Free Final Prophecy 05 - Blood Spells by Jessica Andersen

hyperconscious of the gritty surface beneath her sandals, the weight of her clothes against her skin, the touch of the moist, cool air, and the breathlessness that hadn’t come from the fireworks, after all.
    Pyrotechnics boomed at regular intervals, making the earth below their feet tremble as their bodies brushed together at shoulder and hip. Nerves flared through Patience—not over the advisability of sneaking off alone with a stranger who didn’t seem at all unfamiliar, but over whether she’d be able to hold her own with him. She’d dated plenty of guys who were far more into her than she was into them . . . but this was the first time she was on the other side of the insecurity, the first time she’d found herself wondering if she was aiming at someone out of her league.
    The sensation was disconcerting . . . and oddly exciting. Was her hand sweating? She’d showered after the beach, and crunched a couple of Altoids after her onion- and spice-heavy dinner, so she should be okay on those fronts, but—
    Her mental train derailed as they passed through the last of the low trees that surrounded the site.
    The ruins spread out in front of them, washed blue white in the moonlight and cast with splashes of color when the fireworks briefly brightened the night sky. They had approached from the back side of the pyramid, which was the size of a split-level ranch, flanked by a pillared temple platform on one side and a long building—possibly a market—on the other.
    Always before, in daylight, Patience had felt a buzz of reverence, a sense of connection that she hadn’t had at any of the other ruins. Now, in the darkness, the sensation of being someplace both ancient and sacred was heightened by the heat of sexual anticipation, and her awareness of the equinox.
    Back before the massacre, when the magic had worked and the Nightkeepers flourished, the cardinal days had been times of celebration and sex. Now, as fireworks painted the ruins yellow orange, making her think of torchlight, it seemed right for her to turn toward Brandt and move in for the kiss they had been heading for ever since he’d taken her hand to lead her out of the crowd.
    Except she froze midturn, her eyes locking on a dark rectangle outlined in silver moonlight.
    There was a doorway in the lower tier of the pyramid.
    Brandt whispered, “That wasn’t there before. Was it?”
    “I don’t think so.” Actually, she knew for a fact that it hadn’t been, but didn’t want to seem too sure. Nightkeepers were supposed to fly under the human radar. But her pulse kicked and her hands started sweating in earnest.
    He glanced down at her, eyes alight. “Want to check it out?”
    She hesitated. Of course she wanted to check it out—she was dying to get in there, her anticipation fueled by a combination of her inner adrenaline junkie and cultural conditioning—but logic said she should ditch him before she entered the ruin. If the doorway had opened because of some equinox-triggered spell put in place by the ancients, possibly one that required the presence of Nightkeeper blood, then she shouldn’t let the human anywhere near it.
    But what if it was something more banal, like a new passageway opened by a rock slide? If it didn’t have anything to do with the magi, there was no harm in exploring it with her spring-break hookup.
    Or, more accurately, there was no more harm than there would be for two full humans who had snuck into a national park with zero equipment, experience, or mandate to set foot inside the pyramid. But because of her warrior’s blood, that caution quickly lost to the urge to explore. What was more, a glance showed that Brandt was full-on channeling his inner Indiana Jones, practically vibrating with the urge to get his ass through that door and see what was on the other side.
    When she hesitated, though, he said, “We don’t have to. We could just sit and watch the fireworks.” But the energy between them changed when he said