by Anna Hackett
He knew lust. Had lived with it forever. But he wanted her to make him feel more. Every night, he woke in a cold sweat. Afraid that with every hour, every day, lust was all he had inside him.
She made a small sound. “I told myself to stay away from you.” Her lips skimmed his jaw, hovered over his mouth. “I can’t seem to remember why.”
Damn it, his hands were shaking. This was wrong. No matter how much he wanted it, it wasn’t real. It had the taint of Corus and Antonio didn’t want that for Sophia. “No, Sophia. This can’t happen.”
“Why?” Her warm breath feathered over his lips.
The sheet slipped and fell away and the touch of her bare skin on his was electrifying. His cock filled even more, throbbing.
Her hands curled around his biceps. “I haven’t felt like this for so long…maybe ever.”
Such grief under her words. It made him want to find the bastard who’d sent her fleeing from America. It made Antonio want to show her that he felt the same.
But that nagging voice in his head competed with the whispers of lust. Not real. Not real. Not real.
But when her lips met his, his control broke. He kissed her with the full force of his desire. She moaned, her hands gripping him, her tongue dancing with his. She tasted so good, felt so right.
Not real. Antonio didn’t want her like this. Clouded by Corus’s twisted desires. He broke the kiss, his lungs burning. “This isn’t real.”
She jerked back, the color leaching from her face. “I’ve heard that before. Am I just a little fantasy before you tell me you’re married and go back to your wife?” She snatched at the sheet and wrapped it around her body.
Jesus. Antonio closed his eyes. He hated hurting her. What idiot would throw a woman like Sophia aside? “I’m not married. I’m sorry—”
She shook her head. Her eyes were clearing, returning to their usual bright blue. “Wealthy, handsome men are used to taking what they want, when they want it.”
Antonio opened his mouth to say something, but was he really any different to the man who’d obviously hurt her? Since he’d come into his power, he’d felt the edge of lust. He never stayed with a woman long. He pleasured them, took his own pleasure, but never felt more.
From deep inside, he dredged up the last shred of his control.
“We’re being manipulated by Corus to feel this way.”
Her brow knitted for a moment, then her eyes widened. “I remember now, that name was in my research.” Her gaze lifted and crashed into his. “Corus is one of the Venti Tempesta.”
Antonio could see the wheels turning. “You need to go. Get out and call my brothers.”
“Corus is the Keeper of the Northwest Wind—” she looked around the room, down at her sheet-covered body “—and the vice of lust.”
“I’m not talking about myths and legends.” Antonio needed her off the scent. He wanted her far away from the truth and from Corus. “Corus is dangerous and you need to get away.”
She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not leaving you here.” She reached up, wrapping both hands around the anchor point of the chain. She paused, her eyes inches from his. “And I will have answers from you after we get out of here.”
His jaw tightened and he stayed silent.
She yanked on the chains. They didn’t move.
Muttering under her breath, she started searching the room. Antonio’s gaze followed her, tracing her slender neck, her flushed cheeks and the wrap of satin over her curves. The smolder of desire in him flamed again. Damn, he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin.
She turned back, a huge smile on her face. “These were by the door.” She rattled the keys in her hands.
She stepped in close to him. He heard her draw a breath and her cheeks flooded with more color. Her fragrance filled his senses and he smelled the tantalizing scent of her arousal.
The chains fell away from his left arm and he flexed his aching muscles. When she reached for the other chain, he gripped her wrist.
She stilled.
Her bones were so delicate under his fingers. “I can’t guarantee your safety from me if you undo that chain.”
***
Sophia was caught in the intense green stare that seemed to look all the way through her.
To the truth inside.
For the first time, she admitted to herself that she liked more about Antonio Venti than just his perfect face and mouthwatering body. Every conversation, every argument about renaissance history, every discussion about restoring a piece of art was fascinating and appealing.
She pulled in a tiny breath. It was about time she was honest with herself.
She’d let James really work her over. He’d lied to her, destroyed her trust. She studied Antonio’s face. She didn’t understand this situation, but she knew in her marrow that if Antonio hadn’t stopped her right now, they’d be making love. Instead of just taking, he’d held back.
“I trust you.” She reached up and unlocked the last chain. It clattered against the floor.
His hand whipped up and gripped her jaw. God, his skin was burning hot. He tilted her head back and leaned forward, Sophia’s breath stuck in her chest.
His mouth stopped short of touching hers. “I will do everything I can to live up to that trust.” His fingers tightened on her skin then he pulled away. “Let’s find some clothes and get out of here.”
As he walked to the door, she watched the flex of solid muscle in his back and she swallowed.
He tried the handle. No surprise it was locked. He gripped the smooth silver and yanked. The entire door ripped off the frame. He set it aside.
She studied the ruined wood. It was solid. It should have been impossible to do what he’d just done. Her belly tightened. She knew Antonio was much, much more than he seemed. “I really want those answers.”
He stepped out of the room. “It’s best you don’t know.”
Sophia followed, ready to argue. He stopped so suddenly she ran into his back.
“Dio.” His tone was dark. “They’re all infected.”
Dread curdling in her belly, she stepped to the side. Her mouth dropped open.
They were in some kind of club. It was decorated the same as the bedroom—black and silver with red accents. Decadent.
Along one wall, men and women were chained in various poses. Some were being spanked, others whipped, others…performing.
The center of the room was a mass of heaving bodies. All of them naked. Sophia didn’t know where to look. She wasn’t a prude and she liked sex, but this orgy was beyond her experience.
Her gaze settled on a trio near them. The woman was on her hands and knees while a large man thrust into her from behind. Sophia watched the flex of his buttocks and the way the woman rocked forward and back on the large cock of the man in front of her.
The air in the room was hot, humid. Desire flared in her belly and far too easily the image of Antonio pushing her onto her hands and knees snuck into her head. Desire ignited into an inferno and she shifted, aware of the dampness between her thighs.
“Here.” Antonio thrust some clothes at her.
Sophia reluctantly dropped the sheet and tugged on the tiny skirt and thin shirt. Oh God, she looked like a hooker.
Antonio had found some black leather pants for himself. Oh…her heart stuttered. With the combination of his bare chest and slick, tight leather, he looked like some sort of dark avenging god.
He grabbed her hand and led her around the writhing throng. There was a door on the opposite wall. Freedom.
She tried not to look at the people around them, but everywhere she turned naked limbs taunted her. They passed one woman caught between two men, her head thrust back in ecstasy, her mouth open in a soundless cry of pleasure.
For a single bright, shining moment, Sophia envied the woman. Sophia’s relationship with James had started out passionate but quickly turned into something best described as comfortable. She’d been okay with that because she’d lo
ved him. Or at least the man she’d thought he was.
She looked at Antonio. The fire tearing through her veins told her there’d be nothing comfortable or tepid about his loving.
Antonio pushed open the doors and waved her into the hall. She stepped out of the room. It was a few degrees cooler and the scent of sex was dulled. She breathed deeply, enjoying the fresher air.
But there was no time to stop. With one hand on her shoulder, Antonio led her down the hall. “There has to be an exit somewhere.”
Another woman’s scream echoed off the walls, but this sound had nothing to do with pleasure.
Antonio grabbed Sophia’s hand and broke into a sprint. She struggled to keep up with his long stride but was more than happy to put some distance between them and the orgy room.
They turned a corner and ahead, she saw two men who had a woman cornered. The tiny brunette wore a simple white shirt and black skirt. She clutched an empty tray in front of her like a shield.
The men moved in. One ripped her shirt open, buttons hitting the floor, making tiny clicking sounds. The other grabbed her and shoved her against the wall.
“Damn.” Antonio stepped in front of Sophia. “Stay back.”
Then he was striding forward, determination in the rigid set of his shoulders. He tore one man away from the woman and slammed a fist into his face. The attacker fell, skidding along the floor.
The second man growled and rammed into Antonio, momentum sending them crashing into the wall. Antonio shrugged the man off and pushed him back.
Both attackers rose, shoulder to shoulder. Aggression pumped off them and filled the hall, thick and dark and almost tangible. Sophia’s belly hardened.
“We would have shared,” one man said, his gaze on the woman who was scrambling backward, her body shaking.
“But you didn’t ask nicely,” the other added. He flicked a glance at Sophia, lust burning in his brown eyes. “Now we’re going to take your pretty morsel, too.”
The men rushed forward like linebackers.
Sophia stifled the scream welling in her throat. Antonio lunged to the side. He pressed one foot to the wall and used it for leverage to leap into the air.
His roundhouse kick slammed one man into the wall. He slumped down and didn’t get back up.
The other man ran.
At Sophia.
There was nowhere to go. She braced herself, her heart pounding. She lifted her hands, ready to defend herself.
“No!” Antonio yelled.
A strong wind rushed through the hall, whipping Sophia’s hair into her eyes. One huge gust caught the man and shoved him several feet back down the hallway. He slammed into the wall beside his friend, his head hitting the floor with a thud.
Sophia lifted her gaze. Antonio stood with his legs spread and his palms out. Their gazes clashed. Slowly he lowered his arms to his sides.
She counted the rapid thuds of her heartbeat. Okay, she’d suspected, but seeing the reality. Seeing the power…it left her breathless and just a little afraid.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “You’re a WindKeeper.”
Chapter Three
Antonio stared into Sophia’s wide blue eyes and felt…stripped. Exposed. He wondered what she thought of him now and if she could see through to the rot in his soul.
A small cry beside him had him turning around. The woman he’d rescued was huddled against the wall, her eyes blank with shock.
He kept his voice gentle and crouched near her. “Stai bene?”
She gave him a shaky nod. “Grazie.”
“Go home now.” He helped her up.
After another nod, the woman ran down the hall, her footsteps echoing off the walls.
Antonio swung back to Sophia. “You should do the same. Leave here and go back to America.”
Sophia ran her hands up and down her arms. “I saw you control the wind. You’re a living legend.”
“You need to forget what you saw.”
She gave a short laugh. “How can I forget any of this?” She shook her head. “I came here for my career but also to find out the truth about the WindKeepers. I’ve been obsessed since I was a little girl.”
“Why?”
“My parents brought me to Florence when I was a child, I saw a man use the wind to spray water out of a fountain over four young boys…” She broke off, her mouth dropping open. “It was you. Your brothers, your father. One of the boys saw me, he winked at me.”
Dio. Antonio remembered. A hot, sunny summer’s day at the Fontana del Nettuno. He was the boy who’d winked at the pretty young girl with pigtails and big blue eyes.
“Antonio, from that day, I’ve believed there was a seed of truth in every legend. Guess I found the seed.”
Antonio grabbed her arms. Smoothing his palms over her chilled skin. “I’m a man, Sophia, not a legend. I have flaws, weaknesses.” To witness her absorbing this news without breaking down was amazing. His gaze zoomed in on the pulse pounding under the fine skin at her temple. “I have wants and desires.”
“What’s your wind, Antonio?”
“The West Wind.” Unable to stop himself, he touched a strand of her hair, rubbed it between his fingers, marveled at the silky texture. “And like Corus, my wind also carries lust.”
She pulled back with a sharp breath. “What? But you hunt the Tempest Winds—”
“All the winds carry vices. The Tempest Winds choose to embrace them.”
She was extraordinarily still. “And you resist.”
“I try.” Every hour of every day. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She moved into step beside him. “It affects you? The lust.”
A tight nod. “I’m more susceptible. Corus will try to break me.” He glanced sideways. “And he knows me better than I’d like.”
Bang.
They both spun, Antonio pushing her behind him. Ahead, at the end of the hall, a set of double doors had slammed open.
A harsh wind swept through the hall, ripping at their borrowed clothes and hair. Scratching their skin.
Antonio’s jaw tightened. He had to end this.
He pointed in the opposite direction. “Find a way out.” When she nodded, he turned back, preparing for what he was about to face.
A hand gripped his shoulder. “Antonio?”
He held his breath and Sophia stepped in front of him. She grabbed his hand. Squeezed. “Be careful.”
He wanted to kiss her, hold her. But it was a temptation he couldn’t afford. With a nod, he turned away, battling to put her out of his head and focus on the fight. But that small touch burned into him, warming the cold places inside.
It gave him the strength he needed to face his nemesis.
Antonio stepped into the large room. A ballroom. It was decorated in a traditional style, very different from the dark decadence of the orgy room. Windows cast morning light across the parquet floor. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling and gilt framed mirrors ran along the opposing wall.
All showcasing Corus’s reflection.
He had his hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. The severe style highlighted the planes of his face and the empty darkness of his eyes. His lips quirked. “Nice outfit.”
“I’m done talking, Corus.”
Suddenly Corus smiled. A blinding show of teeth. “She’s so pretty. So delicious.” He shot a charming smile over Antonio’s shoulder. “You have excellent taste. I can’t wait to sample her.”
Antonio felt Corus’s wind, heard stumbling steps, a feminine gasp. Sophia tumbled to the ground beside him.
Gritting his teeth, he stooped and helped her up. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get very far. He caught me—”
“I’m so glad you could join us, Sophia.” Corus took a few steps closer, his voice smooth and seductive.
Antonio thrust out an arm to block his advance. “Leave her alone. This fight is between us.”
Corus ignored him,
focusing completely on Sophia. “I am Corus, darling.” He held out a hand. “Why don’t you join me?”
The Tempest Wind’s voice drifted in the air like a lovely song. Antonio watched as Sophia’s jaw slackened and she took a step forward.
Antonio slapped a hand against her chest. She blinked.
“You will not touch her,” he ground out from between his teeth.
Corus’s smile widened into something nasty. “Stop me.”
A wily breeze twirled through the air. It fluttered through Sophia’s hair and trailed over her clothes. Her mouth dropped open and she slapped a hand over her chest. “It’s…touching me.” She turned to Antonio, her eyes wide and horrified.
He yanked her to his chest. “Damn you, Corus.”
The groping wind died away. Sophia clutched at Antonio, her body shaking. He saw Corus wink at her and she turned her face away. Antonio ran a hand over the curve of her waist and hip before pushing her behind him and striding forward.
Antonio lifted his hands. The West Wind swirled up—strong, powerful, filled with purpose. He thrust his palms outward.
Corus lifted his hands in reply, meeting the West Wind with his own. A dull roar filled the room as the winds battled.
The windows blew out with a deadly shatter of glass. It swirled into the wind and Antonio felt it pepper his skin.
He also heard the whispers growing. Take the woman. She wants you. Make her yours.
He shoved harder and when Corus stumbled back, Antonio smiled a grim smile.
Slake your desire. Lust will make you stronger. Take your pleasure.
Now he lost his footing. As the whispers multiplied, he couldn’t think. The wind around him turned hotter, perspiration spread over his skin.
And desire curled in his gut—hot and demanding.
Can’t…give…up. His muscles strained and he went down on one knee. He pushed everything he had into his wind, begging it to destroy Corus.
But the Tempest Wind was strong, bloated with lust, empowered by Antonio’s own weakness. Corus dematerialized, his body turning into the wind itself, whipping it into a higher frenzy.
Antonio’s power was leaking away along with the last tatters of his control. He threw his head back, straining. He had to keep Sophia safe.
