So Tempting (5 page)

Making connections was why she was here, she reminded herself. He looked less harmful than some she'd seen. Certainly less harmful than that cokehead who'd just grabbed her ass.

She nodded and smiled back. Dancing to the nonstop music, the atmosphere sucked her into the undertow of pulsating beat and musky shadows, the ripe, carnal scents of people focused on pleasure.

She lost track of time as the driving techno beat spread through her body. Smoky darkness closed in, the air thickened with a mélange of heady perfumes and glistening sweat, spiked by the sharp tang of arousal. Her own body softened into languor as the backbeat hummed in the soles of her feet and searing electric guitar notes sizzled up her spine.

Her partner whirled her, drew her to the edge of the dance floor near a corner draped with iridescent ebony fabric that sparkled where it caught the light. Over here the smoke was thicker, but she welcomed the wafts of cooler air outside the packed crowd of bodies. In the haze, Jace's vision blurred, and she blinked hard, attempting to clear it.

Movement inside an opening in the fabric caught her eye.

Two bodies entwined, undulating, limned in phosphorescent blue light.

A fall of long black hair shifted, revealing the austere lines of a man's face, his mouth sliding over his partner's exposed throat, her back arched in ecstasy. Her own dark mane fell nearly to her waist. They moved as one flesh, oblivious to any observers.

Or just not caring.

Jace couldn't tear her gaze away.

Then the man lifted his head. Locked his eyes on hers.

Tiny hairs rose on her skin. His eyes...even masked, they felt like a physical caress.

She shivered.

His hands began to move over the voluptuous brunette, and Jace imagined those fingers stroking over her own flesh. She watched the flash of his heavy silver ring as the woman writhed to mirror needs Jace herself could feel...longings to let go, to abandon herself and the control she lived by.

Something stirred deep within her, the yearning of a hawk to fly, to let the currents bear her away. As he watched her, she couldn't help responding, his gaze calling from her something deep and primal. Cast into a play of blue light and black shadow, his hands caressed, disappeared over curves—and Jace swore she felt every touch. Her skirt slid up her thighs, and she swayed. Rocked her pelvis, sought his hand to slip between her legs...

Limbs heavy, body molasses-slow but exquisitely sensitive, she leaned toward him. Reached out to see if he was real...

The beat shifted.

Blue lights faded.

The drapes descended.

His hold on her snapped.

Jace teetered as she blinked from her trance, her whole system shocked by the quick dive from arousal. Good God. What— She...he couldn't have been...what had just happened? She jerked around, rubbed her arms to get warm.

Her partner of the friendly smile had vanished.

She was alone.

The music raced faster. Another man approached, his gaze too bright, his smile too jagged. Riding on the sharp edge of panic, she slapped at grasping hands and charged around the edge of the sweaty, throbbing mass. She had to get out of here and gather her wits. She couldn't wait for Halliday.

She had nearly made it to the door when a familiar head of curly auburn hair caught her eye.

Jimmy?
Jace reversed course and plunged into the crowd after him. A hand snagged her arm. She whirled, fist cocked.

"Jace? Whoa—you okay?"

Halliday.

She recoiled from his grip. "Don't touch me."

"What is it? Did someone hurt you?"

"No!" Her voice was too sharp, she knew it but couldn't seem to help herself. She concentrated on sucking in one deep breath after another, staring at the floor until she could regain her composure.

"Talk to me. What's going on?"

She had to grab the reins again. She couldn't have Halliday reporting that she'd freaked. "One too many assholes on the dance floor, that's all," she said far more casually than she felt.

She scanned the room for her brother. Saw not a trace of him.

"Sure you're all right?"

"Of course." Her head pounded, her eyes burned. What had happened in that corner? Surely she'd imagined... She shut down that line of thought. No way was she ready to discuss it. "A little dizzy. You?"

"Getting a headache from all the smoke. I've been back here where it's not so loud, talking to people. Not as much smoke here either."

"Find out anything?"

"Nothing good. You?"

No, and that was the problem. She wanted out of here in the worst way, but she hadn't been able to feel anyone out about Sam or the girl. Gonzales had only asked her to scope the place out, but she wanted to impress him with something big, at least some solid intel. "Not yet."

"I met a couple of girls, but I haven't turned up anything yet. Then I saw you hauling ass for the door." He frowned. "It's not an easy place to make contacts. People aren't here to talk."

She had to grin at that. "No kidding."

"I think we have to become regulars. I mean, look at them. Who's going to admit in the light of day they're behaving like this?"

She took a deep breath and scanned the dance floor. She couldn't let him know how badly she wanted out of here. "Good point." She tamped down her sense of urgency. "Let's give it another half-hour. I'll stay on the outskirts and see if I have better luck."

"You got it."

Cardozo would laugh his ass off if he knew how tempted she was to stick like glue to Halliday. The captain would figure his misgivings had been confirmed.

So instead, she'd circle and see if she could spot Jimmy while trying once more to make connections.

And maybe she'd check out that corner again.

A shudder rippled down her spine.

But maybe not just yet.

* * *

Gabriel answered the door in his underwear, hair sticking up, drowsy eyes coming to life at the sight of her. A long, slow whistle emerged from his lips. "Damn."

He looked so good to her. She'd managed to stay an extra hour, but she had little to show for her night, and she was still cold inside. The mere thought of those masked eyes, those hands... Once again she felt the puckering of her nipples, the aching fullness of her breasts, the dampness between her thighs...       

Heat flashed through her body. She shook her head. She'd never felt so out of her depth before, and she didn't like it.  Slipping through the door, she fastened her lips on his, practically eating him alive. Her hands all over him, nails scratching at his skin, she craved oblivion.

Gabriel reacted with speed, taking the kiss deeper, wrapping strong arms around her and squeezing her to his chest. In seconds they were both groaning, straining together in a furious battle, combatants too close to maneuver with any skill, just heat and fury and madness.

Jace rubbed against him, struggling to pull her arms down, to get her skirt up, out of their way. Gabriel pushed her back gently. "Whoa, wait a minute. Let me see this outfit before I rip it off." He grinned, but Jace couldn't grin back. "Hey, are you all right?"

No,
she wanted to say, but that wasn't their deal. They didn't do emotions. She forced a laugh. "Of course. I just—I just want you."

"Damn, Jace." He whistled again. "Don't lose this outfit, whatever you do. I'll try not to tear anything, but I don't mind telling you, it won't be easy."

She should play this light, twirl around, model for him. She stepped away to do just that.

Gabriel grabbed her and growled. "Where are you going?"

"I thought you wanted to look."

He jerked her close, hands slipping beneath her skirt, dropping to his knees before her. "I looked. Now I want to touch." Groaning aloud as he lifted the red leather higher, he glanced up at her, eyes so hot she thought she'd melt. "Oh hell, a garter belt, too? You're killing me."

With a swiftness that stole her breath, one thumb yanked aside the crotch of her panties and his tongue delved inside her cleft. Stunned by the rush of heat that rose up to devour her, Jace cried out, coming violently, her mind going white.

And while her body rippled with the shocks of Gabriel's hot mouth—

The dark man watched her.

Jace squeezed her eyes tighter, grabbed onto Gabriel with more force.

He drew back with a grin. "There's more where that—" His triumph vanished. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head violently side to side to dislodge the image that wouldn't go away. The hands on her body...the eyes that held her fast... Oh, God, had somebody given her something and she hadn't known? But she didn't drink anything there, so how could—

She shuddered. Fingers gripping his hair, Jace sought Gabriel's mouth, tasting herself on his lips. With hands desperate for his touch to erase the other, Jace slid her fingers inside the waistband of his briefs, closing around him. "I want you inside me. Now."

"Whoa. Slow down, babe." He pulled back, his lips glistening with moisture from hers. "The night's not over."

"Now, Gabriel." She writhed against him, sliding her hand further, cupping the flesh already tight and heavy with need. "Please." Urgently, she stroked him, wanting him to stop asking questions. "Make me forget."

He stared at her for a long moment before he seemed to make up his mind. "All right." His familiar voice soothed her.

Her fingernails scratched lightly against his muscles, beseeching.

"Sh-h-h...it's okay, Jace," he murmured, scooping her up in his arms and heading for his bed. "Don't worry, babe. It's okay now."

But it wasn't until he'd ripped her over a second edge, then thrust deep inside her, that she began to relax.

GREECE

Twenty-two years ago

As the long black car rolled down the lane, Dante stared at the imposing mansion ahead and wondered why, at last, his father had sent for him after ignoring him for so long.

Meanwhile, Markos had spared no opportunity to make his life hell. He had been shunned by most of the boys in the school once word had spread, but that had not been enough for the crown prince. His brother's moves had never been open, however, leaving his public behavior beyond reproach.

But
sub rosa
, Markos and his minions had seized every opportunity to undermine Dante's chances to succeed. He'd been falsely accused of cheating. Marijuana he'd never seen had been found under his mattress. He'd spent months sleeping with one eye open and a chair jammed beneath the doorknob, but his brother had been the master of subtlety. No trace ever remained to connect his brother to the stolen mail, the destroyed presents from Mama, the warnings to the few souls who tendered friendship to a lonely boy.

Not once had Dante breathed a word of it to anyone. There was no one to turn to, certainly not his father. He'd long ago stopped believing in all the pretty stories his father had told him about sorcerers and healers and magic spells; they were only a hoax. He would never be the protector of the amulet now. He was not a Light Walker. He and the man he'd called Papa shared no special heritage and never would. His father was a captain of industry. He had no time for a bastard son anymore.

Until this summons, that is. If Dante could have found a reason that wouldn't sound childish, he would have refused to come. But though he was almost sixteen, he'd left childhood behind long ago. He'd gritted his teeth and stayed at the academy because he was determined he would one day show his father how wrongly he'd chosen. He would make more money than his father ever dreamed, but to do that he must have proper credentials to overcome his illegitimacy.

The car halted. He emerged before the chauffeur could make his way around, then stared at the magnificent structure that was surely a few hundred years old. He thought of the modest cottage where he and his mother lived, about how hard she worked because she refused to take any of Papa's money for herself. She was beautiful still, but Papa's defection had robbed her of the vibrancy that had been her trademark, the laughing dark eyes that seemed always ready to spill some delicious secret.

He didn't want this mansion for himself, but his mother surely deserved better from the only man she'd ever loved. As he followed a servant up the marble steps, his resolve hardened. He would listen to whatever his father had to say, but he would give him nothing. Gone were the days when they'd Walked the Light together, when he'd thrilled to the Song of the Soul Star. They'd made potions and teas, and Papa had thrilled a boy's soul with stories of magic and tradition, of honor and sacred duty. His father had lost claim to a shared heritage by choosing this family over the one that had loved him so completely. Dante would listen, and then he would leave.

"Son."

The voice was the same, but as he turned, he saw that his father was not. Perhaps it was that he himself was much taller now, almost the equal of the man who'd once seemed a giant. Or perhaps it was the silver sprinkled in the once jet-black hair.

As he studied his father, he realized that something was wrong. Sorrow cloaked the man who'd seemed invulnerable. The boy who had loved this man fiercely could not turn aside, after all. He closed the distance. "What is it, Papa?"

The older man smiled. "So tall. Almost a man, aren't you?" His eyes were the same silvery gray as Dante's, but today they were iron-dull.

"Tell me what is wrong." At heart, Dante was still a healer, and buried love for this man swamped him. "What can I do?"

"No more than you have always done, my child. Be who you are, the boy I cherish."

"Are you ill?" Dante sensed a soul-sickness eating away at his father's heart. It shocked him profoundly and shifted all that he knew. His father was infinitely strong and wise. He was not this man so diminished by unknown pain.

"My wife has died."

Dante should have felt shame for the sudden leap of his heart. She was gone, the woman to whom his father had returned. Surely now he would come back to them. Mama would be happy again.

But immediately he smothered it. "I am sorry."

"She had been quite ill for some time. Her suffering is ended."

That was it, then. He'd stayed away because his wife was dying. It was understandable, but now there would be no need.

"You must wonder why I sent for you."

Dante remained silent, eager for the words that would change his life, that would bring his mother's sparkle back.

A silence grew, and in it a foreboding. Dante peered deeply into his father's eyes and saw there only regrets.

"This is very hard for me to say. I love you, and I am very proud of you and all that you have accomplished. You will be a great man someday."

But—
He heard the word as loudly as if his father had shouted it. Suddenly he wanted to run away, to clap his hands over his ears before he could hear what was coming.

He would not, for the same reason he had never told anyone about his brother's malicious deeds. Nonetheless, the little boy who'd once been in awe of this man, had wanted his father to reach into his mage's bag of tricks and know without being told. To be as wise and omnipotent as he'd always seemed.

"I made my wife a promise on her deathbed. You understand the seriousness of that, do you not?"

Dante didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know anything more. All he wanted was to run from this room, race all the way to his mother's cottage and sweep her away from this man's influence.

"Do you?" his father snapped.

Where love had given way to disillusionment, now hatred sprouted fertile seeds. "Yes, sir." He focused past his father's shoulder, determined to give nothing else to this man. His mind raced as he considered and rejected options to avoid this fate.

"I cared for my wife."

"You told my mother you loved her."

His father's jaw clenched. "Cease your insolence. I am still your father."

"You never claimed me." Dante was surprised that it still had the power to hurt him. "Forget it. I'm leaving." He whirled to go.

"Please." A word he'd never expected to hear from this man. "I promised her that I would sever all ties and devote my remaining years to the son she and I shared." His voice grew hoarse. "It is little enough recompense for the pain I caused her. I did not love her as I do your mother; there is no room in one heart for that sort of passion twice. There were days I thought I would die of longing to be with your mother, and when you were born..."

His father's eyes burned. "You are precious to me, more so than you can know. You share more than my blood. You have the gift. It only comes to those born in love."

"What of
him
?"

His father sighed. "It would be simpler if your brother could be my heir in all ways, but—" A spasm of pain crossed his face. "You know what he is. There is a chance I can save him if I can make him feel secure, if I can love him the way I—"

His father clasped his shoulder. "He is not as strong as you, but he is my eldest. I have to try to help him. Already darkness creeps into his heart. I promised her, and one day perhaps, if I succeed, you can truly be brothers. It is my fondest wish. Can you understand, my son? I cannot abandon him."

What do you want from me?
Dante wanted to cry out.
Haven't I sacrificed enough?

But just then he could feel again the touch of his father's hand brushing his hair. Could remember what it was to laugh with him, his father's always a little rusty at first, as if his life outside the cottage gave him few opportunities for joy.

He'd loved this man with a fierceness akin to worship. And they did indeed share an ancient calling that had been with him since before he could remember.

But peace with Markos was more remote than the light of a cold and dying star. Dante didn't want to be sent away, to give up any more than he already had. He was tired of sacrificing everything for a brother who hated him.

The sorrow and exhaustion in his father's voice reverberated in his own soul. "What is it you ask of me?"

"Only this." His father reached inside the collar of his shirt and slipped something over his head.

The amulet. Only now it was no longer glowing.

"Papa?"

"I have failed. I can no longer see the True Path or hear the Song of the Soul Star."

Papa placed the amulet in Dante's hand, and the surge of power rocked him. The Song surrounded Dante, lifted him in its Light. He could see, spinning outward in all directions, how the world could be, how all things were possible. He could—

His father gripped his shoulder, grounded him. Murmured in the Old Words and brought him back. "It is yours now. Take it and wear it. Never forget for one day that you are my son and I love you. I pass to you the torch—guard it well. Accept the responsibilities of your blood and our proud tradition. I sense that you will be one of the few Guardians who will attain full power when you find your Prism, the one whose heart speaks to yours. I found mine too late, and a divided heart diminishes your powers as surely as a cold heart does.

"Until that day, guard this well.  Walk the Light, let the Song guide you. And one day when you have a son of your own, tell him the stories and teach him the ways of the Light Walkers." The heavy silver amulet with its glowing green stone settled into a steady pulse, warm against Dante's skin.

"The Eye of the Magos heals when honor defeats hate, when love vanquishes lies. Love breeds Light. Light grants power. Only in darkness does the Eye lose the True Path."
Staring into his father's eyes, Dante repeated the words he'd never forgotten, clasping the amulet, feeling the power of it rush through his blood. Seeing beyond this place and time in both directions, past and future. He tensed, deeply shaken. "Papa, I am not ready."

His father's hands came to rest on his shoulders. "It is a heavy burden, I know. I did not feel ready either, when it was my turn. You will grow accustomed to it in time. But you only have to guard it now. Continue your studies of healing, and the Soul Star will help you. If you should one day find your great love, many possibilities will open to you, but whether or not that happens, always you will be protecting the portal." He smiled faintly, then touched one finger to his own chest. "Strange...the emptiness."

"Papa..." Dante did not know what to say. Too much had happened in so short a span. "I don't know enough."

"You will learn. You have a rare gift, Dante. You may be the strongest of us in many centuries." His father cupped Dante's face in his big hands, pressing one kiss to each cheek, then one to his brow. "In the name of our fathers for generation upon generation since time beyond mind, wear this in peace and harmony. Use it for good. Let your heart guide you."

He was crushed in his father's hug, the only place in his life where he'd ever felt safe. For a moment, he wanted to be a child again. The amulet burned against his skin and weighted down his heart. Seeking comfort, he burrowed into his father's embrace. "I love you so much, Papa. I will make you proud."

His father drew away slowly, his eyes fierce and sad and hurting. "I know you will." He set Dante from him. "You must go now, my son." 

"Papa, can't we—?" Abruptly he stopped, unable to bring his father more pain. With the dawning of a new maturity, he saw his father as a man, mortal and flawed, not the god he'd believed him to be.

He straightened and composed himself, carefully stifling the cry clawing at his throat. "Goodbye, Papa."

His father looked old and shrunken.  "Son, I..."

Dante clasped the amulet and prayed for courage. Felt its comforting warmth and knew he would never be truly alone again. "It's all right, Papa. I understand."

But that didn't ease the pain of parting from the man who had given him life.

Before he could give into unmanly tears, he strode quickly away.