The Nymph's Curse: The Collection

by Danica Winters

  The barkeep stomped over to the group of men at the other table, grabbed the empties and clanked them together. Turning away from the table, the man with an eye-patch slapped her on the ass and laughed. “You busy later?”

  Beau pushed his chair away from the table, and began to rise, but Ariadne grabbed his hand and shook her head. The barkeeper laughed tiredly, as if the physical contact was nothing new, but it infuriated him. Even the tough-looking barkeep deserved a little respect.

  Ariadne pushed his drink toward him and he slammed it back, banging it on the table as he brought it down.

  Ariadne leaned toward him. “There’s nothing you can do. Besides, she’s tougher than she looks, the men won’t get away with anything more.”

  The woman brought a bottle to the table and refilled Beau’s glass. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Was her aversion out of embarrassment or shame for the way the men had treated her?

  His anger rose as he looked over at the men and noticed that the five of them were all glaring in their direction. “Assholes,” he muttered.

  “What was that?” the broad-nosed man said in a dangerous voice.

  Beau forced himself to remain sitting, but he wanted to punch the ugly guy in the face. “I said treat the woman with a little respect.” He could only control one thing, his body or his tongue, and the tongue lost.

  The lackeys turned and stared at the broad-nosed man as his eyes drew into angry slits. “You stupid Americans. You think you can come in here and tell me how to act?”

  Beau couldn’t stop himself. “Being American has nothing to do with knowing how to treat a woman.”

  Ariadne grasped his hand and squeezed. “Stop,” she whispered.

  She was right. It was unwise to act out with so many against him. He might be able to take one, but five was outside of his range of ability. When the site opened back up, he would need both his hands, and his ass. Damn his mouth.

  The man’s chair scraped on the floor as he stood up. He motioned for his friends to stay and he strode confidently to the edge of their table. He pressed his face close to Beau.

  Beau could smell the scent of cheap liquor and the pungent odor of fish as it permeated from the man.

  “Here in Crete, we don’t appreciate your kind. You academics come here and bring in your unchecked little students. You steal our treasures and destroy our culture with your Western ways.”

  Beau stared at the man. “You have it all wrong. I’m trying to save your culture, not destroy it.”

  “That’s why you come here and take our jobs, leaving us to find work off the island, or fish. You know what it’s like to rely on fish for a living?” The man drove his finger into Beau’s chest. “No … you don’t have a clue.”

  Beau forced the man’s finger from his chest. “If you think I’m getting rich by looking in the dirt for artifacts, you’re dead wrong.”

  “Boys,” the barkeeper said, stepping between them. “If you want to fight, take it outside.”

  The man glared at him. Turning, he walked back to his table as he muttered something under his breath in Greek.

  “Don’t worry about the rats,” the barkeep said.

  Ariadne motioned toward the man. “Why don’t you take him your special?” Her voice had an icy edge. Ariadne reached into her grocery bag, but before she could get her wallet, Beau handed the woman his last twenty Euros.

  Without another word, the woman strode off to the bar and grabbed a blue bottle from under the counter. She walked it over to the man’s table and dropped it down with a thump. “Your friend over there wanted to buy you all a drink.”

  The men looked over at them and lifted their drinks slightly. “Thanks,” the smaller man of the group grumbled in a thick Greek accent.

  Ariadne smiled wickedly. “You’re welcome.”

  The man leaned back to his friend. “See? I told you snakes and mice were nothing.”

  His friend nodded and said something back in Greek.

  But what had the man meant when he said “snakes” were nothing? He was no snake and Ariadne, the curator, seemed far from dangerous.

  As the afternoon wore on, they talked about the museum and their curating methods. He talked about his dig while he took gulps of clear liquor straight from the bottle. The alcohol that had burned on his lips, soon slid down with the ease of warmed milk. Ariadne’s tanned cheeks took on a pink hue and a damp sheen wetted the skin around her lips.

  A drip of sweat slipped down his chest as he leaned across the table toward Ariadne. She was so close he could smell the ouzo on her breath and the floral scent of her perfume, which made his heart thunder in his chest. “You know, you’re stunning.”

  A crash interrupted his train of thought. He turned and watched the wide-nosed man fall to the floor. His friends stood up and circled around him, as if they were unsure of how to respond.

  The barkeep cackled. “Take your boss and get out. If he can’t hold his booze he shouldn’t be in a bar.”

  The small man sneered and said something in slurred Greek. He looked over at Ariadne. “Messing with people like you … Governor Kakos deserved what he got.”

  The barkeeper glared at the man.

  Ariadne’s eyes were filled with anger and her jaw was clenched. “The governor is a far better man than any of you … if you had anything to do with the attack … I’ll — ”

  “Ariadne,” the barkeep interrupted with a warning glance. “Don’t worry about these boys. It’s just the rat poison talking.”

  The small man stared at the barkeeper, his face twitching with anger.

  Beau’s mind was filled with a fog, making everything blur together. Rat poison? He had paid for the man to be poisoned? He looked at Ariadne’s blank face. Her edges were fuzzy and she looked so soft.

  A poisoning softy. He laughed at his private joke.

  In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should be upset with her actions, but instead he emptied his glass.

  The other men stood up from the table and shifted the man on the floor back to his feet. “We’ll be back. And you and your snake’ll get what’s comin’.”

  The barkeep gave him a sticky sweet smile. “We’ll be waiting. And next time, I’ll use a heavier hand. Or … I’ll call Nico’s former friend, Ms. Blithe. Not everyone gets to walk away from her methods.”

  The men fell silent and hurried out the door, half dragging their fallen superior.

  The door slammed shut behind them. Ariadne lifted the bottle to her glass, but only drops fell from its edge. “Ah. It must be time to go.”

  “Where?” He stood up out of his chair and slid it back on the wooden floor. Emboldened by the liquor, he took her hand possessively and pulled her to standing. “Show me your island.”

  He stepped to her and pulled her into his arms even though her body was tense and hard. He didn’t care. For once in his goddamned life, he didn’t care. He needed this. He needed a moment of something good. And one kiss … one hurried, stupid, idiotic kiss hadn’t been enough.

  He leaned in and took her lips. Gripping the back of her dress, his fingers pressed into her back. Her eyes were wide and her lips rigid.

  She reached up as if she would push him away, but she stopped. Her eyes closed. Her hand lowered to his shoulder and she relaxed inside of his arms.

  Closing his eyes, he let the need he felt inside of him overflow the boundaries of right and wrong, of social customs, and business relationships. Her lips tasted sweet as his tongues passed over, gently flicking away the slight taste of the apple and the airy flavor of the ouzo.

  She moaned into his mouth and her body pressed into him. Yes … she wanted this too.

  Chapter Nine

  The full moon’s light reflected off the water and lit up the beach, where Ariadne’s grocery bag had been
dropped in their haste to reach the surf. A drooping orange flower fell out onto the sand, next to the heap of clothing they had left behind. The scrub brush-covered hills encompassed them in the tranquil bay. The waves splashed over their bodies as she relaxed to the sound of Beau’s breath.

  She had found a way to safely explore her feelings — his site was closed — he would surely be leaving soon. He had no reason to stay and a quick romance would be the cure for the feelings … no, the lust … they both clearly wanted to explore.

  She ran her fingers over his glistening shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.

  There wouldn’t be time for him to fall in love with her. He was safe from the curse — as long as he didn’t love her. For once, she could go enjoy her life — at least for a moment. And after he left, she could look back on this one rebellious night.

  Ariadne wrapped her arms tighter around Beau’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about those men at the bar. I hate to fight.”

  “Don’t worry about them. They were drunk … stupid.” Beau’s lips tickled the skin of her neck as her fingers ran up through his wet hair.

  “This is my favorite beach. Private … ” And none of her sisters would find them. They were all undoubtedly preparing their bodies for tomorrow night’s festival.

  Beau lifted his lips from her skin and glanced around the narrow inlet. “It’s beautiful, but not as beautiful as you.”

  If he only knew that she had been the cause behind the closing of his site, he wouldn’t have thought she was beautiful. He would hate her for the foul creature she was. Her stomach clenched with guilt, and the liquor swirled as it rose into her throat.

  She tried to swallow her guilt away, but no reprieve came. She pressed her lips to his. Lightly, she flicked her tongue against his firm bottom lip. He tasted like the salty water and the burn of ouzo.

  Her head was filled with blurred thoughts of reasons why she shouldn’t be naked in his arms, but her need silenced her concerns.

  The water ebbed from them, exposing her wet chest to the cool night air. Beau sucked in a breath and leaned down to her breasts. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked lightly as he ran his warm hands down her waist. The touch made her burn with desire.

  She could feel how badly he wanted this, her, here, now. She lifted his chin and pressed her lips against his. She nibbled his bottom lip until a moan rumbled from his lips.

  Stavros was nothing like this; instead, he was always hurried in his lovemaking, thrusting and grunting like a rutting bull.

  Beau nuzzled her neck and pulled at her ear with his teeth, making her body writhe. His fingers slid down her skin, stopped at the small of her back and moved her against him.

  A wave crashed against them and pushed his body harder against her. He grasped her tighter. Even Poseidon wanted them to unite.

  He looked up at her with his sexy brown eyes filled with a need mirrored by her body.

  The water made his hands slide easily down to her legs, and he pulled them around him as their lips met. Their kiss was rushed, filled with a hunger that yearned to be satisfied, while his hands slid down her ass and his fingers found her. She gasped as his fingers moved inside of her tender, wanting flesh.

  Reaching under the water, she ran her hand down his length. She moved her hand back up and swirled his tip in her palm. He moaned in her mouth and his fingers moved faster inside of her.

  He was hot in her hand. Moving her hips, she led him inside of her. The heat of him filled her perfectly and let her body move with the motion of the waves. Beau sucked in a gasping breath as he leaned down and kissed her breasts.

  He thrust inside of her, taking the reins of their lovemaking. The tempo was even and she could feel the energy building inside of her. She met his rhythm and they worked together until her body begged for release. She slowed, this moment needed to last — who knew when she would get a chance like this again?

  With a twist of her hips, he tensed between her thighs. “Not yet,” she whispered in his ear. “You must wait.”

  He growled and pressed deeper inside of her, as if to tell her how close he was. She lifted her chin to the stars, closed her eyes and let him move faster and faster inside of her. Her body tingled as her precipice neared.

  He groaned deep, guttural, and animalistic as his warmth filled her. She opened her eyes and watched him while her body exploded in response to him. His body moved with her need as if he could read her mind.

  Spent, she laid her head on his shoulder and let the warm water lap against her tired body.

  They said nothing. Her legs stay wrapped around his body as he ran his fingers up and down her skin under the water. The haze of the ouzo had begun to lift, but was replaced by the lulling effect of the water and their romp.

  He took his hand from the water and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. “I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I met you.”

  She had wanted this too, this freedom to make a choice unaffected by the constraints of her everyday life, outside of the contaminating opinions of her sisters, without the fear of the curse, and without worrying about Stavros.

  Stavros? Why do I have to think of Stavros? I don’t have to live consumed by the needs of the selfish, self-centered, pig-headed Stavros anymore. Her stomach flipped. I’m free …

  Letting go of Beau, she threw her arms up into the air and she screamed. The happy sound filled the air.

  Beau held her tightly, as if he supported her insanity.

  Uncontrollable laughter took the place of her screaming. Freedom felt so good — so empowering.

  Beau had a confused smile, but as she looked at him, he pulled her in tighter. Smiling, she kissed his lips. He was so warm, ambitious, sweet, caring, and for this moment — he was hers — only hers.

  He pulled back from her lips, and smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m better than I’ve been in a long, long time.” She dropped her feet from his waist and let the sand sift between her toes.

  “Is this because of me? I hope … ”

  She brushed her lips against his cheek and stopped at his ear. “It’s all because of you.”

  She made her way back to the beach, splashing Beau playfully as they moved. Beau stopped as the water reached his waist, glanced over at her and smiled. “Are you sure you’re ready for all of this?” He motioned to his body beneath the waves.

  “You’re going to be shy now?” Ariadne giggled.

  “No,” he laughed. “I just don’t want to blind you with my whiteness. Plus, it’s not every day you get to see an American’s pale cheeks.”

  She snickered. “I’ve seen more than my fair share of cheeks. I think I’ll be able to recover from the shock.”

  He took her hand and led her from the water and to the pile of their clothes. She leaned back and looked at him in all the glory the water had masked. His arms and legs were covered in curly hair the same shade of brown as the hair on his head, while his chest was bare, which made the defined muscles of his core even more impressive.

  He slid on his underwear and handed hers to her with a guilty smile. Suddenly embarrassed, she pushed her arm over her breasts.

  “You look cold.” Beau smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

  While she brushed the sand from her clothes and pulled them over her chilled skin, he gathered driftwood from the beach. He stacked the pieces into a perfect pyramid, being careful to lean one piece against the other so that all could stand.

  “There is always something that pulls me to fire,” Ariadne said, as Beau sparked a match and lit a piece of the dried wood.

  “Why?” He leaned into the tiny flame and blew gently, coaxing the timid flames to grow.

  She thought back to the day she had given Theseus the ball of golden wire to lead him through the Labyrinth. Cl
osing her eyes, she could still feel the all-encompassing darkness she had felt when she had followed him into the tunnel. The sounds of water as it dripped and splashed against the floor of the cave echoed in her mind. She had so badly wanted to start a fire in that place, to warm the chill that invaded her heart and create a sense of safety inside those walls and tunnels.

  In all the years, she hadn’t forgotten the sounds of the moans that circled up from the depths. It still amazed her that the lying, cheating, bastard Theseus had been brave enough to slay the Minotaur — but those had been the days when they had been in love.

  It wasn’t long after that fateful night that the curse of the nymph — and Zeus’ minion, Athena — had lured him from her. She could still remember the way his black sails had billowed in the thin light of the moon, as he sailed off and left her alone on the beach. The pain of watching him go had left her with a wound that had never healed. When she had heard he had been killed, an immense sense of guilt had filled her. Could she have stopped him from leaving? What if she had been a better lover? Tried harder?

  That was the first taste she had of the truth of Zeus’ powerful curse.

  “Aria?” Beau asked softly. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of her thoughts. “I’m fine.”

  She stared into the orange, blue, and green flames of the salt-filled deadwood. Beau came over to her, sat down, and put his arm over her shoulders. She leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

  Reaching down, he lifted her hand. He slowly traced lines up the dark edges of her tattoo. He pushed open her hand, exposing her palm and the head of the leopard snake. She fought the urge to pull away from his curious touch.

  He ran his finger over the skin of her palm. “Did this hurt?”

  “I received this when I was young. I don’t really remember the pain.”

  “What does it mean?”

  She pulled her hand away and tucked it under her legs. He didn’t need to know about her. It would only open the door for danger — this could be nothing more than one night.