Mortal Temptations (5 page)

The doorbell chimed, and Patricia felt a prickle of unease. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No, dear.”

Myrtle ducked out to answer the bell, but Nico swung around, alert. “Myrtle,” he called. “Don’t open the door.”

Myrtle paused, looking back at Mrs. Penworth for confirmation.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Penworth asked. She looked excited rather than afraid.

Patricia felt a twinge of the same aura she’d sensed this morning, the dark red and black swirls that surrounded the blond Dyon.

Andreas took Myrtle by the shoulders and shoved her back into the safety of the living room at the same time something slammed against the front door. Myrtle screamed. Mrs. Penworth gave a little shriek and dashed through an archway that led to the back hall.

“Dyon?” Patricia asked Nico. He nodded grimly.

Patricia took up a stance behind him as the door continued to be battered with massive force.

“That door’s a hundred and fifty years old,” Myrtle said, distressed. “They’ll ruin it, and Mrs. Penworth will be so upset.”

“Go in the back with her,” Nico said sternly.

Myrtle looked at him in anguish, then back at the door. Finally, she turned and scuttled through the archway to the hall.

She met Mrs. Penworth coming out. At the same time, the door crashed open, and the Dyon who’d confronted Patricia this morning burst in. His face bore red streaks from Andreas’s attack, but otherwise, he looked whole and strong.

He went right for the ostracon. Andreas tackled him, swinging the Dyon away from the table. Nico remained in front of Patricia, protective but ready to fight.

The Dyon managed to break Andreas’s hold just as Mrs. Penworth stepped right in front of him, a huge revolver in her tiny fists. “Hold it right there, buster.”

The Dyon stopped in sudden surprise. For a moment, no one moved. The Dyon stared at Mrs. Penworth, Nico and Andreas froze, and Myrtle watched from the archway, openmouthed.

The Dyon snarled and lunged at Mrs. Penworth. Mrs. Penworth fired four times, her body jerking backward until she toppled over. The Dyon gaped at the four slugs in his chest, then he fell to the floor, blood splattering the two hundred-year-old Turkish carpet.

“Did I get him?” the old lady asked, jumping to her feet.

“Yes,” Patricia croaked. She put her hand to her head, trying to catch her breath, as she stared down at the Dyon, who lay motionless in a pool of blood. “I think you got him.”

PATRICIA couldn’t tell if the Dyon was alive or dead, and had no way of knowing whether such a being could be killed by a conventional gun. She wondered what this was going to look like to the mundane police.

The Dyon jerked, and Patricia’s heart jumped into her throat. Then, as he had this morning, the Dyon dissolved into a thick column of smoke. The smoke dissipated as they watched in silence, the blood with it.

“Well,” Mrs. Penworth said with a breathy sigh. “At least we don’t have to worry about getting rid of the body.”

Myrtle firmly removed the revolver from Mrs. Penworth’s grip and emptied it of bullets. “We’ll have security up here any minute now,” she said. “You know what they’ve told you about shooting off your gun in the house.”

Patricia sank to the sofa, her ears still ringing from the shots. Nico and Andreas seemed unaffected. They faced each other over the spot where the Dyon’s body had lain, arguing about something, Patricia could not tell what. She suddenly felt drained and exhausted.

“Did that kill him?” she asked in a loud voice.

Nico and Andreas turned together, two gorgeous men eyeing her in very different ways. Nico’s gaze was dark and laced with the memory of what they’d done in her apartment. Andreas’s was cold and clear, assessing her.

Patricia wondered if Andreas felt the same compulsion to pleasure her that Nico did. Or perhaps it worked only if she showed interest in him first, or maybe he had to have an inclination toward her from the beginning.

The fear in Nico’s eyes when he told her he’d writhe in agony if he didn’t pleasure her had been real. Once he’d made her orgasm, he hadn’t insisted she pay him back or they go to her bedroom. This made him different from her past boyfriends, who had pretty much wanted to screw until
they
were satisfied, whether she felt anything or not.

So why hadn’t Andreas shown the same compulsion?

She had the sudden vision of Andreas approaching her as soon as Nico was done, telling her he needed to pleasure her, too. Nico could watch, or join in, as he liked. She imagined Nico smiling at her with his warm eyes while Andreas sank to his knees to lick her pussy.

She gasped and jerked her eyes open to find Andreas glaring at her.

“What?” he asked irritably.

She gulped. “I said, did the bullets kill him?”

“Probably not,” Nico answered her. “He was created by a goddess, so he lives and dies at her pleasure. But it probably put him out of commission for a while.”

“Long enough for us to get the inscription translated?”

“Maybe. But she’ll send others.”

Patricia blew out her breath. “We’d best get on it, then.”

Nico looked at her for a long time, emotions flickering through his eyes. She knew what he was going to say, even before he started.

“We have what we need, now, Patricia. The Dyons won’t bother you anymore. They won’t interfere unless you do something to help us, and you’ve done all you can.” His eyes went bleak. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

Patricia stood up. “So that’s it, then?”

“That’s all there can be.”

“Oh, really? Can I talk to you in private, Nico?”

Nico glanced at Mrs. Penworth, who was happily reenacting the shooting for Myrtle. Someone buzzed the outer door, and a worried voice said, “Are you all right in there, ma’am?”

As Myrtle hurried to the door, Nico followed Patricia down the narrow back hall to the kitchen. The spacious chamber gleamed with granite and stainless steel, the profusion of copper pots and pans putting most restaurant kitchens to shame.

Patricia faced him in the middle of the slate floor and put her hands on her hips. “So, this morning meant nothing to you?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand. “It can’t mean anything to
you
.”

“You’re so certain, are you? I don’t pull my panties down for just anyone, you know. I was surprised you didn’t take it further, but I figured you didn’t want to rush it on the first date.”

“Patricia.”

He sounded patient. Men always sounded patient when they wanted to break up. Saying he didn’t want to hurt her—well, of course not, because if he thought she was hurting, he might have to feel guilty.

She rushed on. “Why do you think I helped you, Nico? Fixed up your wing and arranged this visit? Put up with Andreas’s bad temper and even being attacked in my store?”

“Because you were curious?”

“Only partly. This morning you begged me to let you give me pleasure, and suddenly you’re saying, ‘Thanks for the inscription, good-bye.’ Hell, I played with my nipples for you. I’ve never done that before, for anyone.”

His eyes darkened. “Do you want more? I suppose we have time for a little more. You command me.”

“That’s not what I mean. I meant . . . maybe we could get to know each other. You’re fascinating. I want to know all about you.”

He gave her a little smile. “Get to know your pleasure slave?”

His eyes were bleak, but the sudden vision of him as a pleasure slave was heady. To have Nico lying on her bed with his black wings spread under him, naked for her delight, would be absolute heaven.

He touched the gold chain around his neck. “These are fused on by such powerful magic that we would destroy ourselves if we tried to remove them. When I am with you, you hold my chain.”

The idea of having such power over a man like Nico made her shiver. She couldn’t quite believe that he would be her
slave
; she couldn’t imagine herself mastering this strong, strong male who’d made her feel so joyful. “And you don’t want that, I take it.”

“On the contrary. I’d love it.” He stepped close to her, his warmth bathing her. “I’d love every minute of it, even if being with you meant destroying myself. I’d love it and want more.”

“I’d never hurt you,” she said, startled. “I’m not a cruel woman, Nico. I never could be.”

“Curses aren’t meant to be cruelty free.”

Patricia touched his mouth, liking the firmness of it. “Then we’d better get that inscription translated, so we can get to know each other with no pesky curses between us.”

Nico’s expression remained neutral. “You’re going to insist.”

“Afraid so.”

He looked away, some emotion flickering across his face she didn’t understand. When he looked back at her, his eyes held naked hunger and a touch of the fear she’d seen before.

He snaked his hand to the nape of her neck and pressed a kiss to her mouth. It wasn’t like the greedy, hot kiss he’d bent on her in her apartment; this one was warm, almost sweet. He kissed her cheek before he pulled away, his whiskers scraping her skin.

“I’m bound to you,” he whispered. “It’s too late for me.”

She started to argue again that she didn’t believe in enslaving anyone, but he touched her lips and shook his head. “Let’s go translate hieroglyphs.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her back to the living room.

Andreas had resumed intently studying the ostracon at the dining room table. Mrs. Penworth was demonstrating for the startled security guard and Myrtle how she’d shot off her revolver, bam, bam, bam, bam.

Of all the people in the apartment at the moment, Mrs. Penworth looked happiest.

PATRICIA knew they couldn’t simply show up at a museum or university campus and demand to speak to someone who could translate ancient Egyptian. First, she had to track down an expert. Second, she had to make sure he was available and somewhat easy to reach. Third, she had to contact him and make an appointment at his convenience.

Both Andreas and Nico were certain that Mrs. Penworth wouldn’t be bothered again by the Dyons. Dyons weren’t killing machines, Nico explained, but enforcers of Hera’s curse, made to prevent Andreas and Nico from breaking the spell. They weren’t very smart creatures, and if Nico and Andreas behaved as though Mrs. Penworth could help them no more, the Dyons would leave her alone.

This explanation didn’t make Patricia feel much better, but she was less reluctant to leave Mrs. Penworth. The elderly lady took Patricia aside before they left and thanked her for the wonderfully exciting afternoon.

“I don’t envy you having to choose between those two,” she said, giving Andreas and then Nico another appreciative once-over. “They’re both to die for. If only I were forty years younger.” She sighed but with a twinkle in her eyes.

Patricia’s cheeks warmed as she left the apartment. Nico walked beside her, again with his hand on her back, guiding and protective. Andreas prowled behind them, moving like the big cat he was.

She returned with Nico and Andreas to their club, where Nico said she could use their state-of-the-art computer to research hieroglyph experts. It was just after dark, the in-between time in Manhattan when the day commuters had scuttled down to the subways and the nighthawks hadn’t yet emerged.

Nico showed her the office that opened off their suite, then disappeared to get ready for the club opening. Patricia started her searching, beginning with museums and universities she knew had good archaeology or anthropology programs on the ancient world.

She soon became aware of Andreas behind her, his gaze intense on the back of her neck, while she typed and clicked.

“I can work the Internet,” she told him a little nervously. “I’ve been online since online was invented.”

Andreas put one hand on the desk and leaned over her shoulder to peer at the screen. “You’re Googling archaeologists?”

“I’m looking up university faculty and museum directories. I’ll make a list of those closest to us, then start calling tomorrow. It’s not brain surgery.”

Andreas made a sound of agreement, but he wouldn’t go away. He hung over her shoulder as she typed in search terms and clicked on the results. As she wrote down her list, Andreas’s hot breath trickled across her skin.

“You don’t have to watch,” she said.

“I’m curious. You know, like a cat.”

His breath transferred to her ear as his blue eyes fixed on her. She cleared her throat. “Have you always been able to shift into a leopard?”

“I was born a leopard. I learned to shift into human form later. My mother taught me.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. Why are you teasing Nico?”

She blinked, trying not to be unnerved that his intense eyes were so near hers. “Teasing him? What are you talking about?”

“He likes you.”

“I like him. What woman wouldn’t?”

His voice grated. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what kind of fire you’re playing with.”

His gaze was chill, but she sensed heat deep inside him, the same kind Nico possessed.

“I told Nico I was happy to help you get free of whatever this curse is,” she said. “Then we can get to know each other, like a normal couple.”

Andreas leaned closer. “Like you and he could ever be a normal couple. Let him go, now. What you’re doing is cruel.”

Patricia forced herself to meet his light blue eyes, which were infused with diamondlike flecks. “I’m not a femme fatale, Andreas. I’m not out to hurt anyone.”

“But it does hurt him.”

“You mean because he has to give me pleasure or else he experiences pain? By the way, why don’t you feel that way?”

Andreas sank to one knee beside her, not a conciliatory gesture but one that let him get closer than ever. “He wants you, he’ll be tortured because of you, and you’ll never be able to feel about him the way he feels about you.”

“You’re making no sense. I’m attracted to him. I’ve already said that.”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?”

Andreas’s voice went harsh. “The entire truth. That he’ll fall in love with you, but you’ll never be able to fall in love with him. He’ll burn up, and you’ll go back to running your antique store like nothing happened.”

She stared at him, mouth open. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the curse, dear Patricia. When we feel an attraction, we have to pursue it all the way—I mean,
all
the way—but the woman will use and discard us without giving a damn. It’s Hera’s very female way of getting back at us.”

She blinked. “Good Lord, what did you do to her?”

“Nico and I were typical demigods way back when. We had power and immortality and did whatever we damn well pleased. If that meant chasing a pretty little priestess who was perfectly willing to be caught, we did it. When we refused to become her devoted slaves, she complained to Hera, who cursed us to the slavery of all women. She wanted to teach us the meaning of a broken heart, she said.”

Patricia watched him in shock. “Seems a bit extreme.”

“The little priestess never had a broken heart. But she was angry with us, and Hera simply projected her own brokenheartedness over men onto her. She brought down divine wrath.”

“If I remember my mythology right, Zeus was never exactly a stay-at-home husband.”