19. Tempi

CHAPTER 19

TEMPI

I don't know how long we walk for. It could be hours. It could be minutes. Either way, I know I'm fucking tired of it. For fuck's sake, when I need a magic portal to open and save me from the awkwardness between me and Goldie, er. . . Midas, it doesn't happen. Now, I keep getting images of that man touching me with his leather gloves, wondering what kind of sensory things that'll cause. I've always liked being touched with different things. A feather is real fucking good in the right situation.

And I can't even lie and say the thought of him with all that gold on doesn't do it for me. I considered taking him up on that offer, but then how awkward would it have been right now? And what if we'd been caught with our pants down –literally! — when that creature appeared that we hear every now and then behind us. It's further away now but it certainly still patrols the area.

I'm so lost in my thoughts, I hardly hear Midas when he tells me to stop. It takes his large hand wrapping around my bicep to drag me from my thoughts and look up at him in confusion.

"What?" I growl.

"We can't go this way," he growls back, as if it's not the first time he's said it.

"And why not?"

"Look at the trees, Tempest," he murmurs, all ire disappearing from his voice.

Furrowing my brow, I follow his gaze and get a good look at the trees in front of us. At first, my mind can't make sense of it. They're just trees. But when I look closer, I realize that isn't exactly true.

In front of us is a pathway lined with overarching trees. It's not a road, not a path that's been used by anything other than animals, but it looks like it should be. On both sides, trees stand like sentinels, overhanging the path like the great oaks do at home. But when I peer closer, the bark is wrong. It's no longer the brown bark with a very slight sheen on it. These ones are dripping with black, like coagulated oil. It oozes and drips, climbing along the trunks, hanging from the branches, spotting the ground where it has fallen off. The black sucks all light into it, dulling everything around it.

"What the hell is that?" I rasp, staring at it.

"Make sure you don't touch it," Midas instructs, pulling me backward, putting distance between us and the path. "It's catching."

"Okay, but what is it?" I repeat, staring up at him.

His expression is somber. "It's an Under affliction, born from the River Styx. We call it the Scourge." He sighs. "As far as I know, there's no cure for the affliction once you contract it. While it drips from the trees along the river in Under, it's catching to almost anything that touches it. Animals, people, demons, even spirits. I've seen a spirit suffering from the scourge. It wasn't a pleasant sight, and it's certainly not a pleasant death."

"So avoid the black slug liquid. Got it," I murmur, looking left and right. "We'll have to choose a direction to go."

"Right," he says, pointing. "It looks like it thins out further in."

"Why not left?" I ask, mostly just to question his decision. He seems like someone who is rarely questioned and I'm nothing if not an ice bath to egos.

"Left doesn't look like it's safer," he points out, his voice a little tight.

"It looks like the better option to me," I argue, taking a step in that direction. "My instincts say left."

"Then your instincts are shit," he growls. "We go right."

"You go right," I say, shrugging. "And I'll go left."

"No," he snarls. I can literally feel him grit his teeth before he measures his words. "We have to stick together if the merges are attracted to you."

I raise my brows. "Then you can come left with me."

My voice doesn't change. I'm not tense or stressed like he is. This is fun. I've decided I might enjoy this a little more than I should.

His expression tightens. "What's to stop me from picking you up and taking you right?"

"Go ahead and try," I goad, grinning. Really, I'm thinking about the taser on my belt. I'm willing to bet if this guy doesn't know what a margarita is, he won't know what a taser is. If he picks me up, I can't wait to use the thing on him.

He studies me with narrowed eyes. For a moment, we don't say anything, staring at each other, me grinning and him looking as if he'd really like to strangle me. Fire and ice. He's definitely the ice.

"Fine," he finally relents for some reason. "We can go left."

Disappointment fills me. No taser then.

"Oh, good," I say brightly, gesturing for him to go ahead of me. He does so, taking a few steps. I watch him, my grin widening. "Wait."

He twists and snarls. "Now what?"

I tilt my head and flutter my eyelashes at him. "Now my instincts are screaming to go right, after all."

His eye twitches. I watch his fist curl in annoyance. When he turns back around and stalks up to me, I don't back down, letting him press himself to my chest as I stand my ground.

"What game are you playing, little crucible?" he rumbles, and I can feel it through his chest. Fuck, if it doesn't turn me on a little.

"No games," I say, fluttering my eyelashes again. "Just listening to my instincts is all."

He leans down, putting his face in mine. "My instincts are telling me to bend you over my knee and spank you like an insolent concubine," he growls.

"You got a lot of those?" I ask. "Concubines?"

He blinks. "No."

"Good to know," I say with a nod and reach up to his beard, gently twisting my fingers through it for barely a second. The ice and anger in his eyes melts to molten gold. "Lead the way, Your Majesty ." My title is mocking.

When I go to take a step back, his hand lashes out and grabs my hip, holding me to him just a little longer. "You keep that up, Tempest, you're going to find out just how much gold I wear while fucking," he warns.

Shit. My nether regions literally catch fire as I stare into his eyes.

"You wish," I reply, but it's a breathless reply that makes his lips twitch up into a smile.

"You said you weren't a genie," he murmurs. "But I can rub you like a lamp just to make sure."

I think I swallow my tongue. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out but a strangled sound.

"There's that blessed subservience," he says, grinning. "Imagine what you'll do when I make good on my promise."

" Come mierda ," I croak, pulling away.

He doesn't respond, but his grin widens. I twist and lead the way to the right. I can feel his smugness with every step, and it just pisses me off more. I'm fuming after a few minutes, but I don't say a word. I don't want to add fuel to the fire. His smug expression looks back at me every so often and my scowl only deepens.

Que cabrón .