it’s touching becomes invisible. I bet you ten bucks there’s a room in that castle full of these.” He looked up and around, a new tingle sliding down his spine, one that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with urgency. “It’s not the mountains and the lake protecting the colony, it’s the ore. And that means there’s some kind of access from the castle down here to this cavern. One a whole lot easier to access than the way we came through.”
Sonofabitch. They needed to make tracks before Nick and his men caught up with them. They’d wasted precious time getting warm, drying out their clothes, kissing.
No more fucking kissing. Not with her. Not now. Not ever. He was not going back to the hell of that colony. Not because of her. Whatever she was doing to him, it ended here.
He turned to tell her just that, when trepidation slid over her face, and she looked at the body near her feet. “Then what about him? All the stories I heard said Aristov never actually lived here. If he did—”
“Then they were covering up his death.”
Maelea’s worried gaze shot to him, then slowly slid back to the remains. “What else is down here that they want to keep secret?”
A clicking sound echoed behind them. Followed by hushed whispers wafting on the air. Lots of them.
Maelea tensed, looked past him into the dark. And froze.
Fuck.
Slowly, Gryphon turned too. Then swore again when dozens of beady eyes stared back at them from the dark.
He’d thought they needed to get out of this damn cavern to get away from Nick’s men? Think again. Right now they needed to find a way out so they didn’t get eaten by the forty or fifty kobaloi waiting to devour them alive.
“What do we do?” Maelea whispered at his side.
“Run like hell.”
***
Maelea’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she pumped her arms and pushed her legs forward. Her boots slipped on the wet rocks, but she caught herself at the last second and kept from going down. Behind her, Gryphon yelled, “Haul ass, female!”
Clicks and scratching sounds echoed in every direction. It sounded as if they were being pursued by at least a hundred kobaloi, maybe more. Panic swamped her chest. The green glow from the river lit up the steadily shrinking cavern. Ahead, the river wound to the right, disappearing in darkness. The cave narrowed to only an archway over the river, nothing but sheer rock walls rising straight up on each side.
They were running out of ground. There was nowhere else to go.
Her feet slowed. That panic tightened her chest until she could barely breathe. Before she could turn to look back, Gryphon grasped her arm and hollered, “Jump!”
He yanked her with him into the frigid water. Her head submerged. She came up sputtering, grasping for Gryphon’s arm, as the current caught hold and whisked them downstream.
His arm encircled her waist, and the long, hard line of his body came up against hers. Shrieks sounded from the shoreline. One look over his shoulder confirmed the kobaloi were pissed, jumping up and down, waving their scaly arms, hissing toward the river. But they made no effort to jump in and follow.
Relief was bittersweet. A shiver racked her body as they passed under the archway and were drawn into the low-ceilinged tunnel. She grabbed on tighter to Gryphon in the hope his body heat would keep her from freezing to death. “Wh-what now?” she managed through chattering teeth.
“I don’t know.”
He grasped the sword in one hand. The other was wrapped tight around her body, holding her close. As he studied the tunnel for some escape route, she eased back and took a good look at his face. Maybe the first good look she’d taken since this nightmare began.
Water dripped down the sandy blond hair plastered to his head, slid over his temples and along his chiseled cheekbones. His skin was pale—not as white as hers, but it clearly hadn’t seen sunshine in months—and a hint of blond stubble ran along his
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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Brenda Sinclair
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