I stilled.
He gripped his waistband. “Do you mind?”
Breath catching in my chest, I spun around. The clink of metal—his belt. The brush of fabric—his jeans. The thud of rubber—his boots. Counting down the seconds until he slithered into my space.
With a flap of my arms, I pushed myself deeper, farther away from him. “There are a dozen other pools. Can’t you find your own?”
Water swished. My stomach flipped.
“I like this one.”
My brows pinched in annoyance. Sucking in a lungful of air, I turned to face him.
He swam near the steps, treading closer, his piercing gaze heating my cheeks. “Your hair looks nice like that.”
The hollow praise probably worked wonders on others. There was something about him—burning blue gaze, a jaw that was all angles, an air of mystery—I just happened to see right through it. To know better.
Narrowing my eyes, I flatly said, “Thanks.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, biceps swelling; silver rings glinted against the black strands. “How’s mine?”
“Fine.” I looked away. “I should get going. I’m already a prune anyways.”
Bouncing on my tiptoes, I waded closer to the stairs, careful to keep to the outskirts of the pool, to keep myself covered by the milky lagoon.
Didn’t matter. I could still feel him, the intensity of his stare, the threatening shift in his muscles.
I was nearly out. Just a few more strokes to the shallows.
“Wait.” Wet fingers reached across the water, brushing my shoulder. “Super impressive, what you did today.”
My eyes could have burned holes in his hand. “You were there?”
He nodded, droplets dripping down the side of his face, plinking onto the surface.
“Oh.” My voice sounded small in the tightness of the cavern. “I must have missed you.”
“You seem to miss a lot.” The comment struck me like the fangs of a water snake.
I glared at him over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“Got a lot on your mind, angel?” That touch slithered closer, his foot grazing my ankle. “I can help make it disappear.”
Source tingled in my fingertips, heating with a rush of anger. “I’m good.”
Shrugging, he tilted his head back until the nape of his neck dipped beneath the surface, thin lines of a tattoo poking out from behind his ear.
I splashed the water away from me, and a small wave curled with the force and my magic, breaking across Flóki’s shoulders.
He shut his eyes, throwing his arms over his head. I took his distraction as a moment to escape, slipping out of the pool and snatching my towel off a stalagmite.
“Tomorrow the queen is taking me to Earth’s lair,” I said, wrapping myself in the soft fabric. “After that, I’m on the next flight to California. Then we’ll never see each other again.”
“Tomorrow, tomorrow.” He laughed, and it was smoky and suffocating and wrong. “Why isn’t it ever now?”
“Do you know something I don’t?” I spat.
“I know Hildur finds you very useful.” He waded closer, as if he was going to step out—follow. I held my ground. “And you’ve been so willing to help.”
