Graham abruptly whipped around and snarled at her. Somewhere a glint of light shone on his eyes, or maybe his eyes glowed of their own accord. She saw his white teeth, all of them, bared. The sight was terrifying—eyes and teeth, snarls of a mad wolf.
Graham’s wolf face shifted into a monster form, even more terrifying. He was snarling even as he changed. “Go back!” he yelled at her. “Run!”
Now was not the time to ask why or tell him again he wasn’t the boss of her. Graham knew something she didn’t, down here in the darkness, and Misty was ready to take his advice. She turned in the direction of where she thought the basement opening should be, and fled.
After three steps, she slipped, the floor having become slick for some reason, and went down, rocks cutting her knees beneath her skirt. It hurt, but wasn’t incapacitating.
She scrambled up, heart beating wildly. Graham snarled again, a wolf once more, and Misty kept running.
This time, she made it five steps before another wave of dizziness hit her. She had no idea whether she fell to her knees or flat on her face, because there was just . . . nothing.
Except Graham’s insistent voice, his hand on her abdomen. “Misty. Misty, damn it. Wake up.”
Misty opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Graham, his scarred face and broken nose over her, his gray eyes fixed on her.
“Thank the Goddess,” he said in relief. “I thought—” Graham clamped his mouth shut. His eyes, though, completed the thought and showed pain.
It was light where they were—lighter, anyway. Misty heard water running, a cool, soothing sound, but not from a faucet. More outdoorsy. More like . . .
Misty sat up, taking in a sharp breath. The wolf cubs were huddled together next to Graham, silent and shaking. They sat on slick rock, in a dim, cool cave, which was enormous. Vines snaked around them, out of reach, bearing small scarlet, purple, and light blue flowers. Misty swallowed. “Trailing petunias.”
“What?”
“The flowers.” Misty pointed. “They’re trailing petunias. Grow on vines instead of in clumps.”
“Oh, good,” Graham said. “I needed to know that.”
The water trickled pleasantly, but the sound put a chill in Misty’s heart. They were in the cave where Misty had first met the hiker. Graham was naked, sitting on the black ground, his arms around Misty. She’d lost hold of his clothes, which were nowhere in sight.
“How did we get here?” Misty asked, pushing her hair from her face. “What happened?”
“I haven’t the faintest f**king idea. I got dizzy, went down, woke up here. The cubs were fine, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
Misty swallowed. She didn’t have the needy thirst anymore, but the water called to her. Lovely. Cool. Drink.
She gave Graham a sharp look. “You all right?”
“I didn’t drink it, don’t worry.”
Misty blew out a breath. “Good.”
Graham moved his tongue over his lips, but they remained dry. Since the ordeal in the desert, Misty hadn’t seen him drink anything except a few sips of coffee, and the water he’d licked so erotically from her. She hadn’t seen him sleep either.
“We aren’t dreaming, are we?”
Graham shook his head. “Don’t think so. It feels real, smells too real. That’s good.”
“Good? Why good?”
He gave her a grim smile. “Because if Oison shows up, this time I’ll kill him for real.”
Misty put her hand on his, finding his skin fever hot. “We need to fix you. You’ll die like this.”
“Not if I kill the Fae first.”
“But what if even that doesn’t release you from the spell? I never got to tell you about Ben.”
“Ben?” Graham asked sharply. “Who’s Ben?”
Misty related what had happened the afternoon before, Paul bringing Ben to her office and what Ben had said.
Graham listened, eyes narrowing. “Like I said, who the hell is Ben?” he asked when she finished.
“I don’t know, but if he has a legitimate way of curing you, I’m willing to listen to him.”
Graham gave her a dark look. “You’re too trusting. How do you know he wasn’t Fae?”
Misty shrugged. “He didn’t look Fae. Not like the hiker, anyway. Or like Reid.”
“Yeah, well, half Fae can look very human and be just as deadly, rotten, jerk-ass bastards.”
“Like I said, I don’t know,” Misty said, holding on to her patience. “I asked Cassidy to have Diego check him out, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“And it’s not like I have a cell phone on me now,” Graham rumbled. “You didn’t happen to bring one, did you?”
“I left it at your house,” Misty said. “Anyway, they didn’t work out here before.”
“Before, we were in the desert north of Las Vegas. Are we there now?”
“Have you tried to find out?”
“Look around you,” Graham said. “See a way out?”
When Misty had been in this cave before, she’d approached the fountain from the entrance between the rocks, then turned around and went back the way she’d come. But the cave was gigantic. She couldn’t tell if she was in the same place she’d been before or not.
“How did we get in here?” she asked. “You can’t expect me to believe Shifters dug a basement that leads fifty miles out of town.”