Mortal Temptations (22 page)

ANDREAS and Demitri spent much of the day trying to figure out where Nico had gone, and couldn’t.

“He marked places everywhere,” Andreas said. “Eastern Egypt, the western deserts, the south by Aswan. Why couldn’t he tell us what he was thinking?”

“Because he knew he had to go alone,” Demitri said.

Andreas heaved a sigh. “I’m no longer a slave, and I feel just as helpless as before. I’m supposed to be there with him, my friend, a man closer to me than a brother, and here I sit in your cushy hotel.”

“I feel the same,” Demitri said glumly. “We could have sex to pass the time. Maybe something will come to us.”

Sex with Demitri and Nico had helped Andreas get through many years of the curse. Andreas could sate his immediate need with his friends until the curse caught him again, and he had appreciated that.

But now that he was free, he knew he wanted Rebecca, not his two friends. She called to him, and he wanted to go to her. At the same time, he didn’t want to abandon Nico in his hour of need.

“This sucks,” Andreas said.

“I know.” Demitri came to him and put his hands on his waist. “It’s a poor substitute.”

Andreas looked at his friend’s handsome face and coffee-colored eyes, feeling the leopard in him respond. Andreas was half an animal, with animal instincts that kicked in at the worst times.

Demitri was half an animal, too, and their animal selves called out to each other. Mesmerized by Demitri’s eyes, Andreas tilted his head and slanted a kiss across Demitri’s mouth.

“Oh, goodness,” Rebecca’s light voice cut across the living room. “I came at the right time.”

Andreas abandoned Demitri to charge to Rebecca and catch her in a crushing hug. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay in New York.”

“I’m happy to see you, too, Andreas.”

Rebecca kissed him on the mouth, then pushed and squirmed to get out of his arms. She looked Demitri up and down with great interest. “You look nice,” she said. “What do you turn into?”

“A tiger,” Demitri said.

THINGS were improving in Patricia’s prison. The food table now boasted candles that threw a light on her surroundings. By the candlelight, she saw that an oval, tiled bath had appeared on the far wall, enticing steam rising from it.

She didn’t hesitate long before she stripped off her clothes and immersed herself in hot, scented water.

“This is all good,” she said to the air. “But what I’d really like is a door, or a cell phone that works, or even better, to be back at Nico’s friend’s hotel.”

She held her breath, wondering if the magic room would provide any of it, but nothing happened. The things that appeared hadn’t appeared in response to her direct wishes but as though someone else were thinking what next she’d need.

“Some DVDs? To pass the time?” She glanced around at the bright mosaic tile and the gleaming brass of the dishes. “Or is that too modern for you? How about someone to tell me stories, then? Like Scheherazade.”

Nothing.

She sighed, leaning back to at least enjoy the bath.

Here she was, so far from home, waiting to be rescued like a princess in a fairy tale. And all she could think about was the memory of meeting Nico for the first time, liking how he looked with his wings covering his half-naked body.

Then meeting Andreas with his wild cat’s eyes, and Nico becoming all protective of her. Then the incredible way Nico had taught her to feel. It hadn’t been just sex, but learning to appreciate her own body and the beauty of it.

Patricia slid her hands down her wet body and cupped her breasts, feeling them warm and heavy in the water. She pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger, liking the tingle as she rolled the nubs back and forth.

She wished for Nico to lean down and suck on her, but she had to be content with her imagination.

It wasn’t enough. Patricia rose in the tub, water cascading from her body. The tub was large enough to let her kneel in it, her legs apart, the water lapping her thighs.

She parted the lips of her quim as Nico had taught her, fingers on either side of it. She dipped her finger to touch her clit, closing her eyes at the feeling that spread through her.

Her skin tingled and warmed, her quim going soft. She was wet, not just with bathwater but also with her own juices, and the slickness lapped her fingers as she rubbed herself.

Her head went back, the feel of her long curls brushing her skin, soft and erotic. She imagined Nico trailing his fingers down her spine, his touch gentle, while she played with herself.

Patricia rocked a little against her hand, spreading herself wider. She pretended Nico’s tongue wet her, the tip of it tickling her clit.

She moved her finger faster with the fantasy, a groan dragging from her throat.

Patricia slid fingers inside herself, wishing she had something bigger and thicker. Visions of Nico’s cock played through her mind, the feeling of it long and hot and hard in her hand. She envisioned the dark hair at its base, the heavy balls warm against her palm.

She liked what came with his cock: his tall, muscular body, his sinful smile, his black-dark eyes.

Come for me, Patricia,
he’d say in his sexy voice.
Show me what you feel.

Patricia rose, her body hot and shaking. She straddled the side of the tub, the tile cool on her backside, and thrust her hand between her legs, pulling up tight.

“Nico,” she said out loud. “Watch me play with myself for you. Watch me want you.”

She worked her clit, thrusting against the cold tile, until her world spun around, and she shouted her release to the echoing ceiling.

She slid bonelessly back into the tub, a smile on her face. “Did you like that, Nico?” She sighed, then she laughed. “What? You want more?”

She pictured Andreas joining Nico, as he had before he’d become bound to Rebecca. His mottled hair tangled down his neck, his ice blue eyes focused on her. His cock, too, would be stiff and hard, ready to find her.

She remembered his cock filling her ass, the lubrication sliding him right in. It had been so good, so . . . satisfying, in a way she’d never been satisfied before. Not the same as Nico inside her, loving her, but in a bone-jarring, dirty fantasy kind of way.

She’d
loved
it.

Patricia draped herself over the edge of the tub again, smiling at the memories. Nico’s huge cock in her mouth, filling her while Andreas fucked her.

And then Nico inside her, letting her ride him on the bed while he clasped her breasts. His feathers warm and cushioning, tickling her back while he made love to her.

They’d done some naughty things, and she’d loved every second of them. She’d never believed that she, Patricia Lake, could have let herself do them.

Patricia was still hot and needy. She slid two fingers inside herself, pushing like Nico did, trying to stem the ache. She cried out, then her body took over. She fucked herself with her fingers while she shouted Nico’s name, she writhed against the blunt hardness and imagined Andreas in her ass at the same time.

“I love you, Nico,” she cried out as she came, waves of pleasure undulating her body.

“I love you,” she repeated softly as she sank back into the warm water, her eyes closing. “Love you so much.”

Out in the hot desert in back of the rocking jeep, Nico jerked awake, hearing her.

SO, why do you like to kiss men?” Rebecca asked Andreas. She sat with him at the table in their hotel suite, eating a much-needed meal.

Andreas looked puzzled. “I don’t.”

“You did with Nico in the hotel in London.” She slid a piece of spiced chicken from a kebab and savored the taste. “And when I walked in, you were kissing Demitri.”

“Oh. They don’t count.”

“Thanks, old friend,” Demitri said. He was still poring over the maps, a worried look on his handsome face. Demitri was just as tall and muscular as Nico and Andreas, but he dressed in finely tailored suits instead of sloppy jeans and shirts.

Rebecca thought she preferred sloppy jeans, at least on Andreas. He had a raw sensuality that she liked; Rebecca, who’d never done anything raw in her life.

“We’re like old comrades,” Andreas said. “Closer than brothers. And we’re not human; the same rules don’t apply to us.”

“Convenient.”

“I think so.”

Rebecca’s gaze strayed to his throat, where the chain he’d worn was gone. She wondered what that meant to what was between them—if there ever had been anything between them.

She made herself walk away from him to the maps spread across the table. Demitri gave her a little smile, unembarrassed, as comfortable with himself as Andreas was.

They’d told her about summoning Bes and what he’d said, and Nico taking off before dawn. She looked at the places Nico had marked, rough circles on the neat layout of the map.

“Here,” she said, running her finger along the line of oases in the deserts west of Cairo. “Somewhere along this road.”

“How do you know that?” Andreas looked over her shoulder. “We’ve got the whole country to search—the whole world, actually.”

“Because I read the wall in the tomb,” Rebecca said.

“Which said what?”

“The ending wound off into gibberish—at least, I couldn’t read much of it. But it talked about secluding the lady in the hidden palace and the lover searching adamantly until he found her.”

“What has that got to do with the western oases?” Demitri asked in a more polite tone than Andreas had used.

“It was talking about gardens in the desert,” she told them. “Ancient, beautiful palaces that have died and wait to live again. Places where forgotten kings will rise from the sands and things like that. That might mean ruins in or near one of the oases. I’ve been out there—lots of fascinating stuff.”

“I’ve been out there, too,” Demitri said, pained. “Lots of sand.”

“Why only in the west?” Andreas asked. “There are oases in the eastern part of the country, too. All over the deserts out here, in fact.”

“The forgotten kings.” Andreas and Demitri looked blank, and she shook her head in exasperation. “The mummies that were found near Bahariyya about ten years ago. About a hundred of them, and they think there are hundreds more. Don’t you read the archaeological news?”

“Sorry,” Andreas said. “Been busy.”

“I heard about it,” Demitri put in. “But ten years ago.”

Rebecca couldn’t imagine anyone not knowing everything about an exciting find, but she let it go. “Anyway, that’s what the inscription could have been referring to. The forgotten kings rising from the sands might be the mummies. There are plenty of ruins out there. It hasn’t all been explored, because most people want to do the Valley of Kings.”

“You know that,” Demitri said. “Does Nico?”

“Doesn’t matter. If we can find Patricia, then we’ll find Nico.”

“But it’s Nico who has to find her to break the spell,” Andreas reminded her. He traced his fingers down her spine, which had her instantly flushing.

“It may be that only Nico
will
be able to find her. But nowhere on the wall did it say his friends couldn’t help him along the way. In fact, there was a picture of friends around the winged god, including a leopard.” She looked straight at Demitri. “And a tiger.”

“Are you sure?” Demitri asked in surprise.

“Why not? The ancient Egyptians could know about tigers. The caravan routes went a long way east. Pharaohs had all kinds of exotic animals in their menageries. It was a very cosmopolitan society.”

“I meant, how could the person who made the inscription in the first place have known that we’d all be there to help him?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Rebecca tried to step away from Andreas and his intriguing warmth, but she couldn’t. “I only know what I read and translated.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Demitri said, folding the maps. “Better than sitting around here worrying. I’ll go with you. I can arrange for transportation.” He looked down at his exquisite suit and winced. “I’ll have to find something to wear.”

“That’s settled, then.” Rebecca yawned and rubbed a hand through her tangled hair, but her adrenaline was kicking in. “Let me clean up and change. I wish Bes hadn’t sent me all the way back to New York. I’ll never get over my jet lag at this rate.”

She walked out of the room, feeling Andreas’s gaze on her every step of the way. She hoped as she showered that he’d enter the room and try to join her, but he never did.

PATRICIA got up before she faded too far into the bath. The air was warm enough so she didn’t shiver, but she appreciated the pile of fluffy towels she found on a stand next to the tub.

She couldn’t bring herself to dress in her filthy clothes again, so she kept the towel wrapped around her. She went around the corner again, to find her prison had expanded yet more.

Now a bed stood in the corner, an exotic bed with a canopy of pointed arches and plenty of silk hangings and cushions. Exhausted, Patricia had no compunction about climbing onto the bed and letting the softness take her weary limbs.

She didn’t mean to sleep, but she woke abruptly several hours later to see that she wasn’t alone. A man stood about three feet from the foot of her bed, arms folded over a bare torso.

Patricia kept the covers pulled firmly to her chin and looked back at him. He was tall and muscular and wore nothing but a cloth draped around his waist.

“Who are you?” Patricia asked him. She repeated the phrase in Arabic.

The man regarded her stonily, obviously not understanding her.

“I’ve seen this movie,” she told him. “Don’t even think about ravishing me.”

She wasn’t afraid, because it was all so absurd. The bed with its lush hangings, the fruit, the bath, and the half-naked man were all like something from a 1920s film. She admitted that it was better than huddling alone and afraid in the dark, but this was bizarre.

Music began, the wild, fast Egyptian music played at parties and weddings. The man started to dance in smooth, sensual waves, flowing and undulating with grace.

“I see,” Patricia said. “You’re the entertainment.”

The man went on dancing, ignoring her. He was quite good, his body gleaming with oil in the subdued candlelight. His hips swayed enticingly, his movements strong and sensual.

Patricia watched him for a while before she realized he was not going to stop.

“You know, I’d much rather you told me where the door was,” she said. “If you’re getting paid to do this, I’ll give you a bonus for pointing the way out.”

The man continued to dance like he hadn’t heard her. Patricia knew her Arabic wasn’t good enough to make herself understood, so she lapsed into silence.

His body was like liquid sensuality, but Patricia felt only pain in her heart. It reminded her of how Nico had danced for her in his apartment, how he’d smiled as he’d slid his hands to her waist and swayed with her.

She understood now why he’d resisted staying with her. If his pain had been anything like what she experienced now, she knew why he’d tried to avoid it. Nico had lived through thousands of years of that pain.

“Damn you, Hera,” she said. “You have so much power, and you waste it punishing a man who only wants to love.” Patricia knelt upright in the bed, still clutching the blankets. “Do you hear me? I think you’re nothing but a mean bitch. You punish others for your own hurting. So many people are starving or helpless in this world, and you obsess on petty vengeance.”

She fell silent, half expecting the amenities to vanish and the walls to fall on her. But the music went on, and the oiled man kept dancing.

Patricia sank down to the pillows again. She wanted to get out of the bed, but the dancing man kept staring at her, and her dirty clothes were on the other side of the room.

Almost as soon as she had the thought, a silk robe appeared at the foot of the bed, along with what looked like a belly dancing costume.

Ignoring the sequined bra and gauzy skirt, she pulled on the robe and belted it before dropping the towel. The dancer ignored her, still undulating to the music like he was on automatic.

A mindless drone, she thought. Like the Dyons.

Patricia climbed out of bed and moved back into the alcove where the bath was, the area now containing benches strewn with cushions.

But as much as Patricia paced, she found no door or window, not even a ventilation shaft that communicated with the outside world.

She clenched her fists and let out a scream. It rang to the ceiling but was drowned out by the wild music.

The dancer whirled on, oblivious of her frustration. She watched him sway his hips and swirl around, arms and hands working, then she sat down on the cushioned bench and cried.

“IT was here,” Ahmed said. “I think.”

They stood on a dune at the end of the jeep road, staring out across the empty desert.

It was beautiful. Waves of sand flowed under the blue sky, a contrast of color and light. Behind them was the rocky desert, the oasis swallowed in the mist on the horizon.

“Sandstorm is coming,” Ahmed said, sniffing the air. His brother Faisal nodded. “We can’t start now.”

Nico conceded. He could survive even the worst sandstorm, or he could easily fly away from it, but his human companions could not.

They took shelter in a rocky outcropping below the dunes, and Nico helped the brothers unroll the cloth top over the jeep. It wouldn’t be much shelter, but would help keep out the brunt of the storm.

When it hit, the visibility disappeared within seconds. Nico huddled in the jeep with the brothers, who started swapping stories about other sandstorms they’d weathered. Nico sat silently and thought about Patricia.

He swore he’d heard her call out to him, in a voice ringing across the sands, but when he’d sat up, he’d realized that Ahmed and Faisal had heard nothing. He wanted her so much, so longed to hear her tell him that she loved him, that her voice had cut through his dreams.

He remembered the naughty look in her eyes as she’d fantasized out loud in the car on the way to Cornell. She’d described how she’d open his jeans and fondle him, then suck his cock into her mouth.

He remembered all the times she’d really done it. Patricia seemed especially fond of his cock, loving to simply hold it and gaze at it. She liked licking it and nibbling on it, and seeing how much of it she could take into her mouth.

Patricia had a skilled, wicked mouth. She’d always smiled at him afterward, pleased with herself.

He’d give anything to have her with him now, locked alone with him in this sandstorm. She’d look at him with her sexy eyes and whisper to him how much she wanted to pleasure him. Him, the slave that was supposed to be devoted to her pleasure.

She’d never tried to take advantage of his bondage to her, never tried to humiliate him. Everything she’d done or asked him to do had been loving, sweet, beautiful.

The sandstorm lasted several hours, and by the time it lessened, the sun was sinking. Ahmed and Faisal got out of the jeep, brushed away the worst of the sand, and started setting up a camp.

Nico helped them, then left to begin to explore the dunes.