The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection

by Rebekah Lewis

  “I hate downtown parking,” London muttered as she parallel parked as well as she could in front of the bed and breakfast. As she climbed out of her Volkswagen, she grimaced at the crooked angle of her car, way too far away from the curb to be legal. She could have parked in one of the public garages, but she decided since the B&B had a valet service, she hadn’t wanted to lug a suitcase for several blocks.

  The Aegean Inn looked more like a mansion than a hotel of any kind. It was very similar to the Kehoe House, but the bricks were more a weather-worn grayish brown. The windows were lit up with lamps from the interior, showcasing elaborate blue and gold curtains. The shutters, French doors, and balcony on the third floor were painted white. The doorway was on the second floor, with a double sided stairwell leading to it. The windows on the lowest level had cast iron bars to keep out intruders, and the building sported fish-shaped waterspouts that opened over the sidewalks.

  London took a deep breath and unlocked the trunk to her car. She had packed two bags; although, to be fair, the smaller of the bags was nothing but toiletries and cosmetic supplies, along with extra shoes. She stacked the smaller case on top of the suitcase and slammed her trunk closed.

  “Ms. Bridges, I assume?”

  London glanced up at the minutely accented voice and sucked in a breath. An incredibly handsome man leaned against the railing on the front stoop, looking down at her. Warmth spread through her body, and her hormones snapped to attention. The man smiled at what she could only imagine was an expression of shock on her face. She felt her cheeks heating up.

  “Allow me help with your bags, ma’am.”

  “Please don’t call me ma’am. You make me feel like I’m my mother’s age.” London was twenty-five. She wasn’t ready to be a “ma’am” yet.

  She checked him out as he approached her. His dark slacks were freshly ironed, and he had a matching jacket over a crisp, white button-up. His shoulders were broad, his jawbone exquisitely chiseled. His dark-brown hair was too long to be considered short, but not particularly long, making him look like a dashing rogue who had dimples when he smiled.

  “You must be the bellboy?” London blurted.

  The man stopped a few feet from her and collected her luggage. He lifted the heavier suitcase like it weighed nothing. London had struggled pulling it out of the trunk.

  “I prefer the term, ‘man who will provide any service necessary.’” He winked at her, causing her to notice his pale indigo eyes.

  “Um, that was more like a phrase...” Yeah, she was really smooth.

  “So it is. Let me escort you to the front desk to get checked in. I’ll take your things upstairs, and then I’ll move your car after I show you to your room. Feels like you packed a lot for one weekend.”

  London followed him to the door, and as he set down the luggage to open the door for her, she knew she was blushing for sure. She smiled shyly and ambled inside. “I couldn’t decide on what I wanted to wear, so I brought multiple options.”

  “The whole closet?”

  “Not even close.” When she brushed past him, London had the strongest urge to pretend to trip and fall to see if he’d catch her. She resisted, barely.

  “So if you don’t want me to call you ma’am, what should I call you? Ms. Bridges?”

  “My name is London. Call me that.” She glanced at him as he fell into step beside her.

  The man’s smile brought his dimples to their full glory and London inwardly groaned. She knew what was coming before he chuckled and replied, “Your name is London Bridges?” Like I haven’t heard it a million times before.

  “I was conceived in London. Parents thought it would be hilarious given our last name.” And it was. To everyone who wasn’t her.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of your name. It took me off guard.” They reached the desk in the corner of the grand entry room. A blonde woman with a messy bun and scarlet red lipstick regarded them with an arched brow.

  “I’m used to it. To tell you the truth, I’d hoped to be married by now to change it.” Oh God. Why did I say that? Way to scare a man off, London!

  The man’s smile widened as he put the suitcase down again and held out his hand for hers. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, London. My name is Jacen.”

  London put her hand in his, expecting him to shake it, but gasped when he bowed low and kissed her knuckles. His breath was warm over her skin, his lips soft as a whisper.

  “I’ll be back to show you to your room in a moment,” he told her, and then with a nod toward the woman at the desk, Jacen made his exit with the luggage.

  Tearing her gaze from Jacen’s backside was a trial in self-control, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other woman. Beatrice, as her nametag identified her, smiled. “He’s a tremendous flirt. Try not to get too attached.”

  London looked around while Beatrice pulled up the reservation on the computer. The lobby smelled like magnolias. It wasn’t an overwhelming smell, but very southern and surprising for a place named after the Aegean Sea. The floors were hardwood, a deep mahogany. And the gold colored sofas and chairs were laden with blue throw pillows from navy to cerulean to the palest of hues.

  “I could live here,” London noted under her breath.

  The corner of Beatrice’s mouth tilted upward. “Honey, you couldn’t handle it if you did.”

  ***

  Jacen set the luggage in the corner of the single. A king-sized bed filled the room, and he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering what London would look like spread out upon it, legs opening to him. True, he’d been momentarily disappointed when he spotted her after her terrible attempt at parallel parking, but then he saw her. Really saw her.

  She wasn’t a nymph sent to rescue him from an endless curse, but she was beautiful. Her long, straight chestnut hair had wafted alluringly in the breeze outside. And she was tall, level with his shoulders, which not many women were, and would be even after she took the dainty heeled sandals off her feet. Sandals that emphasized long legs and impeccable calves beneath the hem of a sunshine yellow dress. He wanted to run his hands all over those legs. Pull them around his waist as he—

  Control. Control the lust, Jacen. You can do this. You are not a beast. You are a man, so act like it.

  A man who looked beastly when the sun set. And the sun would be down in two hours, which meant he’d have to resist giving into his nature until the next day. London would probably spend the evening out, and he couldn’t go with her. Couldn’t get caught in the crowds downtown and reveal his presence to the world. Whatever it was about her that made his heart beat a little faster would have to wait until the morning.

  He locked the door with the antique key and headed back downstairs. Beatrice was telling London about the included breakfast-in-bed service. London didn’t know it yet, but Jacen would be delivering her breakfast personally, with a side of seduction. He’d let her think it was a dish of pancakes until then.

  London turned to face him with a smile, her gaze trailing down the length of him and back up again. Jacen hoped she liked what she saw, because he planned to show her more of it.

  “All checked in?” He offered her his elbow. London hesitated, but only a second, before she looped her arm in his. He shamelessly pulled his arm closer, trapping hers to where she had to stay pressed to his side as they ascended the creaky wooden stairs to the next floor.

  “So, uh, how long have you guys been here?”

  “Eight years. We bought the building, decided we liked the historic setting, and went from there.”

  “You talk as though you own the place. I’ve never heard of The Aegean Inn, and I live in Savannah.”

  “I am one of the owners, yes. And we aren’t big into advertising. With the rooms being few, we stay pretty booked up.”

  “Oh. You and your wife?”

  “I’m not married.” Jacen noticed she perked up at his response. Yes, London. You can have me at your beck and call during your stay. “It’s just me and my th
ree brothers.”

  They reached room 304 and Jacen escorted her inside, he placed the little key on the table beside the bed and watched as London perused around. He took great pride in the way her eyes widened at the huge bed, the hand-carved headboard, armoire, table, and chairs—woodwork the four of them had labored over decades before. The walls were painted a soft, dusty gold to give the room an elegant and regal atmosphere. The color scheme in this room was more of the turquoise variety, with a very teal comforter with faint golden scroll work. Above the bed was a print of the William-Adolphe Bouguereau classical painting of the satyr being dragged into a lake by nymphs.

  “Oh, wow.” She pulled away from him to peek inside the TV armoire. “This place is gorgeous.” Jacen strode past her and opened the doors to the balcony. London practically skipped in her rush to see outside.

  “Oh, man.” London looked over the railing. “My parking sucks ass.”

  He came up beside her, pretending to be interested in her car, but he wanted to be closer to her. Something about her sparked an interest that was more than the lust brought on by the curse. He liked her. Wanted to know about her, and not just fuck her and go. The wind blew her hair into his face and he caught the scent of pomegranates, his favorite fruit. “Well, in all fairness, whoever parked their Subaru there should have pulled up farther. They didn’t leave you enough room.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for humoring me.”

  Shifting, and hoping his arousal wasn’t obvious to her in the starched trousers. Jacen knew he had to retreat before he stayed there all night and frightened her with his true appearance. “I should go move your car before you get a ticket. Unless you’re driving to dinner tonight?”

  “Nah. Gonna walk over to City Market.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “You did say you were local.” Which could be a problem if he became attached to her over the weekend. His reaction was enough to worry him in that regard.

  “All my life.”

  “Good, so I don’t really need to tell you to stay safe.”

  “Why, Mr. Jacen, it sounds like you’re angling to act as my protector.”

  “Just Jacen is fine. Unfortunately, I’m working tonight. However, I would love to take you to lunch tomorrow.”

  London opened her mouth and closed it again. Maybe he’d been too forward.

  “S-sure, Just Jacen. Does noon sound okay?”

  A grin split across his face. “Noon sounds excellent.” He turned to leave, but paused. “Car key?”

  “What? Oh!” London reached into the little tan handbag she’d brought in with her and pulled out a set of keys with a purple butterfly keychain. She removed the car key and handed it to him. Then she started scrambling in her purse once more. “I almost forgot to tip you.”

  “No need.”

  “Really, you’ve been so helpful, I can’t—”

  “London,” Jacen put his hand over hers, stopping her from pulling her wallet free of her purse, “I’m taking you to lunch tomorrow. That’s all I need.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure.” He winked at her again and headed toward the door. He needed more, but there wasn’t enough time before sunset. He could wait until after their lunch date. “Until we meet again.”

  Chapter Three

  “I didn’t see anyone chained to your bed when I borrowed your iPod, so I’m guessing single chick wasn’t a nymph.” Calix flopped into the lounge chair next to Jacen and grabbed the television remote. He didn’t wait for verification before he started flipping channels. “Which also means she is fair game.”

  Likewise, Jacen didn’t look up from the newspaper he’d only partially read. He’d watched out the window earlier as London left for dinner, and had been attempting to keep his mind off her and out of the gutter for the past hour. Something his curse didn’t give him the luxury of accomplishing; sex was all he thought about. Ever.

  “She’s not a nymph, no. But hands off.”

  Calix paused in his channel surfing and stared at him. “Hands off? Moi? I thought we shared around here, brother.”

  Although they weren’t related, they’d been together so long it felt like they were. Even Vander seemed more like an elder sibling than a boss or their former king’s heir. The four of them had attempted living apart at one point, but they found each other again when the New World was still “new” to European settlers. Deciding immortality seemed less lonely with companions, they’d been together ever since.

  “I am not sharing this one. I only have two days with her, and then you know what happens. That said, you may need to cover my shift Sunday.” He had front desk duty, but that wouldn’t work so well if he was in bed with London.

  “Do I look like I have nothing to do but cover for you?” Calix paused and then said, “You know, we’d get more single people checking in if we didn’t have to make them think they were dreaming the wild satyr sex. Frankly, walking past a room and hearing honeymooning couples humping like rabbits does nothing to improve my situation. It sucks. Why did Apollo have to hide all the nymphs? Damn gods.”

  “Done whining, Callie?”

  “Stop calling me Callie.”

  “Then stop whining like a little girl.”

  Calix growled and switched the TV off. “I’m heading below. Sun sets in about ten minutes anyway.”

  “Put the iPod back where you found it before you go sulking in your room,” Jacen called after him and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. He tossed the newspaper on the coffee table and rubbed his face with both hands. As much as he wished London had been a nymph, he was glad he didn’t have to burden her with his curse. She could pretend he was only a weekend fling, and later a wonderful dream she’d had. Jacen hated that London wouldn’t remember he was real, and being forgotten had never bothered him in the past. But for some reason, it bothered him this time.

  ***

  London woke up how she had fallen into her bed: one shoe on, the other across the room. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grimaced at the warm hint of drool. It was a quarter after eleven on a Friday night, and after one really strong drink, she’d passed out. Such a lightweight.

  She rolled out of bed, eventually stumbling to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth while waiting for the hot water to heat up in the shower. Then, as she washed her hair, she thought about how the night had gone. After she’d eaten dinner, she’d gotten a drink and listened to a band play classic rock song covers in City Market. She eventually worked up the nerve to stagger back to the inn and hunt for Jacen. He said he was working, but his shift had to end sometime, right? Dear God, that man is hot.

  Beatrice was still there, apparently working a double, and had been pleasant until London asked for Jacen.

  Apparently, he was out picking up supplies.

  At nearly ten o’clock at night. A likely story. Beatrice was a twat-blocker.

  It was after midnight when London crawled into bed wearing a red cami and black and white polka dotted pajama shorts. Her hair was damp from the shower, but she didn’t feel like drying it. She tried to read for a bit, but London was too restless to sit still. Just when she was about to give up and attempt going back to sleep, she heard it.

  Music. It sounded like it came from a flute of some kind, like the people on the TV show had talked about. It was so soft at first that she’d thought it was her imagination playing a trick on her, and then the volume began to build.

  London rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the door. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. The hall was awash in shadows, with only dimly lit wall sconces to enable returning guests to see where they were going in the dark. There was definitely music coming from downstairs. It didn’t sound like a television or a radio, and somehow London didn’t picture Beatrice as the instrument playing type.

  Grabbing her cell phone to have a camera nearby in case anything weird happened, she kept the door unlocked and sneak
ed down the hall. When she reached the top of the landing, the bright light below made her squint. The stairs had been creaky earlier, so she took caution to avoid alerting anyone of her presence and tiptoed as quietly as she could manage. At least she was sobering up.

  By the fifth step, she could see Beatrice typing away at her computer. The music continued to play, but the blonde didn’t even seem to hear it, or if she did, she paid it no mind. London took another step down.

  Creeeeeeeeeak.

  She moved into the shadow of the wall beside her as Beatrice glanced up at the sound. Silence, apart from the music, answered her from below. When she heard a chair rolling across the wood floors and the sharp clack, clack of high heels, London’s breath caught in her throat. She was good and caught.

  This is silly. Why am I afraid of being caught out of bed in a hotel? London peeked around the corner. Beatrice sauntered past the staircase and down the hallway toward the doors marked STAFF ONLY. She had taken down her hair and was running her hands through it, giving it a tousled look. London let herself breath normally again and somehow avoided any more creaky steps as she made her way to the bottom.

  The volume of the music increased when Beatrice opened the door to the employee area. Was it all a hoax the owners of the place set in motion for word of mouth exposure? Jacen said they didn’t do a lot of advertising, and if they didn’t it was a wonder they could afford to remain open and still have steady customers. People did get a thrill of staying at haunted hotels. Hell, that was the whole reason behind London being there. Could they be using the haunted aspect and the demonic shadow and mysterious flute playing for free publicity?

  She transferred her phone to her left hand and slowly turned the knob for the employee door with her right. It wasn’t locked, and no one waited on the other side of it to shout at her for sneaking about, so London ducked inside. A bathroom was located on one side of a sitting room containing chairs and a coffee table. Someone had been reading a newspaper in the chair next to the window earlier. On the other side of the room she could see a decent sized kitchen with a dining area through the open doorway.