by Addison Fox
“Exactly.”
Her jaw dropped at his audacity—and at her own. “What do you mean, ‘exactly’?”
“Leos are known for their sensuality.”
She snorted. “Vanity in there, too?”
A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Absolutely.”
“I guess we can add stubborn and immovable in one’s beliefs.”
“Yep.”
“Hedonistic?”
“Right again.”
“So, I’ve acknowledged I believe you about Themis and the Warriors and flinging yourself through the time-space continuum. But you still seriously expect me to believe ‘your sign made you do it’ is a viable reason.”
He held up his hands. “I rest my case, Counselor.”
As her silent agreement hung between them across the table, his smile grew even broader and his tone took on a distinctly scholarly note. “Which brings us right back to where we started this conversation. As with most everything in life, your belief or disbelief in something doesn’t make it any less true.”
The sensual haze zapped, she fought for the mental equilibrium to parry back. “Nor does your belief in it make it fact.”
“Touché.” He waited a beat, his gaze like a caress over her cheeks as the word hung between them. “But I’m still right.”
She couldn’t help it. A small burst of laughter gripped her and wouldn’t let go. “You really are full of yourself.”
“Quinn says so all the time. And Kane. And Pierce. And”—he stopped his list to stare at the ceiling, then drew his gaze back to her—“well, pretty much everybody.”
“I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Your role among the other Warriors. You’re the naughty little boy.”
Before he could press her further, her cell phone rang. Following a quick glance down at the readout, she couldn’t bite back the sigh rising in her throat. “Hello, Grandmother.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Brody wiggled his eyebrows at her and crossed his eyes, and she couldn’t stop the small giggle from escaping on an exhaled breath.
“No, Grandmother. I am listening to you. I’m just, um, diverted by the sights—of London.”
Her grandmother blathered on for a few more seconds about the high tea at some old hotel and then she said her good-byes.
Ava breathed an inward sigh of relief when the call ended. “That was close.”
“Close for what? A coma?”
“No, I almost blurted out I was back in New York. I’d have an easy time explaining that one.”
“That’s the second time in my presence you’ve had to cater to her. Any chance you could just let it roll to voice mail? You are supposed to be out of the country.”
Ava pressed down on her rising embarrassment and pulled her sweater tighter across her chest. “You don’t say no to Grandmother.”
His voice was soft, but the message was clear. “What about saying yes to Ava?”
Where did he get off? “I’m not some little martyr who needs a pat on the back.”
“No?”
“What, Brody? Is psychotherapist part of your job description? Outgoing Leo, available for individual or group appointments?”
“No, I’m more than willing to dispense the advice for free.”
“Well then, save it for someone else. We have to get back to London.” She pushed back her chair, a clear signal the conversation was over and it was time to leave.
She’d already crossed the oversized formal dining room but didn’t feel his familiar presence behind her. Turning, she saw Brody still standing at the table, slowly pushing in his seat.
“Life’s short, you know.”
Despite her rising embarrassment at how close he’d come to hitting a wound, she couldn’t stop the wry smile. Didn’t even try. “Strange observation, coming from you.”
“Sometimes it’s easy to be the observer. You see what the other person is too close to see for themselves. You see what they’re missing.”
Her shoulders drooped on a small sigh. “Sometimes you just accept the way things are. Live with them.”
And then he was around the table, stalking toward her in all his leonine fierceness. He took one hand as the other settled at her waist, his forehead pressed against hers as he’d done back in Kane’s flat.
“You don’t have to accept it. Live with it. There’s so much more to you, Ava. All you need to do is reach out and take it.”
What could he possibly know about her? What could he possibly understand? He was an immortal Warrior, empowered by a Greek god and tasked to save the world.
Freaking save the world. How’s that for empowering?
And then there was her. Little Ava Marie Harrison. Poor little fat girl. Then poor little orphaned girl. And now poor little lonely spinster head case.
Oh man, this was a bad conversation. She hated playing the martyr. Hated feeling like that. Hated thinking of herself that way. If she wanted a different life, she needed to do something about it.
Up until now, she’d been content with safe.
Up until now, she’d never had a reason why.
And now she did.
The last few days had shown her that safe was an illusion, anyway. Even if you didn’t have immortal beings jumping in and out of your life, you still couldn’t control what happened to you.
Couldn’t live your life in a safe little bubble.
And in that moment, the clarity she’d sought came crashing down in waves around her.
Empower yourself, Ava.
Reach for what you want.
She didn’t need to look far. What she wanted was right in front of her.
“Show me,” Ava whispered. “Show me how to take it.”
That was all he needed to hear. Instantaneously, he ported them to his bedroom, the soft light of dusk just breaking through the curtains.
Brody watched the play of expressions on her face, muted in the dim light of the room. Oh gods, she really was beautiful. Heartbreakingly so.
And then there wasn’t any time to think—there was only time to feel as her arms came around him and her body pressed to his.
The internal protests—those that told him she was fragile and needed protecting—were quickly drowned out by the acknowledgment that she needed him as much as he needed her.
He hadn’t needed someone in so long, it took his breath away. Wanted, yes. Needed?
Never.
And because it was Ava who offered him that precious gift, he’d give her one in return—something that belonged only to her.
Walking her backward through the dim room, he took her on an unerring path toward the bed. The moment the backs of her legs hit the side of the mattress, he took them in an easy slide down onto the bed and covered her body with his.
He groaned against her neck as his hands fisted in the heavy cable-knit that covered her. “This sweater. Why does it drive me so crazy?”
“What?”
“Bat-shit, insane-with-need crazy. It’s drab and ugly and a bag lady wouldn’t be caught wearing it.”
She lifted herself onto her elbows. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brody.”
Her frown and narrowed eyes were so amusing—so absolutely adorable—he couldn’t stop the great, gusty laugh that welled up from his chest. “Aren’t you listening to me? You’re gorgeous. And this damn thing”—he pushed the sweater off her shoulders—“drives me wild.” He whispered the last word in her ear, delighted when a wave of shivers ran the length of her torso.
With long, smooth strokes, he glided his hand down her body, reaching for the waistband of her slacks. In seconds, he had them unbuttoned and unzipped and sliding down over her hips. He then made quick work of her blouse, lifting it over her head. Nothing but a silky bra and panties remained to cover her gorgeous curves.
“You are so beautiful.”
His mouth enveloped hers again, his tongue mingling with hers in a warm, wet tangle of nee
d. He could feel her smile under his mouth and laughed when she whispered against him. “Now this is what I’m talking about. Flattery will get you everywhere, Brody.”
He loved the sound of his name on her lips.
He loved the small moans coming from the back of her throat as he ran his hands over her.
He shifted himself slightly, pulling up on his forearms as he held his weight above her.
With one finger he traced lazy circles over her abdomen, narrowing the loops smaller and smaller until he traced the outline of her belly button. “Now this is what I’m talking about. These sexy little panties are way better than that sweater.” He flicked a finger at the top of the silk, using that single finger to brush against her mons. “But am I correct in assuming these have been underneath that ugly gray wool all along?”
Her breath came in heavy pants as he continued to move his finger in small, sweeping movements. “I think I’ll leave you guessing on that one.”
“Good thing I’m a man with much imagination.”
Her voice was husky, like the finest whiskey, when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself up for a kiss. “I really do like that sweater.”
“Knowing these are underneath,” he said, wiggling his fingers and managing to shift the panties halfway down her hips, “I’ll find a way to like it, too.”
And then he got serious about the panties, shifting so he could pull them all the way down her body, tossing them to the side of the bed. She reached for him, lifting his T-shirt off so there was nothing between them.
Refocusing his attentions, he pressed her back against the pillows and leaned toward her breasts. She gasped as he licked a warm, wet circle around her nipple, over the silky material of her bra. Her responsiveness to his touch pushed his body into overdrive, his undertended cock harder than it’d ever been before. And for the very first time in his very long life, he didn’t care.
This wasn’t about him.
This was about Ava.
He wanted this to be good for her. Wanted to make her come. Wanted her to take something purely for herself.
He felt her shift under him and knew she meant to return the pleasure as her hands drifted toward the front of his pants. Just as her fingers reached the top of his zipper, he captured both wrists with a hand and lifted them over her head. “Just enjoy,” he whispered against her, then shifted his focus to lave his tongue over her other nipple. With a growl in the back of his throat, his warm mouth enveloped her, driving her farther over the edge of reason.
Shifting their bodies, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing her perfect breasts to his touch, his taste, his view.
Perfection.
He returned his attention to her breast, traced his tongue in wet circles around her hard nipple, drawing on her with deep suction. Her answering moan was all he needed. Her responsiveness was such a turn-on, he wondered how he’d ever looked at another woman before in desire.
In need.
All he needed was this woman.
His needs now nearly as fevered as her own, he probed at the opening of her thighs, pressing a finger at her slick channel and satisfied to realize how ready she was for him.
As he pressed his finger deeper into her cleft, he felt her open for him, then felt the play of her inner muscles as her body hovered just at the precipice. . . .
Her hair fanned around her on the pillow, a goddess taking her pleasure. “Brody. Oh, Brody.”
“My sweet, glorious, gorgeous Ava. So beautiful. So ripe. And so incredibly wet for me.”
A soft moan of pleasure ripped from the back of her throat as he played her body. Sweet, torturous moans came from her as his finger entered her, then retracted. He pressed harder, and he knew she was close . . . so very, very close to the edge.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered against her ear. “I want to see you come in my arms. Come for me.”
He increased the pressure, adding another finger to his movements, then a third.
Her breaths labored, he willed her to let go. To fly in his arms.
And then she was flying, clenching around him and screaming his name. He pressed his lips to hers and let her ride the wave. He watched every glorious moment of her release.
And wondered how he was ever going to get through the rest of his life without her.
Themis watched as her dear, beloved Leo pulled his woman close into the curve of his arm, the sun covering them in a rosy, early-morning glow. Tears made twin tracks down her own face as she watched this sweet, generous woman emotionally awaken and come alive to all life could offer her.
She’d watched Ava over the years. Had known the secret strength wrapped up in that delicate package. Had known—when the time was right—that Ava’s inner strength would come to the surface.
Themis also knew she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit just how much fun she was having, watching Brody process it all.
They really were a matched pair, her Leo Warrior and the woman who would be the Key. But only time would tell if they had a future together.
Or if forces beyond their control would tear them apart.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you sure you don’t mind doing this?”
“For the fourth time, Ava, I really don’t mind.”
“Then I’m ready.” She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “But how do you know no one will see us on the other end?”
“Ava, I’ve done this before. You’ve told me where we’re going. We’ll be fine.”
She shrugged and figured he knew way more about porting than she ever would. But still. What if they landed on someone?
Brody settled his hand on her lower back and kissed her temple. “The Marble Cemetery, Ava. I know where it is. I’ll land us behind a vault.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
That whistling sensation, then the rush of air, then a hard landing. Brody kept her upright, but it didn’t stop the rush of gravity or the sting that ran up her calves as her feet hit the ground.
True to his word, Brody positioned them so they landed behind a large vault. Luckily, there were only about two rows between them and the Harrison family plot.
Orgasms to cemetery plots. You’re quite a gal, Ava Marie.
“You really don’t mind?”
Brody leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “If you ask me one more time, I’m calling your grandmother on you.”
Her jaw snapped closed as she held up a hand. “Say no more.”
Brody took her hand and their fingers entwined, the move as natural as breathing.
Where had this come from? So sudden and so . . . easy. Comfortable.
“I didn’t get a chance to come here yesterday afternoon and I like to make sure I see my dad before I go out of town.”
“Lead the way.”
They walked the two rows toward the Harrison vault, the family name visible at the top of the large, ornate slab of granite. Generations of Harrisons were buried here, their rich corpses some of the few that lay beneath Manhattan soil.
“Where did your family get all their money, anyway?”
“Railroads. My great-great-grandfather made the family fortune, which my great-grandfather managed to double and which my grandfather managed to squander significantly before he died.”
A fall wind whipped Brody’s blond hair around his face, and Ava was reminded more than ever of a lion’s mane. “But I thought your family was wealthy?”
Drawing her attention from the remembered silky feel of those locks, she focused on his question. “Oh, there’s still plenty of money. When I say squander, I mean from a high of about a billion down to roughly one hundred million.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Rough life, I know.” One of her ever-present questions where Brody was concerned sprang up. “Does money even matter to you?”
“Sure. We need it to function in modern-day society. One of my brothers, Rafe, is our financial whiz. He takes care of us. Mak
es sure we have what we need financially to accomplish our tasks.”
They stopped in front of the Harrison crypt, and Ava could see the writing that indicated the timeline of her father’s life.
The comfortable banter vanished as the sobering reality of her visit hit her, as it always did.
She stood before the grave of her father.
A lone tear worked its way down her cheek, the whip of wind cooling it on its journey toward the ground.
“So why’d your father become an archaeologist? It’s not exactly the family business, after all.”
On a deep breath, she inhaled fresh air past the constriction in her throat. “He always said that for him it was a calling.”
Brody’s hand tightened on hers, drawing her attention from the lettering etched in granite.
“Ava. I don’t believe I didn’t tell you this. In all that happened, in all my explanations, I forgot to tell you this.”
“Forgot to tell me what?”
“The prophecy. Has anyone told you what it says? The one that was discovered a few months ago?”
“They haven’t finished the translation yet. We were hoping to have it complete by the opening of the exhibit but—”
“I’ve already translated it.”
Her eyes grew wide at that news. “You know how to read the hieroglyphics?”
“I read them the day the prophecy was uncovered.”
Would she ever get used to this? This odd mix of competence and easy grace? He translated ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. He ported from place to place at will. He spent his days saving the world.
He gave mind-blowing orgasms, her conscience added.
“What did it say?”
“It talks about the power of the stones. How they work. How they can be harnessed.”
“Brody. This is amazing.” Her gaze darted toward the dates of her father’s life and death, then shifted back to him. “My father’s work can finally be explained.”
“So can his death.”
The flat tone of his words squelched her excitement. “But what does this have to do with the prophecy?”
