by Brux, Boone
There’d been no emergencies and very few chances of a scare since she’d met Tor. Nikki tossed the package into the throw away box. She stared at it and then retrieved it, wiping the dust off on her shirt. It had been one of the best birthday’s she’d had and throwing away the party gift seemed wrong somehow. Opening the top drawer of her dresser, she dropped the box in, closed it, and looked around for more stuff to get rid of.
Space was at a premium in her bedroom. The sooner she purged, the more open her room would feel. The need to conquer disorder seemed more important than usual today. Maybe it was because of all the changes at work and in her love life.
She grabbed her key and a broken broom handle she’d found tucked at the back of her closet, and headed down the stairwell to the side door of her building with her box of to toss items.
As she tried to exit, the broom handle caught on the edge of the door. Unable to stop in time, she ran into the barrier and bounced off, spilling her box of discarded treasures around the entryway. Pain throbbed in her chest from where she’d hit the handle. She rubbed the spot with one hand and pried the broom loose with the other, cursing under her breath. It figures she’d get ambushed by a cleaning utensil when, for once in her life, she was trying to be domestically productive.
She bent and retrieved several stained blouses, four unlabeled CDs, a pair of pumps with a broken heel, and a burned-down candle. Lastly, she looped a faux snakeskin purse with a ripped interior over her arm and picked up the box of ruined items. Eyeing the handle, she maneuvered the broken broomstick out the door first, determined not to get hijacked by the damn thing again.
Traffic noises bounced off the tall walls of the buildings, rebounding down the alleyway, and the smell of rotting garbage mixed with exhaust fumes. She quickly switched to breathing through her mouth, praying she wouldn’t swallow one of the many flies swarming the garbage bin. One side of the Dumpster lid lay open and she hefted the box into the dark hole without looking inside. Better not to know if her stuff landed on last night’s chicken chow mein or a dead hooker.
Before she had time to toss in the broom handle and purse, a blunt object pushed into her back.
“Give me your purse,” a male voice said.
Nikki gulped, inhaling the man’s sour breath and the eau de garbage, nearly choking on the stench. She raised her hands. “What?”
“Your purse—hand it over, now.” Whatever the man held poked painfully against her spine. “And don’t flatter yourself that I’m happy to see ya. I’ve got a gun.”
Anger surged through her, but the wave was followed by deadly calm. Her vision narrowed on the stone wall in front of her and her mind raced through a number of possible defensive maneuvers. She’d been mugged before, and afterward she’d felt violated and helpless. Not this time. He’d threatened her and that meant war—even if it was over a ripped purse.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew her thoughts were illogical, but the all-encompassing need to retaliate blotted out sanity. Her gaze traveled along the broom handle and suddenly she felt invincible. With a move as smooth as glass, she spun and struck the man on the side of the neck with the wooden pole. The thug’s gun flew from his hand and he stumbled backward. Not giving him time to recover, Nikki took a quick skip forward, lifted her leg, and leveled a side thrust kick at the man’s chest, sending her attacker crashing through a wooden door across the alley.
She straightened, spun the broom handle like a fighting stick, and rested the tip on the chipped asphalt. A breath that came from the very core of her body slowly escaped. What the hell had she just done? She stared at her mugger who lay unconscious half-in, half-out of the doorway. The rage that had driven her attack ebbed away like a rushing tide. The previously muted sounds from traffic heightened back to normal and the sound of a slamming car door made Nikki jump. Footsteps pounded toward her. She tensed and spun, raising the broomstick in front of her.
The approaching man slowed and held up his hands, showing he held no weapons. “Nikki, are you all right?”
Tor—she recognized him. He wasn’t an enemy.
“Nikki!” He crept forward.
“Tor?” She shook herself and pointed to the unconscious man. “I did that.”
Tor nodded. “I know. I saw.” When he reached her, he gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t feel so well.” She rubbed her forehead and glanced at the mugger again, her voice rising an octave. “How the hell did I do that?”
“We’ll talk inside.” Tor pried the stick from her hand and tossed it into the Dumpster. He scooped up the gun and examined it, also flinging it in the Dumpster afterward. “It’s a toy. Come on. Let me help you to your apartment.”
She didn’t move. “What about him?”
Tor took out his phone and dialed 911, giving the dispatcher her address and where to find the assailant. After the call ended, he shoved his phone back into his rear pocket. “The police are on their way. They’ll take care of him and contact you when they need a statement. Come on.”
Nikki looked at the purse still hanging from her arm. She shook off Tor’s hold and walked to her attacker. “Since you wanted it so badly—here.” She dropped the bag on his chest, repressing the urge to kick the limp form. “Hope it was worth it, jackwad.”
The attacker didn’t move, except for his breathing. Tingles, like when her foot had fallen asleep and was coming back to life, rushed along her skin. Leaving the unconscious man, she led Tor into the building and up the back stairwell. The urge to sprint up the steps rippled through her, but she continued a steady climb trying to piece together the encompassing rage and new ninja skills.
At her door, she stopped, turning to him. “Why are you here?”
He took the key from her hand and unlocked the apartment, pushing open the door. “Can we talk inside?”
She hesitated, not sure she was in the mood to deal with him right now—not sure she could deal with anything beyond doing a thousand jumping jacks in the middle of her living room. Only his look of concern made her relent. “I guess.”
Rays of sunshine streamed through her windows, gleaming off the newly polished surfaces in her living room. The smell of pine-fresh cleaner greeted and instantly calmed her. She really should take more pride in her home. After all, it was her sanctuary, a safe haven from the dangers outside and a barrier between her and the irritations from work.
Since vigorous exercise was out of the question, she’d settle for opening a nearly empty bottle of Riesling. She moved around the kitchen island to the refrigerator and retrieved the bottle. “I need a drink.” She poured the last of the wine into her glass. “Want one? I can open another bottle.”
Tor held up a hand. “No, thank you.”
A little grunt escaped her and she crammed the stopper back in the hole. “Too much last night?”
“Something like that.” Tor waded into her home, examining the items on her shelf in the living room. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Surprisingly, she felt great. Invigorated from her encounter with the mugger, she had the unfamiliar compulsion to mix up her night with a little kickboxing. If only she belonged to a gym. That thought gave her pause. Usually the only thing that got her heart racing was close contact with Tor or having to run to catch a train. “I’m fine.”
He eyed her as though he didn’t think she was fine, and then turned his attention back to the shelf. As far as she could remember, Tor had never been to her apartment and knew nothing of her private life. He picked up a picture of Nikki and her mother. His thumb caressed the bejeweled frame and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Nikki took a deep swallow of wine, not liking how intimate his inspection felt.
“This is a nice photo.” He looked at her. “You two seem happy.”
She took another drink, holding his gaze, and then set her glass on the counter. “It was my eighth birthday and one of the only times Azzura Li Fonti, multimi
llion-dollar cosmetic mogul, took the day off to be with her daughter.”
He nodded, as if understanding what her childhood had been like.
“Why are you here, Tor?”
He set the photo back on the shelf and turned to her. “I brought your modeling contract, but left it in the car when I saw you with the mugger. I thought you might want to look it over tonight.”
“That was nice of you, but it could have waited until morning.” Nikki picked up her wine and headed for the couch. She was tired of playing games. “Which you know.” She set her glass on the dust-free end table and plopped down in the corner of the sofa. “Why are you really here?”
He moved to sit in a chair across from her and cleared his throat.
This should be good.
“I owe you an explanation,” he said, “about last night.”
Little butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Was he finally fessing up to knowing they’d had hot monkey love? She feigned innocence, not wanting to make this easy for him. “Last night?”
“Yes.” He fidgeted and tapped his index fingers together as if nervous. “You know…in the elevator and my apartment.”
The look on his face told her he wasn’t all giddy and love-struck about the subject. Nikki crossed her arms over her chest, as if that could repel any of the negative things he was going to tell her. “I got the impression you didn’t remember.” She leveled a glare at him. “Or didn’t want to remember.”
His lips pulled into a tight line. “I don’t remember, not really.”
“Hmmm.” So he was going for the old intoxicated plea. “Let me guess, you were drunk.”
He held her gaze. “Sort of, but not how you think.”
The fact that Tor was resorting to such a sophomoric excuse spurred her on. “Were you high? Did you smoke crack in the men’s room? Oh wait, maybe you were sniffing the dry erase markers from my desk?” Did he really believe her to be so naive she would accept his lame reason and tell him everything was okay? “Or maybe Demi roofied you.”
Tor’s stare leveled on her, and he gave a single nod.
“Oh, please.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You’re telling me Demi drugged you?”
“It was in the wine she gave me.”
The vivid image of Demetria’s boobs pressed against Tor as she poured him a glass of amber liquid flashed through Nikki’s mind. It wasn’t hard to believe that the attorney would do just about anything to get Tor in bed. Nikki’s jealousy rallied. If what he said was true, Demetria Mirrors was the ultimate bitch. “Seriously?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what happened. I’ve already confronted her about it.”
Disappointment stabbed Nikki because damn it, she believed him, and that meant he hadn’t been all hot and bothered for her specifically. Any warm body would have sufficed. So instead of the crazy night of passion she’d experienced, she’d really just been at the right place at the right time. That was why Demetria had been waiting for her this morning and asked whether Tor had made a pass at her. Nikki struggled to keep her voice devoid of emotion. “Guess her plan backfired.”
“I’m so sorry you got caught up in her machinations.”
The hopeful romantic in Nikki couldn’t let go, and she desperately wanted to believe he’d been with her out of choice. “What kind of drug did she slip you? I’m no expert, but don’t roofies make you tired?” She took a sip of wine. “I can attest to the fact that you were anything but tired.”
The hint of a smug smile played across his lips, but he instantly extinguished it. “This is where things get strange,” Tor said.
“Oh, now things are going to get strange?” She shook her head. “Trust me, since I woke up this morning things have been strange. This is just another scoop of weird in my pile of crazy today.” She folded her hands together. “Try me.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Acknowledged.”
Tor exhaled, his explanation rushing out. “The wine Demi gave me was Ambrosia, and the reason I don’t remember what happened is because I’m a demigod. Ambrosia makes us drunk.”
Demigod, now that was an explanation she hadn’t been expecting. I’m gay. I have an unnatural love for llamas. I secretly eat kumquats and dance around the house to show tunes. Anything but “I’m a demigod.” She stared at Tor for several seconds, wondering if he was a certifiable nutjob. How could she even respond to his statement? “Ambrosia?”
He nodded.
She held up her glass. “As in the nectar of the gods?”
He nodded again.
“And you’re a demigod?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, Nikki, but—”
She cut him off. “Hard? Why would it be hard to believe? Let me guess, you’re the son of Poseidon and you stole Zeus’s lightning bolt. That’s why Demi drugged you.” She flung up her hands. “It all makes sense. She was trying to get the bolt back because she’s a goddess too.”
“Demigoddess, actually.”
Nikki snorted. “You’re frickin’ kidding me with this, right?”
“She’s the niece of Narcissus.”
“Well, that makes sense.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What the hell am I saying?”
“Think about it, Nikki. You know me and—” He paused. “You know who my mother is.”
She lowered her hand and glared at him. “Ms. Stephanos is a goddess?”
He gave a single nod, telling her she’d once again guessed correctly.
“Your mother is a goddess,” she said again, but this time the thought didn’t seem as ridiculous. The tiniest thread of something that felt like truth took hold of her doubt. “Your mother is a goddess.” She slowly pronounced each word. His gaze held hers, and her mind began to reason out what he had said. “Your mother is…”
Aphrodite.
“Your mother is Aphrodite.”
He smirked and nodded again.
“Your mother is Aphrodite.” She actually believed the words. Not just believed, but knew she was right—knew that everything he’d said was the truth. “How did I pull that out of my ass?” She stood and paced to the window where she stared at the traffic seven floors below. “Why do I believe you?”
Silence stretched between them and finally Tor said, “Because you’re a demigoddess, Nikki.”
She spun on him, sputtering myriad two-letter sounds. None of which formed any coherent words.
“You are a demigoddess.” He rose and walked toward her. “You’re the daughter of Ares and Azzura.”
“Stop.” She held up both hands in front of her in an attempt to ward off his advance and the crazy he was spewing. Tor halted a few feet away. “Don’t come any closer.” She inched sideways and grabbed her glass of wine, downing the contents. The liquid pooled in her throat, throwing her into a coughing fit. She beat her chest with her fist. “This is not possible.”
“Why?” He crept forward. “You believe that Aphrodite is my mother, why not that Ares is your father?”
Why was it so hard to believe? “Because I’m not goddessy. I don’t have any special powers. And I’m nearly thirty frickin’ years old. Why wouldn’t I have known before now?”
“I don’t think Azzura knows your father is Ares. Gods are notorious for taking human form and mixing it up with humans. It’s been going on since the beginning of time.”
“Oh—my—God, I’ve got to sit down.” She plunked onto the couch and Tor took the spot next to her. His thigh grazed hers and she was instantly aware of him, an attraction that seemed to have only grown since last night. “If this is true, why tell me now?”
He turned to face her, placing his arm along the back of the couch. “I think us being together last night awakened your powers.”
She gave a snort of disbelief. “What powers?”
“Well, I think you have warring tendencies because your father is the god of war.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “I hadn’t planned
on telling you today, but realized you’d have to know when I saw you pummel the mugger.”
“Great, so I can beat people up. It figures that would be my superpower.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she was going along with Tor’s craziness—only, she knew it wasn’t that crazy. “Can I read minds?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible. Abilities manifest in a lot of different ways. You’re probably able to make things happen when you think about it.”
“You mean I can wish something would happen and it will?” She refrained from asking specifically about Demetria’s accident this morning. “Like getting a cab and hitting every green light?”
“Yes. You might even be able to compel somebody to do what you want. That’s a pretty common ability.” He paused. “You didn’t happen to curse me with…uh…constant arousal, did you?”
She grimaced. “Sorry. I was angry this morning and I might have wished it on you.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would unwish it.” He shifted. “Please.”
Her gaze tracked to his crotch. There was definite indication of her curse. “I wish you wouldn’t have a constant erection.”
Tor noticeably relaxed. “Thank you.” He shook his head. “This is why I don’t date the supernatural beings anymore.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Being lumped in with his other scorned women made her want to scream that she wasn’t like the others, but by the look on his face it wouldn’t matter.
“I know.” His words were patronizing. “Until you learn to control your powers this kind of thing might happen. Just direct it at somebody else next time.”
“All this is hard to take in.” Her mind grappled with everything Tor was telling her and the fact that she knew it was true. Damn her mother. It was just like Azzura to hook up with a god. She always bragged that she only bedded the most beautiful men. And if Ares was her father, where the hell had he been all her life? Hadn’t being raised by an emotionally absent mother been bad enough? Now it turns out both her parents were no-shows during her childhood. “I want to meet him.”
