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Rieka snorted. Her eyes burned bright; the gold specks sparkled in the light as the color returned to her face. “She once told me we didn’t have to worry about monsters because the blood of the king of monsters ran through our veins. It gave me nightmares for months. I hadn’t thought about it again until tonight,” Rieka said.

Dante stilled. The blood of monsters. A term Talal had mentioned countless times to him as an adolescent when they had worked together in the archives. “Why was your mother searching for the tomb?” Dante asked.

“She dragged me around the world looking for it. I don’t know why she was determined to find it.”

“Why do you search for it?”

Rieka paused. The silence grew between them as she gently swayed. “Because I have some ill-conceived notion of having a better understanding of why my mother wanted to find it. Why it was more important than me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. She blinked, breaking the spell. “Argh.” Rieka scrunched her nose as she looked down at herself. “I think I need a shower. I can still smell the serpopard on me.”

Rieka was imagining it. There was no lingering scent of the beast on her. He would respect her need for space. Despite that, the thought of Rieka in his shower was enough for him to rethink his original and non-lecherous intentions. It wasn’t lost on him that in the last few days he had somehow developed a conscience when it came to the woman in front of him. And a protective streak that bordered on the psychotic.

“Do you have anything I can wear?”

Chapter 33

Riekaletthehotwater rush over her. She wished it could wash away the uneasiness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach as easily as the dirt and blood.

The growing anxiety was becoming so much a part of her, she had almost forgotten what it was like not to have it just under the surface of everything she did.

She pressed her head to the marble wall as the cascading water continued to scald her. At least the bracelet hadn’t reacted to the water. Something she probably should have checked before she jumped in.

Impeccably ordered designer-label bottles stared back at her. There was nothing out of place. She grabbed a couple and rearranged them. Dante needed a little bit of chaos in his life. The amusement didn’t last long before reality intruded. As much as she wanted to stay under the water, she couldn’t. Not when one of her problems was affixed to her like a parasitic symbiote.

She touched her pendant.What would Mom do?

Giving the journal to Dante had been risky. He was the only other person she had shared it with, and it felt surprisingly like she was violating Lilian’s trust. But after ten years of trying to find clues and having no success, maybe Dante would see something she couldn’t.

Had everything she’d known—about her mother, about their history—been a lie? There was no mistaking what she had seen at the archaeological site or in the vision. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the face of Vandana and their near-identical flame-colored eyes. She didn’t need the statue to know the truth, but she had hoped it would give her a clue as to who her mom really was.

Every time Rieka had asked her mom about her childhood, she’d received vague answers. It had crossed her mind that Lilian may have been disappointed she had given birth to a child who was little more than human. Rieka pushed that thought down—it fed into too many negative emotions. All she had ever wanted was to belong, and now she would never get that closure.

Hybrids were rarely given the option, but she was done waiting to be asked. A wave of rage ran through her, leaving a calmness she hadn’t felt in a long time. This was her life. It was time that she made a decision based on what she wanted to do. Time that she acted and damned the consequences.

A wave of confidence raced over her.

There was something she wanted more than finding the tomb, and he was standing in the room next door. For the first time in her life, she was going to do something she wanted, not because she was following someone else’s dream.

She splashed some water on her face. Somehow, Dante had invaded every one of her thoughts—he made her feel safe and protected. He held the deep-seated loneliness that had shadowed her throughout her life at bay.

Stepping out of the shower as she toweled herself with the fluffiest white towel she had ever used, she eyed the shirt Dante had given her. A simple gray T-shirt. It hadn’t been what she was expecting. Dante did not give off theT-shirt and jeans typevibe, but maybe he did when he wasn’t at work. She held the shirt to her face and breathed in Dante’s scent. The material was the softest cotton she had ever worn. It was like wearing a cloud. Being filthy rich had its perks.

Dante was nowhere to be seen, but she knew he was still in the room. Some sixth sense she had developed over the last two days, along with her heightened senses.

“You can have the bed.”

Her head snapped to the balcony, in the direction of his voice. She could only see a shadow, but she could feel his gaze on her, branding her. It sent a jolt of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the scalding hot shower she had just left. “We can share the bed. I don’t bite, I swear.” Rieka patted the duvet. It was a small piece of heaven.

“But I do,” Dante acknowledged. “If you ask nicely.”

And now she was completely awake, despite the late hour and everything she had gone through. Heat pooled between her thighs. He smiled slowly; perfect white teeth flashed in the shadows. Heightened senses. For the first time, she didn’t give a damn.

Dante leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as he leisurely looked her over. “Go to sleep, Rieka.”

Like that was going to happen now. Not when she had an overactive imagination, and she was bombarded with ideas of what Dante could do with his mouth.

“It will be morning soon.” Dante hadn’t moved. “I will make sure you are safe.”

A small thrill shot through her. The words were protective and arrogant. She should have hated it, but instead she was excited. An orgasm would also make her feel a hundred times better. But even in her exhausted state of mind, she knew that wasn’t an argument that would stand up to too much scrutiny. Not when there was a bone-deep weariness that was threatening to overwhelm her. Or the knowledge that the more time she spent around Dante, the more she was beginning to like him. Tomorrow, in the daylight, she could pretend to be fearless. Now she just wanted the quiet. The Atlantean was growing on her, and she needed to remind herself of the potential heartbreak that would follow when she went home.