Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(65)

“Come on, Freaky Bitch,” Grace said irritably. “Give us a hand.”

The last thing she expected was help. If anything, she expected her snark to be the impetus that drove the Djinn away, and really, by that point, good riddance. Instead Phaedra held out her hand slowly.

Grace stared at the outstretched fingers. Just as slowly, she put her hand in Phaedra’s grasp. She was braced for an attack. Instead, Phaedra pulled Grace to her feet. She muttered, “Thanks.”

But Phaedra dematerialized even as she spoke.

Grace found herself alone in the cavern. She stood with her weight on her good leg, straining to hear past her own stressed, noisy breathing as she cast her awareness out. Heavy, cool silence pressed against her eardrums. She could not sense the Djinn anywhere on the land. Phaedra had really left.

Tension leaked out of her quivering muscles. She realized the only light she could see was from the circle cast by her flashlight. The pale, diffuse sunlight that had streamed down the tunnel was gone. She sighed heavily, collected the mask from where she had dropped it, tucked it under her arm and braced herself for the upward trek through the tunnel. Climbing the uneven floor was more challenging than climbing stairs, and her muscles were already cold and tired.

The only way she was going to make it happen was to just f**king do it. She limped over, and with one hand she clutched the flashlight, while she used the other to brace herself against the wall. She started to climb, using her strong leg to go up, and she leaned against the wall and balanced on her bad leg on the opposite step. Inelegant, but it worked.

Or at least it did until a wild maelstrom of Power roared down the tunnel.

The Power blasted into her, and she staggered. She felt her precarious balance go, clutched first at the wrapped mask and cried out as she lost hold of the flashlight. The light careened wildly as the flashlight bounced down the tunnel. Then all illumination cut out abruptly, and she fell back into the absolute darkness.

Oh, shit, this was going to be a bad one—

She flashed on ripping out all the painful repairs on her still-healing knee, more expensive doctor’s visits, maybe even more surgeries.

Khalil’s warm, fierce energy enveloped her even as strong arms formed around her and broke her fall gently. The rest of his body formed next. He said, “Easy. I’ve got you.”

Her heart was racing like a crazy thing. Her feet still rested on the uneven tunnel floor, but lightly, for he had taken all of her weight. She grabbed him and said unsteadily, “Goddamn. Watch where you’re going next time!”

“I’m sorry.” For the first time since she’d met him, his voice sounded discordant and harsh. He drew her upright. “It’s late. I couldn’t find you, and I got worried.”

“All right.” It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world for her to turn in his arms and lean against him. Some of the day had been good, but the bad bits had been downright rotten, and maybe if she had thought it through, she wouldn’t have chosen to do what she did. But she didn’t think; she never thought things through the way she should. She just put an arm around his long, lean waist and buried her face against the wide, steady support of his chest.

Mmm. He seemed bigger in the dark.

He stood quietly, holding her, one massive hand cupping the back of her neck. Something rested on the top of her head. His cheek.

“I sense blood,” he said. His voice had turned dangerous. “You are injured?”

She shook her head, her mind racing. “It’s just a shallow cut on my arm.”

“What happened?”

What should she tell him? She couldn’t think straight. She hadn’t had time to process Freaky Bitch’s visit for herself, let alone consider how he might react. She said, “Later. I’m cold and tired, and I really want to get out of here.”

His reply was to swing her into his arms and stride up the tunnel. His energy still remained edged and unsettled, but always with that addictive undercurrent that was powerfully male, uniquely him.

A small part of her couldn’t help but notice his long, smooth effortless stride. She could usually control that part, but it was harder to do when she grew tired and emotionally out of balance. She wished she could flip a switch and turn it off, because it was small-minded and whiny. It didn’t care that he was inhuman and there could be no meaningful comparison between the two of them and their abilities. It only took note of how strongly and evenly he moved and whispered poisonously to her, I could do that once.

She turned truculent. “I didn’t mean for you to carry me.”

“There is no reason for you to struggle when I can transport you with ease,” he said shortly.

“Whether I struggle or not is beside the point,” she said, just as shortly. She kept stiff in his arms. “The fact that I can and will do it is the point.”

“Do not be stupidly prideful,” he told her. “We both know you can do it. There is no reason for you to wreck yourself proving it.”

Was that what she was doing? She fought with her conflicting instincts. He must have moved more quickly than she had thought, for suddenly he strode out the tunnel doorway into the warm night.

The warmth was a welcome relief from the cavern. The western part of the sky was still tinged with color, although the sun had set. After sunset, the land got very dark without streetlamps or neighboring houses to illuminate the night. In another half hour or so, it would be too dark to walk without a flashlight. Khalil’s ivory face looked edged in the shadows.