Nik launched into ancient Greek, furiously embarrassed, horny as a teenager, and outright frustrated. He railed at himself with a barrage of brutal self-talk: What an idiot he was for imagining that the tension between them signaled something deeper. That he was especially moronic if he thought kissing his close friend was a smart move.
Mason watched, looking increasingly uncomfortable, then finally told Nik to “be silent,” using ancient Greek himself. Nikos was so agitated that he’d momentarily forgotten about Mason’s proficiency with his own native language, a talent earned from years of studying religious texts on demonology and lore.
“A couple of things,” Mason told him, leaning back in the seat with a sigh. “First, you’re not a moron, and you know it. In case you failed to notice—and I’m guessing that you didn’t—I was flirting my ass off with you a few moments ago. And second? That heat between us that I mentioned? I think somebody just turned it up a few more notches.”
Nik drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and said the only clear thought that came to mind. “All it would take is a kiss, Angel. Just one kiss.”
Mace looked at him, his green eyes filled with curiosity and confusion. “You saying I better start putting out or you’ll dump me?”
“I don’t have you,” Nikos blurted. “But I want you.”
Mason broke their locked gaze, staring into his lap. “Just one kiss is all it would take for what?” His Southern accent was a little thicker, the words raspy as he whispered them.
Nikos reached his thumb to Mason’s mouth, daring to touch him more intimately than ever before. Slowly he brushed the full, sensual swell of the man’s lower lip, making it a caress. A declaration.
“Just one kiss from you, Mason Angel, and I’d belong to you completely.”
Mason’s lips parted slightly, his eyes drifting closed. “I’m afraid,” he confessed in a whisper, eyes still shut. “Afraid to feel again. To feel . . . where you’re leading me, day by day. I can’t fight it. Already I’m just so caught up in you, falling despite myself. Hating it, but unable to stay away.”
Nikos took hold of Mason’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Angel, I would never hurt you. I would do anything, everything in my power to protect you. With my body, my sword, my shield, my wings. I would die saving you.”
Mason blinked back at him, eyes suddenly watering. “That’s exactly how Kelly felt. And precisely what he did. I’m sorry, Nik, but losing one good man was enough for me.”
“I’m not Kelly. He wasn’t immortal,” Nikos argued, holding Mason’s chin even more firmly.
“You can still die, and I won’t let another man I care about do that much for me. Sure as hell not you, Nik, because you’ve already managed to wind your way all around in here.” Mason drew a circular pattern over his heart. “Despite how fucking scared I am, I’ve let you in. Almost all the way. But I’m not giving over that last part of me—especially not so you can die in my arms like he did.”
Now it was Nikos’s vision that suddenly blurred. “When it comes to my own feelings,” he admitted, “I’m afraid I don’t possess your obvious talent for restraint.” He stared out his window, discreetly rubbing a hand over his face.
Mason’s strong, warm hand brushed over his nape, a tender, quick gesture that only had Nik’s eyes welling anew. “I just wanted you to understand why that one kiss can’t . . . won’t ever happen,” Mason said; then he opened the car door and stepped into the night without ever looking back.
It was a long time before Nikos turned the key in the ignition and pulled away.
Chapter 15
“There’s a guest room downstairs, off the recreation room,” Emma volunteered, standing up from the couch and stretching. “We can fix it up for you.”
She looked tired, Juliana thought. “Thank you, Emma. For being so kind to me. It’s been quite a long night for you, as well. I know that . . . well, the way you opened to me earlier . . . Channeling me was exhausting, I’m certain.”
Emma smiled, rubbing her eyes. “I tire easily lately. It’s no big deal, honest.”
Juliana didn’t miss the flash of concern in River’s eyes. “I’m hauling you off to bed, Em,” he said, sliding a protective arm around her. “And making sure you sleep in extra tomorrow.”
“Thank God it’s a Saturday,” she agreed.
Aristos had brought her to Emma, bidding them all good night. But then he’d turned back toward Juliana, his eyes lit with undisguised fire. “I will see you tomorrow, Jules. Sleep well. Sleep and be rested.”
Exactly what he wanted her rested for, well, the way his long-lashed eyes flared and his lips parted indicated something both passionate and threatening. Despite the fact that he’d been the one to hesitate earlier, perhaps they would become lovers soon enough after all.
Juliana stood, smoothing out the front of her dress. Only then did she realize how rumpled she’d become, hating how half-askew she must appear. Her disheveled appearance was a direct result of being in Ari’s arms earlier, and she blushed intensely, wondering whether the others had surmised as much.
“The guest suite’s really cozy,” Emma said. “I can loan you some pajamas and tomorrow—” She stopped, noticing Juliana’s gown. “Some clothes. Modern ones. Although you’re definitely taller than me, so I’m not sure how much I’ve got that’ll work.”
Shay laughed. “Well, don’t look at me. I’m shorter than you, Em, so my stuff definitely won’t fit.”
Sophie clapped her hands together, pale eyes sparkling with mischief. “Shopping! I am a prophetess.” She pressed a dramatic hand against her forehead, closing her eyes. “Yes, yes, I foresee a fabulous trip to Broughton Street tomorrow.”
“Oh, Broughton Street! How delightful.” Juliana’s heart surged. “Shall we have tea at the Marshall House, as well?”
The other women stared at her blankly, and then Sophie laughed. “I was thinking Banana Republic, the Gap, and then mocha lattes at Starbucks.”
Juliana laughed, too, not recognizing any of the strange words. “Well, we have Broughton Street in common. You will kindly tutor me as to the other terms in the morning?”
Sophie bounded to her feet and slid a hand through Juliana’s arm. “You, my friend, are going to love twenty- first-century fashion. Trust me, you’ve come to the right time, and nobody does shopping like I do.”
“Brother, you need to just accept the Daughters’ and Oracle’s verdict,” Ajax said.
“I have.” Ari collapsed onto his bed. His body felt as ancient as it truly was, even with Sophie’s healing. Like it had been drained dry of energy. He lay back on the feather pillows with a groan.
But his younger brother was as dogged as ever, seemingly oblivious to his exhaustion. “Then why are you still asking these questions?” Jax persisted. “Trying to dissect the facts?”
“Because what about Mason and his reaction to Juliana?” Ari asked, thinking of the tough marine and his own opinion on the matter. “He thinks she’s the spawn of Satan, and that scares the shit out of me. What if he tries to harm her? What if he can’t be convinced? I don’t want to have to throw down with Mace.”
Jax’s expression grew somber. “He’s my brother-in-law. Shay adores him, but we both know who would win if you had to go up against Mason. I don’t want it to come to that, ever, but I just don’t see him as the individual axis of evil here. He’ll come around.”
Ari wasn’t nearly so convinced; he’d seen that stark, terrified expression that had come over Mason. It was almost as if something bigger had been going on, even beyond the supernatural nature of the moment.
“Mace is my friend, but Jules . . .” Ari’s voice drifted off. “Brother, I never told you about her, but she was my heart. She was my soul.” He touched his chest. “If I have to choose between them, there’s not a contest.”
Ajax rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I ever tell you how close Mason and Shay used to be? Not that anyone should have a favorite brother, of course.” Jax
caught his eye playfully.
Ari grinned back. “Never. That would be wrong.”
“And not that she doesn’t love Jamie just as much . . . but with Mace, they’ve always had a unique bond. Until his last tour in Iraq. Things changed significantly between them when he got back. Ever since, he’s stayed withdrawn from her and everyone else in his life.”
Ari shook his head in disagreement. “Not from Nikos. They’re thick as thieves. And you know what? Nik’s gotten a helluva a lot more pleasant lately. I’m even getting to be tight with the guy.”
Jax took that in. “Well, not sure what that’s about, but my point is that Mason’s evidently been off-kilter for months. She says he’s been improving lately, but I saw that look in his eyes when he met Juliana. Something got triggered for the guy.”
“I know. That’s precisely what I’m concerned about.” Ari groaned.
“Mason will come around. I think you’re avoiding bigger issues, to be honest. Emotional ones.”
“Hell yeah,” Ari said, fluffing the pillow beneath his head. “Like why Jules chose to kill herself as soon as she saw me winged. I came to her balcony in my hawk form, and she was horrified. She turned away, frightened.”
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”
“Yes,” Ari said softly, his chest aching.
It was as if all the intervening years dissolved, and he was being informed of Juliana’s death for the very first time. As if he were talking to her sister, there on the front porch of her brownstone, shaking so hard that his teeth chattered, his stomach seizing so much, he wanted to vomit.
Ari pressed his eyes shut and confessed the stark facts to his brother, things he’d been unwilling to speak about, with anyone, ever since Juliana drowned. “She walked to River Street during a hurricane, knowing the danger,” he said, the words tumbling out in an anguished rush. “I was told that several people tried to warn her, to stop her, but she was unwavering. When they tried, she said . . . well, it doesn’t matter what she said.” Ari couldn’t give utterance to those words; it hurt too damned much.
I must do this, because of what he is. That was what she had told those who sought to intervene. Because of what he is . . .
The words haunted and wounded him anew, raising even more questions. There was no one else she could possibly have been referring to that day—nothing else except Ari and his wings, which she’d seen the night before. The terror she’d experienced upon seeing him on the balcony had obviously caused her to end her life.
She claims that she found my wings beautiful. That she’d yearned to touch them.
Ari sighed. “Tonight she kept saying that she didn’t do it because of me. That she doesn’t remember much about what happened, but that she didn’t want to leave me and that my wings were . . .” He couldn’t admit the rest to his brother, how beautiful she claimed to have found his hawk-warrior state.
Jax obviously knew well enough not to push him, thank God, and just nodded. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “She loves you.”
Ari rose onto his elbows. “You got no way of knowing that. You only just met her.”
Jax swatted him on the top of the head. “It’s obvious, you pousti. She found her way back to you, fighting eternity to do so.”
Despite the tumult of thoughts and emotions in Ari’s mind, he wanted to believe Jax was right. “Yeah,” he conceded. “There is that.”
“I waited more than a thousand years to find Shay. Your century or so isn’t that long by comparison.”
“Felt like ten thousand years to me. At least you knew Shay was your prophesied love. All this time I only had one thing . . . my memories. Of loving Juliana, holding her, but as for any hope? It’s been a pointless, heartbroken century, brother.”
Ajax stood, folding both arms across his chest. The bastard even had the gall to look smug, like he’d figured out all the secrets of the universe now that he was a married guy.
Ari waved him on, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just say it.”
“I’d suggest this,” Ajax said soberly. “That you give Juliana a chance to explain her actions that night. No judgment, no accusation. And no wiseass jokes. Listen to the woman.”
“Are you implying I talk too much? I’m a veritable monk. Vow of silence is my code of operation.”
“You’re a monk, huh? Yeah, get thee to a wiseassery.”
“Kolos,” Ari muttered, hurling a pillow at his brother’s head.
“Pousti,” came the laughing reply, as Jax turned out the overhead light. “Get some sleep. I think you’re going to need it. I have a feeling your life’s just changed forever.”
Ari wanted to share that enthusiasm. The problem, however, was that he just couldn’t shake the eerie, unsettling feeling that Mason Angel was going to be a threat. To Juliana, her safety, her new life—and to the love Ari still shared with her. Mason might be troubled and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but one fact remained. He was nothing if not deadly vigilant in his duties as a hunter.
Chapter 16
“Mace, it’s damned near two in the morning.” Jamie stood at the opening to the wine cellar that concealed the Deadly Nightshades’ lore. The hidden room cealed the Deadly Nightshades’ lore. The hidden room contained five generations of accumulated knowledge and expertise about demon fighting. A few key ancient texts were kept in special glass storage units with temperature and moisture control; the rest were on pine shelves that sagged in the middle, worn by time and familial usage.
“What are you doing exactly?” Jamie pressed, walking into the room.
“Trying to find some proof about that female,” Mason said. “Something to show that she’s a demon.”
Jamie caught his arm. “Knock yourself out down here, but the Oracle herself signed on, and so did Emma and Sophie.”
“Shit.”
“And . . .” Jamie sighed heavily before adding, “I hate to break it to you, but so did your baby sis.”
Mason looked up at that one. “Shay didn’t believe me?”
“She accepts Juliana, but that’s not really the same thing as not believing you.”
“Of course it is.”
Jamie shook his head. “No, but the Delphic word of four Daughters, Mace . . . that’s pretty strong corroboration.”
“When your own family won’t stand with you . . .” He let the words trail off, realizing then that something had been changing between his siblings and himself. One of those minute, grain-of-sand-at-a-time-type subtleties that became obvious only in a crisis. Without his noticing, some essential faith or trust had begun ebbing away.
Jamie crouched down in front of him and made a great show of neatening the stack of books. “Mace, it’s just . . . you’re the only one who’s getting the red alert on this one.”
Mason searched through the pile, agitated. His adrenaline was rushing so intensely, it was as if he were in a fire-fight with only moments to lead his marines to safety. If he couldn’t make the cadre understand that this “Juliana” was related, somehow, to the female Djinn he’d encountered in Iraq, she might lash out at him again. By attacking, maybe even killing someone else he loved . . . like Jamie or Shay or Emma. Or, God forbid, Nikos.
His heart began thundering harder.
“Damn,” he said, dusting off the stack with his palm. “This cellar’s dirtier than some of those fleapits I had to sleep in over there.”
Over there! Over there! The tune marched right up into his brain, catapulting him to a roadside. Up ahead in the convoy, an IED had exploded. The radio was going nuts, acrid smoke making his eyes and nostrils burn.
Mason blinked back the vivid images, struggling to stay in the moment. When he spoke, he heard his own voice from the end of a tunnel. “We both know that in warfare, all it takes is letting your guard down once,” he explained distantly. “Relying too much on routine. Betraying that weakness to the enemy. One false move and a whole platoon dies. Or a civilian . . .”
“Well, Ari�
�s friend isn’t that kind of threat, Mace.” Jamie actually laughed a little. Trying to make light of things. He’d always, always pulled that maneuver.
“Remember how we used to bring dad his dinner down here? When he worked late?” Mason asked. “Mom would make us do that, remember?”
Jamie nodded with an understanding grin. “Yeah, nobody wanted to come to the cellar at night.”
“You used to laugh when it was my turn.”
“Really? I don’t recall that.”
“I do. Know what else I remember?” Mason asked. “That you’d poke me in the ribs and take the plate down for me. You’d try to protect me, even though I wanted to scream at your back, tell you I wasn’t afraid of the bogey-man . . . and it wasn’t because my demon sight was awakening. It was all the stuff I couldn’t see, all those unseen forces that scared me most.”
Mason stared down at the book he’d opened, studying a reproduction of an ancient sketch. It depicted a warrior with thick, roping muscles. He was an epic creature, presumably intended to represent one of the Nephilim. In his arms, he held a winged female, stunningly beautiful, with hair that wound about her hips and the giant’s. The image was erotic and sensual but also threatening, possibly lethal.
Mason looked up and met his brother’s eyes without blinking. He felt the muscle in his right jaw begin ticking. “I told you what I saw in the desert, James. You know what I encountered there.”
Jamie hit him with a gaze like high beams. “Whoa, now. You saying this has something to do with that female Djinn that spooked you so bad over in Iraq?”
“Everything to do with it.” Mason sucked in a breath. “I lost someone over there, to that demon. Someone I really cared about, and it was ugly and violent and . . .” Mason rubbed at his temples, forcing himself to continue. “I can still see the look in that demon’s eyes, the way they glowed, the smell coming off her skin. Rank, man. Death masquerading as life. I’ve only ever seen that same expression one other time . . . and it was tonight. The same hunger, same piercing, draining stare,” Mason said, squaring his chin. “I’m gonna figure out the connection, and when I do . . .” He made a motion like he was cocking a semiautomatic. “I’m gonna get my payback.”
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