“Cam?” Her voice trembled, but the way she licked her lips, the way her eyes heated, gave him all the clues he needed.
She wanted him. Hell, she was fresh from Otherworld. She wanted anyone. He remembered what it was like to arrive on earth and be sensitive to all the feelings that weren’t present in Otherworld. It made one hot as hell in a way that wasn’t entirely natural.
The knowledge that she’d have settled for the guy back at the bar didn’t deter him. She wanted anyone, and he wanted only her. It made a pang of loneliness shoot through his chest. But it wasn’t enough to push him away from her. He’d wanted only her since he’d seen her so many years ago. He’d wanted her enough to ruin her life, to change his.
“Andrasta,” he rasped.
Her face tilted up to meet his, desire in her eyes.
“It’s Ana,” she whispered, gripping his shirt with her small fists. Her cheeks flushed and she licked her lips again. “What are you doing to me?”
He leaned in, close enough to feel her breath. Held himself back with the knowledge that for her, it was just the effect of being on earth, being bombarded by all the feelings that were repressed in Otherworld. It wasn’t about him. But he couldn’t stop himself from answering. From prolonging this torture.
“Nothing. Ana.” He liked the way her name felt on his tongue. Andrasta was from the past. Ana—the same, but so different—was from now. He wanted to do all the things to her that he’d never had a chance to before.
His shaft pressed painfully hard against his fly, and his breath came harshly as he resisted the urge to pull her against him. There were so many reasons not to.
Like the fact that she didn’t stand a chance of getting out of Otherworld. Not unless he went back. And there was no way he’d be doing that. The mere idea sent a cold wave over him.
“You’re right, Ana. I don’t care about you.” The words scraped his throat, leaving scars that would stick. It was a bastard thing to say, but it was the only thing that would break the moment between them. “You were making a fucking scene in that bar, and I didn’t want to leave anything memorable for the gods to track us with if they followed your signal downriver.”
He pushed away from her, steeled his heart against the sight of her shocked and trembling against the wall of the bunkhouse.
He was a bastard. He’d never deserved to be a god, not with his fucked-up wiring, and he certainly didn’t deserve someone like Ana. He’d screwed her by getting her stuck in Otherworld. Then he’d run from his responsibilities there and run from her, abandoning her to a miserable fate.
From her perch on the boat’s roof, Ana eyed the jaguar lounging on the shore. He blended into the shade of the jungle.
The sound of Cam starting the engines had woken her a few hours ago, and she’d joined him on deck. She’d climbed onto the rooftop to act as look
out while he piloted them downstream. Now that she’d been gone from Otherworld for two nights—the longest she’d ever stayed away—she was sure the other gods knew she was gone. Getting to Druantia first was the only thing that would save her.
The sun beat upon her skin as she peered into the jungle, trying to keep her mind on her task and off of last night.
After Cam had delivered his parting shot and stormed off, she’d lain on the sparse mattress in the bunkhouse, in sheets that smelled of Cam, with the doors and windows open in an attempt to cool off.
The breeze hadn’t been nearly enough to douse the fire within her. Despite their past and the fact that he was a moody bastard, she wanted Cam. What she’d gotten was her own hand.
She’d tried to keep quiet, but at a certain point, she just hadn’t cared. Cam had been a jerk. Whether he meant what he said or not, she wasn’t sure. But she’d gotten off to the thought of him anyway. Like hate-fucking. But solo.
When she’d finally lain exhausted on the bed, with the worst of the damnable tension and arousal gone, she’d decided to pretend that their near-kiss had never happened.
“Why is your boat named the Clara G.?” She asked over her shoulder from where she sat on the roof. She couldn’t stand the silence or the tension anymore. Had Clara been a woman he’d once loved? She was just curious. Not jealous. There was a difference.
Fates, she was a bad liar, even to herself.
“It’s named after the original owner’s wife. Clara Goddard. First female pilot on the Yukon River. Bad luck to change a boat’s name. And I like the idea of her.”
Ana grinned, absentmindedly twirling an arrow in her hand. He liked tough women. No surprise, from such a tough man.
She watched the jungle pass by, enjoying the unfamiliar sight. If she longed for life and excitement, this was the place to get it.
“So your pharmaceutical company is close to a couple big cures?” she asked.
“Yeah. Medicines that could cause remission.”
“That’s really nice.”
“It’s fun. I like it down here, and looking for new plants for cures gives me something to do.”