Mortal Temptations

by Allyson James

  Patricia had no idea where they were, thanks to the makeshift blindfolds. Patricia knew London fairly well, having had to locate obscure dealers and galleries in her capacity as an antiques buyer, but lying blindfolded in the back of a car didn’t help her get her bearings.

  Fortunately, a blindfold meant nothing to her psychic senses. The vibrations from the place they were in were thick, layers upon layers of them. That meant the building was old, which meant the inner city, not a new suburban development. It didn’t help much, because they couldn’t be too far from the club in High Holborn, and this part of London was hundreds of years old.

  Patricia could tell even without her psychic ability that the room was not very big, and it was underground, like a cellar. The air was dank, the walls not sealed against the weather, and the floor was cold, hard stone.

  Next to her Rebecca jerked and gave a little cry, and a moment later, the tape was ripped from Patricia’s eyes and mouth, taking skin with it. One of the Dyons, shorter than the other two, held up a sheaf of papers. “Where are the rest?”

  Rebecca half sat up. “Hey, where did you get that? I left everything in my briefcase, you thieving shit.”

  “Obviously they went through our rooms,” Patricia said, her mouth dry from the tape. “While we were out enjoying ourselves.”

  “This is not all of it,” the Dyon said in his hissing voice. “Where is the rest?”

  Rebecca scowled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Patricia leaned to her. “Maybe we should pretend to help.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve faced archaeology profs and customs officials tougher than him. Remind me to tell you about the dragon lady from hell who was my dissertation advisor.”

  “Archaeology profs aren’t supernatural minions of a vengeful goddess,” Patricia pointed out.

  “Want to bet?”

  “You’re giving yourself away, you know,” Patricia said to the Dyon. “If we weren’t close to an answer, you wouldn’t bother with us.”

  The Dyon’s slitted eyes blinked once, but no emotion emanated from him. “Where is the rest?” he repeated.

  “How do you know that isn’t everything?” Rebecca asked, sounding innocent.

  The Dyon slammed the papers to the floor. One of the others brought out a matchbook from the club Nico and Andreas had taken them to. Silently, the Dyon lit a match, caught the entire matchbook alight, and dropped it onto the papers.

  Rebecca wailed, and Patricia’s heart sank. “You bastard,” Rebecca yelled. “Do you know how many hours I worked on that? How much sleep I lost for it?”

  Patricia watched as the photographs of the ostracon burned to blackened curls. The original was back in New York, far from here. She wondered if the Dyons had gone back to Mrs. Penworth’s apartment and destroyed it, and if Mrs. Penworth was all right.

  The lead Dyon kicked aside the ashes and lifted Rebecca by the shirt. She kicked at him, but the Dyon flung her to the floor again and ripped her top open. He thrust his hand inside, not to grope her, Patricia saw, but to check if she’d hidden any papers there.

  Rebecca screamed and bit him. Patricia tried to roll to her to help fight him off, but a second Dyon hauled Patricia to her feet and held her back. She saw then a table laden with various implements for slicing, and realized what the Dyons had in mind. Convenient that London was situated on a large river.

  Patricia redoubled her efforts, having no desire to become fish food. The Dyons didn’t seem to mind that the two of them screamed their heads off, so this area must be relatively deserted. Not helpful.

  Patricia was not a telepath; she couldn’t read minds or project her thoughts into other minds, and so she couldn’t broadcast a distress signal or anything. All she could do was fight the Dyon who held her and watch as Rebecca was dragged by the other two toward the table, her clothes in shreds.

  “How about if we take you to the rest of her translation,” Patricia panted.

  The lead Dyon turned to her, his snakelike eyes flaring. “Tell me where it is, and we will spare your lives.”

  “Sure, I believe you. We’ll tell you when we get there.”

  Rebecca glared, but Patricia couldn’t convey her plan. Not that she had a plan. But if the Dyons took them out to the street, they might have more of a chance to get away or to attract enough attention to bring help.

  The lead Dyon came to Patricia. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, bathing her with his foul breath. “Tell me, and I will spare the other one. Don’t tell me, and she dies.”

  Patricia swallowed as the third Dyon held a thick-bladed knife at Rebecca’s throat. Her breasts hung exposed, but she glared in fury, more enraged than afraid.

  Patricia had no idea where Rebecca had put the rest of her notes, so she’d have to improvise. She wet her lips, but before she could speak, the incredible aura of a demigod brushed her stretched psychic senses.

  “Nico!” she screamed.

  Half the wall splintered inward as a wooden door flew off its hinges. Nico sailed in on a spread of black wings, his body surrounded by blinding light.

  Two Dyons went down with Nico on top of them, the third bowled over by the leopard that came charging in. Patricia sprang out of the way and shielded Rebecca the best she could with her wrists still taped. Rebecca was shaking, tears of anger and fear rolling down her face.

  After a brief but nasty fight, the Dyons dissipated into smoke, then the feathered whirlwind that was Nico stopped in front of Patricia. She cringed from the incredible power surrounding him, unable to look directly at the light. She’d snapped her psychic shields into place the instant he and Andreas had burst in, but the light still blinded her.

  She watched him deliberately suppress his divinity. Nico’s form solidified into the tall and strong man with black, feathery wings that Patricia loved. His face lost its terrible power, returning to the sinful handsomeness of Nico, but his dark eyes retained something grim and hard.

  “Nico?” Patricia felt tears start in her own eyes, then Nico’s warm wings were surrounding her and Rebecca, protecting and comforting. Patricia rested against the warm strength of Nico’s body, feeling safe.

  Andreas the leopard stretched, shook himself, and became Andreas the man, stark naked and unashamed. He surveyed the room and Patricia and Rebecca clinging to Nico.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” he asked.

  “No.” Rebecca scrubbed tears from her face. “You took too long getting here. They burned my notes!”

  “But I saved your life,” Andreas argued.

  Rebecca was far gone in relief and hysteria. “Never mind my life; these were my notes. The only record I had of your damn inscription. I spent so many hours—”

  “But you have more,” Patricia said from Nico’s embrace. “You have what the Dyons were looking for.”

  “There isn’t any more. I wasn’t finished writing it all down; the only translation I have is in here.” Rebecca jabbed the side of her head.

  “Oh.” Patricia shivered. “I’m glad I didn’t know that.”

  Andreas reached for Rebecca, but she spun away from him. “Don’t touch me,” she shrieked. “And for God’s sake, find some clothes.”

  PATRICIA lay with Nico in their bed in the hotel suite, warm from a bath and relaxed with brandy, but she still couldn’t bring herself to sleep. She wasn’t sure what had frightened her more: the Dyons ready to snuff out her and Rebecca with as much indifference as they would a bug, or seeing the divine being that was Nico.

  She could pretend all she wanted that he was a sexy human male, even one with wings who delighted in giving her pleasure, but she knew she’d never seen the real Nico. Nikolaus, son of Dionysus, Andreas had said. Half god, the other half not even human.

  He was a being she couldn’t comprehend, bound into his humanlike form and enslaved to Patricia. She couldn’t pretend around it anymore. It was all too bizarre.

  She’d tucked Rebecca into bed after making her take a sleeping pill fetched from
a nearby chemist’s shop. Rebecca had been shaking and curled in on herself during their drive to the hotel, the trauma of their ordeal finally taking hold. Andreas had wrapped Rebecca in a blanket, his movements almost tender.

  Upon their return, they found that their rooms had been searched, their belongings dumped in a pile in the sitting room, and Rebecca’s laptop smashed to pieces. Patricia had gotten Rebecca to bed and helped Nico clean up, Andreas waltzing out with no word of where he was going, probably off to look for more Dyons.

  Nico had carried Patricia half asleep into the bathroom and deposited her under a hot shower, then fed her brandy and curled up next to her in bed. He hadn’t tried anything sexual, as though knowing that what she needed now was just to be held.

  As the window went gray with dawn, Patricia finally spoke. “How did you find us?”

  Nico lay with his head on his bent arm, his strong hand on Patricia’s abdomen. “Through the scent,” he said. “Dyons smell.”

  “They drove us through a lot of streets. How did you track us?”

  Nico’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They really stink.”

  “I didn’t notice any particular stench.”

  “You wouldn’t. They’re foul beings, made from the clay of Hades; the smell of death clings to them. It’s how Andreas and I knew the Dyon had come to your store in Manhattan.”

  “Where do they go when they evaporate? Or dissipate, or whatever it is they do.”

  Nico shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know. Back to Hera, back to the underworld, I don’t know. I don’t much care. They die or are at least reduced to the mud from whence they came.”

  Patricia shivered. “Why couldn’t you smell them tonight, at the club?”

  He was silent a long time, and when Patricia looked up at him, his eyes held shame and anger. “We weren’t paying enough attention. I was distracted by the crowd and smoke and smells of humanity—and your scent.”

  “Are you saying I stink, too?”

  He smiled again, but again without warmth. “Your pheromones were strong, and I couldn’t think of anything but you.” He stroked her hair. “It wasn’t only the Dyons I could track; it was you. I can feel you; I’m bound to you. I’m for your pleasure but also your protection. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Part of the curse?”

  “A good part,” he whispered against the softness of her hair. “A very good part. I know you’re still scared. Let me soothe that from you.”

  The points of his wing tattoo moved in the shadows of his shoulders, and she traced where the bottom of the tattoo brushed his backside.

  “Can we make love?” Patricia whispered against his mouth. She shied away from the word fuck, wanting something that sounded intimate and not just a physical act. “Why haven’t you done that yet? I crave you.”

  “To make it all the sweeter,” he whispered in his flirtatious voice.

  Something flickered in his eyes, but he looked away before she could read it. She took his face between her hands.

  “Bull. You told me it hurt you to not take me when I wanted it. You’ve been holding in the pain, haven’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Nico kept stroking her hair, his fingers soothing. “I don’t want it to end too soon. I want this part to go on longer, you wanting me, you not having enough of me. I’m dreading the boredom in your eyes.”

  “I could never be bored with you.”

  His gaze was neutral. “You won’t be able to help it. All I can do is savor you while I have the chance.”

  “Andreas doesn’t seem to worry about it much.”

  “Andreas isn’t pulled to you as I am; he hasn’t bonded to you, because you didn’t want him as much as you wanted me. I’m flattered.”

  “Of course I wanted you. How could I help it?”

  He shrugged. “You happened to see me first.”

  “I met Andreas not long after that. I remember you protected me from him. I liked that.”

  “I consider you mine. I’m tied to you, but I get very protective, very possessive. I can’t help it.”

  Patricia kissed him, loving how warm his lips were. “I don’t mind.”

  “You might mind later.”

  She framed his face in her hands again. “Nico. This is now, not later. I want to make love to you. I’ve been dying to have you inside me. Please.”

  His eyes darkened, pools of night. “Do you want it rough?” he asked. “Or sweet?”

  Her pulse fluttered. “Can I have a little of both?”

  “You can have whatever you want. Do you want me to find Andreas?”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  He studied her, his eyes hinting at the power she’d spied earlier that night. “I know what you truly want, Patricia. I can feel it.”

  He slid his hand between her legs, his fingers finding wetness. She swallowed a groan, not wanting to come too fast. She wanted him to be inside her when she did.

  “You want two cocks, don’t you?” he whispered. “Both of us in you at once?”

  “I couldn’t . . .”

  “You could if you wanted it. With me, you can have anything you want. I’m a demigod; I’m good at granting wishes.”

  “I just want you.”

  “For now.” He slanted his mouth across hers, his tongue wet and hot. “For now it will just be me. Spread your legs.”

  She obediently parted them, expecting him to climb on top of her and slide right inside. Instead, he stroked her, thumbs playing over her opening.

  “I love your hair,” he said, fingers circling in the curls. “Blond all over. I like that you don’t shave.”

  “I don’t want to itch.”

  “My sweet, practical Patricia.”

  “Do you think it would be sexier if I did?”

  He kissed her softly. “No. I like to rub my tongue in it. I like feeling it against my fingers.”

  “Good.”

  His fingers were certainly doing delightful things. He knew how to easily bring her to readiness, how to soften her for anything he wanted. Her body responded quickly to him, already knowing to trust him.

  When the tip of his hard staff nudged her opening, she tensed. She’d had his fingers and tongue inside her, but his cock was huge and thick, and she wasn’t sure if she could take it.

  “Shh.” He soothed her with lips and fingers, his wings sliding out to caress her to quietness. Her limbs felt heavy but excited at the same time, and her hips began to lift.

  “That’s it, love,” he murmured, and then he slid halfway inside her.

  The feeling was explosive. She wanted to spread her legs, wider, wider, wanting him squeezing inside her.

  He went maddeningly slowly, a small inch at a time, though she was so wet and slick she wondered that he didn’t slide right in.

  “There is a lot of me,” he said, as though reading her mind.

  “I want you,” she begged. “I want it all.”

  He took his weight on his hands, his big body between her spread legs, his feathers warm and silky. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “No, I want to see you.”

  He kissed her eyelids, closing each one. She felt a warmth, then a brief burning, and then he was inside her, filling her so full.

  He was huge and stretching her, and it felt so damn good. She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and she knew why he wanted to take it slow. He was bigger than anything she’d ever felt.

  She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his dark eyes fathomless. He’d offered to make it sweet or rough, and she wondered which one this was. His hardness was opening her wider than she’d ever been, but at the same time, the dark heat filled her tenderly.

  That was nothing to the sensation when he slid partway out and all the way back in again.

  “Did you do your spell to muffle the sound again?” she gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,
because I am going to scream so loud.”

  “Do it.” His voice throbbed with longing. “Scream for me, Patricia.”

  He pumped her again, a hard in and out. She opened her mouth in a long moan.

  “Yes, love,” he said. “Feel me fucking you.”

  “I feel it. You fucking me. I love it.”

  He closed his mouth over more words, and he shifted his hips back and forth, sliding his enormous cock in and out of her. He sped up, the friction in her quim getting faster and faster, the warmth turning to unbearable heat.

  Nico snaked a few feathers between them, letting them tickle her clit as his loving went on and on.

  “Come with me,” she gasped.

  “Yes.”

  His whisper was like the night, her dark god-man who made her feel crazy and happy. She knew she loved him, and she wanted that love to be real, no matter how many Dyons she had to fight off to make it so.

  She felt herself building, the black surge coming toward her. Nico kept pumping, hard and strong.

  She tried to shout I love you, but her climax grabbed her and took her over the top, and her words trailed off incoherently. Nico kept on driving into her, his big body sweating, his muscles working in silence.

  Just as she hit the top of her climax, Nico groaned out loud, and his seed filled her. It scalded every inch inside her, a demigod’s semen in her body. She wondered for a giddy instant if she could conceive from him, and a wild hope blossomed inside her.

  His thrusts became frantically fast, his control snapping, then he wound down until he was resting on her, panting, his cock still inside her.

  She stroked his hair, soothing him, feeling cleansed and beautiful. She kissed his temple and said into his skin, “I love you.”

  She regretted the words in the next instant, because he lifted his head and gave her a look so anguished it was as though all the pain in the world had come to settle in his eyes.

  14

  PATRICIA swam to wakefulness, smiling when she felt Nico’s feathers cradling her body. His eyes were closed, his dark hair falling over his face. They’d made love twice more after the first time, and Nico had brought out some lube to make things even slicker and hotter.