Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply(39)

I was unnerved and fascinated by the sexual tension that arced between us. I didn’t have a lot of practice with flirting. I was more of a “let’s just do this and move on with our respective lives” kind of girl. This approach made rejection less painful.

With my gaze on Drake’s, I lifted the scone and took a bite. Drake’s eyes darkened with what could only be called raw lust. He reached over and flicked a crumb away from the corner of my mouth. That small gesture sent electricity racing down into the tingly parts.

“Wow,” said Dove. “And I here I used a napkin.”

Everyone laughed.

Then a tiny werewolf howl echoed into the room and cut everyone’s giggles short. We all turned to Drake, who offered a sheepish (that’s right, I said it) grin as he removed his cell phone from his jeans pocket. “Darrius gave me a replacement for the one stolen from me,” he said, “and he has a stupid sense of humor.” He touched the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Ja?”

He listened for a moment, and then his eyes widened. “We’re coming now.” He clicked the phone off and turned to Patsy. “It seems we do not have to go to the pyramid after all.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why?”

He glanced at me. “Because the pyramid has come to us.”

• • •

“Holy shit.”

The expletive pierced Dove’s lips, and echoed my own shocked thoughts. We stood at the base of a pyramid. Not a crumbling pile of stone that showcased workmanship and culture of ages past, but an actual, beautiful, complete pyramid. White limestone covered it like thinly spread cream cheese frosting, and the tip was covered in gold. That night in the desert I hadn’t had an opportunity to really study it, but here, in this field with the Oklahoma night sky stretched above it like a velvet blanket . . . it was beyond amazing.

“This is incredible,” I said. “I’ve seen renderings of what they were supposed to look like, of course.”

“Computer generated graphics are a poor substitute,” said Dove.

Patsy and her husband stood next to each other, and then to my surprise, although with not as much OMG, a dude sparkled into existence on the other side of Patsy. He was a good-looking, casually dressed gentleman with silvery-gray eyes, longish black hair, and a drop-dead smile. He reached out a hand toward me. “I’m Ruadan,” he said. “You’re a real blessin’, you are, Dr. Jameson.”

I blinked. A hazy childhood memory formed, the one so recently unlocked. A man with eyes like shiny nickels, sitting on the bed, placing a hand on my forehead, and whispering, “Déan dearmad.”

“Do I know you?” I asked. “I do, don’t I?”

“I was a friend of your grandfather’s,” he said. “He wanted to protect you.”

“There’s a lot of that going around these days,” I said.

Something flashed in his eyes, almost like sorrow, and that made my heart turn over in my chest. “You look like Patrick and Lorcan,” I said. “Older brother?”

“Father,” he clarified. Then he said, “And who’s this lovely girl?”

“Dove,” she said, offering her hand. “Just Dove.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said. He kissed the top of her hand.

Dove blushed.

I had never seen Dove blush. Not ever. Not . . . well, ever. I was so stunned by the redness tinting her cheeks, I couldn’t think of a single sarcastic thing to say about it. Even so, she looked at me and said, “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” I said, because I am obviously mature and articulate.

We all turned toward the pyramid and gazed upward once more.

“So, we go in, survive the traps, and . . . what?” asked Dove.

“Wake up two Ancient vampires who haven’t had human blood in three thousand years,” I said.

“Oh, is that all?” asked Dove. She shared a look with me, and I noted that she looked particularly young in just jeans, a T-shirt, and ballet flats, especially without the kohl eyes, red lipstick, and goth clothing that usually hid her fresh-faced looks. It was all camouflage armor, small ways she’d learned to protect herself from the world. She rejected the world first, so it wouldn’t reject her. I wasn’t so much into rejecting the world with my clothing choices. I mostly just flipped it off or, when needed, punched out anyone who annoyed me. I wore khakis, a T-shirt, and hiking boots—clothing provided by Drake. New clothes, in my size, that had been presented right before I took a shower. I also had a flashlight, a Swiss Army knife, and two bottles of water tucked into the various pockets. I didn’t have my usual excavation tools because (1) I hadn’t had the opportunity to bring them, and (2) I wasn’t actually excavating anything.