Had he not moved all night? He was still grimy from the fight the night before, but looked no more tired. Didn’t need much sleep, like a god. But she hadn’t thought that she’d be tired enough to doze off. Must be the stress of fleeing Otherworld.
“About seven.” His gray eyes flicked over her new clothes, then met hers for a moment before she forced herself to look away. His eyes had been one of the things that had sparked her infatuation when she’d first met him. Better not to let them do so again.
“Do you need me to take over for a while so you can get some rest?”
He laughed, a skeptical sound that let her know wh
at he thought of her taking control of his precious boat.
“Hey, I can drive a boat,” she yelled.
“Can you?”
Well, she figured she could. She could do anything she put her mind to. Had she driven a boat before? No. Not exactly. So she didn’t say anything, just frowned at him.
“That’s what I thought. Not a lot of water in Otherworld.”
“Is that why you like your boat so much?”
“In part. We’re a good distance away from the Caipora’s Den, and there’s a hidden tributary up here. I’m going to pull into it and tie off. Get a shower and something to eat.”
At that, Ana’s stomach rumbled, and she watched anxiously as Cam turned the vessel toward a wider section of the river. He steered straight for a section of vines that hung low, and passed under them into the tributary.
“Aren’t you worried about running aground?” If they got stuck, they’d be screwed. She couldn’t aetherwalk or the gods could track her energy through the aether. And while she could walk through the jungle, she didn’t want to.
“No. Shallow draft on the Clara G.”
The Clara G.? Who was Clara? Something twisted in her stomach, and it felt a bit like jealousy, but she shoved it away.
Cam pulled the boat alongside a rough dock made of logs and hopped down from the pilothouse to tie off to two upright posts near the bow and stern.
“Where does this dock lead?” she asked.
“Nowhere, really. I built it as a place to stop between the Caipora’s Den and Havre. Bought a spell from a Bruxa to hide it.”
“Bruxa?”
“A witch. Portugese.”
“But witches don’t sell their spells, not normally.”
“Never said I bought it with money.” He grinned at her, a rakish smile that opened up his normally closed-off face. She stared, bemused, until it disappeared. Which happened too quickly for her liking.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” he said. “Keep an eye on shore.”
“For what?”
“Whatever might want to come aboard.”
“Like?” Jungle cats? Mysterious tribes of tattooed and weapon-laden locals? Angry Mytheans?
He shrugged. “Some local Mytheans know I occasionally carry valuables on board. Jaguars who want a snack.”
“Is that—is that a joke?” He was a bigger predator than any jaguar.
“Don’t worry. Not likely for anything to bother us.” He yanked his tattered t-shirt over his head and turned to walk toward the back of the boat.
She swallowed hard as muscles on his back flexed before her eyes, shifting and rippling beneath the skin. She could make out a scattering of freckles on his shoulders. She wanted to press her lips to each one until she’d accounted for them all. He looked exotic against the lushness of the jungle, his fair skin and red hair a tribute to his Celtic origins. Though those features would be more suited to the misty mountains and rugged hills of their homeland, his feral nature made him fit in out here in the jungle, even as his paleness made him stand out.