Rock Hard And Wet (BBW Paranormal Romance) (Nymphs Of New York) (9 page)

He stood
on shaky legs, one wing crumpled and useless from the collision.

The
body next to his shocked him.
“Why?”

“I protect
the aerie.”
Booker
got to his knees, then his feet.
“She would have polluted our ranks with
half-breed mongrels.”

“You
are part human.”
The
hatred on Booker’s face shocked him. Of all the aerie, Booker was the last
person he’d have thought capable of such prejudice.

“And
I am weaker for it. I must protect the bloodlines from further denigration.”
The other grotesque circled to
his left and Theo readied himself for attack.
“I exist nowhere, on the
fringes of two worlds, belonging to none. Even my hunting form is a pathetic
shadow.”

Booker
surged for him. Theo stayed low to the ground and took him at the legs, flattening
him onto his back. Talons slashed at Theo’s face and eyes, but the ruff of his
mane protected his throat. He used the long barb in his tail to pin Booker’s
right arm to the ground, climbed up his torso, and sank his claws into his
thighs and biceps.

The
voices of the aerie crowded his mind again, demanding he carry out the
punishment due Booker for his crimes. A part of him wanted nothing more than to
execute. The torture done to Callie, the attack on Logan, those things demanded
retribution.

But
revenge came with a cost.

“No.
I will not execute him. He attacked my mate, the female I love. But he did it
because misguided strictures of our society have twisted his mind and heart. I
have lived long enough under your thumbs. Do your own dirty work.”

Theo
reared back and slashed Booker’s throat with one fast swipe. The wound would
keep Booker down until the aerie came to collect him, but he would heal in
time.

Cutting
off the rest of the grotesques from his mental link sent a spear of pain
through his head, but there was only one he needed to speak with.

“Logan,
brother, where are you?”
He forced his injured wing out and leapt into the air, flapping the new
appendages past the pain each movement caused. When he gained the open sky, he
searched the rooftops below until he spotted his twin and Callie. He didn’t
even know when their bond had threaded them together, but she’d seeped into one
of the fissures in his cold stone heart like water into a deep underground
aquifer, creating a hidden secret pool.

If she
died, he knew that water would kill him. It would freeze into ice and shatter
him.

Forced
to leave his brother behind, Theo flew for the ocean. In this instance, he
could thank the aerie for forcing him to survive on its fringes. He’d settled
in Brooklyn, and the proximity of the city to the Atlantic might save Callie.

A dark
shape appeared off to his right, then another. He redirected his course to the
left, only to realize two more grotesques flew there as well. Increasing his
speed was impossible, so he climbed higher, as more of the aerie appeared in
front of him.

Callie’s
slight weight in his paws grew clammier with the altitude; her head lolled to
the side and revealed the terrible wounds at her throat. If she breathed, he
did not know.  He blew a warning blast of fire when one of the flanking grotesques
flew too close.

The
rides of Coney Island dotted the landscape below before giving way to the
endless stretch of the ocean. Theo struggled against the winds whipping him,
lashing and shoving him inland. When he gauged that the depth of the water
below was deep enough, he coasted in a slow circle, angled his body so his back
took the brunt of impact, and fell.

He sank
to the bottom with swift finality, the huge mass of his body dragging him to
the sandy bottom in a column of bubbles. Now he had to count on the ocean to
heal her.

A dome comprised
of Poseidon’s magic extended overhead, transmitting blue-tinted light into the
chamber. A small school of fish swam past, their bright yellow sides like
sunlight trapped below water.

Callie
groaned and moved nothing but her eyes. Every inch of her body ached. Her limbs
and torso were battered and sore. Even the silk sheets she rested on chafed at
her skin. Flashes of her last conscious moments in New York peppered her
thoughts, and her hands flew to her throat and belly, checking the flesh there.

Nothing
marred her skin. Not a scar or bump. Nothing. The dress Theo had bought her was
long gone, as were all her bracelets save the one that held her special stone.
Perhaps they’d been ruined by blood. Even though she knew it unlikely, she
clasped her palm over her bicep to see if the jewelry Theo gifted her remained,
but that too had been removed.

She
sniffled and curled into a ball. Curious whales glided by, their enormous eyes
regarded her with cool assessment. She imagined they thought her a pathetic,
weak creature—lying in bed instead of getting on with life. A life she’d clung
to through a terrifying, brutal attack.

She
used her arm to lever herself into a sitting position and maneuvered until her
feet rested on the cool tile floor. She had to find her bauble. The silver and
gold bracelet was her one connection to him. A bereft and impossible longing
trickled in her heart for Theo. He’d rejected her, thrown her away, but still,
she wanted the damn trinket. Pathetic.

But
even more pathetic was the soul deep, forlorn sadness overtaking her at the
loss of the male himself.

She
fingered the hem of her top. At least her clothing was her own. The lightweight
gauzy skirt and top flowed over her, soft as a breath of air.

A low,
rectangular wood and coral table rested against the far wall. The marble top
held an array of items, ranging from cosmetics to a silver tray loaded with
food.

Her
stomach rumbled, and she carried the tray back to the bed, being careful to
avoid seeing her reflection in the heavy silver framed mirror hung on the wall
above the table. The gods only knew what she looked like. She didn’t even know
how long she’d been here.

Days,
weeks, months? Never in her long existence had she been attacked in such a
manner. The wounds had to have been grievous, especially for her to be convalescing
in a room like this. The room she’d been sleeping in was usually for guests,
not in the main area for the nymphs in the harem.

No more
adventures outside Big P’s kingdom for her. Theo was right; it was too
dangerous.

Did he
even know Booker had attacked her? For a few moments she’d thought he’d been
near, the fleeting feeling of a connection formed, but she couldn’t be sure. A
piece of mango lodged in her throat and she swallowed hard to clear it. Booker
had shredded her stomach, and then her throat. God, when that happened, she’d
wished Herodes had eaten her after all. The incredible river pain from the
assault would stay with her forever.

But
even then, she’d felt like Theo knew, like he’d been there. The fruit plopped
from her fingers back to the tray in an unappealing mass. She ripped a small
piece of bread from the crusty loaf in front of her and shoved it past her
lips.

She had
to face facts. Theo had thrown her out, told her to leave. The bread in her
mouth tasted like cardboard, and she deposited the tray aside on the mattress.
Eating held no point or appeal. The urge to draw until she couldn’t see filled
her, but the room was empty of anything she could use.

Callie
decided to settle for the next best thing. A long, hot bath in the enormous,
round, sunken pool at the far end of the room. She dropped her clothes on the
floor and perched on the stone ledge while the water flowed in from three
separate spouts.

She
rested her hand on her abdomen, amazed at the smooth, unblemished skin. Even
being near immortal didn’t explain how she’d recovered without a scar. When the
liquid was deep enough to cover her to her chin, she pivoted and dropped her
legs over the side. She scooted the rest of the way off the ledge and welcomed
the caress of the warm water.

Left
undirected, her thoughts spun images from the attack on a crazed carnival ride
with a sadistic operator. Bile rose in her throat, and her stomach twisted.
He’d taken her organs out of her body and tossed them to the pavement like
refuse. Hot spatters of blood and fluid had peppered her dress and exposed
skin. The stench worsened as he punctured the walls of her intestines with
careless swipes of his claws.

Callie levered
her arms up on the side of the tub and crawled out onto the cool, marble floor.
She ground her cheek against the stone, curling her fingers into it, scratching
ineffectually at the smooth surface. The stone was too hard to be penetrated,
and reminded her of the grotesque she’d been idiotic enough to fall for.

The
memory snapshots changed, and the carnival ride worsened. Theo filled every
frame. She’d managed to store years of drawing material in her memory in their
short hours together. A gift and a curse. Endless hours to fill recreating him
in every medium she could imagine, but she’d never see him in real life again.

The
whole thing had been doomed from the start. Creatures that lived under water
didn’t belong with those who soared above it. She’d opened her heart to him,
and instead of returning her love, he’d compressed her heart into a lump of
stone.

And
she’d thought she’d learned all there was to know about men and relationships.
What a dummy she truly was. The nymph with the reputation for never getting
attached, who’d managed to never feel an ounce of jealousy over sharing Poseidon
with hundreds of other women, had gone and lost it all in less than a day to a
grotesque.

She got
to her hands and knees, stood, and hobbled back to the tub, her thigh muscles
quivering. She sank down until the water collided with her chin and let her mind
go blank. The water’s caress over her healed flesh soothed her, helped wring
some of the anxiety, fear, and grief away. Steam rose into her nostrils and she
breathed deep, inhaled the healing drops of water so that it coated her inside
and out.

“Hey girl.
How you doing?” Petra’s voice called to her from across the room.

Of
course. You were never alone for long in Poseidon’s castle. At least it was
Petra and not one of the other nymphs. “Shitty. I hurt all over.”

“Yes,
it is reasonable to assume that you will continue to be sore for at least a few
days. When I stuffed the majority of your digestive tract back into your
abdominal cavity, I noted that your musculature and connective tissues had been
largely destroyed.”

“Ah,
well, good thing I’m so durable then. Thank you for that informative little
speech.” Callie kept her eyes closed. Any other time, her sister nymph’s nerdy,
logical approach to everything—even being eviscerated—would have sent her into
a fit of giggles. But not now. Instead, a river of wrath ascended from her gut.
“Why did you make me do it, Petra? You could have gone alone. Why did you make
me go with you?”

A
splash sounded and then drops of water splattered Callie’s face. “Don’t splash
me. Damn you.” She opened her eyes and shot her sister nymph a look of pure
venom. “Tell me why you made me do it.”

Dark
circles rimmed the other female’s eyes, and an aura of exhaustion veiled her
pretty, soft features like a cloak. “Statistically speaking, if we went
together, our chances for finding suitable males—”

“Cut
the shit, Petra. I don’t want to hear your logic and your numbers. I’m not in
the mood.” A large tan sea sponge rested on the ledge to her right. Callie
grabbed it, dunked it in the water, and then crushed it with her fingers.
“Why?”

“Because
you’re unhappy here. And I couldn’t bear it any longer. I knew you’d never go
on your own.” The brunette sighed, picked at her nails, and finally looked up
to meet her gaze. “I meant well. And your grotesque loves you. Unlike mine.”

“Yes,
well, you know that stupid staying about good intentions.” A crystal decanter
filled with her favorite bath oil rested on the ledge. She retrieved the
container, removed the stopper, and poured a generous amount into the tub. The
heavy, cloying scent of gardenias and vanilla wafted into the air.

“Yes. I
know it. In fourteen languages.” Petra perched on the marble and held her hand
out. Callie passed her the sea sponge, she doused it with soap, and started to wash
Callie’s back in slow, concentric circles. “And yet, for all my mathematics,
study of planetary alignment, hormone levels, and careful data plotting of your
sexual activity, I managed to get it wrong.”

Callie
laughed in spite of herself. “You…you kept track of how often I had sex?”

“Oh
yes. Of course. That sort of information is vital when planning an undertaking
of this magnitude. I wanted to be sure I got everything perfect. Failure would
never do, especially when considering that I love you best of all my sister-nymphs.”

Warmth
flowed over her. “I love you too, Petra.” Water trickled across her shoulder
blades and down her breasts as the other female washed her collar bones. “Um,
Petra, were you even keeping track of positions?”

“Oh, of
course. Positions, types of sex, location, time of day, use of props—”

A laugh
tore from Callie, and she gripped her belly. A lightning bolt of pain shot from
the area of her wounds into her chest. “Oh…oh…please stop. Don’t make me laugh
anymore.”

“I
wasn’t trying. Scientific research is no laughing matter.” Petra coaxed her hand
from the water and soaped the limb. “Besides, I’m not sure I failed entirely.
Theo saved your life. It seems I am only remiss in the algorithms I designed
for my own quest to find a mate.”

“Theo
threw me out like trash and one of his grotesque buddies went treasure hunting
in my guts.” Water splashed over the rim of the tub and onto the floor, bubbles
rising around her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to quiet her
emotions before the liquid heated into a true boil.

“I
think what he did, he did out of fear. The Aerie of New York is quite insular
and traditional. I believe he was trying to protect you from them.” Petra
rinsed the sponge out and placed it back on the ledge. She retrieved shampoo
and moved on to scrubbing Callie’s hair. “Logan told me what happened to Theo. He
was Censured and Shunned. Frozen as a stone lion because he dared to love a
human woman and left his post when he was on patrol. They allowed her to be
killed as part of his punishment.” Petra slowed her ministrations and rested
her hand on Callie’s shoulder. “You know you were the first female he’d been
with in over five hundred years. He hasn’t touched anyone since he was awoken.
Many of the female grotesques desire him, but he keeps himself apart.”

“Of
course they want him. He’s sexy as hell,” Callie growled. “And those damn
females probably treat him like some kind of ride they can take a trip on then
toss aside. They want him because he’s forbidden fruit. I’ve learned a little
bit from you over all these years we’ve been together. Societies that treat
their members the way Theo was don’t accept people they’ve punished right back
into the ranks. After something like that, you never truly belong again.”

“And
you want him because you love him.”

“Of
course I do! Who wouldn’t love him?” Saying it aloud sent a spear of hurt
straight through her heart. She shifted around, her butt sore from the hard
stone beneath her. With little effort, the water buoyed her until she floated
an inch off the bottom.

“If you
love him, why aren’t you fighting for him?”

Warm
water flowed over her hair and rinsed the shampoo away. She turned her face
away from Petra and rested her cheek on her knees. “Because he told me to go
away. He doesn’t want me.”