The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(44)

He sighed. "I want to be alone now," he said. He turned away from her and picked up a fat stick, then continued...whatever it was that he'd been doing before she ran into him. Was he...digging a hole? He pressed the stick into the ground to gather a mound of dirt, then tossed that dirt aside.

His muscles rippled as he moved, and her mouth watered. I clutched those muscles once. I had them at my fingertips. So badly she wanted to rake her fingers through his white hair. Even flatten her palm against his chest and feel the flow of life as he drank from her. "I'm waiting for an answer to my question," she insisted. "How are you alive?"

His broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. "My team decided I was not the one who would cause them to lose the next contest. So..." Another shrug, but this one was stiff, self-conscious. "Now, go away," he said, jamming a long stick into the ground. Then he popped it up, tossing a mound of dirt a few feet away.

"Who was chosen?"

"I love being ignored." Without pausing in his digging, he said, "The formorian who - " He pressed his lips together. Dirt soared over his shoulder as he heaved the stick upward.

"Who you helped into the water," she finished for him.

He gave a clipped nod.

To prevent herself from closing all hint of distance between them and burrowing her head in the hollow of his neck, she shifted and leaned her uninjured shoulder against the nearest tree. "You and Brand seem to hate each other. I'm surprised he didn't vote for you, no matter that the formorian was weak."

Layel laughed darkly. "Oh, he voted for me. Several members did. One more vote, and I would have been the one who lost his head."

Just how close had she come to losing him? "The gods actually decapitated him?"

Another nod.

Some part of her had thought, perhaps hoped, they would change their minds. "Why did you do it?" she asked after a tension-filled pause.

"Do what?" he asked, but she knew he only pretended ignorance.

"Hurt your own team member."

"Perhaps it amused me to hear him scream. Perhaps I live for the deaths I cause, as rumors in Atlantis claim." Another mound of dirt flew over his shoulder.

This one was launched toward her. She hopped out of the way, barely escaping an earth-shower. He'd purposely aimed at her, the bastard. "That was childish," she said, crossing her arms over her middle.

"But satisfying."

"You remind me of Lily right now."

"Lily?"

"My sister by race, the future queen of the Amazons and the girl the dragons were carting in that cell." Only yesterday, she realized, though it felt as if an eternity had already passed. "When Lily doesn't get her way, she throws a tantrum."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"No, you're throwing dirt. Is that any better?"

A rumbling noise escaped him, and she wasn't sure if he expressed amusement or irritation. He paused in his digging, though, keeping his back to her. "Go away, Delilah." He sounded weary.

Would she ever get used to the tremors of delight that shook her every time he said her name? "No. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"None of your concern. Go."

"Again, no." She'd almost lost him tonight. Part of her didn't want to be separated from him ever again. How had he engaged her emotions so strongly and so quickly? "I'm not sure if you treat me this way because you genuinely dislike me or because you're afraid of me."

"Wonder no more. I dislike you." Motions clipped, he slammed the stick back into the ground, and then another mound of dirt was sailing toward her.

This time, she remained in place. The grains pummeled her calves and ankles, and she grit her teeth. "If you dislike me so much, why did you thrust your tongue into my mouth and your fingers into my - "

"Enough!" The stick snapped in half. Tossing the half he still held, he whirled, facing her. "I could tell you that I don't have to like you to bed you. Is that what you need to hear? Would you leave if I said it?"

"Would you mean it?" she asked in a broken voice she scarcely recognized as her own.

Silent, he swiped up another stick and began shoveling again. Wood and mud collided again and again, widening the hole clearly no longer his concern. Fury poured from him, making his motions frenzied.

The intense surge of hurt she'd experienced - don't have to like you to bed you - gradually drained. He couldn't say he meant it because he didn't feel that way. Not wanting to push him into lying, however, she let the subject drop. For now. For whatever reason, he wasn't ready to show her a softer side of himself. "Tell me what you're doing."

He stilled, panting, sweating. "Delilah."

"Layel."

"This isn't doing either one of us any good." He straightened, his profile to her. The elegant curve of his nose cast a shadow over his cheek. Seemed odd that such a ruthless man would possess such pretty features. Not that she was complaining.

"You would rather kiss than talk?" she asked, hopeful.

The tip of his tongue emerged, trailing over his bottom lip. Remembering the taste of her? Then he scrubbed a dirty hand down his face. Streaks of black remained behind. "I'm burying the body."

Body? As lost as she'd been with the thought of their kiss, a moment passed before she recalled the formorian's death. She stared into the crowd of trees, searching. Sure enough, she found the corpse several feet away and frowned. Now why would the man who supposedly hated everyone around him concern himself with the burial of a stranger?