“Sex, then?” he offered.
Patricia backed up quickly, only to be hemmed in by his wings. “You and Andreas toss out that offer casually enough.”
Nico shrugged, pretending like hell that his entire body wasn’t burning with need. “We’d be good together.”
“I didn’t come here to get laid.”
He caressed her back with his feathers, softening his voice. “I’d make it so good for you, Patricia.”
Her rapid breathing told him she believed him. But she firmly parted his wings and stepped away from him. “No.”
She puzzled him. He knew she wanted him; her body gave all the signs. Yet she hugged her arms across her chest and turned away as though stopping herself from accepting.
“Are you going to throw me out now?” she asked in a hard voice. “Because I didn’t fling myself on your bed and squeal, ‘Yes, take me’?”
“No. You can stay as long as you like.”
“Good, because I’d like to ask you more questions.”
Nico felt a twinge of disquiet. The Dyons for the most part simply watched, but if they thought Patricia knew too much or was trying to help Andreas and him, they might attack, as had the one when Nico searched the antique store. Dyons couldn’t kill Nico and Andreas, but they could kill anyone helping them.
Nico crossed his wings behind his back, letting the feel of them calm him. “What questions?”
“Like how did you get into my store?”
“I told you. Through the keyhole.”
“I have dead bolts. Keyholes don’t go all the way through these days.”
“Don’t they?” If Nico concentrated, he could slide through spaces that ordinary humans couldn’t find.
She changed the subject. “Why is this ostracon so important? It’s not very big, and it’s not important historically, even as old as it is.”
Now they were moving into dangerous territory. “Andreas and I want a look at it.”
“Meaning you aren’t going to tell me.”
“There are some things it’s safer not to know.”
She chewed her lip. “Is it some key to a secret dimension or something? Where the bird gods live?”
Nico burst out laughing. “No. It’s an ordinary piece of writing, like you said.”
“You wouldn’t be interested in it if it were ordinary.”
He had to concede the point. “I just want to look at it. No harm to your elderly client.”
“What about Andreas? Will he look at it without harm?”
Patricia couldn’t know how much his senses were singing with her in the room. She wasn’t the only one who could see auras. Hers was brilliant red and blue and smelled fresh, like crisp autumn wind. He’d love to spend a year in bed with her with them slowly getting to know each other. It would be a joy to teach her.
“Andreas isn’t so bad once you get to know him,” Nico said. “No, wait; yes, he is. But he doesn’t harm innocents.”
“Does he have wings, too?”
“No. I’d tell you what he is, but I promised I wouldn’t.”
Patricia subsided, still chewing her lip. The action made her mouth all the more red and kissable. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”
He sobered. “Be careful with Andreas, love. He won’t harm an innocent, but it’s not good to get in his way.”
“Do you get in his way?”
“All the time.” Nico lifted his wings overhead and reluctantly slid them back into place, letting the tattoo cover his back. He moved his shoulder blades as he adjusted his balance, then reached for his black T-shirt.
“If you don’t want to dance, let me walk you home,” he said, pulling on the shirt. “The streets are dangerous at night.”
Patricia looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his torso. “I have the feeling that I’ve met the most dangerous things in the city tonight: you and Andreas.”
He let himself smile as he came to her and brushed a kiss over her lips. “You just might be right.”
3
THE woman who’d purchased the ostracon for her eclectic collection was one of Patricia’s regulars, an elderly lady who lived in an airy marble and gilt apartment on the Upper East Side. She’d outlived two husbands, was vastly wealthy, and loved to collect antiquities.
Patricia called her in the morning after a restless night thinking about Nico. When he’d gathered her in his feathers and kissed her, she thought she’d go into orgasmic shock.
He had a strong mouth and knew how to kiss. She’d felt the swell of his arousal even as she’d pulled away from him, knowing she was going too fast.
When he’d offered sex as casually as he’d offered to take her downstairs to dance, she’d felt a stab of disappointment. Maybe she was old-fashioned, maybe she expected too much, but she wanted sex to be special. Not We have a few hours, so how about it? She didn’t want a fuck buddy. She wanted it to mean something.
So what did high-minded Patricia dream about all night? Nico in her bed, his wings spread so she could rub her naked body all over them.
In reality, Nico had walked her home, lightly kissed her good night, and left as soon as she’d entered her store. In her dreams, he’d carried her upstairs, stripped off her clothes, and laid her on the bed, his cock high and ready for her.
A big, beautiful cock, too, straight and tall, dark and rampant. Patricia’s secret stash of nude male photos always included the cock; she loved looking at them. Asses were good, but there was something about a swollen I’m-here-for-you cock that always sent her over the edge.
She was dying to see Nico’s, wanting to find out if the reality matched what she’d felt behind the zipper of his jeans.
Patricia tried to calm her libido by talking to Mrs. Penworth. Mrs. Penworth looked and sounded like a sweet, little old lady, but some of the stories she told of her years as a World War II army nurse made Patricia realize she’d had one hell of a past. Mrs. Penworth always got a wicked twinkle in her eyes when she talked about her wild days.
“Of course, dear, bring your friends by. I’ll have Myrtle make drinks, and we’ll have a little happy hour. Myrtle likes it when we have friends for drinks.” Myrtle was the housekeeper who’d lived with Mrs. Penworth for forty years.
Patricia hung up, sensing that Mrs. Penworth would enjoy Nico. She wasn’t so sure about Andreas, and she hoped Nico could keep the belligerent man in line.
The bell on the store’s door jingled, and when Patricia came out of the back, a man was leaning his fists on the counter, studying Victorian brooches inside the glass case. He was strong and muscular, much like Andreas and Nico, and wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt. He’d braided his white blond hair into a tail that hung to the middle of his back.
When the man looked up at her, Patricia couldn’t hold back a gasp. His eyes were wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on why, as she stared into the yellowish gaze; then she realized his pupils were slits, vertical like a cat’s—or a snake’s.
Speaking of her cats, they’d vanished. She remembered their intense interest in Nico, and even with ordinary customers, they’d come out to investigate, but this time they’d deserted her.
She felt the man’s aura tapping at her shields, and she refused to lower them. If he was anything like Nico and Andreas, his energy would knock her over.
“Where is the ostracon?” He spoke in a thin voice, almost hissing, nothing like Nico’s warm baritone or Andreas’s gravelly growl.
“The one from the museum in Cairo?” she asked as though unconcerned. “I’m afraid I sold it, but I can take your name in case I come across another one—”
How he got to her so fast, she never knew. One moment he was by the jewelry display, the next he had lifted her high and slammed her back onto the counter. His breath was foul, his slits of eyes terrifying.
“Retrieve it. Destroy it.”
“Destroy it?” she gasped. “An artifact? I don’t think so.”
“You will.” He shook
her, and her head jounced painfully against the glass. “You must not interfere.”
“Interfere with what?”
“She will punish you. Her wrath can reach across centuries.”
“Who is she?”
Her heart pounded in fear. She couldn’t reach the phone or the alarm button behind the cash register. This man was strong enough to kill her with his bare hands, and there was nothing she could do about it.
A low growl rumbled through the store. The sound went on and on, building in intensity, like a wild beast barely containing itself. In the back, her two cats started to howl.
Something blurred on her right, and the blond man dropped Patricia as a huge wild cat barreled at him. Patricia screamed and dove aside as the man and cat tumbled across the counter, everything left on it slamming to the floor in a heartbreaking crash.
Patricia got to her feet, wondering what the hell to do. Call the police? Animal control? Hose the cat down with the fire extinguisher? But the big cat had just saved her life, and she knew it. Police would shoot the beautiful thing dead or haul it away God knew where.
Red Kitty and Isis came bounding out of the back room, still howling. They danced around the fight, watching avidly, for all the world like they were cheering the big cat on.
The blond man managed to roll away from the cat. His clothes were in tatters, his shredded skin bloody. He hissed like a snake, then suddenly he became a thin column of smoke and disappeared altogether.
Patricia blinked in shock. But she didn’t have much time to relax, because the wild cat halted in front of her, fixing his gaze on her from three paces away.
He was a snow leopard. His fur was white with mottled black spots, his eyes ice blue. His body was heavy, shoulders and haunches rippling with muscle, paws sporting razor-sharp claws.
“Nice kitty,” Patricia tried.
Isis stalked around her and walked right underneath the leopard, rubbing her head against him as she went. The leopard glanced once at the cat, then back at Patricia. They faced off, woman to leopard, then the leopard yawned. His huge red mouth was lined with pointed teeth, his lips peeling back to reveal every one of them.
The leopard lay on her carpet with a whuff of breath. Isis butted his shoulder, and he butted her gently back before starting to groom his blood-smeared paws.
“Don’t be afraid, Patricia.”
Patricia bit back a shriek as Nico’s black wings came around her. “Damn it. Don’t you use doors like the rest of us?”
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but there’s a leopard licking its toes three feet in front of me.”
Nico skimmed his warm lips over her ear, and she started to calm in spite of everything. “I asked him to come,” he murmured. “We sensed the danger.”
The leopard gazed up at her with cool blue eyes, and Patricia realized in shock where she’d seen that look before.
“He’s Andreas.”
Nico’s hot breath touched her neck. “It is. You’re the only human I’ve met who’s been able to make the connection.”
Patricia let a tiny part of her psi ability touch the leopard and saw the same purple-hued aura she’d seen at the club.
“He’s a . . .” She groped for words. “A were-snow leopard?” Nico chuckled. “Not exactly. Divinity trapped, like I am.” “Andreas said that last night, that you were enslaved. What does that mean? And who was the blond man?”
“A Dyon.”
“What’s a Dyon?”
Andreas, still in leopard form, growled softly at Nico.
“We’ve dragged her into it,” Nico said. “She needs to know.”
“Tell me,” she said softly. “Please.”
“Dyons are minions of Hera. Powerful. Old. We won’t let them hurt you.”
Patricia threaded her fingers through his feathers, loving the warm feel against her arms. “Why should they want to?”
“They want to keep us from breaking free, so they’ll hunt any who try to help us. That is why, once we see the ostracon, we’ll leave you well alone.”
Patricia felt a strange compulsion to grab him and hold on tight, to tell him he wasn’t allowed to leave. She was just starting to get to know her winged man and the were-leopard and their incredible auras, and she definitely wanted to know Nico better.
“Don’t go,” she felt her lips say.
Nico’s hands skimmed her waist, then he gently kneaded her abdomen, circling with his knuckles. “We have to, to keep you safe. But before we go, maybe I could give you something to remember us by?” The sensuality in his voice let her know exactly what he meant.
This was all wrong. She’d just survived an attack by a strange man with snakelike eyes and had been rescued by a leopard who turned out to be Andreas, and all she wanted to do was take Nico to bed. No calling the police to report the break-in, no demands to know exactly what was going on. What she needed most right now was to be with Nico.
She gently disentangled herself from his wings, walked shakily to the front door, and turned over the Closed sign. She snicked the locks shut and pulled down the blinds against the crowd outside.
“All right,” she said, holding out her hand to Nico.
NICO followed Patricia up her carpeted stairs to her apartment, leaving Andreas below to guard. The big cat sneered as Nico went.
Nico’s heart beat swiftly, his blood already hot. He couldn’t have Patricia for always, but he could at least have this. He’d give her the greatest pleasure she could handle, and when he was far away, he’d remember it, live it again in his dreams.
Patricia’s apartment was tiny: a compact kitchen, a bedroom big enough for a bed, and a full bathroom grouped around a small living room. Nico stopped her in the middle of the living room and drew her close for a kiss. Her mouth tasted good, like fire and spice, and he licked his way around her lips.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “Nico.”
“Mmm?”
“I didn’t bring you up here for sex.”
Yes, she had. Her body wanted it; he could feel it under his hands. She lied. “What, then?”
“I think you owe it to me to tell me what’s going on. I find you wounded in my store, then this Dyon person tries to beat the whereabouts of the ostracon out of me, and now Andreas is a leopard. I’d like some explanations, please.”
Nico leaned his forehead against hers. His body was on fire, everything pushing him to take her. He would have to soon, or the pain would become searing, crushing agony.
“Patricia, you don’t need to be in this. Andreas and I have dealt with Dyons before, and we’ll deal with them again. Without you getting hurt.”
She gave him a grim smile. “Too late for that. Do you think this Dyon thing will leave me alone because you don’t tell me anything?”
No, Nico really didn’t. But he and Andreas might be able to draw him off. Once they’d seen the inscription, they could leave Patricia alone.
He threaded his hands through her hair and brought his wings around to enclose her. “Patricia, I need to touch you.”
She put her fingers on his lips. “Not until you explain.”
“No, I mean I need to touch you.” His skin was burning, his cock so tight it hurt. “If I don’t—” He broke off, his heart squeezing. “Let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”
She gave him a speculative look. “Is that the line you use on all the women whose stores you break into?”
“Feel me.” Nico took her palm and pressed it to his cheek.
She flinched when she felt his burning skin. “What’s wrong? Are you feverish?”
“No. Cursed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me touch you, Patricia. Let me spread you and pleasure you—I have to. I need to.” His heart was banging so hard it was making him sick. “Please.”
“Why?” She pushed away from him, and he had to let her go. He couldn’t force her. If she didn’t want him, then he’
d simply have to suffer.
“It’s why we need to look at the ostracon. The writing on it could help us break the curse.”
She looked bewildered but concerned. “What curse?”
He loved her eyes. That blue green like the sun-dappled sea drew him to her. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, lick his way to her throat, part her blouse, and arouse her with his tongue.
He kissed her palm and pressed it to his chest. “The pain won’t go away if you don’t let me fuck you.”
She might not believe his words, but she must feel his heart beating like a piston, his skin on fire, see the pain in his eyes.
“Why are you—why do you feel like this?” she asked.
“The mother of the gods cursed us. Andreas and me. We must pleasure a woman like her slave, or we burn up. The curse won’t kill us, but it will make us wish we were dead.”
Patricia’s eyes rounded in horror. “Why would someone do that to you?”
He tried to shrug, but his body hurt. “Some goddesses can take righteous indignation a long way.”
“And I can help you by letting you give me sexual pleasure?”
He nodded, his throat too tight for speech.
She let her fingers soften on his lips. “All right, but if this is the worst pickup line since pickup lines were invented . . .”
His heart sped in hope. “You’ll let me pleasure you?”
She smiled slightly. “Yes.”
Nico let out his breath, some of the pain dissipating. “Thank all the gods. Put yourself in my hands, Patricia. You won’t regret it.”
SHE already regretted it. Not because she was about to have sex with someone she barely knew but because she already felt a pull toward him in her heart. They’d have a good time in bed, then he’d go, and she’d be left bereft.
That line in Shakespeare—“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”—was debatable. Wasn’t it better to live pain free than break your heart over someone who didn’t love you back?
Nico pulled her closer, his feathery wings enclosing her in warmth. The fear she’d seen in his eyes fled as he bent to kiss her.
Mortal Temptations Page 3
