Tempting the Dryad

by Rebecca Rivard

  He dragged in a breath and tugged at his pants to accommodate his hardening cock.

  Shania smiled.

  Their waitress arrived. Shania ordered a martini and he a whiskey, straight up. While they waited, the earth shifter’s busy fingers moved lower, testing the bulge beneath his zipper.

  “Mm,” she said, her mouth warm against his ear. “I can’t wait to take this out and play.” Her hand closed on him, the nails sharp against his hard flesh even through the cloth.

  His breath rasped in. He gave her ass a squeeze through the leather and probed her ear with his tongue.

  Wrong, growled his beast. She’s wrong.

  The voice was so unexpected that Tiago pulled back before he realized what he was doing. Fortunately, the waitress had returned with their drinks so Shania didn’t notice.

  She removed her hand from his lap to raise her martini to him. He touched his glass to hers and tossed the shot down. The warmth filled his belly.

  What the fuck? Usually his beast was more than eager for sex.

  Still, no fada ignored their animal without a damn good reason. They might overrule it, but they didn’t ignore it. The animal worked on instinct and often knew things before the man.

  Shania’s hand was on his fly again. “I always wanted to fuck a river shifter.”

  He shoved his grumbling beast back into whatever black corner of his soul it occupied and placed his hand over hers, pressing it against his erection.

  “Yeah?” He gave her a slow smile. “I might able to help you with that.”

  Her response was a throaty purr. Then her gaze flicked past him and at the same time, a hand descended on his shoulder.

  “Boa noite, Tiago.”

  He took one look at the grizzled face looming over him and started to his feet. “Jorge?”

  What the hell? Jorge was supposed to be on the other side of the ocean, banished to the Sahara along with his friend Benny and two Greek sea fada, where they’d been sentenced to work for the Sudanese sun fae for their part in Valeria and Merry’s abduction.

  Tiago shot a look around the club, because where Jorge was, Benny wasn’t far behind. But all he saw were humans and a handful of earth shifters.

  “Sit down.” Jorge pressed his shoulder.

  Tiago let himself be guided back into his seat. Jorge sat down heavily in the chair next to him. Tiago tried to conceal his shock. The man looked like he’d aged a hundred turns of the sun in the five years since he’d been banished. He’d been an imposing barrel of a man, but now he looked like all the life had been sucked out of him. His skin was sun-burned and wrinkled as a dried apple, he’d lost weight and his brown hair was peppered with gray. His gaze darted from Tiago to Shania and then around the room as if he was having trouble remembering why he was in the club.

  Still, the real mystery was why Jorge was in Baltimore at all. He and Benny had once been members of Rock Run, but five years ago they’d secretly joined the small den that Petros Okeanos and two other Greek sea fada had started on Alesia’s island. Okeanos may have been the ringleader, but all five of them had been behind Valeria’s abduction—and probably that of other women as well. Okeanos was dead, killed by Rui in a mate-duel. But rather than executing the other four, Dion had extracted a promise from them: they were to labor for the rest of their lives for the Sudanese sun fae in the hottest, driest part of the Sahara. For a water fada, it was almost worse than a death sentence.

  Jorge, Benny and the other two men had sealed the vow by speaking their true-names. To a fada, such an oath was as binding as a literal imprisonment. Jorge shouldn’t have been able to leave the Sudan without becoming deathly ill.

  Tiago forgot all about Shania. His heart started to thump, slow and hard. This was his chance to show his brother what he could do. If he could capture Jorge, or at least find out what he was up to…

  Jorge was studying him in turn. “How are you, irmão?” he asked in Portuguese and stuck out a hand.

  Tiago looked at it without taking it. “I’m not your brother,” he replied in a hard voice.

  “Não?” Jorge lifted a finger at the waitress. “Well, have a drink on me anyway. For old times’ sake, sim?”

  Tiago hesitated. Much as he’d love to show Dion he could handle something like this on his own, the sensible part of him was saying Benny was probably around somewhere, too, and while he could probably take either of them on his own, together they might be too much. But like most water fada, he didn’t carry a cellphone; something about their biochemistry shorted out small electronic devices, even the so-called waterproof ones. And payphones had gone the way of the eight-track and the desktop computer. To get a message to Dion, he’d have to return to the clan’s rowhouse and use the landline to call the base.

  “If Dion won’t mind, that is,” Jorge added slyly.

  Tiago bristled. “Leave my brother out of this. And speak English,” he added, belatedly recalling Shania, “the lady doesn’t understand Portuguese.”

  “Of course.” Jorge switched to heavily accented English and smiled at Shania. “And such a lovely lady.”

  She inclined her head, amused. “Obrigada, senhor.”

  Tiago raised a brow. Apparently she knew at least a little Portuguese.

  The waitress arrived with a whiskey bottle and a shot glass. After she poured Jorge’s drink, he had her refill Tiago’s glass as well, and ordered another martini “for the senhorita.”

  Tiago looked at the whiskey without moving. He should leave, call the base. Jorge had crossed the line when he’d joined Okeanos’s den. Drugging women so you could use them sexually was the act of a savage, not a man.

  But something kept him planted on his seat—and not just the chance to prove something to Dion.

  Jorge had once been Tiago’s mentor. After his mother and father went missing, Rock Run had been in an uproar. Dion’s main focus had had to be the clan. It was Jorge who’d stepped up to take Tiago’s eleven-year-old self under his wing. For that year, the gruff older warrior had been merciless—but the best damn teacher a boy could’ve asked for.

  Then Jorge and Benny had been ensnared by Cleia and her powerful glamour, and had left to live at her compound. When they returned five years later, Tiago was a warrior in training and Jorge was a different man—embittered, cynical. He and Benny had left soon after to ride the waves, giving in to their animals and traveling the world’s oceans in the way fada did when old or traumatized. Nothing was heard of them for years until they reappeared as members of Okeanos’s den of renegades.

  “So.” Jorge ran his eyes over Tiago. “I see you are a man now.”

  Tiago couldn’t help a treacherous spark of warmth at the praise from the man he’d once admired more than anyone except Dion. But at the same time, he was growing ever more suspicious. “What do you want? And how the hell did you escape the sun fae?”

  “Can’t a man buy an old friend a drink?”

  “He could. But we’re not old friends. You were my teacher, Jorge—and that was almost fifteen years ago.”

  Beside him, he was aware of Shania’s gaze darting between him and Jorge. Something about her interest struck him as odd, but he didn’t have time to sort it out before the waitress returned with her martini.

  Shania lifted the glass, her scarlet nails wrapped around the stem. She took a sip and then set the glass down. Her fingers came to her quartz, toying with it. Tiago stared at it. The crystal was fascinating, a milky gray with a swirl of black running through the center. And was that a flame burning deep inside?

  He swayed toward her and then caught himself.

  Ass. Everyone knew the earth shifters could use their quartz to manipulate you. He dragged his gaze away.

  He caught her wrist. “Stop it, damn you.”

  “Let. Me. Go,” she bit out, struggling to free herself.

  “Not until you tell me what the fuck you were doing with your crystal.”

  “Tiago.” Jorge set a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let the l
ady be.”

  He shook him off and glared at Shania. “Tell me, you bitch.”

  Shania snarled and rose to her feet. She clawed at Tiago’s hand, but he tightened his grip and jerked her close.

  “Try that again,” he said in a hard voice, “and you’ll be sorry.” Her eyes flashed angrily and he gave her a little shake. “Understand?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Now let me go or I’ll scream murder.”

  Across the room, he heard the earth shifter men get to their feet. He was still angry, but it wasn’t worth a bar brawl. Besides, there was still Jorge to worry at. He snarled back and released her.

  Her lip curled. “Serves me right for thinking a river fada was anything but a cold fish.” She stalked off as Jorge smothered a laugh.

  Tiago glanced at the scratches on his hand and cursed. “The woman was trying to hypnotize me.”

  “Earth shifters,” Jorge returned with a shrug.

  Tiago watched as Shania disappeared into another dark corner and he guessed she was telling her story to those earth shifters he’d seen earlier. Great. He was probably going to get jumped the instant he set foot outside the bar.

  He turned back to Jorge. “You know you’re a dead man, don’t you?”

  Jorge moved a shoulder. “Have a drink, and then you can tell me how long I have before Dion sends someone after me.”

  “Cut the crap, Jorge. You must know I’ll tell him you’re back. How long do you think you have?”

  A man dropped down on the seat vacated by Shania. “Tiago.” It was more a snarl than a word.

  “Benny,” Tiago returned, unsurprised. “I was wondering where you were.”

  Benny had long since abandoned any loyalty to the clan, his only allegiance to Jorge, his friend and sometime lover. Now he had the raw stench of a feral, his animal clearly running the show. His brown hair fell in matted coils around his shoulders and a scar slashed its way down one dirty cheek.

  He moved his chair closer, crowding Tiago so that he was sandwiched between him and Jorge. His coal-black eyes burned into Tiago’s. “You think we’ll let you tell him?”

  Tiago nearly snorted at the other man’s attempt to establish dominance. Benny didn’t know who he was dealing with. Beneath his skin, the beast flexed its muscles, growled lowly.

  He straightened his spine, his gaze never leaving Benny’s. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Hey,” Jorge said with a frown at Benny. “This is just a friendly conversation.” At Jorge’s look, Benny eased off, although he kept his chair where it was.

  The drinks came, including a shot glass for Benny, and the other two men tossed theirs down. Tiago found himself following suit, even though he knew he should leave.

  The hell with that. He could handle these two and another two besides. Besides…

  He lost track of his thought and frowned. That was some strong whiskey. His brain felt as if it had been soaked in molasses.

  “Why?” he asked Jorge.

  “Why what?”

  Tiago forced his sluggish mind to concentrate. “Why—you here? Forget Dion. If Rui finds out you—you’re here, he’ll kill you. Won’t matter that you’re not—not in our territory. You ashaulted—assaulted—his mate.”

  Benny leered. “She liked it. She was begging—” He halted as Tiago’s head swung toward him.

  “You goddamn liar. I was there. I shaw—saw what you did to her.” Okeanos had drugged Valeria with an aphrodisiac that made her nearly crazed with desire. When he and Rui had burst in on them, Okeanos had Valeria down on her knees, sucking his cock, while Jorge and Benny slapped her around. “You make me—shick.”

  He made to stand up but Jorge reached behind his back to slap Benny on the head. “Idiota. Cale a boca.”

  Benny shot his friend a resentful look but obediently shut his mouth.

  Jorge placed his arm on Tiago’s shoulders, holding him in his seat. Tiago blinked woozily at his glass. Damn, that last shot had been strong. He had the uneasy feeling Jorge’s arm was the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor. Forget about leaving; it was a struggle just to remain upright.

  “As for why we’re here,” Jorge said, “this is our home territory. It calls us.”

  “Mmph.” Alesia’s face swam into his mind. Yes. That was why he was here. To protect his woman. He forgot about Rosana, Cleia, Valeria. It was Alesia who was important.

  “Stay away from her,” he gritted out.

  “Stay away from who?”

  “Her. Alesia.”

  “Who is this Alesia?”

  Not a lie, but an evasion. But as quickly as the thought occurred, Tiago lost it again.

  Jorge called for a refill. Tiago shook his head but the bartender poured the whiskey into his glass anyway. He didn’t have to drink it though. He pushed the glass away. His arm didn’t seem to be working right and the glass teetered.

  Benny caught it and pressed it into his hand again. Tiago stared at it, entranced. The light from a nearby wall sconce was reflected in the amber liquid. It reminded him of rising to the river’s surface from deep below on a summer day, the sunlight streaming through the dancing current.

  Beside him Jorge was speaking. “You ever wonder what it’s like? A baccha?”

  “No,” Tiago muttered, irritated at the interruption.

  But he did. His beast wondered—and he did, too.

  “No? A man of your…talent?”

  Tiago stilled. Nobody knew about his Gift. Not even Dion.

  He sobered enough to shake Jorge’s hand off his shoulder. “What d’you mean?”

  His former mentor lifted a brow. “Just that I was a young man like you. Strong. Smart. I only wanted a fair chance. Instead, the old lord changed everything. We moved with him to America and then what did he do? He banned the bacchas, made sure only his son had a real shot at becoming the next alpha. And now his son has mated with a fae.” Jorge spat on the floor. “Must be even harder for you. Knowing you’re stronger than your brother in every way.”

  He couldn’t know. Could he?

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” Tiago turned sideways on the chair, giving Jorge his back. But that left him facing Benny. He came to his feet. Dizziness rushed through him. He put both his hands on the table, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

  “True.” The other two men rose up as well. Jorge leaned closer. “But don’t you wonder what it’s like?” His voice was a seductive croon. “I know you do. The blood of Dionysus flows in your veins, same as us. The baccha is our birthright.”

  “Go to hell.” Tiago took a step back. “You’re d—dead men. And I’m leaf—leaving.”

  “Sim, sim, irmão. Whatever you say.”

  Faces rushed at him. Shania, another earth shifter.

  Benny, his black eyes avid.

  Jorge with his arm around a slim, black-haired woman in a bright tunic. He wrapped his hand around her nape, tugging her close for a long, lascivious kiss, while two other men whom he didn’t know watched.

  Tiago blinked. Where had all these people come from?

  The floor moved under his feet in waves. He shifted his feet, trying to keep his balance. An arm came around him, holding him up.

  Benny spoke from the other end of a long, dark tunnel. “Come with me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dion took a stance behind Cleia’s chair and folded his arms.

  The Baltimore fada had arranged to meet in a large, sunlit conference room in a hotel overlooking Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. The wall-to-wall windows were out of consideration for Cleia, the sun fae being partial to bright, open spaces. The room definitely wouldn’t have been the first choice of the earth fada, who, like Dion’s people, made their homes in underground dens and caves.

  Dion suspected the harbor location was an attempt to appease him, and he did like knowing the water was just yards away. If he turned his head he could see the sparkling blue expanse, view boats moving to and fro. One of those boats held several of his men, in f
act. Just in case.

  Still, if it had been up to him, he’d have forced Adric to come to them, make it clear he was the supplicant. But Cleia had nixed that. “When dealing with fada, neutral territory is best.”

  “Ah, sim?” he’d said.

  “Yes,” she’d stated firmly. “Otherwise either you or Adric is going to feel at a disadvantage, and next thing I know you’ll be locked in a dominance contest and we won’t get anything accomplished.”

  He shot her an irritated look. Then his lips twitched. Sometimes he forgot his mate was more than two hundred years old and damn smart.

  “All right,” he told her. “It’s your show.”

  “Thank you.” She caressed his cheek. “I know this is hard for you.”

  “Damn right,” he muttered.

  He enclosed her in his arms and buried his face in her bright hair. He might be half her age, but a hundred turns of the sun was still a long, lonely time to be without a mate. He’d rip his own heart out if that’s what it took to keep her safe. And knowing a child was on the way…

  The meeting was about to begin. He settled his face into stern lines, his gaze on Adric. They’d already greeted him and his second—a man named Zuri whom Dion knew was one of his lieutenants—and exchanged the kind of meaningless pleasantries that made Dion’s neck itch. Adric had asked why Dion was here, and Cleia had explained that Rock Run was going to handle security on the project. Adric had nodded impassively, but Dion scented his displeasure.

  Adric also hadn’t liked that outside the conference room, two Rock Run tenentes were standing guard along with Artan and Grady. Tough. If Adric wanted to deal with Cleia, he’d better get used to the fact that she and Rock Run were a package deal.

  Now Adric took a seat across from Cleia, while Zuri took a stance behind his alpha, mirroring Dion.

  Adric was young for an alpha—thirty turns of the sun or so—with the taut, edgy physique of the big cat he was. Like Dion, he was wearing a button-down shirt and black pants, but in Adric’s case, the pants were jeans and the shirt a shimmering gray silk with the top three buttons undone to display a good portion of his dark bronze chest. A chunk of quartz hung from a leather cord around his neck and his spiky dark hair was bleached yellow at the tips.