Dark Sins and Desert Sands by Stephanie Draven

take revenge, he may kill a few more.”
    “A minotaur, ” she repeated slowly. “There hasn’t been one of those in a very long time.”
    “He’ll come for Layla and when he does, I’ll capture him and bind him to me.”
    “So you intend to use Layla as bait?”
    Seth didn’t deny it. “If you dare to interfere…” He didn’t have to voice the threat. All the old immortals abided by rules of divine etiquette that circumscribed their behavior. Layla had been his minion long before Xochiquetzal was born. Layla belonged to him, and no other god could take her away unless he released her. Which he had not, and would not.
    Seth brushed past Isabel and reached for the door when vibrant green vines suddenly wound about his wrist, buds blossoming into giant orange flowers. She was actually trying to keep him here! She dared? He turned on her in a rage, and blustered, “Trifle with me and I’ll bury this whole city in sand.”
    “I just want you to answer one question,” Isabel said. “What did Layla do to deserve such punishment?”
    “She defied me,” he said, the memory of it still a burning hole of anger in his heart. “All for the sake of a mortal man.”
    “Why didn’t you smite her where she stood?”
    Seth withered the vines on his arm and threw them to the ground, a heap of dried husk. “Because she’s all but immortal. Besides, death doesn’t frighten her. There’s only one thing that would kill her, and it’s the one thing she wanted most.”
    Isabel understood immediately. “The one thing you can’t give her.”
    She reached out for his cheek. His skin wicked away the moisture on her fingertips and Seth considered biting her with his savage teeth. It made him angry to be comforted by her. To be pitied by her. “Unhand me, you filthy whore.”
    She smiled sadly and withdrew her touch. “As you wish, Scorpion King.”
    Nothing was as Seth wished it. Nothing had been as he wished it to be for a very long time.
    But when he captured Layla and the minotaur, that would all change.

Chapter 8
    What’s worthless when stolen, priceless when
shared, a token of love when two souls are bared?
    S itting in a car next to a possible terrorist, Layla couldn’t forget the way she’d felt the moment he kissed her. The scent of him had been like straw and sweat. Then there was the disturbing imagery. In the dreamlike shadowy haze, Ray’s nose had been a flat broad expanse, almost as wet and black as his eyes. His skin was almost like hide, soft to the touch, but somehow sleeker than skin. She’d felt the powerful muscles that bulged beneath, the cords of his neck tightening with unspeakable power. It had made her feel like he could tear her to pieces with his bare hands, but it also made her feel as if he was the one man who could protect her from anything.
    She’d gone with him, fear and all, because some partof her wondered—in the arms of a beast like Ray—would she ever have to fear anyone else? “You’re not going to hurt me,” she said, as if realizing it for the first time.
    “I told you that I wouldn’t. We’ll be at my motel in a minute, we’ll have a nice leisurely chat, and then you won’t ever have to see me again.”
    “No,” Layla said instantly. “We can’t stay here in Vegas. We have to just get on the highway and keep driving.”
    He glanced at her for a moment, then shook his head. “This car wouldn’t make it an hour into the desert. I’d have to buy a new car and there’s not a dealership in the world—not even one in Vegas—that’s going to sell us anything looking like we do.”
    That was when Layla first noticed the blood. Her cut hands had bled freely and stained her blouse. The scratches on Ray’s forearms were starting to scab over, but he too was smeared and filthy. They’d have to clean up before they went anywhere.
     
    Given the pinched expression on Layla’s face, Ray was pretty sure that she hadn’t ever been to a place that rented rooms by the