Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply(43)

“You were obviously having a vision earlier,” said Drake. “Unless you were looking for an excuse to nibble on me.” He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, and that light touch made my mouth tingle. “For the record, you can nibble me anytime.”

“Noted,” I said. We stared at each other, both of us breathing a little too heavily. It was probably because we were in a space with limited oxygen or because we wanted to fall on each other like rabid hyenas. Hmm. Would a reference to the werewolf and Red Riding Hood be more appropriate here?

Ahem.

I explained what had happened to me, and as the words tumbled out of my mouth, the frown that formed between his eyebrows deepened into a V.

“You experienced a memory, I think. Patrick and Jessica’s first meeting is very well known. But what has that to do with our current circumstances?”

“To know the beginning is to know the answer,” I said.

“The beginning of our presence in Broken Heart?” He shook his head. “Why would that matter so much?”

“There’s a clue in what I experienced.” I held up my non-bandaged hand and counted off my fingers. “I would say that the important elements that jump out at me are . . . magical cuffs . . . silver . . . and a ring.” I wiggled my ring finger.

“The fede ring,” he murmured. “Jessica’s prized possession, held even above her swords, which she adores nearly as much as she does Patrick.”

I remembered how good Jessica had been with those swords in the desert, and how she and Patrick, like most Broken Heart couples I’d met, seemed so in tune with each other. Two halves of a whole—I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around the idea that true love was real. But if vampires and werewolves and banshees were real . . . then why not soul mate love? “Why wouldn’t a pyramid made three thousand years ago have ancient clues? Why toss me into the memories of two vampires with a recent history?”

“Maybe it’s using our location to create the clues—and if so, then the traps as well. Magic is powerful, especially spells cast so long ago, when magic was more present in the human world.”

“Magic,” I mused. “So, the pyramid draws from Broken Heart . . . and from me . . . to know the beginning . . . er, of what?”

“Broken Heart. And you.”

“The beginning of me? That makes no sense.”

“Perhaps it will as we get through the pyramid.”

“Maybe.” I sat back, studying the blank walls, my gaze scraping over Drake, who leaned against the wall, one leg bent and an arm casually draped over the knee.

Silence thickened as we tried to puzzle out meaning from the strange vision.

“I got nothing,” I said.

“We have something,” he replied, nodding toward the door. It was gone. An entrance beckoned us to the next phase of our pyramid adventure.

Drake stood, and then reached down a hand, which I took with my non-injured one. He pulled me to my feet, and we both turned to consider another narrow passageway lit with torches.

“Huh,” I said. Then, in order to keep ahead of Mr. Stubborn, I marched on through the arched doorway. I grinned at him over my shoulder. “This is eeeeeeeeee—”





Chapter 17


I was falling.

Because I had thrown all my caution and archaeological experience out the window, I’d stepped right into the yawning blackness of a pit.

My descent stopped as suddenly as it had started, and I found myself dangling in the dark. I yanked my feet up because I didn’t know what terrible things were below me . . . snakes, spikes, broken bones of other archaeologists. Then I realized that Drake’s hand was clamped over my wrist.

I looked up and found him staring at me, his expression etched with shock and worry. “Are you all right?

“Not particularly.”

He hoisted me up, easily, with just that one hand, and then set me on my feet next to the rectangular pit.

“Do not do that again,” he admonished.

“No problem.” I gently slipped my arm from his grip, and turned to consider how we were going to cross the pit. There was enough of an edge for us to turn sideways, press against the wall, and scoot.

“I will go first,” he said. “I insist.”

I figured if he stayed stubborn, I could get around him once we got to the other side, and then get to the next door/trap/blood sacrifice before he did. I might have to push him down and hop over his prone body, but that was okay. I was determined to see this thing through.

Also, there was no going back.

Drake slipped around me, pressed his back against the stone wall, and began shuffling across the narrow strip of stone. I did the same, and we spent an eon or so slowly, carefully inching our way along the ledge. When we reached the other side, I heaved a sigh of relief.