FOR THE NEXT WEEK, ANYA dogged Lucien's every step when she wasn't stealing to keep herself sane. Even when he was escorting souls. She hated when he visited hell. Hated the heat, the smells, the taunts and jeers that emerged from the dark yet fiery pit. Always Lucien tried to act unaffected by them, but she could see the unease in his eyes. That saddened her. He'd seen the worst the world had to offer over and over again, and had had to anesthetize himself to survive.

Now she wanted him to see the best; now she wanted him to feel.

She told herself she wanted those things because it would be entertaining to watch the prince of doom and gloom let some light into his life. She didn't look deeper than that because she was afraid of what lurked beneath the explanation.

She sighed, knowing she should have given up on Lucien days ago. Attacked him, at the very least, or drawn him away from the temple for a flash-chase. But she suspected he wouldn't raise a hand against her and knew he would refuse to follow her. So she remained invisible and stayed close. Besides, whatever he learned about those artifacts, she learned, too.

After she'd mentioned looking for them herself, she'd realized she did indeed want them. Once she had one of those babies in her hot little hands, she'd make him beg for it. Gods, his expression was going to be priceless. Especially when she turned him down and bargained with Cronus. Her life for an artifact. Talk about a win-win situation!

"Go away, Anya," Lucien whispered.

He couldn't see her, but she stuck her tongue out at him, anyway. Those were the only words he'd spoken to her all week. If he said them again, she planned to materialize and slap him across the face, then quickly disappear.

"I am serious."

He always knew when she arrived. Once he'd told her that he smelled her. She'd been pleased, because it meant he was aware of her. She was still pleased by it, but damn if it didn't ruin her element of surprise.

Right now, the warrior stood in the Temple of the All Gods, peering at the bare, cracked walls with savage intensity. He and the other Lords had come here every day, their determination awe-inspiring in the face of their failure to find anything.

No wonder I want him so badly.

Lingering at Lucien's side was foolish and dangerous. It only intensified her desire for him. Seeing his butterfly tattoo on a regular basis was causing all kinds of naughty fantasies to play through her mind. Like: spending hours licking it. Like: taking Lucien's cock into her mouth while caressing it. Like: finger painting it with chocolate sauce and having it for dessert.

He'd probably try to stab her if she suggested any of those things. She'd never met a man less sure of his appeal and more outraged when a woman tried to tell him of her desire. How could others not see how mouthwateringly sexy he was? How rugged? How he tempted feminine instincts on every level?

Lucien bent down and once again sifted through rock and sand, looking for gods knew what. Sunlight stroked him lovingly, the bitch. He's mine.

"Go away, Anya," he repeated.

Grrr! She materialized. Rather than slap him, though, she sat on a boulder beside him. He was shirtless again, his skin slightly burned, cut up and bruised.

He didn't face her. "I said go away."

"Like I'm going to obey you. You aren't my daddy. Unless you want to be. 'Cause I've been a bad, naughty girl and I need a spanking."

A pained groan escaped him. "Anya. Please." Sweat trickled over his spine, illuminating a few of the scars scattered there.

She reached out to caress them, but froze when one of the warriors called out.

"Lucien. Your woman..." The speaker was Paris, she realized. His voice was strained, even more so than before. Not getting any out here, was he? Poor man. Without sex, Paris weakened. If he could have brought a woman with him to fulfill his needs, all would have been well in his world. But he couldn't sleep with the same woman twice. Promiscuity, the lecherous demon, wouldn't let him.

Anya knew the trials of a sex-curse and sympathized. While hers was the opposite of his, preventing her from ever going all the way, both curses dictated their actions and jacked with their free will. It sucked rotten eggs.

Nothing can bind me but that curse, she thought darkly. She'd been bespelled before she'd acquired the ability to escape confinement, so the curse had already been a part of her. There was no escaping it.

Her gaze returned to Lucien and her shoulders sagged. No, much as she might wish otherwise, there was no escaping it.

"Just stay where you are," Lucien shouted to Paris. "She is my responsibility."

His responsibility? She didn't know whether to be delighted or insulted. "Why not let your friends come over here and play with us?"

He glanced at her through slitted eyelids, a fast look/look-away motion. Still, the moment his gaze hit her, moisture flooded between her legs. Her stomach tingled and her skin ached for him. He was pure sex appeal, all sweaty and dirty and manly. Yum.

"What are you wearing?" he croaked.

"A maid's uniform. You know, to help you dust."

He cursed under his breath. "Just as before, my friends are beyond the stone," he told her, "and they will remain there, working. They do not need a distraction."

How many times would he tell her she was a distraction? She eyed the crumbling stone cupped in his palms and frowned. Maybe, if she proved useful, he'd see her as something more. "I remember this place in its prime. Before it was moved down to earth, we were taught here, the other deities and I. How to control our powers, how to act properly, blah, blah, blah."

Lucien couldn't hide the interest that colored his face. "I was never allowed inside," he admitted. "We went only where Zeus did, and he didn't choose to spend time here."

Eck. To be bound to that temperamental shithead would have been torture. "A pity the place is so damaged now. You might have liked it."

"What did it look like?" he asked, dropping the chunks and sifting through another handful. Each pebble he found he held up to the light, turned to study every side for markings then discarded over his shoulder.

"Towering statues circled the entire temple. Ivy rode some of the walls, and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies glistened from the floors. I'm sure old glory-seeking Cronus will spruce everything up when he and his brethren of assholes take over."

Lucien snorted. Even though she hated herself for it, she rejoiced in the sound. His amusement was like an aphrodisiac to her, and she had caused it.

"What else?"

"Let's see." She tapped her chin with a nail painted ice-blue. "Every doorway was flanked by two white columns. Pillars of strength, they were called."

"And how many rooms were there?"

She allowed her mind to return to the days she'd spent here. While she'd loved the beauty of the temple, she'd hated the beings inside it. How many times had the goddesses-in-training complained to the teacher, "Why does she get to study here? She's not one of us. She only causes trouble." How many times had the young gods jeered, "I don't know why she bothers to wear a robe. Everyone knows she spends more time out of it."

She pushed aside the remembered hurts. "There was the main altar room, of course, which you're now crouching in. There was a meeting hall where worshippers washed and gathered before sacrificing. Then the interior chamber and the priests' lodgings."

He nodded as though he was soaking in her every word. "Tell me more about this altar room."

Happy to oblige, she said, "If we traveled back in time, there'd be a white marble table in front of you. And there would be murals on the walls. Gods, those were cool. I need to redo one of my apartments and have the images painted - "

"Murals? What did the murals depict?" Lucien asked, cutting her off. He stood and pinned her with a hard stare, urgency radiating from him.

Wow. If she'd known she only needed to talk about boring temples to elicit his full attention, she would have done it days ago.

"Well?" he insisted.

She shrugged, pretending a casualness she suddenly didn't feel. "Godly feats of strength, victories. Even a few defeats."

His eyes glinted. "And was the box here, Anya?"

"No. I'm sorry." She hated to disappoint him.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. She approached him, wanting to touch, but stopped halfway, unsure of his reaction. This close, she could see that even more dirt than she'd realized streaked his chest and arms and his pulse hammered wildly. Her mouth watered at the sight. His butterfly tattoo vibrated with...awareness? Was it alive?

"What thoughts tumble through your head?" he asked.

"Naughty ones."

His brown eye darkened and his blue eye swirled. Both fixed on her minuscule, black-and-white lacy uniform, pupils dilating. "You enjoy tormenting me, do you not?"

She pinched her fingers together and said, "Just a wee bit. But don't worry - I'm not singling you out or anything. It's just a little quirk of mine, tormenting the men who want to kill me."

A brilliant beam of light broke through a cloud - cloud? On this hot day? Had she accidentally summoned it? She didn't look up. Couldn't. That beam had struck his face, illuminating his scars and casting shadows under his eyes. In that moment, he appeared as evil and sinister as a man could be. He appeared otherworldly. Wicked.

Delicious.

Her heartbeat sped up and her nipples beaded into tight little knots. Reach for me. Please.

He didn't.

She had to tear her gaze from him. Wanting him like this was foolish. Not just because of her curse, but because he wouldn't do anything about it. Nothing wrong with buttering him up, though, like you told him you were doing.

Unless she fell for him in the process. That would be a problem. A big one. Already the intensity of her desire was staggering. Any more...

"Anya," he said, drawing her from her thoughts.

"What?" She didn't face him, but withdrew a strawberry lollipop from the link of her belt, unwrapped it and ran her tongue over the tip. A little moan of pleasure escaped her. Scrumptious. She'd discovered the lollipops years ago after one of her human friends had died in a car wreck. Ever since, they'd been her comfort food of choice.

Lucien was in her face a second later - she was beginning to hate when he did that! - and swiped the candy from her hand. Her eyes widened as he tossed it to the ground.

"Hey! That was uncalled for."

He was scowling. "Do not eat those things in front of me."

"Why?" She threw up her arms in confusion.

"Because," he replied mulishly.

The scent of flowers was growing stronger, wafting from him, twining around her and drawing tight. "If you want one for yourself, just freaking ask me next time."

"I don't."

"Then - "

"No more talking. I must work." He spun away from her and went back to his mound of sand.

But not before she saw the fire blazing in his eyes.

Almost afraid to hope, she studied him more closely. His shoulders were stiff and his back ramrod straight, as if he were fighting desire. For her?

A hotter, deeper arousal bloomed inside her. Maybe, like her, he didn't mean half of the things he said. Maybe he truly did yearn for her.

She couldn't ask him. He'd just deny it. But that begged the question of why. Why did he not want her to know? Why did he not want to want her? Obviously, he thought she was easy. Why not take what he assumed she'd given to a thousand others? And what would he do if he knew how laughable that idea really was?

"You're wasting your time in that sand," she said in an airy tone, finally deigning to help him so he would pay attention to her again. Come over here and kiss me.

"No more talking."

"Well, you are."

"Disappear."

"Make me." Please. Want me like I want you. Don't let me be wrong about this.

He didn't reply.

Frustration ate at her, and she plopped onto the nearest boulder with a huff. "I want those artifacts as much as you do," she grumbled, "and your cold-shoulder treatment isn't helping our cause."

That snagged his attention. He flashed to her, knocking her off the boulder and onto the ground. Air shot from her lungs as his heavy muscular weight suddenly restrained her.

Note to self - mention the artifacts more often. Short as her costume was, she was able to spread her legs and welcome him into the cradle of her body. Instant pleasure speared her, shooting from head to toe and lingering in between.

"Why do you want them?"

"Duh. Power." The power of having bargaining chips, but he didn't need to know that.

"I thought we had covered this," he said, his voice cracking. "You will have nothing to do with the artifacts."

"Then you should have killed me." Licking her lips, she stared up at him. As always, he stole her breath. "I've decided I want them really, really bad."

He uttered a low growl. "No. I think you want to die. You are provoking me on purpose, while I have been giving you time to enjoy the last days of your life."

"Well, aren't you sweet," she muttered. Still, she didn't try to push him off her. In fact, she wound her arms around his neck. "I'm just trying to survive, lover. And have a little fun while I'm at it."

His nostrils flared, as if he'd just remembered something unpleasant. A muscle ticked in his jaw, making his scars all the more prominent. Her mouth watered. She wanted to tongue them. "Aligning yourself with me will not save you."

Back to that, were they? Damn, tell one little lie and it would haunt you forever. "Why haven't you killed me, then? And don't give me that bullshit about letting me enjoy the last days of my life. You don't let other souls enjoy the last of their days."

A heavy pause. His expression darkened. "Perhaps I have spared you because you know something, something that can help me find the artifacts and thereby the box. Tell me."

"If I knew something, I would have gotten to them already, dumbass."

"Then you are no good to me." He pulled back slightly and raised his fist as if he meant to strike her.

Over the last week, she'd watched him do this many times. Knew he wasn't going to hit her but reach inside her with a ghostly hand and rip out her spirit, leaving her body a helpless shell.

She should kick herself for taunting him. I just wanted time with him, she inwardly whined. Really, it was all she could think about anymore. All that propelled her out of bed. Well, that and his kisses.

"I don't know where the artifacts are," she said quickly, "but I can teach you more about the temple. How's that?"

He nodded, as if he'd merely been waiting for her to say those words. "Go on."

Had he just manipulated her? Sneaky devil. And yet, knowing he'd done so only caused her arousal to intensify. Hardly anyone bested her anymore.

She kneaded his shoulders, scratching them a little. He didn't tell her to stop. His breathing became more erratic, shallow. Her gaze dipped, his bare chest entrancing her as his body heat enveloped her. I could stay like this forever.

"Anya," he moaned. As her fingers worked him, his eyes closed in surrender.

"What were we talking about?" she asked.

"The...temple," he said, and the words were pained. "Yes, the temple."

"I'll tell you a secret about myself and all the gods who have passed through its halls," she whispered.

"I am listening. Do not stop."

She deepened the touch, allowing her fingers to inch down his back. Toward his ass. "Most of our powers are dependent on a little something called action and reaction. People act, and we are free to react. To help. Or hurt, for that matter. It's why I couldn't help Maddox and Ashlyn until they'd done something to untie my hands, so to speak."

Lucien's eyelids cracked open. Pleasure was banked in the depths of brown and blue. "Must be a closely guarded secret, because I did not know." He paused. "Maddox and Ashlyn each had to sacrifice something to ensure your aid."

"Yes." She beamed up at him. "Now you're thinking like a god."

"So to learn what I wish to know, I, too, must offer a sacrifice." He nodded, then reached behind him to grab one of her hands. He pulled it forward and laid it on her chest, but he didn't pull back, didn't break the connection. No, he traced each of her fingers.

Warm tingles rushed through her blood.

He was hard. She could feel his massive erection probing between her legs. He wasn't the first man to lie on top of her, but he was certainly the biggest. The sexiest. And the most fascinating. Because of her curse, he was also the first man she'd ever really wanted there.

Finally, Themis's words made sense.

Anya had been running home, crying again after an encounter with an overly-handsie young god, and had run into the goddess. Themis had taken one look at her and nearly fallen to the ground in shock. Too preoccupied to determine why, Anya had hurried away. The next day, Themis had arrived on her doorstep.

"You seduced my husband," she'd heard the goddess of Justice shout to her mother.

Dysnomia had raised her chin and squared her shoulders. But she hadn't uttered a word in her own defense.

"Your daughter is the image of my husband. She is his offspring. Do you deny it?"

"No, I do not deny it."

Anya had been shocked to her core. She'd always wondered who her father was, and to learn the powerful prison guard Tartarus had sired her both delighted - no longer would she be called minor - and angered her. Why had he ignored her all these years?

"You knew he was mated," Themis cried, "yet you lay with him, anyway. For that, for bearing his bastard child, you will be punished. Justice will be mine."

Horror blanketed Dysnomia's pretty face, but she said, "I am who I was born to be."

"That does not excuse you. From this day forward, you will sicken every time you welcome a man into your body, and you will be unable to rise from bed for days. Never again will you steal a man's affections unscathed. So I have said, so it shall be done."

Whimpering, her mother fell to her knees.

"And you," Themis said, eyes narrowing on a trembling Anya, who peeked around the corner.

"No!" Dysnomia shouted, trying to rise. "Leave her alone. She is innocent."

The goddess continued mercilessly. "Innocent? I think not. She is your daughter - that is crime enough. You will one day desire a man, Anarchy, and he will desire you, as well. Nothing will matter except being together. You will not care who he is, what he is or who he belongs to. You'll take him. Just like your mother, you'll take him."

"And you'll die alone because you're mean and hateful," Anya spat at her, unable to imagine herself feeling that way about any of the leering gods, much less welcoming another woman's leftovers.

"You will not have the opportunity to follow in your mother's indiscriminate footsteps. To allow a man to penetrate your body is to bind yourself to him for all eternity. You will live for him and only him. His pleasure will be your pleasure. His pain yours. If he discards you and takes another lover, you will feel the agony of his loss but you will not be able to leave him. If he dies, you will never recover from the grief. Your mother's legacy ends today. So I have said, so it shall be done."

The words themselves had wrapped around her, nearly choking her. They'd seeped past her skin, past her bones and straight into her soul, a fiery brand she had never been able to deny. She'd walked around in a daze for weeks afterward, the dual shocks of learning her father was a mated man and coming to terms with her curse nearly more than she could bear.

As the shock wore away, she'd begun to hate her father for denying her existence, and all men for what they could do to her if she wasn't careful. And she'd been scared, so scared.

When her mother had sent her to combat lessons, hoping to help her protect herself now that so much was at stake, she'd taken them seriously. As her strength had increased, her hatred and fear ebbed. Not her determination to remain alone, however.

In all the days since she had been cursed, she had never been tempted to give a man that much power over her. Losing her freedom when the gods had jailed her in her father's prison had only strengthened that determination.

Until now.

Now she wanted to know the bliss of Lucien's most intimate touch. Inside her. Deep. Pumping. Grinding. She knew she would have wanted those things whether he was mated or not.

Just thinking about having him caused more of that wondrous moisture to pool between her legs, dampening the thin sheath of panties she wore. Her skin felt too tight for her body, and she couldn't stop her thighs from rubbing up and down his. Freedom, she reminded herself. There was nothing greater.

The humans she'd chosen to make out with over the years had never been allowed to actually penetrate her. Aias, the Captain of the Immortal Guard, she had kissed and made out with, as well. But when she called a halt to their heavy petting, he'd called her a tease and a whore - oxymoron-spouting bastard - and had pinned her down.

He'd scowled down at her and ripped at her clothes, his own pants. Fear had consumed her. She'd screamed at him, demanded he release her. He'd laughed. She hadn't been able to flash, hadn't yet had the ability since it had come with her father's one and only gift to her. She'd fought with every ounce of strength she possessed and ultimately managed to deliver the death blow, just as she'd been taught.

Anya had never regretted her actions. Not even when she'd been rotting in prison. No one took what belonged to her. No one.

"What are you thinking about?" Lucien asked, his voice husky with...arousal?

Why not tell him the truth? "You. Sex. Theft. Another man."

"A lover?" he asked, his voice dark now.

Jealous? "Something like that."

His eyes narrowed.

"Does the thought of me with another man fill you with rage, Flowers?"

"Hell, no," he barked, tearing from her embrace and standing.

A sense of loss slammed into her. Gingerly she rose. Brushed the dirt from her fishnets. It's best this way, she told herself. You were too close to giving in to a man who may not even desire you. One who definitely wants to kill you.

"Let us return to our previous conversation. Ashlyn had to sacrifice herself to save Maddox," Lucien said tightly. He strode back into what had once been the altar room, spinning and studying the open space. "What can I sacrifice?"

"Lucien," Strider called. "It's getting close to chow time."

"I just need a little more time," he replied. He didn't look away from her. "Anya? Sacrifice?"

"Are you asking if sacrifices were made here?" She'd lost the line of conversation, too troubled by her own unhappy thoughts. "Yes. So?"

"Blood sacrifices?"

"Yes." Where was he going with this? "When the temple was moved to earth, blood sacrifices were made."

"And what did the patrons who came to this temple sacrifice, exactly? What did they make bleed?"

Again she allowed her mind to travel back to those days. Even she had been worshipped by mortals then. Everyone ignored the gods these days, writing them off as the stuff of myth and legend. That didn't bother her as it did the others. She liked her anonymity.

"They sacrificed their family members," she finally answered, stomach knotting. Oh, how she'd hated that. Another reason she was glad the days of old were, well, old. "Mostly innocents were chosen. Virgins. They cut their throats and watched them bleed out."

Lucien paled. "That is what's expected here? What's needed?"

"Not always. Sometimes blood freely offered by the one in need is more of a sacrifice than killing someone else and would have done the trick, but no one wanted to consider that. They would have had to hurt themselves, and most people would rather chop up a loved one and call it a noble act."

Some of his color returned. He withdrew a dagger from his boot, the metal whistling as it slid along the leather.

She backed away, palms up and out. "What, you thinking of sacrificing me now?"

"You are neither a virgin nor a loved one," he muttered.

Teeth grinding, she stopped abruptly, feet planting into the ground. Bastard. He had no idea about the former, and like she really needed the reminder about the latter. Like he'd had to point that out again. "I'm getting a little tired of your insults, Flowers. I've helped you today. I helped you last week. I helped you a month ago."

He sighed with regret. "You are right. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and I will not say such a thing again."

"Yes, well." She hadn't expected him to apologize, and that he'd done so threw her off her A game. "What are you - " Her words were cut off as he sliced his left wrist, then his right. Shocked, Anya rushed to him. "You're insane, Lucien. Absolutely insane." He wasn't going to die, she knew that. Still!

"We shall see." The wounds were large and gaping.

Her wrists throbbed in sympathy. She'd once stabbed him, sure, but right now, this moment, she couldn't bear to see him hurt. She grabbed his arm and tugged one of his wrists to her, hoping to stanch the crimson flow with her costume. Some of his blood dripped on her, then the ground.

The moment it touched the sand, Lucien bellowed a roar and dropped to his knees. Her concern doubled. "Lucien. What's wrong?" He was immortal and couldn't be killed by normal means, but that didn't stop her from worrying. He could have been cursed. He could have -

He roared again and clutched his stomach.

"Lucien. Tell me what the hell is wrong!"

His eyelids were squeezed shut; panting, he slowly opened them. Both of his irises were suddenly blue. Otherworldly, crystalline, churning like a storm. He stood to shaky legs and pulled from her grip as if in a trance, walking forward, toward the temple's only remaining wall.

"I can see it," he said.

Relief nearly felled her. He was having a vision. In the old days, when a sacrifice pleased the gods or even the temple itself, a reward was given. Anya thought perhaps the temple was pleased to be used again. "What do you see?" She had to force her arms to remain at her sides, so badly did she want to hold him.

"I might have found something," he called, ignoring her.

All four of the warriors ran to him, swooping around columns like avenging angels. They spotted her and gaped. Her French maid costume was naughty and for Lucien's eyes only. Still, she didn't flash away to change. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.

The men didn't speak to her, though Paris did lick his lips in anticipation, as if she were a feast that had been prepared just for him. She rolled her eyes. Would have flipped him off, but thought he might try to take her up on the "offer."

"Why are you bleeding?" Strider demanded, withdrawing a dagger. A feral scowl was directed at Anya. "And what the hell is she wearing?"

She flipped him off without any hesitation.

"The woman is not to be handled in any way," Lucien said flatly, still focused on the wall. "She is mine."

Mine, he'd said. Smiling, she gave each Lord a taunting pinkie wave. "You hear that? I'm his, so you can all suck dirt."

Lucien muttered, "And you had better keep your hands to yourself, Anya, or you will lose them."

"Please. Like your buddies could best me," she replied, unsure whether he heard or not. He gave no reaction.

As the Lords gathered around Lucien, she muscled right into their circle. And yeah, she pilfered a few daggers along the way. Gods, that felt good. She hadn't done enough of this lately, too consumed with Lucien. Stealing always soothed her riotous emotions, slowing her heartbeat and easing the seemingly constant ache in her stomach. The guys didn't realize what she'd done or they would have attacked her, she was sure. As it was, they let her through without comment.

What had Lucien found? What was he seeing?

Lucien splayed his arms, pushing everyone behind him and gazing at the wall once more.

"Lucien?" Strider said, clearly confused. Anya studied him out of the corner of her eye. He had blue eyes and blond hair, was tall and muscled, tanned. His features were roughly hewn, and he had a wicked sense of humor, which she normally preferred.

Why hadn't she been attracted to him?

"What do you see?" Paris asked. Eagerness and excitement hummed through the group.

"Waiting is fun," Gideon said, glaring.

"Do you recall what the two mortal researchers told us about Zeus and the artifacts?" Lucien asked.

A murmur of yeses arose.

"They were mostly correct. I'm looking at a mural that seems to be alive. The images are shifting, revealing detail after detail. After Zeus imprisoned the Titans, he commanded Hydra to hide and guard their treasured artifacts. Hydra split herself into four fearsome beings which scattered, each beast guarding one relic."

"Oh, man," Anya said. "If Hydra's the guard, you boys are in trouble. She's a whack job, for sure. Two heads on one snakelike body - make that eight heads on four bodies, if Lucien's vision is accurate - and all those heads suffer from constant PMS."

"Each serpent was to hide for eternity, never revealing her location again, even to the gods," Lucien continued.

Strider grunted. "How does this help us, then?"

Amateurs. "Do you see any symbols?" Anya prompted Lucien.

Pause. Frown. "Yes."

"Well, what are they? Zeus might not have wanted the other gods to know their location, but he would have made damn sure he could at least be pointed in the right direction if he so desired. In his glory days, when he stole whatever he wanted from whichever god he happened to want it from - it's the one thing I ever admired about him - he would hide them until the heat died down by using vision-symbols as treasure maps. He spelled them to change if the item was somehow moved."

Lucien didn't turn to her, but he did say, "You told us he told Cronus what had happened to them. You told us Cronus looked, but didn't find them."

"Hello. Does that mean Zeus told the truth? They're enemies, remember? Just tell me about the symbols already!"

Lucien pressed his gorgeous lips together, refusing to answer.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just leave the area and give you a chance to tell your boys. I totally will not remain here, invisible and eavesdropping." She grinned at him, waiting.

He growled low in his throat.

"Seriously, you know I'll find out eventually so stop wasting time. Besides, I'll save you a lot of steps trying to figure it out on your own. You need my help. Again. Admit it."

"Fine. We need your help." He worried two fingers over his jaw, the picture of pique. "The first symbol has two lines edging down with a curved line weaving them together."

"South Africa," she said without hesitation.

"How do you know that?" Paris said, looking more strained than before. He'd sidled next to her and now pinched her butt.

She slapped his hand and stepped away. "I'm smarter than you," she told him smugly. "That's how I know."

Paris gripped her wrist almost desperately. What he meant to do with her she wasn't sure. He'd - Lucien moved between them, ripping them apart.

Lucien was snarling at the warrior.

"Fine." Paris sighed and backed away. "I get the message. No touchie." He stopped, looked down at his waist. "Shit! My blade is gone."

The other Lords looked from Lucien to her, from her to Lucien, as if needing direction.

"What?" she finally demanded. "You think I took it?"

"Mine is missing, too," Strider said with a grin, "but you can keep it. Think of me when you use it."

The grin surprised her, and she found herself smiling in return. Until Lucien snarled at him, too. She rolled her eyes, though she was secretly pleased.

"Get back to work, big boy," she said. "I know how you hate distractions."

Thankfully, the snarling ceased. "The second symbol," Lucien said, once again drawing everyone's attention to the wall, "is a single, jagged line."

"That's the Arctic. Ah," she added, placing her hand over her heart. "Those icy climes are bound to bring back memories of our first date. The one where you took a nice, refreshing dip and I watched from the glacier. Remember?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Maybe this is a sign we're meant to be BF's forever and ever. Is this a great moment for a huggsie, do you think?"

His lips pulled taut. "The third is a horizontal, curved line with a similar line growing out of it."

She'd take that for a no. "That's the States."

"The last is a straight line that curves at the bottom, almost like the end of a machete."

"Egypt," she said. Then she grinned and clapped her hands. "You know what this means, don't you? More traveling, and more treasure hunting! Where are we going first? Huh, huh, huh?"

"How do you know those locations?" Lucien asked, repeating Paris's question as he finally faced her. His eyes were still shrouded in that otherworldly blue.

"Maybe Zeus went around telling everyone about them and what they meant."

"How do you know?" he insisted.

Her mother had been Zeus's lover at the time and had overheard a little state business, but that little gem wasn't something she liked to shout from the rooftops. "I told you. I'm smart."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Paris asked, hands on his hips.

"Duh. You totally can't. But you need me, so I guess that plants you right between a rock and a very naughty hard place."

Lucien grabbed her arm and squeezed, forcing her to face him. "You are not going with us, Anya. Remove the thought from your mind now."

Oh, really? "Try and stop me. I dare you."

"You know I can. Stop you, that is."

She arched a brow, her confidence unshaken. "Do I? I'm still standing here, alive and well, aren't I?"

Was it her imagination, or did steam rise from his nostrils, smelling of hellsmoke? Just then, he was like her own personal demonic dragon. Sweet! She could practically see the wheels turning frantically in his head as he tried to calm himself down. He was beyond sexy when he was on edge. "Admit it. You wouldn't have known what the symbols meant without me. You need me."

"You could be lying," he said, once again echoing Paris's suspicions.

"Waste time researching, then. What do I care? I can find the Hydras while you sit at a computer. I'll gather the artifacts and locate the box, and I'll do it before you and your Testosterone Squad have even booked a flight."

All four warriors growled at her.

"What? Touchy subject?" she asked them, all innocence.

"We're splitting up," Lucien said, not looking away from Anya. "Paris, you and Gideon will travel to the States."

Paris glowered up at the sky. "Ah, man. Why am I stuck with Lies?"

"Biggest land mass, most people. It will be better to have two warriors searching there," he explained. "Strider, you will go to South Africa. Amun, to Egypt." He stared over at Anya. "I will head to the Arctic."

"You might want to wear a coat," Anya suggested helpfully.

Lucien's eyes narrowed. She barely resisted the urge to blow him a kiss.

"I'll ring Sabin's cell," Strider said, "and tell him what we've found. Who knows? Maybe he'll discover something more at the Roman temple."

"Do you know anything about that location, Anya?" Lucien asked.

"Only that it was called the Temple of the Unspoken Ones."

"Unspoken Ones? I've heard of them," Gideon said.

Which of course meant that he hadn't. Just thinking about the temple caused her to shudder. "Parents used to threaten their unruly children with banishment to that doomed place. Maybe because screams could always be heard echoing from the walls."

"Who are the Unspoken Ones?"

"I never saw them. I kept my distance. And as the name proclaims, they were rarely spoken about outside of the occasional parental threat."

Lucien sighed. "Call Sabin if you wish," he said to Strider, "but I plan to flash to Rome and tell him in person. I'll scout the temple while I'm there. My blood acted as a catalyst here. Perhaps it will there, as well."

Hope filled the air. They were closer to success than ever before, she knew.

"Where should we begin looking when we reach our destinations?" Paris asked. "Right now, all I know is that I'm supposed to go to the States. As you said, that's a big damn place. With lots of women," he added as an afterthought. His lips lifted in a slow smile, the strain on his face seeming to ease at just the prospect of fresh meat.

"Where should they look?" Lucien demanded of Anya.

Again, everyone turned to her.

They wanted her help, then they didn't, then they wanted it again. "What? I'm just a dumb, annoying minor goddess. Not needed. Not wanted. Not - "

"You can go with me," Lucien snapped.

Ah, such enthusiasm. Irritated, she ran her tongue over her teeth. Still, his demands and growls were better than all those weeks of implacable composure. Huh. Maybe she should push him a little more. "Sorry. What'd you say?" She cupped a hand over her ear. "I couldn't hear you."

"You can go with me," he repeated loudly. Darkly.

Now she crossed her arms over her chest. Keep pushing like this, and he just might jump you. Please, please, please.

"Are you going to try to kill me?"

"You know I must, but I will give you fair warning before I do."

She hadn't wanted him to stop, anyway. "Fair enough." Could this day have gone any better? Soon she would be traveling alone with him, probably fighting with him. The prospect shouldn't have thrilled her, but it did. She wanted a chance to nurture the desire she'd seen in him earlier, dangerous though that was. "I accept."

"Where should we look?" Paris repeated.

"I don't have all the answers, you know." This kept up, and soon the men would only respect her for her mind. Ugh.

"Anya," Lucien warned.

"What? I don't! Just have Ashlyn follow any rumors about giant, ugly monsters. That'll probably be Hydra. Oh, and she likes water. So maybe follow rumors about giant ugly monsters spotted near water."

The men nodded, and she was once more forgotten as they chatted amongst themselves about what supplies they would need, when they would leave and blah, blah, blah.

Anya sidled up to Lucien and ran her fingertip down his sternum. "We're going to have fun, you and I."

He had been telling Strider what he knew of South Africa, but his words quickly died. Eyes blazing, he whipped to her. What he meant to say or do, she might never know. She blew him a kiss and disappeared.