“Sure.” Another lie, because if it was dangerous to her kind, Peter wouldn’t live to tell about it. “What are we looking for?”
“The next clue.”
“For what?”
He just lifted a brow.
“It’s in this city?”
“Why do you think I flew here first? We need to visit a church.”
“Feeling a need to commune with God?”
“More like have a chat with the dead. How do you feel about visiting a crypt?”
“I’ve always wanted to star in a horror movie,” she quipped. “Lead the way, Montgomery.”
It was actually thirty minutes before they left the hotel, with him insisting on a shower first. Then they stopped at a street vendor to grab some fresh pastries, plus a coffee for him and a hot cocoa for her.
Her grumpy companion let her pay for everything, including the entrance fee to the old church. The interior was a masterpiece of intricately patterned plaster, vaulted ceilings, and stained glass.
Humans and their religion. The only thing Nora believed in was the might of her Pride and the blessing of the moon.
Even at this early hour, there was a group of people waiting to enter the catacombs. Peter and Nora joined them, close but not touching, him doing his best to ignore her, and yet she couldn’t seem to do the same.
The man drew her, yet she couldn’t have pinpointed why exactly. His looks? He had a ruggedness she really liked. A sense of humor she totally got. A pull that gave her an urge to rub up against him and mark him with her scent. As if her inner feline wanted to own him. Except a human wasn’t a pet like that mink she’d adopted when she was young. Although she’d bet he’d be fun to play with. If she was gentle. Non-shifters were fragile that way.
The tour group descended an old set of stone steps, a groove worn into them by time and the tread of many feet. It forced them to cluster close together. She gritted her teeth against so many people in her space. Strangers that she wanted to bat aside.
She did turn her head and hiss as someone’s hand ended up on her ass. Her glare had the fellow behind her pretending innocence. If he grabbed her again, she’d break his hand.
Peter noticed and, with a frown, stepped closer. Funny how she didn’t mind when he brushed up against her. Hell, she wanted to get closer to him.
The tour group funneled through the narrow catacombs as the guide droned on, spitting out dates and names that had no meaning to her. She shuffled along with the rest, wondering what Peter expected to find in this place. They entered an open room, big and circular with many passages leading off from it. Overhead, a grate in the ceiling provided some daylight. Under it sat a large stone fountain, the carved sculpture of a sea nymph holding a jug, though no water poured from it, and the liquid in the basin was still. She stepped close enough to peer into the depths and noticed the gleam of coins.
“You going to make a wish?” Peter’s hot breath brushed against the lobe of her ear.
She shrugged. “Why would I waste it when I don’t need anything?” Not money. Or friends. She had a large extended family. The only thing she didn’t have was…
A mate.
“Everyone wants something,” he said, his breath still tickling her, his body framing her as he loomed behind her. If she turned, she’d be close enough to kiss him.
Wait, why would she want to kiss him?
He was a mission. Not a potential bedmate. No matter what her body and feline thought.
“Make a wish.” His fingers pressed a coin into her hand. He aimed it over the water. “Ready, Nora. What do you want?”
As she let go of the coin, the only thing she could think of?
Peter.
Splash.
“What did you ask for?”
“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” was her light reply as she moved away from him and wandered the edges of the room, noticing the frescoes carved into the rock, the passageways leading off from the place. The sudden gurgling rush of water had Nora whirling to see the fountain had come to life, bubbling and gurgling, spitting water that held a strong mineral scent.
Had someone flipped a switch?
Given she’d been distracted, her gaze tracked the tourists. None of them interested in her. As for Peter…
Wait, where the hell was Peter?
She turned left and right, but he didn’t appear. Impossible, he was just there. He must have slipped into one of the side passages.
She prowled the edge of the room, sniffing, noticing that his scent went past the one doorway blocked with a golden rope strung across it and marked by a sign with a big red circle slashed with a line. As she went to step over, someone grabbed her arm.
“You can’t go there,” the tour guide said.
“What’s inside there?” she asked. Perhaps Peter went looking for a clue. She was kind of miffed he’d gone without her if that was the case.
Only the guide dashed that belief when he said, “It’s simply another exit, but it’s currently under construction and closed to the public.”
An exit? Too late, she thought to check her fanny pack, the one Peter had pressed against, the one now missing a key.
Fucking Peter. He thought he could elude her.
She was about to show him his mistake.
Chapter Seven
Peter had escaped Nora with only a slight pang. Yeah, she’d probably get in trouble for losing him, but he couldn’t have her around. There was something off about her. Also something hot and sexy. But mostly off.
The way she eyed him sometimes, her gaze taking on a glint, gave him a shiver. Her expression was smug, as if she hid something. The amusement as she laughed at him even as she thought to use him.
Threatened him.
Not happening. He wasn’t some rube to be taken advantage of or distracted because of an attractive woman.
She’d been easier to dupe than expected, not questioning much the reason for their visit to the catacombs. Having played tourist there before, Peter had known it would get crowded around the fountain, the perfect chance to pickpocket—or in this case, retake—his key. He’d accidentally bumping into her, managing to slip it back into his possession. He’d done that kind of trick hundreds of times. What he didn’t expect was the instant arousal the moment he got close or the twinge of guilt when he left her behind.
He’d not suffered at the hands of a certain old lady and her tiger to share the treasure now. If he wanted to put a spin on it, he could even claim he did this for Nora’s own good because being around him would put her in danger.
Bad enough he’d worried the entire time he was on that cruise with his sister, wondering if he was safe. Nightmares of a stalking feline, wearing a pirate patch and somehow boarding the big ship, was a particularly vivid and ridiculous fear.
When his sister had told him the fake key had been passed on to someone else for investigation, he’d sighed in relief. Almost had a party when he found out the fake key was lost in a river. Good.
He’d assumed that would end the matter, but then Nora just had to follow him and find out the key they’d all been fighting over was a fake. How many people had she told? Did his enemies know yet? Those who commissioned its theft would want it, and a measure of his blood.
He really should try working for less criminal people. It would mean a pay cut. The rule followers had tight fists.