built the city Camulodunum in his honor, he’d gained yet more influence from the power of their worship.
 

The other gods didn’t like that. But then, the other gods could hang. Otherworld could hang, for all he cared. He hated the damned place now. Cold and dead and dull. Everything there, no matter how perfect, was in shades of gray. Earth, with emotion and feeling, was vibrant with color. How could Otherworld be so different? So wrong?

“If you don’t want to kill her to protect yourself, do it for her. The other gods might take it into their own hands, and there’s every chance she’ll end up with a far worse fate than if you had killed her yourself.”

“What?”

Cernowain shrugged, a thoughtful frown twisting his mouth. “There’s only one reason you would hesitate.”

Emotion.
 

“Emotion.” Cernowain almost spat the word.

Was that why his chest tightened when she was near? Why his brain fogged with what he guessed were desire and joy?

“Something is wrong with you, Camulos. As the other gods discover it, they’ll do what they can to replace you. Barring that, they’ll punish you.” He pointed to Andrasta. “Through her. Kill her, Camulos. Give her eternity in Otherworld. Don’t leave her alive, at the mercy of the gods when they finally figure out why you’re hesitating to do your duty.”

Camulos’ hand tightened on the bow. There was no question he had to kill her, but how in fate was he going to be able to do it?

“Do it, Camulos. You’re running out of time.” Cernowain disappeared, aetherwalking back to Otherworld.

Camulos swallowed hard and raised the bow again, sighting Andrasta at the other end of the arrow.

“Are you there again?” Her voice carried through the clearing.
 

His heart thudded and he jerked his gaze up to meet hers. He lowered the bow, unable to fire, and stepped forward, pulled to her by a force he couldn’t fight. She hesitated, her eyes wary, then approached to stand a few feet from him.

Her presence hit him in the chest again. He rubbed his sternum. Why the hell did she make him feel so odd?

Whatever it was, he wanted more of it. His gaze swept her slim form and his breath grew tight.

“Walk with me,” he said, hoping for a distraction from his body’s reaction to her and from the threat of the gods hanging over their heads.

She nodded and set off on a path around the clearing. He matched his stride to hers.

“Why do you work so hard to be skilled with the bow?” he asked, unable to get the question out of his mind.

“My brothers won’t let me use a sword. I can make the bow and arrows myself. They used to take them away, but I’d make another. They don’t try anymore, and the bow I have is perfect. I love it.” Pride laced her voice, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“But why go to so much effort?”

She shrugged, her golden hair glinting in the sun. “I want to be like them. Anyway, what else is there to do? Marry? Tend the home? Not I. I’d rather be like my brothers. They’re brave and strong and nothing can get past them. They’re a team.”

 
“How many are there?”

“Seven brothers. Seven warriors. I want to be the eighth.”
 

He could hear the need in her voice. Her hands were fisted at her sides, one gripping her bow as if it were her way in.
 

“You want it badly,” he said.

“Yes. Other Celtic women are warriors, why not me? I’ve been on the outside my whole life, ever since my mother died. But I can prove myself if they’d just give me the chance.”

“So you practice alone, hoping to prove your worth.”

“It sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?” Her morose gaze met his.

“On the contrary. I find it admirable.” More than that. Since he’d met her, he’d felt that he recognized her, though he’d never seen her before. Perhaps he recognized himself in her. And perhaps the gods were right. With her talent and her thirst to prove herself, she could be strong enough to take his place. At the very least, she was strong enough to cause problems, should she choose.

He scowled. He’d been avoiding thinking about his duty where she was concerned. It didn’t matter that he found her to be intriguing. He had to kill her or the other gods would come for him.

But perhaps he could steal a few more moments with her, though it was stupid and dangerous.

She broke the silence by asking, “Why do
you
use the bow for war?”

 
“Because I like it. There are a people who live far south of here, across the sea. Greeks. They use bows in war, as do their gods. One of their gods, Apollo, gave me my first bow.” He didn’t see gods from other religions often, but when he did, he preferred them over his fellow Celtic deities.

“Other gods who use the bow in war? And people, too?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, and he realized that the sight made his chest warm almost unbearably.
 

“I think I would like these people,” she said.

He smiled too, then frowned at the unfamiliar sensation of his lips turning upward.
 

She stopped in the shade of a large oak and asked, “Could I hold your bow?”

His hand tightened briefly on the weapon, but he loosened it and handed it over. A strange bolt of lust shot through him as he watched her hands trace over the fine woodworking.

 
He stepped toward her, but shock pulled him up short. He wanted to touch a mortal? Not possible. They were a step above animals. But the feelings surging through him now… They were cataclysmic.

“It’s beautiful.” She gazed up at him. Her eyes could hold him captive if he weren’t careful.

It’s yours.
He barely stopped the words from leaving his mouth. Did she use some type of spell to ensnare him?
 

If she did, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
 

His hand twitched to reach out and touch her as a thousand unrecognizable feelings and desires surged through him. They made his skin tingle and his cock harden.

Understanding of his desires dawned in her eyes. Her lips parted and she took a step forward.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and palmed her cheek. The contact with her soft skin sent a spike of pleasure through him that was so strong he nearly doubled over. Was this why the Greek gods dallied with mortals so much?
 

He leaned down and kissed her, an animal noise rising from his throat as her soft lips parted beneath his own. His cock punched against his trousers as she pressed against him, hot and soft and unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

There was nothing like this in Otherworld. He tore away. It was something he couldn’t have in Otherworld, and he couldn’t have it here either. Contact with mortals was forbidden. The law had been in place since before he was born. He'd never really questioned the details of why because he'd never really cared. But the law was in place, nonetheless.

This was impossible.
 

A whirlpool of rage sucked him under. There was no way to save his own hide without killing her. Now he desired her too? And admired her for her strength and skill and determination? It was unbearable.

“What’s wrong?” Confusion clouded her eyes.

“You,” he growled. He had to scare her off, because fate knew he wouldn’t be the one to turn away. “Go. Now.”

“But—”

He yanked his bow back from her. “I was sent to earth to kill you. I’m terribly close to doing—”

“Andrasta!” A deep male voice called from the forest. Camulos spun toward the voice and nocked an arrow in his bow.

“No!” Desperation laced Andrasta’s voice as she tried to pull his arm down. Her strength was that of a fly’s.
 

“Go,” he rasped.
 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her desperate gaze. She fled in the direction of the voice.

CHAPTER FIVE

Amazon River Basin, Present Day

The sun was a miserable bitch, shining in her eyes like this. Ana rubbed them and blinked groggily up at Cam, who stood at the wheel. “What time is it?”
 

Had he not moved all night? He was still grimy from the fight the night before, but looked no more tired. Didn’t need much sleep, like a god. But she hadn’t thought that she’d be tired enough to doze off. Must be the stress of fleeing Otherworld.

“About seven.” His gray eyes flicked over her new clothes, then met hers for a moment before she forced herself to look away. His eyes had been one of the things that had sparked her infatuation when she’d first met him. Better not to let them do so again.

“Do you need me to take over for a while so you can get some rest?”

He laughed, a skeptical sound that let her know what he thought of her taking control of his precious boat.
 

“Hey, I can drive a boat,” she yelled.

“Can you?”

Well, she figured she could. She could do anything she put her mind to.
Had
she driven a boat before? No. Not exactly. So she didn’t say anything, just frowned at him.

“That’s what I thought. Not a lot of water in Otherworld.”

“Is that why you like your boat so much?”

“In part. We’re a good distance away from the Caipora’s Den, and there’s a hidden tributary up here. I’m going to pull into it and tie off. Get a shower and something to eat.”

At that, Ana’s stomach rumbled, and she watched anxiously as Cam turned the vessel toward a wider section of the river. He steered straight for a section of vines that hung low, and passed under them into the tributary.

“Aren’t you worried about running aground?” If they got stuck, they’d be screwed. She couldn’t aetherwalk or the gods could track her energy through the aether. And while she could walk through the jungle, she didn’t want to.

“No. Shallow draft on the
Clara G.
”
 

The
Clara G.
? Who was Clara? Something twisted in her stomach, and it felt a bit like jealousy, but she shoved it away.

Cam pulled the boat alongside a rough dock made of logs and hopped down from the pilothouse to tie off to two upright posts near the bow and stern.

“Where does this dock lead?” she asked.
 

“Nowhere, really. I built it as a place to stop between the Caipora’s Den and Havre. Bought a spell from a Bruxa to hide it.”

“Bruxa?”

“A witch. Portugese.”

“But witches don’t sell their spells, not normally.”

“Never said I bought it with money.” He grinned at her, a rakish smile that opened up his normally closed-off face. She stared, bemused, until it disappeared. Which happened too quickly for her liking.
 

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” he said. “Keep an eye on shore.”

“For what?”

“Whatever might want to come aboard.”

“Like?” Jungle cats? Mysterious tribes of tattooed and weapon-laden locals? Angry Mytheans?

He shrugged. “Some local Mytheans know I occasionally carry valuables on board. Jaguars who want a snack.”

“Is that—is that a joke?” He was a bigger predator than any jaguar.

 
“Don’t worry. Not likely for anything to bother us.” He yanked his tattered t-shirt over his head and turned to walk toward the back of the boat.
 

She swallowed hard as muscles on his back flexed before her eyes, shifting and rippling beneath the skin. She could make out a scattering of freckles on his shoulders. She wanted to press her lips to each one until she’d accounted for them all. He looked exotic against the lushness of the jungle, his fair skin and red hair a tribute to his Celtic origins. Though those features would be more suited to the misty mountains and rugged hills of their homeland, his feral nature made him fit in out here in the jungle, even as his paleness made him stand out.
 

She couldn’t see the front of him, but she could tell without a doubt that his hands went to the opening of his pants, his triceps flexing enough to draw her eye.

“Keep watch on the jungle, Andrasta, or you’ll get an eyeful. And who knows what might sneak up.”

Oh.
She spun on her heel and faced the trees. Though she wanted to snap something at him about her ability to keep all unwanted visitors away, the idea of him stripping off his pants had ensnared her imagination.
 

Something soft thudded to the deck, and the quiet hum of a small motor flicked to life. Her brain fogged with images. She had to invent them since she’d never seen him naked, but she was willing to put some creative energy toward the endeavor.

The sound of water droplets pattering on wood and the river’s surface echoed in her ears. She tried to focus on the dense greenery in front of her, but no matter how hard she squinted into the forest, she couldn’t ignore the images of him flashing through her mind.