Mortal Temptations Page 12

  They each knew exactly what the other liked. They stroked and tickled, dipped hands down to palm each other’s balls. Andreas moved closer to nestle against Nico, and Nico stroked Andreas’s back with his feathers.

  Rebecca made a strangled noise behind Patricia. She saw the younger woman’s eyes go soft, her lips parted and moist. Rebecca’s hair had come down, and her cheeks were flushed, mirroring the heat on Patricia’s own face.

  “Are you glad you came?” Patricia asked her.

  “Hell, yes.”

  Nico’s talented fingers stroked Andreas from base to tip, while Andreas wrapped his hand around Nico’s cock. Both men started to sink into the feeling, to forget everything around them but the touch of hands on each other.

  Nico cupped Andreas’s ass, strong fingers indenting his flesh. Andreas kissed him, tongue working against Nico’s lips.

  Patricia put her hand to her mouth, letting herself suckle her fingertip. Rebecca leaned against Patricia’s back, not a sexual move, but for support.

  “I can’t take much more of this.”

  “You can if I can,” Patricia said.

  Of course, Patricia had the advantage of having participated in sexual play with both of them, of already having watched Nico suck Andreas for her. Even so, the waves of excitement that rolled over her were almost overwhelming.

  Andreas swore as his seed spilled into Nico’s hand, and he sped up his assault on Nico.

  “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “Come for me, damn it.”

  Nico held it in for a while longer. He drew Andreas’s head against his chest, stroking his friend’s hair, kissing it. Andreas squeezed Nico’s cock and flicked his thumb smoothly over his tip.

  Both men were incredibly sexy, but it was Nico’s face Patricia watched, Nico’s gaze she wanted to catch. Patricia swiftly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled up her bra, lifting her breasts in her hands.

  “Nico,” she said.

  He looked up at her, watched her flicking her thumbs over her nipples the same way Andreas played with his cock.

  Nico’s gaze riveted to her a moment, then his body jerked, and he came, groaning hard.

  “Fucking finally,” Andreas growled.

  “Shut up.” Nico ground his hips, forcing his cock through Andreas’s grip. Andreas held him down on the bed, Nico’s wings moving restlessly with his ecstasy.

  When both men finally wound down, Nico blew out his breath. “Damn,” he said to Patricia.

  She pulled her bra down again, the fabric catching painfully on her hard nipples. Andreas laughed at her and at Rebecca, whose forehead now rested on Patricia’s shoulder.

  “Enjoy the show?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Patricia answered, heartfelt. “Yes, I did.”

  “What about you, Becky?” Andreas asked her.

  Rebecca looked up. Her face flooded with color, her eyes with panic. She squeaked, put her hand over her mouth, turned on her heel, and fled.

  12

  REBECCA refused to come out of her room the rest of the night, much to Andreas’s annoyance. He decided to take out his feelings by helping Nico pleasure Patricia. Two tongues, four hands, and the delicious memory of Nico and Andreas kissing each other on the bed made Patricia fall asleep very happy.

  The next morning, the four of them went to the British Museum, and Patricia accompanied Rebecca to the basement to talk to the assistant in charge of the fragments. He was a small, fussy man who didn’t like female academics and told her that the two limestone fragments in question had been purchased last year by a smaller museum in Chelsea.

  “So I’m afraid I can’t help you, dear,” he said, giving her a cool look. “Nothing much to interest you, anyway. Greco-Roman, nothing about King Tut.”

  Rebecca stomped away with Patricia and joined Nico and Andreas, who were waiting by the stairs.

  Andreas’s cold blue eyes flickered when Rebecca related what had happened, and Patricia saw a hint of claw in his fingers. “Maybe I should have a talk with him,” he said.

  “No.” Rebecca sighed. “Let’s just find the damn fragments.”

  Andreas nodded but walked protectively beside her as they left the museum. Another tube ride followed by a short walk brought them to a tiny, privately owned antiquities museum in Chelsea near the river.

  In contrast to the snobby assistant at the British Museum, this curator was a weedy young man excited about the collection and its owner.

  “Mr. Greeley truly cares about the past,” he gushed. “He’s not just trying to show off how much we managed to loot from the Near East a hundred years ago. Mug of tea, anyone?”

  Rebecca relaxed and engaged the young man in conversation, while Patricia joined Nico and Andreas, who were wandering restlessly about the gallery.

  Nico was quiet and subdued, Andreas boiling over with impatience. Nico slid his arm around Patricia’s waist, drawing her close.

  “Can we get this over with?” Andreas growled. “What the hell are they talking about?”

  “Leave her alone,” Patricia said. “She’s worked her butt off to get us this far, and this isn’t even her fight. She should be back at Cornell grading papers.”

  Andreas rumbled something else but subsided. Nico leaned and brushed his lips over Patricia’s cheek. “This isn’t your fight, either.”

  “It is, in a way.”

  “No, you could have handed me the information and turned your back. Or called the police when you found me in your store. Or kicked me out without doing a damn thing.”

  Patricia knew she couldn’t have. She’d been drawn to Nico the moment she’d seen him lying on the floor of her antiques store, spell or no spell. All she knew was that she wanted to take the slave chain from around his neck and see if what he felt for her was real or not. If it wasn’t . . .

  She’d cross that heartbreak when she got to it.

  On the other side of the room, Rebecca’s voice rose in distress. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Andreas was next to her before she finished the sentence. The curator only grinned. “I adore how Americans talk. I hear it on the telly, but it’s not the same, is it?”

  “What’s wrong?” Patricia asked.

  Rebecca’s eyes sparkled, the young woman angry enough to forget her shyness. “He says the owner returned the fragments to the Egyptian Museum. You know, the one in Cairo. In Egypt.”

  “Well, they weren’t ours, were they?” the curator said, his grin still in place. “The stones were looted early in the nineteenth century by treasure hunters. One thing Mr. Greeley intends to do is send stolen artifacts back where they belong. He’s all for returning the Rosetta Stone.”

  Rebecca made a frustrated noise. “I just wish he’d waited a little longer to be so gracious. Are you certain the fragments went back to Cairo?”

  “Have the receipt and everything. I helped pack them.”

  “Why would they want them back, when they sold the third one to dealers?” Rebecca demanded.

  “Who knows, love? Things go back and forth, round and round, or go missing like so many things did in the war. Had a good chat with the Egyptian archaeologist who came to retrieve it. Nice fellow.”

  “Do you happen to have the nice fellow’s name and phone number?” Patricia asked.

  “I do. And his e-mail. Hang on, I’ll get them both.”

  The young man was so helpful, Patricia didn’t have the heart to be angry at him, though both Andreas and Nico waited in stony silence.

  They took the phone number of the archaeologist and the museum in Cairo from the curator, declined several more offers of tea, and left him alone with his treasures.

  “NOW what?”

  Rebecca asked the question from the middle of the suite’s sitting room, her hands clenched. She wore her shapeless pants and shirt and sneakers, as dowdy as the first day they’d met her.

  Andreas was angry and restless as well, but strangely, Nico only leaned quietly on the windowsill.

  “We go to Cair
o,” Patricia said. “We’ve come this far. Why not?”

  “I can’t go to Cairo. I have classes to teach. I’m not supposed to go to Egypt until December.”

  “Think of it as a jump start on your research,” Patricia suggested.

  Rebecca frowned at her but stopped snarling. She knew, as Patricia knew, that they’d go, and that was that. Arguing was a formality.

  “Neither of you are going,” Nico said quietly. He remained where he was, but his night-dark eyes glittered. “You’ll return home. You’ve done enough.”

  Patricia expected Andreas to snap something at him, but surprisingly, he kept silent.

  “You two talked about this,” Patricia said, suddenly understanding the signals.

  “We did,” Nico answered. “And we decided that if things didn’t work out here, you two were out of it. You have your own lives, and we’re not part of them.”

  “You are now,” Patricia said.

  Nico shook his head. She sensed troubled emotion deep inside him. “We dragged you into this and didn’t try to stop ourselves. We discovered the inscription in the first place. We’ll take it from here.”

  “And who’s going to translate it for you?” Rebecca demanded, hands on hips.

  “I’m sure we can find someone in Cairo. They have experts, too.”

  “And leave us behind?” Patricia asked.

  “The Dyons will follow us, not you. They haven’t attacked us here, because they sensed London had no answers for us. But if the answer is in Cairo, they’ll be there. You’ve given us enough to help; it’s time to back off.”

  “Screw that,” Rebecca said vehemently. “You can’t seriously think I’d get this close to an answer and abandon it before I know what it is? I’d go crazy.”

  Andreas’s lip curled. “I thought you had classes to teach.”

  “I do, but I can take a week off. Tell them I’m on a hot lead on a lost artifact; people like that.”

  “I have to agree with her,” Patricia said. “I want to know, too.”

  “No.” Nico rose, rage blazing. The dangerous spark in his eyes gave Patricia a glimpse of the demigod inside, the immortal being with plenty of power. “It’s too damn dangerous. The Dyons could kill you. I’m not about to let you die because you wanted to satisfy your curiosity. Go the hell home, Patricia.”

  “Like a good little girl?” Patricia asked, wide-eyed. “If Rebecca and I want to go to Cairo together, we can. We have passports and money, and we’re grown women.”

  Andreas’s eyes flared with heat. “Why don’t we show them how we deal with disobedience?”

  Patricia saw Nico’s arousal expand inside his jeans even when his eyes still held anger. “Spankings, you mean? I don’t know. It might be too much fun.”

  Patricia’s throat went dry. The easiest way for Nico and Andreas to turn an argument in their favor was with sex. If Nico tied Patricia with the silk scarves he liked to used and spanked her bare ass . . .

  She ripped her thoughts from that delightful path. What he’d likely do was subdue her with sexual play, and then when she was sound asleep, he and Andreas could slip away, leaving her and Rebecca high and dry.

  No way in hell would she let that happen. She had to keep control here . . . somehow.

  She slanted Rebecca a look. “How about we show them just how grown-up we are?”

  Rebecca gave her a puzzled look. “What? Oh, you mean . . .”

  Patricia caught her arm and dragged her into their bedroom before she could blurt out what Patricia had in mind. They hadn’t modeled their new clothes yet; Patricia had intended to keep the clothes for a surprise, perhaps a celebratory dinner out, but it looked like celebrations would be a long time coming.

  Patricia closed the door on Andreas’s outraged expression and locked it. Then she and Rebecca brought out their new clothes and changed into them, ruining her declaration that they were mature, adult women by giggling through the whole procedure.

  Patricia admitted to herself that she enjoyed getting pretty for a man. She hadn’t for so long that she’d forgotten how good it felt to slip into slinky clothes and put on a little makeup. She made Rebecca wear some, too.

  While they admired themselves in the mirror, Rebecca unbent so far as to hug Patricia and plant a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For the makeup?” Patricia stepped back and rubbed off the lipstick Rebecca left on her cheek. “It wasn’t much.”

  “I mean for making me do this. I never think about what I’m wearing, because my mind is on so many other things. I don’t realize.” She gave herself a big smile in the mirror. “You’ve made me pretty.”

  “You were already pretty. The right clothes bring it out, that’s all. Now let’s see if we can make their eyes pop.”

  Nico’s and Andreas’s eyes stayed intact when Patricia and Rebecca walked back in, but both men went still. Nico’s gaze roved over Patricia, and so did Andreas’s, then Andreas’s gaze was pulled to Rebecca.

  “Don’t do this to me,” he muttered.

  Patricia smiled at them both, while Rebecca blushed, unused to the attention.

  “So, while we’re still in London,” Patricia said, “why don’t you take two sexy girls out on the town?”

  IN spite of his frustration and anger, Nico liked the feel of Patricia’s waist under his hand as they wandered the London streets, deciding which club they’d try. She was absolutely beautiful and sexy, and if he didn’t get free of her, he’d spiral down into mindless slavery until one word from her, no matter what it was, would be enough to sate him, and a kick would be a caress.

  He could already feel it happening, the need to please her more and more, no matter what he wanted. And as he mired in desperate need, she’d become more and more indifferent, until she shoved him away in disgust.

  He would be left humiliated and broken, in despair and heartbreak, and he’d hear Hera’s laughter. He’d recover slowly, painfully, maybe taking years, until he was caught in another woman’s net, and the same thing happened again.

  With Patricia, he knew, it would hurt more than it ever had before. Something else lay behind the compulsion of the curse, something he’d never felt in his long life. He didn’t understand it, but he knew it would devastate him all the more.

  They finally found a club that met with Andreas’s approval and got themselves inside, immediately hitting the dance floor. Patricia smiled up at Nico and twined her arms around his neck. She thought her tight red skirt and black sweater made her sexy, and it did, but he was dying to tell her that sexiness radiated from her whether she wore a designer dress or sloppy jeans.

  He loved that she’d dressed herself up for him, and that the skirt let his hand slide smoothly over her backside as they danced. Nearby, Andreas showed Rebecca how to dance, she rocking awkwardly on her new high heels.

  Patricia laughed up at Nico and kissed him, her lips warm and soft. He was in far too deep with her, and he knew it.

  The song came to an end, but they danced through another, and then another, then the four broke off and sought the bar. Patricia declared the need to visit the bathroom and grabbed Rebecca to drag her off. Rebecca looked confused and said she didn’t need to go.

  “No, we’re supposed to go together.” Patricia laughed at her. “So we can talk about them.”

  “We are?” Rebecca still looked confused but allowed Patricia to tow her across the floor to the crowded doorway of the women’s powder room.

  Nico and Andreas ordered drinks for themselves and the ladies and slid onto chairs while they waited. It was too loud to talk, but Nico had nothing much to say.

  He noted the interested glances other women threw at him and Andreas, but he didn’t regret not being able to return them. His bond to Patricia was strong and strengthening every day. Andreas, he could tell, was feeling pulled by Rebecca’s interest, despite his three-way play with Nico and Patricia.

  He and Andreas never knew what bizarre twists the curse would take, their bed a
ctivities dictated by the whims of the women they were locked to. It was tedious—usually. This time Nico was loving it too much.

  “They’ve been in there a long time,” Andreas said into Nico’s ear. They’d finished their beers, and the ice was melting in the women’s drinks.

  Nico knew women could linger in restrooms, primping or, as Patricia said, discussing their men, but a feeling of unease went through him.

  “Let’s find them.”

  Andreas nodded once. They strode through the crowd, dancers melting out of their path. The crowd around the women’s bathroom had gone, leaving the door closed and ominous.

  Nico strode in without compunction. The room was empty, silent except for the trickling of water flowing unheeded into one sink.

  Nico snapped off the tap, while Andreas checked the stalls, every one of them empty. He sniffed the air, his nose more sensitive to scent than Nico’s. But Nico knew even before Andreas said it, and his blood burned.

  “Dyons.”

  A square window at the back of the room was wide-open. It led to an alley, with a small drop to the pavement, but there was little doubt the Dyons had taken them out that way.

  “They’re still alive,” Nico said. His bond to Patricia had definitely not broken.

  “I know,” Andreas said grimly.

  Nico pushed past him and climbed through the window, and Andreas followed.

  13

  THE tape around Patricia’s wrists was painfully tight, as was the duct tape across her eyes and mouth. She felt Rebecca’s warmth near her, heard the young woman’s quick breathing.

  Her psychic senses told her the Dyons stood around them. Two of them had burst into the bathroom where she and Rebecca had been laughing and renewing their lipstick like the teenage girls they’d both somehow missed being.

  Neither had been the one Mrs. Penworth had shot or the one from the B and B in Ithaca, but they had the same white hair, strange snakelike eyes, hissing voices, and hideous strength. They’d overwhelmed the two women and dragged them through the window, through an alley, and into a car, where a third Dyon waited.