Amanda stopped crying and sat up, slinging her bag over her shoulder, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She started to stand, saying without words her intention to leave. "You can't help me."
I can't find Julie, but I can help you.
"Wait, don't leave." Diana grasped the girl's arm to keep her from leaving. Amanda pulled her arm away and stood quickly.
"Let me at least get you a tissue? Maybe a drink of water?"
She couldn't let this girl leave, especially if she continued to look into her mother's disappearance on her own. Diana had to stall her before she left. Perhaps when Mac arrived, the two of them could talk Amanda into finding a safe place to stay.
"Sure," said Amanda, shrugging her shoulders.
But when Diana returned to her parlor with a tumbler of water, the front door was swinging closed, and she heard the light patter of Amanda's retreating footsteps.
Shit.
Her shoulders sagged, and she sat down hard on the fainting couch. She worried about Amanda and Julie. Diana wasn't an investigator, and clearly, her social work training was of no use in her present situation.
Diana's Omni warbled, and she answered it without thinking.
"I can't believe I finally got you." The brown face of Diana's mother, Leona Miller, appeared on the screen. Shit.
Diana blinked at her screen. "Hi, Mom. I only have a few minutes...I'm on my way to work."
"This will only take a minute. You've been hard to get ahold of for the past few weeks."
"I know Mom. I'm sorry, I've just been busy with work."
"Shoulda known. You are a workaholic, just like your father."
Diana bristled at her mother's words and got to her feet. She looked out the window to see if Mac's truck had appeared yet.
Amanda is desperate to find her mother. I can't wait to get away from mine...
"What do you want, Mom?" Diana asked impatiently. "I need to leave for a meeting soon."
"Don't snap at me, girl," her mother chastised, giving Diana a stern look. Her daughter resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Are you coming for Thanksgiving? I have someone I want you to meet."
God, she could not deal with this right now.
"Meet who?" Diana said, noting with great relief that Mac's blue truck was pulling up in front of her house. He got out of the truck and trudged up the pathway to her front door.
"Are you coming for the holiday?" her mother asked again, looking annoyed.
"Um, I don't know. Listen, Mom, I have to go. I'll call you, ah, later."
Diana disconnected the call before her mother could respond. Their first meeting at Pantheon was that morning. She couldn't afford to lose focus now.
Having a minion was supposed to make everything easier. Instead, the problems just seemed to snowball with the creature she had hatched six months ago.
It was supposed to take Marjorie Banks; instead, it took Julie Wheeler. It was supposed to take Amanda Wheeler; instead, it attacked a social worker and an enforcer checking up on Julie. The more she tried to correct the situation, the worse it became.
However, she had a plan to get it all back on track. It just so happened that the same two who checked on Julie were in the concubine rotation. All she had to do was move the social worker up in the queue. She’d be able to keep an eye on them more easily that way. Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, as the saying went.
She planned to do just that. Starting today.
Chapter 25
"You look pensive," Mac leaned back in his chair and looked at Diana with a warm expression. They were having coffee in the lobby café of Pantheon before their meeting with their candidate and the head of human resources. Diana was still on edge after what had happened at her house. Mac was, as usual, steady and unruffled, taking the news of Amanda's visit in stride.
"I just wish we could do more for Julie and Amanda," she said, thinking of the girl's worried expression, and the way she had bolted when Mac came to the door. Mac had let Bubba know about the latest development as he drove to Pantheon.
"The investigation is in good hands," Mac said, reassuringly. "I gave Bubba a recap of your conversation with Amanda. He'll track her down. You should be focused on our meeting." He reached across the cafe table and covered her hand with his, giving her one of his half-grumpy smiles. "Your father would be proud of you."
Would he? Maybe so. Her father hadn't been in the habit of giving positive feedback to his daughters. Vanessa had responded by pretending it didn't matter to her.
But Diana had always worked hard for her father's approval. She'd become a social worker to protect skin trade workers, just as her father had protected them as a cop. This concubine handover could be a career-making assignment for her, allowing her to recover from having been passed over for the promotion that had seemed so important a few weeks ago. The assignment was one of the reasons she had been keeping Mac at arm's length. She should be excited about the Pantheon meeting.
But she wasn't. She just wanted the meeting to be over. Julie Wheeler was gone, Amanda was distraught, and Diana couldn't do anything to help anyone. All she could do was give Amanda a shoulder to cry on. In the face of all this, what did the concubine handover really matter?
"What do you think of all this? I know you're new to this beat." She leaned back and waited for his reaction.
He shrugged. "It's a job."
"There you go again, being stoic."
This produced a bark of deep laughter. "What I think doesn't matter. This is just what I do. When this is all over... I want to get back to us." He held her eyes with his steady gaze. He rubbed the knuckles of her hand with his thumb. In the morning light, the hazel starburst around the pupils of his blue eyes was intense.
So did she.
But for the moment, they needed to focus on this meeting.
Everything Diana knew about the aliens who had colonized the earth, she had learned in tenth grade. Like every other child in America, Diana had taken "History of the Gods" as a high school requirement, never expecting she would ever use what she learned in any practical way. The gods secured their privacy with their vast wealth and political influence...and traditionally, the services of shifters like Mac. Few people had ever met any of the gods, but Diana was about to get closer than most.
"I was just thinking about taking "History of the Gods. Did you take it?"
Many of her shifter clients were the products of segregated schools with a different curriculum than that of human children. Segregation had officially been abolished a generation ago, but the attitudes hadn't changed much.
"I went to human schools until my transition," he began, letting go of her hand and leaning away from her. "My parents tried to get me back into my regular school that fall, but they wouldn't bend the rules for me. My mother hired a tutor to homeschool me."
Missing his reassuring touch, she reached out her hand for him. His were large and sensitive, and she gave into the urge to trace the veins that ran between his knuckles. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
It was sort of a miracle that he had come through the experience with any confidence at all as a man. He was the strongest man she had ever known.
His eyebrows went up, and he shrugged his shoulders.
"Anyway, that's my short-story-long way of saying I took 'History of the Gods,' too."
She continued to trace his hands with her fingertip. She didn't want him getting away from her. For once, she was able to show him how she felt.
"It always seemed so remote, as if we were learning about some ancient civilization that had gone extinct. I never thought I'd get this close to meeting any of the gods."
"You deserve this opportunity." His soft expression made her insides go mushy. Diana gave him a shaky smile. When this was all over, she wanted to really get to know him. She loved his strength, his vulnerability, but she also loved that he felt safe enough to be tender with her.
I just love him.
>
The last thought had her sitting up in her seat. She blinked.
Whoa, I love him.
Frowning, she picked up her coffee cup and sipped from it.
Mac chuckled, interrupting her thoughts. "You just went through about fifty expressions in the space of thirty seconds. What's up?"
She offered him a tentative smile. "Nothing."
Everything.
He gave her a skeptical look. "It's time to get to our meeting."
They took the elevator to the top floor, where a young woman with long blonde dreadlocks and a pecan-colored complexion introduced herself as Stella Washington, then led them through a warren of cubicles to an isolated corner office. There sat the young woman who was their concubine.
Jaslene Duncan was even more beautiful than her file photos, with a peaches and cream complexion, expressive brown eyes and wheat-colored hair twisted into a silky French roll. She wore little makeup and appeared to be in her mid-twenties or so, above the statutory age requirement for concubines. As Jaslene stood to greet them, the office door opened and a striking middle-aged woman with startling blue eyes and jet-black hair introduced herself as Helen Castellano, Executive Vice President of Human Resources for Pantheon. Helen's handshake was all business to the point of being bone breaking, and she smelled faintly of sulfur.
Shifter?
Diana was surprised that a shifter would be so highly placed at Pantheon. In fact, Diana hadn't detected any shifters at all since they had arrived.
Helen ushered them into her office and shut the door. She gestured at the guest chairs in front of a massive glass desktop that balanced on a base that resembled piles of driftwood. The office had floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls, plush gray carpeting, mahogany paneling and gray velvet drapes. Helen wore a dove gray cassock and leggings similar to Diana's uniform. Far from downplaying her stunning good looks, the neutral surroundings only highlighted Helen's arresting beauty. She was easily one of the most gorgeous women Diana had ever seen.
Helen produced several closed-system tablets containing non-disclosure agreements. Diana verified Jaslene's age and identity via a DNA scanner connected to her own Omni. Helen breezed through the contract terms, compensation, and living arrangements.
"Any...children resulting from the union will be provided for," said Helen, concluding her recitation of the contract terms.
Rumors swirled within Diana's agency that the gods did not actually copulate with their concubines, and most of the rituals surrounding the handover were just for show. The years-long concubine vetting process, the orgy that passed as a fertility rite, the sexual overtones during the whole process, was all for show. The women were impregnated through an in vitro process--no sex involved. The female gods had no viable ova for procreation and were never involved in the process.
The contract had already been signed by Jaslene's benefactor. No one--with the possible exception of Helen--knew the identity of the patron.
The fertility rite would take place within the week at an as-yet undisclosed location that was code-named "Styx." The location of Styx moved every time there was a rite, to prevent disruption of the proceedings. Mac and Diana wouldn't know the specifics until just before the ritual. Diana would be there to ensure Jaslene entered the last phase of the concubine initiation of her own free will.
Through her office grapevine, Diana knew that human activists opposed to the skin trade business--of which concubinage was the elite tier--sometimes infiltrated Styx to disrupt the ritual and embarrass the participants. Mac coordinated the security team at the site and personal protection for Jaslene.
The meeting lasted less than fifteen minutes. They all stood up and shook hands, and Diana couldn't help but feel let down, like a child on Christmas morning who receives the present she has wanted all year long, only to find the toy was not as advertised.
Outside, Diana and Mac said goodbye to their client. Diana squinted against the glare of the mid-morning Texas sun, the heat assailing her like the boom of a blast furnace. Her cassock and leggings felt stiff and uncomfortable. Suddenly, she couldn't wait to get home and shed the constricting uniform, which for the first time felt like her own personal prison.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled ruefully. "I'll never get used to this weather."
Mac looked at her speculatively, giving her the space she always said she wanted, quirking an eyebrow and twisting his mouth into the smirk he had only for her. He had driven them to the meeting in his truck, but she had informed him that she would take the Glide home, being contrary as usual, and for no good reason. Stubbornness masquerading as independence, she supposed.
"I won't offer you a lift home..." he started to say, eyes reflecting disappointment and the expectation that she would refuse his offer.
But her world had tilted off its axis in the space of a few hours. The only thing she wanted at the moment was to be close to him. She didn't want their time together to end. Now...or ever. As Mac pulled up his Omni valet function to summon his truck, she started to speak, stopped herself, started again.
"Do you think I could get a ride home?"
Mac's body went rigid. He stared at her for long moments, his face stoic yet around the edges, his face held a curious expression she could not name. She held her breath and took a timid step towards him.
"Come on." He turned to walk away, and after a pause, she scrambled after him, confused. Was he mad at her? Numb, she followed him to the curb, to wait for his truck to appear. When it arrived, he held the door for her. She examined his features cautiously, then climbed in, jumping when he slammed the door.
He drove in silence, and after a few minutes, she opened her mouth to speak.
"Mac-"
And he shushed her with a hard hiss. Her shoulders sagged, and her mood deflated. She stared out the window, chewing on her bottom lip and trying to stuff down the lump of emotion in her throat. His scent swirled around her, heady and potent, filling her nostrils and making her want to climb into his arms. Their time together would soon end. She had rejected him repeatedly, so why would he be nice to her now?
I will not cry. I will not cry.
She tapped her toe nervously on the passenger side floorboard, wondering how long she could possibly survive this ride. When they arrived at her house, he cut the engine, and they sat there for several long awkward moments.
"Mac-"
He reached over her without touching her, unlocked her door, and pushed it open. She looked at the open door, not sure what to do next.
"We should go in."
We? We???
She looked into his eyes, her own burning with unshed tears. He gave her that smile he wasted on no one but her.
"Okay-" She grinned, fumbled with the door handle, stepped out clumsily, and nearly tripped on the curb.
"Watch it, Ms. Independent."
She smiled hugely and scampered up the steps. Behind her, the car door slammed, and heavy footsteps sounded behind her. Her hands shook as she placed her thumb to be scanned. The door unlocked with a smooth snick and when she reached for the door handle, his large hand covered hers.
The next thing she knew, her world spun, and her back hit the closed front door. She was hefted in his arms, propped against the wall, and she wound her legs around his waist. His mouth crashed down on hers with bruising force. She let out a muffled cry against his lips and opened completely to him.
His other kisses had been coaxing, persuading her to give in to him. But this one was different. This kiss was the soul of possession. This kiss wouldn't let any part of her body or mind escape. This kiss was meant to make her his.
His lips moved from hers, and he was tugging down the collar of her cassock, exposing her neck to him. He began to nip and suck on her there, and she could do nothing but hold on for the ride. She cried out again, shrieking at the intensity of the sensation. She screamed and bucked as his sweet torture forced all thoughts from her mind. His tongue, rough and wet, tasted
vaguely like coffee, and mostly like him. His burning scent filled her nostrils. He was all around her, insistent in his need, demanding. He ground his groin against her mound in a steady rhythm and breathed heavily into her neck.
"Tell me what you want." His breathless demand had barely left his lips when she said,
"You. I want you." She gave him her neck again, breathless, body trembling all over.
"Who do you belong to?"
"You. I belong to you."
His lips on her neck were the most excruciatingly sensual sensation she had ever felt. She almost couldn't stand it, but she gave him access all the same. She wanted him to have all of her. All her body. All her pleasure. All her love...
All my love? Her body stuttered, and confusion flashed through her. She shook it off.
Mac paused. "What-"
"Please. Please don't stop. I need you."
And she did.
"Make me scream. Hold me down and make love to me. Take me."
He groaned and tugged at her cassock again. This time it didn't stretch. It tore down to her navel, exposing the red satin bra that barely contained her large breasts. He slipped his thumb under the fabric covering her breast and found her nipple. She gasped as his rough thumb made contact with the stiff peak. She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled. He winced and grunted, thrusting his hips forward, rubbing against her urgently.
"I can smell you. So fucking hot. You must be dripping wet for me." He lowered his forehead to hers and looked at her through hooded eyes. She pushed her pelvis against his, seeking friction to ease her aching pussy.
He grabbed her ass and walked to her bedroom, toeing the door open and tossing her on the rumpled sheets.
"Do you ever make your bed?"
She giggled. "It just gets messed up again."
Diana pulled her torn cassock over her head, then set about unlacing her shoes and peeling off her leggings. Then she sat there in her red satin bra and panties, excited, elated, as he shucked off his clothes and finally stood at the foot of the bed, his bulky body filling her vision, his eyes blazing with need. His beautiful cock, thick, long and veined, curled up slightly, not quite touching the light furring on his thick, muscular abdomen.
The Minotaur's Kiss Page 12
