Planetary Passions 6: Double Trouble (Gemini)

by Allyson James

Fiona drove northward toward Thrace both steaming mad and cold with worry. In the front seat of the tiny car she’d rented lay the vessel, wrapped in sheets and pillows to cushion the ride.

  Technically, she should not take the jar from the dig—all the finds belonged to Greece, and there was still a lot of tension over the Elgin Marbles, which had been looted from the Parthenon two hundred years ago and resided in England. She justified her theft by telling herself she wasn’t taking the vessel out of Greece, and she feared it would be broken or lost if she kept it at the dig.

  When Hans had explained that Cas and Pol had not only gone off to Mount Olympus but had taken Hans’ motorcycle, she’d put her hands to her head and groaned.

  The gray cat, the one that looked remarkably like the cat in the library, had rubbed her ankles at that moment. Fiona knew she had to go after them. They were demigods and could probably take care of themselves, but the menace in Selena’s threats was real and she had power.

  If it hadn’t been for the cat…

  First I have demigods coming out of a painted jar and having sex with me, and then a cat saves my life from a demon demigoddess.

  Who was the cat? Another demigoddess? Which one?

  I’m drowning in mythology.

  Two things were certain—Fiona had to warn the twins that Selena was free and raring to go and that they had to protect the jar at all costs.

  She took the most direct route possible to Litohoro and hoped the twins hadn’t detoured to drink and dance the night away in some village on the other side of the Greek mainland. But as Athens fell farther and farther behind, she had no trouble getting answers to her faulty Greek questions about two handsome men on a motorcycle. The twins had been remembered far and wide.

  Some people were furious at them—she heard garbled accusations of upset sheep and hens that wouldn’t lay—and some laughed and remembered them fondly. Either way, she knew she was on the right trail.

  A man in Litohoro remembered a motorcycle tearing through earlier that night, but by then Fiona was too exhausted to drive any farther. Plus she knew she’d never navigate narrow mountain roads in the dark.

  She found a tiny inn off the road that was willing to take in a stray American at two in the morning. She kept the jar at her side all night, only half-sleeping in case Selena showed up and tried to wrestle it from her.

  Morning dawned without any drama, and Fiona downed a tiny cup of thick coffee and drove off, the jar beside her, to Mount Olympus. The mountain was a favorite hiking trek of tourists, so her car joined many others at the end of a paved road that led to the trails.

  She looked up the craggy slopes and high cliffs of the mountain, the top bathed in mist. The helpful map she’d picked up in the town showed several routes to the summit, all of them for hardy hikers with the right supplies. All Fiona had was sandals and an ancient jar wrapped in a sheet.

  Without any clear idea how she would find the twins or even if she could, Fiona started to walk.

  After two hours she was out of breath and her legs hurt. She ground her teeth and wondered what she was doing there. She should just go back to Litohoro and wait for the twins to come down.

  She stopped to rest, leaning on a flat rock on the side of the hill, looking down the trail into a misty gorge. A few hikers went past her, hardy types who chatted to each other cheerfully as they went by, not even breathing hard.

  “This is stupid,” she muttered. “I’ll never find them. I’m going back.”

  As she uttered the words she grew suddenly dizzy, so dizzy she thought she’d heave out her breakfast of too-strong coffee. She couldn’t have altitude sickness, she reasoned, because the last marker indicated that she’d reached eight-hundred meters, which was only about twenty-four hundred feet.

  Nor could she have a hangover, because she hadn’t drunk anything but bottled water the night before. Of course, it could always be a nasty virus or food poisoning. As her mind went down this happy trail, her vision went entirely black.

  Just as suddenly it cleared. She was standing in a completely different part of the mountain in a meadow of bright red and blue flowers bisected by a wide stream. The slopes of Mount Olympus cascaded down from where she was, which didn’t make any sense, unless she’d climbed to the top in her sleep.

  All the hikers had disappeared, but near the stream, lying on their asses on a cloth of gold like they were having a great time, were Cas and Pol.

  She was so relieved to see them that at first she didn’t notice the third figure.

  For a moment, she viewed things her mind could not comprehend. She thought she saw a man, huge and nude and perfectly formed, but with an elegant set of antlers rising from his head as though they were completely natural. He seemed to move in shadow, and she was reminded of descriptions of the Celtic horned god—the god of harvest and fertility, the lover and husband of the Goddess.

  But this was modern Greece not ancient Britain, and the gods were myths.

  At least that’s what she’d thought before Cas and Pol had appeared in her bed two nights ago.

  The god seemed to shimmer and grow smaller, and then he was just a man with a loincloth draped about his hips. The antlers disappeared, although whenever he turned his head too quickly, she saw the vaguest hint of them above his ears.

  As she walked toward the trio, she became more and more uncertain she’d seen anything godlike. Perhaps he was a hermit or one of the monks from the monasteries that dotted this part of Greece. Not that she expected monks to walk around mostly naked, but perhaps he’d taken his vow of poverty to the extreme.

  Cas rose as she neared them. He opened his arms to her and then everything was all right. His warmth enveloped her like a blanket, his scent scattered her thoughts and his lips in her hair made her anger and fear evaporate.

  She handed the jar to Pol and concentrated on hugging Cas. He snaked his hand down to her backside and hauled her up for a long, tongue-tangling kiss.

  “Mmm,” she said as they parted. “I guess you missed me.”

  “I did too, sweetheart,” Pol said, running a warm hand over her backside.

  Still in Cas’ arms, Fiona turned her head and kissed Pol on the lips, her insides tingling with wickedness and wanting.

  “This is the woman who freed you?”

  The third man spoke English, but with a rich, deep accent that would make the most frigid of women strip off her clothes and spread herself in front of him. She’d beg him to take her hard and fast and not worry about being gentle. Fiona’s hand even went to the first button of her blouse before she could stop it.

  Cas twined his arm firmly around her waist and the compulsion suddenly faded. That is, she no longer wanted to strip for the third man. She wanted to strip for Pol and Cas.

  Cas kissed her temple. “This is Fiona.”

  The third man looked her up and down. He was a breathtaking portrait of the perfectly shaped man, broad shoulders, knotted muscles, hard chest, pectorals flat and defined without being overly bulgy, biceps smooth and firm, abdomen flat, thighs taut.

  He had brown-black eyes that swam with flecks of gold, and his hair was midnight black like Cas’ and Pol’s. A gold band circled his upper arm, the designs on it Greek, but very, very old.

  As an ordinary man, he would have been spectacular. But Fiona felt the immense power in him, a strange magic that radiated over her and would knock her flat if he hadn’t kept himself contained.

  He’d put a dampening field around himself, she thought. If he hadn’t, he might have overwhelmed her senses and either sent her flying off the mountain or doubling over with a heart attack.

  “He is Dionysus,” Pol said. “Do not worry. He won’t hurt one of ours.”

  Fiona gave him a skeptical look. The god laughed, a sound that filled the valley.

  “She is wise for her years. But this is a greeting of old friends, Fiona. A cup of wine, a kiss…”

  Cas’ arm tightened around her. “We saw her first.”

 
Dionysus laughed again. “I know. I can’t help it. Sit, Fiona. Drink wine with us and tell us your story. Something has happened.”

  Fiona started to ask how he knew then decided not to worry about it.

  Cas sat on the cloth of gold and pulled her down to his lap. It seemed perfectly natural to sprawl across his legs and drink rich, mellow wine from a gold cup he held for her. After she drank, he licked a drop of wine from her mouth and lifted the cup to his own lips.

  Pol sat close on her other side, resting his hand ever-so casually on her thigh. He unwrapped the terracotta vessel and set it on the cloth, and they all studied the painted portraits of the twins, mirror images, standing with arms folded, backs to each other.

  Dionysus drained a goblet of wine and shook his head. “Selena is too full of herself. Tell us what happened, Fiona.”

  Fiona related the research she’d done in the library and the encounter with Selena. For some reason, she left out the part about the cat. She wanted to tell them and speculate on who the cat had been, but every time she began to speak about it, her lips and tongue felt heavy and she fell silent.

  Dionysus gave her a narrow look but said nothing. He knew she was leaving something out, but to her relief said nothing.

  When she finished, she lay against Cas’ strong shoulder, his arms supporting her and his lap cradling her. He smelled so good, like the fresh grass and the air around them and his own masculine scent.

  Cas growled. “I’ll not leave you alone again. I did not know your magic places would be dangerous for you.”

  Dionysus lay on his back, one leg bent, arms behind his head, watching the clouds drift by. “I’d kill Selena,” he mused. “But Poseidon would not let me. He hates her, but she is his. He’s strange like that.”

  “We’ll have to castrate her somehow,” Pol said. “But if she touches you again, Fiona, I’ll risk Poseidon’s wrath and strangle her. It will be an ugly fight, but I’ll do it.”

  “Be careful,” Fiona said. “I don’t think she’s quite sane.”

  Dionysus snorted. “An understatement. She’s been crazy as a loon since the day she was hatched. A more interesting problem is the spell on the jar.” He lifted the terracotta jug and examined it closely. “You say you don’t know what will happen if it breaks?”

  He lifted it in his sinewy hands as though prepared to hurl it toward some rocks in the middle of the meadow.

  “No!” Fiona leapt for him and closed her hands around the vessel.

  She met his black-gold gaze and for a moment felt as though he sucked her right into him. She was falling into velvet darkness that caressed her body like a lover. It was the height of sensuality and at the same time absolutely terrifying.

  “Leave her be,” Cas rumbled behind her.

  The god grinned and the darkness receded, leaving her looking at a handsome man who held out the jar to her.

  She took it carefully and set it on the pillows. “They might die or might be sent back to oblivion.”

  “That would be a shame,” Dionysus said.

  “I’d say so,” Pol put in.

  Cas said nothing. His eyes darkened as he watched Fiona, and suddenly she wanted that erotic darkness Dionysus had made her see, but she wanted it with Cas. They could be pressed body to body, lounging on soft velvet with his cock buried high inside her, his tongue in her mouth.

  She looked at him and knew he wanted it too. He wanted her, Fiona, not because of her expertise on pottery or the fact that she was available to crawl around digs with scorpions and rats, he wanted Fiona the woman. No other person in her life had wanted Fiona the woman.

  Fiona touched his hand. He covered hers in his, his finger tracing her palm.

  She saw Pol standing behind him, his eyes as intense on her. She remembered taking him far into her mouth and the smooth taste of his come. Pol wanted her too.

  “Selena is a danger as long as you are alive,” Dionysus was saying.

  Fiona felt a surge of power from him, one her mind tried to dampen. The power flared and built until it crawled under her skin like strange electricity.

  “But I’m going to give you a gift,” the god went on. “A reprieve before you have to find her and face her, because face her you must.”

  He stepped beside the twins and put one hand on each man’s shoulder. “I will give you the gift—of time.”

  The mountain swirled away with incredible speed, but before Fiona could cry out they were standing in soft darkness, inside the two rooms she’d rented at the tiny inn.

  Chapter Nine

  Cas heard music coming from somewhere down the street, a lone man singing about his beloved and the beautiful countryside. In his arms, Fiona started. She looked tired, her white face lined with exhaustion and worry.

  He fumed that Selena had confronted her and tried to hurt her. Fiona was innocent—she had no idea what vindictive wrath a demigoddess could have for no reason at all. Selena would be punished for frightening her.

  He ran his hand through her warm hair. His brave Fiona, standing up to a demigoddess and stealing the jar to keep it safe.

  She was looking around in confusion, her pretty eyes shining in the dark. “This is where I spent the night last night. And I remember that man singing down the street. It soothed me to sleep. What happened?”

  “A gift of time,” Pol said. He leaned against the door, his t-shirt a pale smudge in the dark. “Dionysus is letting us have the night again, free from danger.”

  “He can do that? Do we have to be careful not to see our other selves or disrupt the time stream or something?”

  Pol chuckled. “It isn’t time travel. We live the night over again. As though we didn’t do it the first time. We’re safe here, and he’s letting us enjoy it.”

  “Oh.”

  Cas smiled at Fiona’s bafflement. Dionysus being who he was, Cas had a pretty good idea how the god expected them to enjoy themselves. He ran his fingers lightly down Fiona’s arm.

  “Fiona will need to rest. In bed.”

  Pol laughed out loud. Cas could see Fiona’s blush even in the darkness, but her hand tightened around his.

  “I leave you to your delights,” Pol said, pushing himself from the doorframe. “I go in search of wine and song.”

  He did a slow dance step, one hand on his abdomen as he swiveled his hips. Then he laughed softly and sauntered out the door, closing it behind him.

  Fiona turned to Cas, eyes wide and questioning. It took effort to not throw her down and ravish her on the spot.

  “You are surprised Pol left us?” he asked.

  She laid her head on his chest, a warm armful of woman. “A little.”

  “He knows what I want. He too is giving me a gift.”

  Fiona smiled suddenly and raised on tiptoe to kiss the side of his mouth. “We should not waste it then.”

  “No, we should not.”

  He kissed her deeply, then he took both her hands and led her into the bedroom.

  * * * * *

  Pol walked down the street smiling, imagining steam rolling from the inn he left behind. He’d never seen Cas so far gone on a woman before.

  But then, what a woman. Red hair like fire-colored silk, eyes swimming with sensuality, even her grubby fingers were cute. A lady who liked to play in the dirt.

  He stopped, enjoying a sudden vision of dirt all over her nude body as she rolled in the dust, laughing. He was surprised the other archaeologists weren’t all over her. But the shortsighted people were, like Hans, so enamored of digging up the past that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them in the present.

  If anything, Pol should be obsessed by the past, wanting to know what he’d missed while trapped in the painting. But he’d lived for thousands of years before Selena and her sorcery, and he’d learned that the present was always the most important time to be in. Never forget the past, was his motto, but live for the here and now.

  Pol walked on toward the lights and noise of the taverna. They were safe f
rom Selena tonight, thanks to Dionysus, and he could enjoy drink and dance and a woman if he wanted her.

  No, he knew which woman he wanted. Wanted to touch every part of her with every part of himself.

  Fiona.

  The very woman his brother was about to fuck in a frenzy of passion while Pol sat in a corner in a taverna and drank wine.

  Hmm. Well, he’d give them some time. How much time? An hour? No, longer. Cas would want to savor it.

  Pol would give his brother long enough to sate himself then he’d would return and see what he could convince them both to do.

  The twins had shared everything in their entire existence, and Pol saw no reason to stop now.

  * * * * *

  “Do you like that?”

  Cas stroked his hands down Fiona’s naked abdomen, his palms calloused and warm. She moved her hips, both wanting him to hurry and finish stripping her and wanting him to take his time.

  “Do you like it?” he asked again.

  “I do. Can’t you tell?”

  “Your eyes give nothing away.”

  Cas leaned over her, still dressed, until his face was an inch from hers. His breath heated her skin, then he soothed her eyelids closed with his lips.

  After Pol had departed, Cas had said not a word. No crude, “Hey, baby, want to do it?” or more romantic offers of lovemaking. He’d simply lifted her into his arms, carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

  The whitewashed room contained a simple bedstead of white wood and a night table and dresser to match. Two Byzantine icons were framed over the dresser, and that was it for decoration.

  Fiona loved the room’s simplicity, which soothed and relaxed her. She had the feeling she’d love it even more after tonight.

  Cas had proceeded to unbutton her shirt and pull it open then he’d began massaging her stomach and breasts, his touch arousing and comforting at the same time.

  “I haven’t been—with—anyone for a long time,” she said.

  “I haven’t been with anyone for twenty-five hundred years. I believe I have, as you Americans say, broken your record.”

  She touched his face, loving the sandpaper feel of his dark whiskers. “Hope you haven’t forgotten anything.”