by Elle Boon
“That’s really sweet of you. Thank you.”
Before he broke another rule and flashed to her side, he pulled out of her memories.
“You have my number. If you need anything, anything at all, please call me or my brother at any time.” Why he felt it imperative to make sure she knew to call him, he had no clue. Shit! He needed to find a woman and get laid. “Talk to you soon.”
“Selena. Call me Selena.”
“Until next time, Selena mine.” Max hung up before she could respond.
The clubs below were beginning to fill up. He could have his pick of women, so why did he get hard for a dream girl and his heart ache for a woman who he’d never met?
As he did every day and night he sent a tendril of energy out to search for the lost goddess. And just like every day and night for the past twenty-four years, he came up blank. Nothing. Surely if she were dead Zeus would’ve paid him or one of the other Ravens a visit and let them know?
A disturbing notion pushed its way into his brain. Had the child been found and all this time he and his brothers had been looking for nothing? Worrying for nothing? Tossed away like they were nothing?
He misted to the lower level of his building, outside one of the busier bars filled with the rowdier crowds. The thousand dollar suit became a pair of low slung jeans and fitted T-shirt. Although he towered over ninety-eight percent or more of the crowd, he tried to blend in.
Several heads turned in his direction. Most of the young men froze in place, while the women seemed to come alive. It was always the same, and now he was beginning to sound like his brother Mal.
At least he knew the bartender liked and respected him, even though the man seemed a bit scared. “Hey Alan, can I get a Makers on the rocks?”
Alan smiled, more at ease. “Sure, coming right up. We got a great band tonight. You staying for the show?”
“Maybe.” He took the short, squat glass, downing the whiskey in one gulp. “Can I get another?”
“Rough day?” Alan asked, taking the glass and refilling.
“Nah, just long.” He smiled, hoping to look less harsh.
It obviously worked. The smaller man rested his elbows on the bar and nodded toward the stage, at ease for the first time since Max had met him over a year ago.
A woman with grace and agility, and what men would call sex on legs, moved up to a microphone located center stage. Her voice was a deep, raspy sound that made you think of doing dirty, naked things with her. But she did nothing for Max.
Not wanting to seem rude, he stayed for another twenty minutes listening to the woman sing, watching her graceful movements as she walked across the stage in a black corset and baggy, black pants. Gothic gorgeous is what he’d call her. The men and women alike lined the front of the stage, many of whom were clearly aroused by her. Not Max. Shit!
Alan kept his glass full, stopping to chat every now and then. Max made an effort to appear less threatening to those around him.
Without being obvious, he blurred the perceptions of Alan and the other patrons as he took his leave. The tip he left would make up for any discomfort he might’ve felt.
Chapter Three
She stood facing them with her hands at her sides in tight little fists. The usually calm air that Olympus sported was suddenly engulfed with winds that buffeted their bodies. Max refused to allow her to slip away from him, them, again.
He closed the distance between them, fusing his mouth over what he decided was the most perfect pair of lips he’d ever tasted. His brother moved in to nuzzle her neck, wisps of her long silvery hair tickling his nose. He broke away to inhale her unique scent that reminded him of honey and strawberries.
Warmth, unlike anything he’d ever known, radiated from the alluring creature. His brother claimed the mouth that he’d just feasted on. He stepped around the kissing pair, molded his front to her back. A feminine gasp made him smile.
Her ass was high and round, fitting into his hands perfectly. It was by far the sweetest ass he’d ever seen or felt.
Over her shoulder he watched Malcolm bend to engulf one of the erect buds of her nipples through the transparent gown. Her hips swiveled against Max’s groin. He groaned at the strength she displayed when she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her body stretched between their much larger ones had his overprotective instinct to keep her safe burning in Max’s gut. He sent a burst of energy outside his body, searching through the mist and fog surrounding them for danger. A sense of peace settled over him when he encountered nothing but the three of them.
He traced her swollen lips with his tongue, dipped inside for more of the sweet taste of strawberry honey. The soft moans were music to his ears.
Malcolm stood up and pulled on the ties that held the gown together, letting it float to the ground.
With a growl, Max turned her in his embrace. His hands roamed down her back and framed her ass before tracing the crack all the way to the heart of her and back.
Fuck, she was so wet. He brought his fingers up to his mouth.
Though he didn’t think he was worthy, he needed this woman with every fiber of his being. His twin and he were so completely in tune with each other that words weren’t needed. He released their lady long enough to wave his hand through the air. A bed large enough for three appeared alongside them. Their clothes disappeared without conscious thought.
Her eyes, which he could see were an amazing shade of silver, widened. She licked those delectable lips that drove Max to distraction, then with cat-like grace turned and crawled onto the bed.
The bed dipped as Malcolm climbed on one side while Max went to the other.
Mist and fog began to roll in, nearly suffocating Max with the thickness. He reached for his woman.
Max bolted upright in bed. The dream seemed so real he could smell the scent of strawberries, could still taste the lingering hint of honey on his tongue.
“Malcolm. You up?”
“I am now. Please tell me you didn’t just dream about our dream girl again?”
Son of a bitch. Max swung his legs off the side of the bed. With his head in his hands, he closed his eyes.
“Dude, I was this close to…Yeah, as far as wet dreams go. That was a good one. But fuck, I’m hard as steel and no woman will do.” Max could picture his twin’s scowl. The love ’em and leave ’em wasn’t working out too well right now. At any other time it would’ve amused Max, except when he was in the same position.
“I know. I tried, and like a dumbass I thought I’d get drunk. Get laid. And all would be well. And what do I have to show for my efforts other than a minor headache?” Max looked at his still-hard dick and grimaced. He couldn’t even get semi-hard watching half-naked women, but give him an imaginary one and just like that he was ready.
“I’m thinking you’ve got the same problem as me, bro. So my question is what are we going to do?”
That was the problem. Max, the leader of the Ravens, had no clue. For thousands of years he’d led his band of soldiers, first on Mount Olympus, then through countless battles here on Earth. Until they’d finally decided to split up and find their own way.
Of course, beings created by the gods who were immortal but not gods, but not humans, didn’t really belong anywhere except together. If Max hadn’t had his twin he didn’t know what he would’ve done. All the Ravens paired up in one way or another, although if they ever needed each other they were only a thought away.
But with this he didn’t feel comfortable calling out to any of his brothers other than Mal, who shared the dreams with him. If only they knew who the woman was.
“Max?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking.”
“Don’t do that too hard,” Malcolm joked.
“I honestly have no clue. I’m…We’re flying blind here, Mal. I’ve called out to Zeus and the other gods. Hell, I’ve even called out to the goddesses who birthed us.”
He echoed his brother’s snort. To call the goddess who agreed to
carry them for nine months a mother was a joke. No. They weren’t what anyone would call normal by human standards or even god standards. The Ravens were full grown adults within their first year, but they still had hearts that beat. They still had feelings.
To be thrown into training with soldiers who were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old seemed normal to them at the time. But looking back with the knowledge they had now? Max shook his head. They had been disposable then, just as they were disposable now.
“Let me guess. O Great One didn’t answer any of your calls. But I bet you still expended energy today looking for his lost little brat right?”
“Mal, if he’s right, and the goddess isn’t found, Earth has a ticking time bomb that is less than a year away. Who’s to say we will survive if she explodes?”
A tired sigh stretched out. “Would it be so bad to finally meet the All Creator?”
Max didn’t have an answer to that. No. He had an answer, but to voice it out loud felt like he was betraying someone. “I don’t know, Mal, I just…” He trailed off. His twin knew without words what Max felt.
“I’m going to be out of the country on an extended trip, if you need me you know how to reach me, bro.”
“Of course. I think I’ll take a little trip and do a little radio silence myself. If you need me…”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Take care, Malcolm.”
“You too, Max.”
“No, no, no…” Selena groaned. “Why can’t I have normal wet dreams where I get to the happy ending like normal people?” she asked the ceiling.
The cloying mist that wrapped around her reminded her of the dreams she’d had when she was a child. Her parents had spent thousands of dollars on therapists who all said it was a manifestation of her biggest fears. Hello, who wouldn’t be scared of being dumped in a garbage can and left for dead as a baby?
But that was not why she was scared of…fog or mist, or whatever the hell was in her dreams. She wanted to get it on with one or both of her dream men, dang it.
The loss of her parents when she was twenty-one was devastating, but wasn’t such a stabbing pain to the heart whenever she thought of them. When they’d been in their mid-fifties, taking on an infant must’ve been a difficult task, but they’d been the best parents a child could ask for. At seventy-eight and seventy-nine they were still too young to die, but they had lived a long and happy life and she was grateful for all the time they had had together.
They’d taught her to never take anything for granted. Her mother was always saying, “Lena, mia bambina, you must not dwell on the past for it is gone and can’t be changed, nor look to the future for it is yet to be decided. But do you know why they call right now the present? Because it is a gift and should be treated as such.”
She would then nod her head and go back to baking, or whatever thing she happened to be doing at the time.
With that last memory in mind and a smile on her face, Selena got out of bed with a lighter heart. Her parents would always be with her in spirit, but they’d want her to live life to the fullest.
Now she had to talk Tamara into stopping by Malcolm’s office in California while she was out there doing whatever the heck she was out there doing. Sometimes the Mejias could be downright spooky with their voodoo, seer abilities. Selena snorted at that.
“Who am I to call others weird?” she asked the empty room.
While she waited for Tamara to answer her cell phone she made her way to the kitchen. After filling her coffee cup she took it out onto the back patio to enjoy the early morning quietness.
When Tam didn’t answer she left her a brief explanation with Malcolm’s office address and his contact information. A flash of her best friend showing up in one of her patent miniskirts that showcased her long legs, topped off with a crop top that was both too tight and too short, had Selena seeing red.
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Selena associated with herself. Her first and only love Tim had been the older, more experienced guy. They’d met at Tamara’s brother’s house party, and he’d seemed so sweet and kind. At seventeen she’d been a bit naïve and too trustful. Her parents should’ve known better than to let her date a college guy for her first boyfriend. She shook her head. Looking back, if it hadn’t been Tim it would’ve been someone else. At least he knew what he was doing when they did the deed.
She snickered. Here she was, twenty-three, and still called having sex “doing the deed.” After she finally gave it up to Tim, he thought they should do it every day. Or in his own words, he’d find someone else who would. He was a healthy twenty-one year old guy. The last bit made her sober. It seemed she was always losing those close to her. Within months of their relationship Tim was taken from her too. Of course she had no illusions that she and Tim were meant for happily ever after. Had he not been in the wrong place at the wrong time and been killed, their relationship still would’ve had an end date.
The ringing of her phone broke into her reverie. “Hey Tam, did you get my message?”
“No, I was just calling to see how my baby girl was doing.”
“Don’t you listen to your voicemail?” Selena rolled her eyes even though she knew Tamara couldn’t see her.
“Are you rolling your eyes at me?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you got that tone. When you get that tone it means you’re rolling your eyes. And don’t answer my question with a question.
“You answered my question with a question and then you just made an asinine statement.”
“Girl, I will smack you for…So you want me to go by this hunkalicious guy’s office and pick up the paperwork, right?”
“So you were just messing with me? Why does that not surprise me.” She laughed. “You’re such a brat. You know that right?”
“Takes one to know one. Anyhoo, I’m on my way there now. I’ve already called and made an appointment, all professional like and everything.” Tamara batted her eyelashes at the end.
And, there goes that green-eyed monster again. Jealous over a man she’s never even laid eyes on? Maybe it was time she stopped being a born-again virgin and took one of the cowboys who frequented Redneck Paradise home for a night of hot, sweaty sex. Her stomach cramped thinking of some anonymous hookup.
“You’re the best, Tam. Let me know after you seal the deal.” Shit on a stick. She wanted to call those words back and tell Tamara to keep her panties on and her hands to herself.
“Will do, girlfriend. Talk to you soon.”
Malcolm stepped off his private plane, pleased to be back in the United States. “Damn, spending other people’s money is fun.”
The pilot laughed and shook his hand while the flight attendant, a pretty brunette, offered her cheek for a kiss. The look in her eyes said she’d offer more, but he never slept with employees. Anymore.
The sound of his phone ringing saved him from any further conversation. With a jaunty wave he continued to his car, a ’66 Chevy Camaro SS. “Yo, Max. What’s up, brother?”
“I just got a call from a contractor that wants to come and begin working on the new club. When do I get to meet the new owner?”
Malcolm threw his bag in the backseat before vaulting over the side to land in the driver’s seat. “Shit, man, I haven’t even met her yet. I do have a voicemail from her partner wanting to meet tomorrow.”
Just thinking of Selena Ramos’s smoky voice made his dick stand up at attention. Not a comfortable position to be in when one was wearing a pair of tight jeans in a low-slung, antique muscle car. His brother’s knowing chuckle brought his focus back to their conversation.
“You mean to tell me you took on a client you’ve never personally vetted?” Incredulity laced his voice, and something else that Malcolm was sure he wasn’t going to like.
Yep, Max was definitely laughing at him.
“There’s something.” Malcolm cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to explain it, but…when I first heard her voice,
it was like every hair on my body stood up and took notice, along with other parts of my anatomy.”
He could picture Max’s eyebrows rising to his hairline at the admission. If roles were reversed he’d be doing the same thing.
“That’s how I felt when I first spoke to her,” Max said, with a bite in his tone Malcolm didn’t hear very often.
“Seriously? What do you think it means?”
“That we are getting old,” Max sighed.
“Why do you sound so edgy? Do you need to get laid? I thought you’d been seeing that bitch Steph…” He cleared his throat. “I mean the delightful Stephanie.”
“Fuck off, Mal. Her name was Tiffany, and you know it. To answer your question though, I gave her walking papers a while back.” Max sounded more amused than angry.
Malcolm listened as Max gave him the condensed version of events with his now ex. He couldn’t help but laugh at the image of the banshee of a woman. He’d hated Tiffany on the spot, and couldn’t understand the woman’s appeal in the first place. But, “to each his own” was his motto.
He and Max were more than identical twins. They were two halves of a whole. With Max being the more serious, Malcolm made it his mission to lighten him up.
He’d flash images to Max at the most inopportune times. Like when Max had been in counsel with over a dozen of their elders, Malcolm would share with his twin what he was doing at the time, which just happened to be the daughter of one of the elders. His brother would have to stand or sit during the meeting, all while Malcolm shared the experience.
Of course Max always retaliated with a bitch slap upside Malcolm’s head, but the chuckle he received far outweighed the blow. He’d suffer a thousand hits to the head to make his brother smile. Max carried too much weight on his shoulders, always had, and probably always would.
Malcolm whistled through his teeth. “I told you before, Max. You never hear anything good when you eavesdrop.” He grunted at the unseen blow that knocked his head forward, still laughing at the curses he heard on the other end of the phone.
