"You were my soul mate in another life," he blurted out and wondered at his lack of finesse.
She harrumphed. "No such thing, but please go on. Like most, I enjoy a good fairytale."
He chose to ignore her sarcasm. He could not change her mind on what she believed, but perhaps if he told her the story, their story, she would at least consider his side. "Our love was thwarted by Isa, a jealous woman who believed I cared for her when I had not given her such attention."
"I just bet," she murmured.
"I love you, Callista." He could not keep the hurt from his voice. "My love is true and always has been, but you mock it." For a moment, their eyes met and maybe she witnessed the truth in his gaze for she lost her hostile stance.
"I'm sorry," she told him and he believed she meant it. "I have no right to belittle your feelings for someone you care about."
After a pause, he nodded. "Apology accepted." He could not force her to remember their affection and did not correct her. He didn't just love someone. He loved her.
"But you must understand," she began as if she read his mind, "that I am not this Callista. I don't remember you or the love you claim we shared. I'm Calli Marie Angelis. Calli is not short for Callista and never has been."
His gaze swept over her lovely features he remembered so well, and yet, there were differences too. Determination and spunk lit the features when Callista had not a temper at all, but she could be fierce if pushed, and perhaps in this, Calli and his beloved shared the trait. "Do you not feel anything for me?" he asked. "No spark at all of remembrance?"
"Great choice of words, Gryphon. Other than the jolt earlier when you touched me, no."
He lifted his hand and stared at his palm. Why had their first touch been so explosive?
"I don't remember you." Her voice drew his attention and he let his arm fall to his side. "I'm sorry, but I don't," she continued to insist. He wondered if it was for her benefit or his.
"Look at me," he told her. "Open your mind and try."
"Uh… Well," she cleared her throat and for a moment her eyes seemed to drink him in like a woman who had thirsted for a long time. "You're good looking and all… a bit intense, but if circumstances were different, I might have asked you out for a coffee." She nodded as her gaze slid from his face and lower then back up again. He had the urge to cover himself from her smoldering assessment.
"You undress me with your eyes," he told her, not sure if he should be offended or flattered at her wanton gaze.
Her chuckle rendered his pondering mute. "Wasn't I supposed to be the love of your life?" she asked. "I'm assuming we were intimate then." Her gaze slid over him again with meaning.
His brows lifted. "You do mock me still."
She rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. Let's pretend I believe your little story here. So, we were star-crossed lovers in some past life, but this is the here and now and I have a life, a good one, and I don't see flying monkeys joining the mix."
"Flying monkeys?" He understood her words, but the meaning to them seemed to have been lost.
"You don't watch much TV locked up in the museum, do you?" She pushed away from the nightstand and strode to the door. She opened it and turned toward him expectantly. "This is your cue to go."
She thought to dismiss him this readily? He flitted like the wind to her, slamming the door shut, and backing her up against it. His gaze met her eyes that flashed with a mix of excitement and fear. "We are not finished." He stepped closer to her, making it difficult for her to move around him.
"Step away," she warned with her hand to his chest, but she didn't push him away.
The heaven above, she was all soft curves and… she had a lethal left hook.
"Ouch!" He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. Big mistake. The woman moved faster than a panther and proved just as deadly. She slammed her head into his. He blinked and focused. "Stop it this instant, I say." This won him a swift kick to his shin.
Playing nice was over. Still holding her hands above her head and using his thighs to keep her from kicking him again, lest he find his nether parts bruised. He hadn't missed her intent. If she'd had more room to maneuver, he had no doubt she would have hit her mark already.
The stars above, how could she infuriate him and entice him at the same time. Her sweet scent filled him, made him want so much more. Even in this dire situation, he couldn't help wanting her. He'd waited for her for centuries and she was in his arms. Maybe not in the way he would prefer, but being cursed, he couldn't be fickle when opportunity presented itself.
She stilled her movements and her breathing changed. For a breath of time, he didn't understand the meaning in her gaze until her tongue slipped out and licked her lips, moistening them. How could he resist such an invitation? He leaned down and kissed her, taking her under as he caressed those luscious lips into submission, but in the end, it was she who demanded obedience.
Minx, he thought, but his affection never waivered. She may not want to admit it yet, but she felt the connection and he didn't refer to the bolt of electricity they sparked when they first touched outside. No, she responded to his touch. Her soul hungered for him as his did for her.
Now if he could just make her cooperate, he might be able to save his Callista before the beastie inside of him took over and made its stand. Above all, it must protect the items it guarded. Already he could feel the Gryphon threatening to take over, but he slammed down the urge to shift. The beastie would not ruin this precious moment.
Chapter Five
What was wrong with her? This guy wasn't even human. He could shift into a Gryphon for God's sake. Calli's subconscious kept prattling on, trying to get her attention. Annoying! Right now Darrien was every bit the man.
Her hands gripped Darrien's shirt and drew him closer, and his hand went to her waist. She could feel the warmth of his touch through her shirt, and his eyes… Those all so strange colored eyes gazed upon her as if he would give her the world, but right now she wanted one of his toe-curling kisses. She didn't have a long list of lovers, but none of them had ever kissed her like he had. His lips were like a caress her body craved, breathing life where she had remained dormant.
She could almost believe he spoke the truth that she was indeed his soul mate. His mouth covered hers and she closed her eyes, and on a sigh gave into the pleasure he offered. Her heart thumped so loud, she could hear the thumpity-thump in her ears, drowning out the world around her and, for a moment, she didn't fight it.
Her hand slid down the length of him as she contemplated her next move. He may have removed her weapons and tools, but perhaps he hadn't cleared out the nightstand drawer. There was one way to find out.
She nudged him toward the bed and inwardly sighed with regret at not being able to indulge in this fantasy they'd started. She had a hunch kissing wasn't all Darrien could do well.
Once they were backed up to the bed, she pushed him onto it and straddled him. She slid her hands over his arms, guiding them above his head, before leaning down to kiss him once more. A ploy meant to distract and if his moan of pleasure was an indication, it was working. With one hand, she carefully slid open the drawer of the nightstand and reached inside. When her fingers touched cool metal, she almost smiled and probably would have if her lips hadn't been occupied. In the next second, she made her move. Her agile fingers manipulated the cool metal with a click to his right wrist and a click to the bedpost with the other half.
Darrien's eyes widened in alarm as he glanced at the cuffs then to her. But before he could grab her with his free hand, she leapt from the bed and out of reach. He yanked on the cuffs and to her relief they held fast.
"It's been fun big guy, but party time is over, and just so you know, I don't like playing second fiddle." He frowned at her analogy and she shook her head. "You speak the language. Hell, you might even fit in to society, but you think like an ancient being, don't you? In that regard, I could almost believe your claims you've been cursed for centuri
es, but let me put it to you simply. I'm not Callista, and I don't like to play dress up and pretend." She sauntered over to the table where Darrien had tossed her gear while she'd been unconscious.
"This isn't about me being a shifter then, am I right?" he asked, and there was a note of surprise in his voice. "That part does not trouble you. Yes?"
She glanced at him sprawled on the bed with his one arm cuffed and the other propping him up so he could peer at her. "My father used to tell me stories about beings that walked among the humans. Said he met a few."
"He did not fear these beings?" Darrien asked and she could tell he was curious.
"No." she shrugged. "Everyone wants to be respected, right? They left my father alone and he gave them the same courtesy."
"You say the words about respect, but these are your father's beliefs. What of you?"
"The world is full of different kinds of beings and so what? I never met any of the beings my father told me about, but it doesn't mean they weren't around. I have an open mind."
"I sense this about you," he told her.
She rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Right after he thought she was his soul mate, she said to herself, but aloud she voiced, "Anyway, the existence of shifters doesn't come as a complete shock to me. Heck, my cousin claimed he dated a werewolf, but up until tonight, I thought maybe he had a few screws loose, or at the very least was just making the story up for a few laughs. Go figure, he probably told me the truth."
He harrumphed. "You listened to your father's stories, but you didn't truly believe, did you?" He repositioned himself by scooting back to rest against the headboard, which sported slats or he wouldn't be sitting like an offering for sinful delights. Pity she had to run.
She turned away because meeting his gaze just made all this so much more difficult. "Really, I'd like to sit down with you and have a deep discussion about shifters and other such beings, but I have to go." She didn't quite keep the terseness out of her voice. She couldn't let her guard down and she had a feeling he was trying his best to distract her. She fastened her belt around her waist with quick jerky moves, indicating her frustration over this whole messed up situation. Her goal tonight: retrieve the stone. Done. Everything else was irrelevant.
"You cannot take the artifact." His voice broke through her reverie and she paused. "It is dangerous," he said, not pleading or demanding. He simply spoke what he believed to be true.
Her gaze met his, curious over his calm approach. She thought he'd be breaking the headboard by now...or turning into the beast. Maybe there wasn't enough room for him to shift. "I've already taken it," she reminded him. "I just need to deliver it to the rightful owner."
His harsh laugh irked her.
"Do you have something to say?" she asked with her hand on her hip.
"I do not know who claims this ownership of something only the gods should have, but if it falls into the wrong hands, it will be the end of mankind."
"Plu…eeese," she said, dragging out the word for effect. "Do you expect me to really consider your claims of doom?"
"Consider this, Callista… Calli," he corrected, "you stole the stone from the Museum of Cursed Antiquities. Can you not consider the possibility that an unsavory sort wants the stone for their own personal evil deeds?"
"Okay, you piqued my interest. What can the stone do?" He hadn't explained exactly what it did. He'd only given her his doom and gloom speech.
"The one who possesses it will have the power to open the portal between life and death, and if the person performs the ritual on Halloween, it gives the conjurer more power to bring back many souls all at once."
"Because the veil is thinner this time of the year," she stated, familiar with the folklore surrounding Halloween. She'd been reading books about life after death, and not because her father had recently passed away. The subject had always fascinated her.
Professor Leander had told her she wanted the stone delivered to her before Halloween. She'd been adamant about the date. Had there been a more sinister reason behind it? She claimed if the stone was not returned by the morning of October 31st the institute funding the dig was going to close down the excavation site and call it a loss. They'd lose millions of dollars. That was the urgency to have the artifact delivered. The other… "Who in their right mind would want to raise the dead?" she asked.
"How well do you know this person who wants the stone?" he countered with a question of his own.
She really didn't know her client at all. She'd been hired, paid half the amount she requested and she would be wired the remaining balance owed to her upon delivering it. She'd needed this job. Funds were low and she hadn't taken an assignment since her father died. Not because she hadn't been approached by clients, but because she missed her dad. They'd been a team and she found it difficult to work without him.
In the past, her father had always found the cases for them. They were hired to retrieve items originally stolen from their rightful owners. They were paid a finder's fee, and in return they would steal the items back and deliver them to where they belonged.
Professor Leander came from money, high society and all, and she'd shown Calli documents that claimed she was responsible for the stone at the dig site. Maybe it had been stolen, but it didn't mean the item wasn't as dangerous as Darrien claimed. "I'll tell you what," she told him, "I'll look deeper into all this, check out a few leads, and if what you say is true, I'll return the artifact to the museum."
His eyes were doing that weird glowing thing-y again. "You'll look into it?" His control seemed to be slipping. "This person who hired you will not allow you to look into it. If they know about the stone, they will stop at nothing to get it before the veil thins. You are in danger if you keep it. They will come after you."
"Oh, that's rich." She chuckled. "You mean she's worse than a Gryphon? She's a respected professor, for God's sake."
"She is a professor?"
"Stop fishing for information," she snapped, more upset with herself than with him. She'd already revealed too much. She leaned down and ran her hand under the table, feeling for the duct tape. When her fingers grazed over it, she gave it a yank.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Never you mind," she told him as she pulled the gun free. She only kept a weapon on her for emergencies and this definitely qualified. To think she almost hadn't packed it for this assignment. The semi-auto was the Ruger LCP Revolver—lightweight, large enough to fit in her palm, but powerful enough to hold its own. This baby held five rounds. The perfect weapon for tight situations, just point and shoot.
She knew it was loaded, but she checked it anyway. Her gaze then found Darrien. His eyes were focused on her weapon and not her. "As you can see, I can take care of myself."
He shifted his gaze. "Are you going to shoot me?"
"Not if you don't come after me," she told him and unzipped the side pocket on her pants. She tucked the revolver inside and left it unzipped for easy access. "Now, I have to skedaddle. I have places to be, people to check out… So, ta-ta for now." She wiggled her fingers at him in a goodbye wave before heading for the door without even a backward glance.
"Calli, don't—" he still called after her.
She'd already stepped outside and closed the door behind her, muffling whatever request he was about to make. She really hated leaving him cuffed and vulnerable, but then he deserved to be left behind, didn't he? He did try to kill her after all – if she believed he could shift into a Gryphon, and she was pretty sure he told the truth there. She'd only handcuffed him.
She pursed her lips as she recalled the events that led her to this moment. The Gryphon did come after her, but it hadn't harmed her, and the human side of Darrien hadn't harmed her either.
"No, don't go all soft now," she murmured. Her gaze landed on the bushes to the side of her, and she crouched down. Her hand brushed aside the dirt at the base of the plant, revealing the pouch she'd stashed at the last moment when she'd arrived at the motel. Her i
nstincts had proven right on. She'd known the chase wasn't over when she left the museum. Hiding the stone was a must, so she'd faked dropping her keycard to hide it without being obvious. If Darrien had the stone in his possession, he would have been long gone by now.
She lifted the pouch and brushed off the dirt. She released the string and peeked inside. The stone was still there, nestled safely within its new confines. She gripped the pouch, but she didn't move toward her car. Why was she still hesitating about leaving Darrien cuffed to a bed?
'Cause you've questioned Professor Leander's motives for wanting the stone a million times before you committed to stealing it for her. 'Cause you always were suspicious of her, and Darrien reminded you of the fact.
She'd run a background check on Professor Leander—twice. She couldn't find any incriminating evidence. Not one thing to warn her not to take the job. Just the annoying niggling at the back of her mind, and now Darrien made her doubt her choices all over again.
Her hand wavered to her lips still tingling from Darrien's kiss. Good Lord, the man kissed as if he thirsted for her caress, and he wasn't selfish. He gave too. Boy, had he given. For a moment, she'd forgotten the reasons they were thrown together in the first place. "Too bad he longs for another woman," she murmured.
Another shriek of frustration resounded from the motel room, drawing her attention. She had a hunch Darrien wouldn't be kept prisoner for long. He may not be able to shift in the room, but his large biceps told her he wouldn't stay cuffed for long either. The headboard wasn't made of steel. He would break free eventually.
She hurried toward her vehicle. She'd check out what Darrien claimed about the stone and go from there.
Chapter Six
Darrien shouted in frustration as he yanked on the handcuffs, but they held fast. He couldn't shift in such a small space without causing considerable damage to himself and the structure. He could ill afford either.
Wasn't he a halfwit? He should have been suspicious from the start when her actions proved amorous. He chortled in disgust at his own stupidity. Calli may be Callista reincarnated, but she in no way was the same woman he'd fallen in love with centuries before in Andros. Her soul had adjusted to this century and her upbringing had shaped her. Damn the stars above if he wasn't attracted to her anyway. He ran a hand over his face in frustration, inhaling deeply as he did so and then letting the air out of his lungs in a long frustrated sigh. The little minx did not realize the danger she posed, not only from the person who hired her, but from him as well. His beastly side would sooner or later demand justice for her stealing the stone. He feared no matter his feelings for her, it would prove not enough, and the beastie would win.
Gryphon and His Thief Page 3
