Suddenly Beautiful (Entangled Covet) (11 page)

Tor mentally counted to five, trying to get a handle on his anger. Though he refused to reason out why things going back to normal left him with a hollow feeling, he wouldn’t give Demi the satisfaction of knowing her words bothered him.

“First of all, Nikki is anything but boring. Secondly, I’m well aware of the effects of Ambrosia. I’ve seen firsthand how the gods use it to feel alive.” The amber drink had been plentiful while growing up, but he’d never ventured a taste. After seeing several powerful gods act like pining idiots around his mother, Tor had sworn off the love-inducing drink, vowing to never lose control over a woman. He punched the elevator button. “If you’re resorting to Ambrosia, Demi, perhaps you should take a hard look at your life and find out why you’re so bored.”

She harrumphed. “I’m not bored, just curious.”

He stepped into the elevator. “We all know what curiosity did to the cat.”

She made a clawing action. “Yes, and this kitty has claws.”

He willed the doors to close, blocking out any more conversation with her. Though he’d warned Demi off from messing in
his
business, he was certain she’d find a way to cause problems. This was just another reason he didn’t involve himself in the world of gods. Even their half-blood children acted irrationally. Probably too much inbreeding.

Right now Demi was the least of his problems. With a thought, he directed the elevator to the lobby. Sometimes using his powers was necessary—sometimes magic just made him feel more in control, but he’d never tell his mother that.

Chapter Eight

After work, Nikki walked into her apartment and instantly noticed a ballet of dust speckles dancing in the streaming sunshine. There was a small stack of plates in the sink because she’d yet to put away the dishes from the dishwasher load she’d done a week ago. It had just been easier to pull out a bowl or fork when she needed it. But it was the pile of laundry that spurred her into action.

Still feeling antsy from the shoot and her encounter with Tor, she’d embraced physical labor, hoping it would help curb her restlessness. Once the cleaning supplies had been assembled and music turned on, she got to work. The kitchen and living room didn’t take much time, but her bedroom was another story. Before long she’d assembled two piles of stuff in the middle of her floor, one to give away and one to toss.

She pulled down three of the many boxes she’d saved in case she decided to move, and filled them with the items from her
piles. A small pink package fell from the shelf of her closet. She picked it up and smiled. It was a pregnancy test that Stacey had gotten her for her birthday last year as a joke. Scribbled across the front of the box she’d written,
Open in case of emergency.

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, multimillion-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.”