Jewel of Atlantis - By Gena Showalter Page 0,72

as screams of pleasure. He could very easily imagine droplets of water cascading from Jewel's plump breasts, dripping onto her stomach, gathering in her navel, begging for his tongue, before finally catching between her legs and -

"Not again." He slapped himself across the face. "Concentrate, man." He rubbed his cheek, feeling several days' worth of stubble. "Work. You have work to do."

Holding his stinging side, Gray gathered branches and leaves, vines and sapling. Over the years, he'd constructed hundreds of hideaways; the actual building was most likely ingrained in his cells. His expert eye quickly found the best location, a spot that provided an escape route yet hid them under a sloping hill and between two trees.

The trees stood roughly five feet apart. Using the rope he'd stolen from the centaur, he tied a long, solid branch to each trunk, reaching as high as possible. He crisscrossed the sapling and vines he'd gathered, working his way down the beam, then did the same to the other side. Sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped it away with the back of his wrist.

By the time he finished the framework, his arms were shaking and his knees knocking. He hated weakness of any kind - especially in himself. He sipped at the water in his canteen, then jumped back into his work.

After he covered the braided vines with brush leaves and grass, he pulled back and studied the end results. "Not bad," he said with a nod. Not a five-star resort, but it would hide them from their enemies and protect them from the elements. When the time came, he would untie the vines from the trees and fold everything up, hitching it to his backpack.

Deciding to rest while he could, Gray eased to the ground. He closed his eyes. Rocks dug into his back, but relaxing proved easy. All around him, the insects were creating a soft symphony. Who needed an MP3 player when the sounds of nature performed twenty-four seven?

He rubbed his temples. How long would it take him to heal completely? He knew better than most it was best to keep moving, and keep moving quickly, never staying in the same spot long. Less chance the enemy could ferret him out.

"God, I need a vacation." Once he returned home, he'd go to the beach, find himself a woman and rid himself of his growing need for Jewel.

Funny thing, though. No woman appealed to him but Jewel. His body wanted her, and only her. His mind wanted her, and only her. The thought of being with another woman felt wrong, and the thought of being without Jewel made him sick. And Gray didn't think a few nights, a month, a year away from her would diminish his obsession in any way.

He hadn't lied to her. If he stayed, OBI would continually send agents inside Atlantis, looking for Dunamis. People would die. Dunamis might end up in the wrong hands. If he tried to take her home, well, OBI guarded the portal, so he could never get her through without their knowledge. The moment they saw her, she'd be poked and prodded and dissected by scientists for the rest of her life. She'd never leave the laboratory - not alive, at least.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, infuriated with his lack of choices. Sweat poured down his back as he realized, really realized, that these next few days were all he and Jewel had. That was it. After that, he'd never see her again. A bitter laugh escaped him. He wanted her in a way he'd never wanted another woman. He wanted her taste, her body, her voice, and he knew she would willingly and passionately give herself to him. He could have her all right, but he couldn't keep her.

"I'm not going with you." Jewel's angry voice tore through his musings. "Let me go. I've killed before, and I'll do it again."

Male laughter floated across the distance.

Instant fury and concern burning inside him, Gray jumped up. Damn it all to hell, not again! Couldn't they rest for a fucking hour before something else attacked them? Ignoring the sharp tongs of discomfort - all right, agony - he launched forward, swiped his gun out of his bag and sprang toward the river. As he ran, he checked tile weapon's clip. Only one bullet left. Crap. Had he lost one?

He shoved himself past trees and branches, uncaring as they cut his skin. His adrenaline level kicked up, providing extra strength,

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