Atlantis - Heart Of The Dragon Part 9

"A couple of days ago."

She hated her next question, but she had to ask. "Do you suspect foul play?"

"Not yet," Mitch answered. He cleared his throat. "We found one of Alex's men. He was dehydrated pretty badly, but said Alex had left him to follow another lead. The man's at our boat now, hooked to an IV."

"Where did this other lead take him?" she asked.

"We don't know." His gaze skidded away from her. "Do you know what Alex was looking for? His teammate babbled about, uh, Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" She feigned surprise. Yes, this man worked with Alex. Judging by his words, however, he hadn't known Alex's agenda. That meant her brother hadn't wanted him to know, and Grace wasn't going to be the one to tell him. Besides, how did she explain something so unbelievable? "I thought he was trying to prove the legend about the female warriors. You know, the Amazons."

He nodded, satisfied with that. "How long have you been out here?"

"Since Monday." Two miserable days that felt like an eternity.

"Last Monday?" Jason asked, rejoining the conversation. "You've survived out here-on your own-for seven days?"

"Seven days? No, I've only been here for two."

"Today is Monday, June 12."

Holding back her gasp, Grace counted the days. She'd entered the jungle on the fifth. She'd spent two days wandering through the interior of the rain forest before traveling through the mist. Today should be the seventh. "You said today is the twelfth?" she asked him.

"That's right."

My G.o.d, she'd lost five days. How was that possible? What if-No. She immediately cut off the thought.

The possibility continued to flood her, however.

She pushed out a breath. If it weren't for those missing days, she wouldn't entertain the idea at all. But... what if everything she'd just endured was merely a figment of her imagination? Like a mirage in a desert? What were the chances of there being a man who could teach her a new language with a magic spell? Or lick her wounds and heal her?

Or kiss her and make her want to weep from the beauty of it?

Unconsciously she reached for the medallion at her neck. Her fingers met only skin and cotton, and she frowned. She'd lost it in the mist. Hadn't she? She just didn't know, because in all actuality she could have lost it anywhere in this G.o.dforsaken jungle.

Her confusion grew, the truth dancing just beyond her grasp. Later, she decided. She'd worry about sorting truth from fiction later. After she'd had a shower and eaten a good meal.

There was no way to explain her suspicions to these men without sounding totally and completely insane, so she didn't even try. "Yes, last Monday," she said weakly.

"And you've been alone the entire time?" Jason asked skeptically.

"No, I had a guide. He abandoned me."

That seemed to pacify him, and he relaxed his stance. "Did you see Alex at all?" He patted her shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort her.

She pretended to stumble backward a step, dislodging his hand. She didn't want to be patronized or coddled. She just wanted to find Alex. When she'd first entered the Amazon, she hadn't worried about him, hadn't worried that he might be lost or hurt somewhere.

Or worse. He was smart and resourceful, and in his journal he'd laughed about evading his "shadow," so she'd just a.s.sumed he was not in any real danger.

"I wish I had seen him," she said. "I'm concerned about him."

"Do you know anywhere he might have gone?" Mitch asked.

"No. Wouldn't his teammate know?"

"Not necessarily." Jason sighed, a p.r.o.nounced sigh that revealed a hint of too-white teeth. "All right," he said. "I need to stay here and continue searching, but I'm going to have Patrick-that's another member of our crew-"

Patrick stepped from the shadows in a swath of camouflage, holding a semiautomatic. A startled jolt sped through her at the sight of the man and his gun. He ignored her upset and tipped his chin to her by way of introduction.

"He won't hurt you," Jason continued. "I'm going to have Patrick get you to our boat. It's loaded with medical supplies. I want you hooked to an IV ASAP."

"No," she said after a moment's thought. Alex might still be in the jungle, alone and hungry. He might need her; he'd always been there for her, through the years of their father's cancer, and she wanted to be there for him. "I'll stay with you and help you look for him."

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Why?"

"If you're hurt, or worse, it's my a.s.s in a sling. Let Patrick take you to the boat," he cajoled. "It's docked on the river and not far from here, about an hour's hike."

"No. I'll go into town and-"

"You're two days from civilization. You'd never make it alone. And I'm not sending any of my men into town right now. I need them here."

"Then I'll stay here. I can help," she said stubbornly.

"To be honest, you'd be more of a hindrance. You're clearly near collapse, and we'd waste precious time having to carry you."

Though she didn't like it, she understood his logic. Without strength and energy, she would be a burden. Still, helplessness bombarded her because she desperately wanted to do something to aid her brother. Perhaps she'd question the man on the boat, the one who had spent time with him.She gave Mitch and Jason a barely perceptible nod. "I'll go to the boat."

"Thank you," Jason said.

"We'll keep you apprised of our progress," Mitch added. "I promise."

"If you haven't found him in a day or two," she warned, "I'm coming back in here."

Jason lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. "I'll give you a piece of advice, Grace. Go home when you've regained your strength.

Alex may already be there, worried about you."

Her back straightened, and she leveled him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"There's a good chance he's already flown out of Brazil. Not only did his teammate mention that he'd followed another lead, he also mentioned that Alex bought a plane ticket three days ago."

"To where?" Confusion had her shaking her head. "And why are you still here?"

"We don't know and boss's orders," Mitch said, shifting on his feet. "This is the last place he was seen. We're to search until the office hears from him."

Home, she thought. Alex could very well be home. The concept was so welcome after everything she'd been through that she latched on to it with a vengeance. She turned to Patrick. "I'm ready. Take me to the boat."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Once again seeing only black-and-white, Darius flattened his palms above his head, against the rocky cavern wall. He stared into the swirling mist. She'd escaped. Grace had actually escaped. Everything inside him urged him to vault into her world and hunt her down. Now. However, his reasons were not what they should have been. It was the beast inside him that craved her nearness-not the Guardian.

Teeth gnashing together, he remained in place. No matter his desires, entering the surface world was not an option. Not until he appointed a temporary Guardian. Darius uttered a brutal curse into the mist, hating that he must wait. Yet beneath his impatience was an undeniable pang of relief. Grace would live a while longer, and he would see her again, no matter where she went, no matter how far.

He dropped one of his hands and clasped his medallion from beneath his shirt. When he felt only one, he stilled. Frowning, he reached inside his pocket, encountering only the b.u.t.tery soft glide of leather. His breath became as chilled and frosted as the mist, and dark fury pounded through him. Not only had Grace escaped him, and quite easily, too, but she had also stolen the Ra-Dracus. His hands fisted so tightly his bones threatened to grind to powder.

The woman had to be found. Soon.

With one last glance at the mist, he stole out of the doomed cave and up into the palace. Seven of his warriors were waiting for him in the dining hall.

They stood united, each of their arms crossed, each of their legs braced apart. The stance for war. In the center was Brand. His lips were thinned in displeasure, and his brow was stern. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes that didn't quite match the rest of his expression.

"Do you have something to tell us, Darius?" his first in command said.

Darius paused midstep, then he, too, a.s.sumed a pre-battle position. His men had never waylaid him like this, and he cursed himself for allowing their game. "No," he said. "I have nothing to tell you."

"Well, I have something to tell you," Zaeven growled.

Madox placed a warning hand on the young dragon's shoulder. "That tone will get you nothing but a beating."

Zaeven mashed his lips together in silence.

"I do not have time to play your silly game right now."

"Game?" Renard said, exasperated. "You think we're playing a game?"

"What else would you be doing here if not trying to win your wager? I told you to stay inside the practice arena for the rest of the day. That is where I expect you to be." Darius pivoted and strode toward the hallway.

"We know about the woman," Tagart called, stepping forward. A scowl marred the clean lines of his features.

Darius paused abruptly and spun to face them. He schooled his features to reveal only mild curiosity. "Which woman is that?" he asked with false casualness.

"You mean there is more than one?" Zaeven jumped in front of Tagart. His features lost their steely edge.

"Shut up," Brand told the boy. He refocused on Darius. His next words lashed out as sharply as a sword. "I'll ask you again. Do you have anything to tell us?"

"No." Darius's tone was absolute.

Tagart's scowl darkened with a flash of scales. "How is it fair that you are allowed to have a woman here and we are not?"

Brittan leaned against the far wall. He crossed his feet at the ankles and grinned with wry humor. The infuriating man found amus.e.m.e.nt in every situation. "I say we share the woman like the nice little fire lizards we are."

"There is no woman," Darius announced.

Their protests erupted immediately. "We saw her, Darius."

"Brand touched her."

"We even fought over who would have her first."

Silence. Thick, cold silence.

Very slowly, very evenly, Darius roamed his gaze over every man present. "What do you mean Brand touched her?"

The question elicited different reactions. Brittan chuckled. The younger dragons paled, and Madox and Renard shook their heads. Tagart stormed from the room, muttering, "I've had enough of this."

Brand-the G.o.ds curse him-rolled his eyes. "You're missing the point," Brand said. "For years we have followed your orders and your rules without dispute. You said women were not allowed, and so we have always forgone pleasures of the flesh while residing in the palace. For us to discover that you have a wh.o.r.e hidden in your chambers for your own personal use makes a mockery of your rules."

"She is not a wh.o.r.e," he growled. Instead of offering an explanation, he repeated his previous question. "What did they mean you touched her?"

His friend pushed out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"Did you touch her?"

"She backed into a table, and I helped right her. Now will you concentrate?"

Darius relaxed... until Madox muttered, "Yes, but did you have to 'help' her for so long, Brand?"

With surprise his lips thinned.

With disbelief his jaw tightened.

With fury his nostrils heated with sparks of fire.

Darius recognized the emotions and did not even try to mute them. All three hammered through him, hot and hungry, nearly consuming him. He didn't want any man save himself touching Grace. Ever. He didn't stop to examine the absurdity of his possessiveness. He just knew it was there. He didn't like it, but it was there all the same.

"Did you hurt her?" he demanded.

"No," Brand said, re-crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course not. I'm insulted that you even have to ask."

"You will not touch her again. Not any of you. Do you understand?" His piercing gaze circled the group.

Each man wore his own expression of shock during the ensuing silence. Then, as if a dam had broken, they hurdled rapid-fire questions at him.

"What is she to you? She wore your mark on her neck."

"Where is she?"

"What's her name?"