“I saw,” he growled down at her. “But it’s time to go. I’ll carry you back if I have to.”
The idea made Ana swallow hard as she looked up at him. He towered above her, his huge form cutting out the weak glow of the streetlights so that she couldn’t make out his expression. But his anger—that she could feel. It enclosed her as tightly as the humid air of the jungle.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand. His big stride ate up the muddy walkway, and she had to trot to keep up.
“What the hell is your problem?” Though she had to admit that part of her was thrilled he was dragging her out of the bar and that she was holding his hand. He was the one she really wanted. No question. She’d have really regretted it with Kon.
“You’re my problem.”
They’d reached the boat, and he lifted her by the waist to swing her on board. His hands burned into her skin. He hadn’t touched her since last night when she’d found him in the Caipora’s Den. He released her too soon and made quick work of untying the boat.
“Where are we going? We’re leaving Havre already?” she asked.
He grunted and pointed to some moorings a short way from shore. What a caveman. But her eyes followed him as he climbed quickly into the pilothouse and gunned the engines.
She stood, her breathing too heavy and a faint sweat on her skin as he maneuvered to the moorings. He killed the engines. Silence crashed around them. His speed made her dizzy as he tied off to the two moorings so that the boat wouldn’t drift—but then, he was performing a two-man job in the middle of a river.
The lights of Havre gleamed in the distance, fainter now. The little village looked romantic rather than shabby from far away.
She rubbed her arms, looking for a distraction from the heat between her thighs. It’d been too long. And earth was just too much. All the energy of the bar, all the joy and anger and lust that had bombarded her since she’d stepped into Havre, was wreaking havoc with her senses. It was nearly overwhelming.
“Why are we all the way out here?” she asked.
“Safer.” He was stomping about the boat, checking lines and the machinery, his movements too jerky and forceful for a normal nighttime routine. With a start, she realized he was as worked up as she was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cam threw the last of the lines into the hatch and stood over it, chest heaving. He clenched his fists, staring down into the blackness of the hold as he tried to get himself together.
He’d just dragged her out of the bar. Tossed her on the boat. What the hell had he been thinking?
But as soon as he’d seen that bastard’s mouth all over hers, something in him had snapped. It felt like he was only now gaining consciousness, his mind surfacing from the black tar of jealousy and rage that had swamped it.
Damn it, it wasn’t his business who she kissed. He stared down at his hands, too big and too strong. Strong enough to do damage. But he’d used them to drag her out of the bar and down the street. He had no idea how gentle he’d been. Probably not enough. It didn’t matter that she was immortal and would heal. He shouldn’t have done it.
He heaved a disgusted sigh. He was an asshole, and worse, he couldn’t seem to help it. He hadn’t deserved the affections of someone like her in the past, and he didn’t deserve them now.
“Why the hell did you haul me out of there?” Andrasta’s voice sent a jolt through him.
He looked up to see her standing only a couple feet from him, her back against the wall of the bunkhouse.
“You don’t care about me, so why do you care who I kiss?” she asked.
He shoved his hand through his hair, unsure of how to answer because he didn’t understand it himself. He did care about her, damn it, and it felt weird as hell. Gods shouldn’t have emotions, yet he had. And still did.
He had them because of her. He’d felt nothing before he’d met her all those years ago. She was brave, skilled, smart, and beautiful. More than that. Yet it wasn’t just those qualities that had drawn him to her. They were admirable qualities, but not enough to incite the birth of emotion in him.
The problem was, he had no idea why she had triggered it. It was the damned mystery of his life.
Worse, being with her for the last day and a half had reminded him how much he’d liked her company all those years ago. How much he liked her.
It was unnatural. He was unnatural. A failed god who felt emotion. It was a mess inside his head that he tried to silence however he could.
Except he couldn’t silence it with her.
And now she stood in front of him, tiny and curvy and strong and irresistible, her breath heaving. It shouldn’t have sounded louder than the howls of the animals in the jungle, but it did. It reached inside him and squeezed, drawing him to her.
He crowded her, pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her head.