Mortal Temptations Read online

  The two men walked past, the second one admonishing the first to hurry up so they could go home and have their coffee. Their footsteps had almost faded, when suddenly the younger man cried out.

  “There. You see?”

  Nico hid a groan as they dashed back to where he lay, wings spread over his body. He raised his head to see a rifle barrel pointed right in his eyes, and behind the rifle, an astonished Egyptian face.

  “Hello,” he said in careful Arabic. “Do you think you’d have enough coffee for me, too?”

  PATRICIA wondered if she imagined the light. She waved her hand in front of her face and saw nothing, so she decided it was her imagination.

  When she saw Nico again, what would she tell him? That she loved him, first. If the test was finding her, and he did and got free, would he still want her? Andreas had been quick enough to disappear, leaving Rebecca heartbroken. She was a resilient young woman, but Patricia had seen her pain.

  Would Nico be a carefree demigod again, happy to be rid of Patricia?

  She thought of his upright body, broad shoulders, fine torso, the black spread of his wings. She thought of him naked, with his cock standing straight out from a thatch of black hair, his own feathers caressing himself.

  He was a beautiful man—no, demigod—and she was in love with him.

  The light was definitely there. It was a faint flicker on the edge of her vision, back where she’d found the tiled basin of water. She rose from the dirt and moved toward it, going slowly in case it was Hera waiting for her with a sword of doom or something.

  But her psychic senses still told her she was completely alone. However these things were appearing, no person brought them in.

  The light had the dim quality of phosphorescence. She knew that some fungi could glow like that, but she had no idea if such a fungus could be found in Egypt—if she was still in Egypt.

  She rounded the corner. The tiled basin glowed as though from within, lighting it up in luminescent blues and greens and reds.

  “Great,” she said. “And I drank it.”

  She peered into the basin, which, she now saw, was beautifully decorated with mosaic tile. The light was fixed at the bottom, an electric light, not glowing plant life. The water bubbled up from inside the basin, as though from a spring.

  The strangeness of all this, which might have frightened Patricia weeks ago, now bounced off her. She had no idea how the room had expanded or how normal-looking things had appeared out of nowhere, but it seemed to go with the situation.

  She drank more water, wondering if the light would stay. It was nice to be able to see a little bit. Patricia walked back around the corner to the food table, figuring she might as well have another orange.

  The table had grown. She could see its faint outlines in the light, a low, oriental table like what had been in their hotel rooms. It was now covered with brass plates heaped with fruit, not just warm-climate fruit, like oranges and figs, but strawberries, grapes, apples, and dates.

  Patricia sat down and made a nice fruit meal, not surprised that everything tasted so good. These were the juiciest oranges, the sweetest grapes, the crispest apples she’d ever had.

  This is very weird, she thought. Or maybe it’s Hera’s way of driving me insane. Are these really apples I’m eating, or am I dreaming all this?

  The juice running down her chin was real enough. What she wanted most in the world, though, was Nico there to lick it clean.

  STRANGELY enough, it didn’t take Nico much effort to get his hunters to accept that he was a divine being. The two brothers, Ahmed and Faisal, lived in a small house in a village of the Dakhla oasis out in the western desert. They were farmers and lived there with their older brother, Mahmud, his wife and children, and their aging mother.

  Nico was welcomed into the house and given food and drink, although it was obvious they didn’t have much to give. The brothers were convinced that Nico was an angel sent to bring them luck and divine guidance, and Ahmed took much ribbing for shooting at him.

  Fortunately, except for the wing feathers, he’d missed. Human bullets couldn’t kill Nico, but he’d still bleed and hurt. Once Nico’s wings had healed enough, he drew them in, to the family’s delight, and he accepted their offer of a caftan to cover himself.

  Nico spread a little magic over the house and the rest of the village to help keep the people here healthy and bring them a good crop yield. He decided to tell them about his quest, which the brothers listened to with interest.

  “The divine Nico searches for his beloved lady,” Ahmed said. “I’ve never heard that story.”

  “That’s because it’s still being told,” Nico said, cradling the tiny cup of Egyptian coffee they’d given him. “I don’t know what the ending is. Can you think of somewhere around here a goddess might hide a lady?”

  They seemed happy to help and speculate, and the oldest brother’s three sons chimed in. The wife, mother, and daughters had taken themselves into another room on Nico’s arrival, but the wife called to her husband, and she and her mother-in-law loudly told him their opinion on the matter.

  It took a long time and a lot of argument and then another meal for the family to reach a conclusion.

  “There is a place,” Ahmed said. “It is out in the desert where there are no roads. The foreign archaeologists search here, there, and everywhere for sites to dig, but they always miss that.”

  “Why don’t you tell them about it?” Nico asked.

  Ahmed looked innocent. “It’s fun to watch them look. And it might be nothing, just some square stones in the desert.”

  “I’m willing to see them,” Nico said.

  Their mother and Mahmud’s wife related that they approved, and preparations were made for a journey into the desert.

  Nico waited outside while they prepared, enjoying the cool breeze under the palm trees. The brothers farmed here where life-giving water bubbled from the surface of the desert. They liked it here, Ahmed said, far from the bustling crowds of Cairo and the tourist spots of Luxor and Thebes.

  “A man can be his own person here,” Ahmed told Nico. “He can walk with a long stride, and he knows all his neighbors, good and bad. When I go to Cairo . . .” He shook his head. “So many people, so much noise, and I can’t breathe the air.”

  Tourists did travel out here to look at the tombs and Roman temple, but for the most part, Ahmed’s village was quiet.

  Mahmud had an ancient jeep, which they supplied with gas and water, and the two younger brothers and Nico piled in for their trek into the desert. It took several tries to get the jeep going, and then they were off.

  Ahmed and his family were of Bedouin descent, and Ahmed drove the jeep with the same fond restlessness with which his ancestors must have ridden their horses. The sun blazed full and high, but the autumn morning was crisp, the air fresh.

  The jeep shot down roads Nico could barely tell were there, Ahmed steering with reckless abandon. Gravel and sand shot up from the tires, and the vehicle tipped with each turn.

  From what Nico could tell, Ahmed was driving them straight into the desert, toward the Great Sand Sea. Nico held on to the roll bar as the jeep rocketed onward, Ahmed promising Nico would thank him when they reached their destination.

  Nico held out hope that the journey would prove fruitful, because before he’d left the brothers’ house, he’d seen something that startled him. In a shadowy corner, on a forgotten table, he’d seen a stone statue that looked exactly like Demitri’s statue of the stumpy-legged, lion-faced old god, Bes.

  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 h
im, 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.

  22

  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?”