For The Love Of A God (7 page)

It wouldn't be hard. He'd made some calls. He knew exactly what sort of torment festered in Maia's little heart.

And he knew how to fix it.

Yes, it was slightly outside his scope, but entirely possible for one with his powers. He could do this one last thing for her and then forget her.

He stood, resolved, and headed toward the museum exit.

Dr. Jim Douglas was about to have a very special visitor.

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At quitting time, Maia sat by herself outside the museum entrance on the top front step, almost as still as a statue herself. A couple of pigeons waddled over to her, and she waved them off with an absentminded gesture. “Shoo, birds,” she said quietly.

She was fighting back tears. Had been fighting them ever since he came to see her about the statue. In an attempt to keep the waterworks at bay, she focused on fiddling with the straps on her Holly Hobby bag. It was a pathetic distraction, but the only one she could think of at the moment.

Eric was letting her keep her statue.

She didn't know what his motivation was, but he'd relented. And he'd been true to his words too. At the end of the day, she'd watched as he'd had a group of workers wheel Eryx back into the Greek gallery and set him back up on his pedestal.

And when the job was done, he'd looked at her with an expression she couldn't read. Maybe it was because he felt badly about the kiss, about leading her on. Maybe he'd simply come to understand her point and respected her father's vision for the gallery.

Then again, maybe he was just playing with her.

All she knew was she was caught up in a maelstrom of emotion. She'd only known Eric Lord for days, but something about him had reached into her core and messed with the wiring in her heart. She didn't know if she was coming or going. All day she'd wandered around the museum during the course of her work, hoping she'd run into him. But dreading it at the same time.

And each time they had spoken, she'd felt the same longing deep in her soul—and in her sex.

Eric Lord rattled her to the core. He shook her very foundations. No man had ever come close to doing so.

She was in danger of falling hard. For the first time in her life.

It would have been much easier if she had her father to talk to ... or a mother.

She stood up and brushed off the seat of her capris. “Go home,” she whispered. “It'll all seem better in the morning."

Maia was about to step down when she felt a huge push on her back. With horror, she realized she was tumbling down the stone steps and could very well crack her head on the bottom. She threw her arms out, trying to brace herself. Holly Hobby flew up into the sky, and Maia seemed to fly past each step in slow motion. Unable to help herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for her brains to smash on the sidewalk.

Out of nowhere, Eric appeared. And caught her.

She collapsed into his strong arms, and slowly stared up into his face. Time felt frozen, stuck, as she gazed upon his unearthly beauty. He looked so much like the Eryx of her dreams. So tantalizingly familiar.

And he was giving her the steamy look Dino had described. The one that made her skin sizzle in anticipation.

She should jump out of his arms. Now. But she couldn't. He was too damn tall.

Plus, she didn't want to move.

His head lowered toward hers. He wet his lips and then parted them. She could feel his breath on her face. It was hot and sweet and made her think of running naked through a Grecian meadow.

His arms tightened around her legs and back, and then he kissed her. God, he was kissing her again!

As his lips touched hers, her eyes fluttered closed, completely unable to withstand the delicious barrage on her senses. She wound her arms around him, feeling the strength in his neck and shoulders.

When his tongue touched hers, she saw a flash before her closed eyes. An image appeared. One of her clad in Grecian clothing, her hair long and braided. And Eric was there, too. Nude, tanned, eager. Laying her down on a cold mosaic floor, lifting her skirt, and spreading her legs.

In the vision, he was Eryx.

With a start, she pulled away and shimmied out of his arms. He was breathing heavily and touching his mouth, seemingly unable to meet her eyes. When he finally did look up, the longing still there, he spoke in a hushed voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You know,” she said, suddenly angered, “you need to stop kissing me and then apologizing for it. You're gonna give a girl a complex."

"Maia..."

"Look, it's okay. I mean, thank you,” she stammered. “Thank you for catching me."

They stood awkwardly, staring heatedly at each other, not moving until Maia's cell phone rang in her bag. Feeling foolish, she excused herself and answered the phone.

Eric watched as she took the call, watching her face change as he knew it would. Without even asking, he knew it was the hospice calling. About her father.

"What? That's impossible,” she whispered into the phone. “Are you sure? And the doctor's already seen him? Of course I'll come! Right away.” She dropped the phone into her bag and looked up at Eric, dumbfounded. “I have to go. My ... my father..."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's in the final stages of MS. In a hospice. He's paralyzed and can't talk, but the nurse just said...” She trailed off, in shock.

"Let me take you,” he said. “You're in no shape to be alone."

Maia did not argue as he led her to a posh red car. She let Eric help, let him take her things, and put them in the backseat. She even let him buckle her into the passenger seat, which indulged the queer sense of protectiveness he felt for her.

He stopped for a moment, standing with one hand on the car door. Scanning the area around the museum. Looking for a threat.

Looking for an invisible enemy.

Nemesis stared after Eryx and the conservator, safely ensconced in her hiding place inside the museum entrance. Her blue eyes narrowed as she contemplated what she'd seen.

He'd kissed her. There was no mistaking it. But did he love her? That made all the difference in the world.

Eryx had had many women over the years. Most of them in the company of wretched Dionysus, the one who had never been able to keep his pants on. Nemesis could forgive Eryx that. After all, he was a god with a god's inclinations. As was she. She'd certainly taken her share of lovers through time as well.

She just couldn't have
him
. The one she wanted more than anything. More than life.

No, what she would not, could not, forgive Eryx for was affairs of the heart. She'd offered him hers, and he'd refused it, blatantly and without mercy. And she would see to it he was never able to offer his own to any other woman.

Her vengeance pleased her. Amused her. Soothed her dark soul.

She would just have to discover if this Maia Douglas meant anything to him, or if she was a mere fling. A fling, she could tolerate, but anything more... It wouldn't do.

She suspected the Douglas woman was just a momentary distraction. After all, how could the glorious Eryx be tempted by such a mousey creature? He'd turned her down—her, Nemesis, who had stunned mortals for centuries with her cold brand of beauty. Maia Douglas couldn't hold a candle to her.

Fortunately, Nemesis had had the brilliant idea of assuming a role at the museum. One which would allow her to observe Eryx and this Maia. No one suspected a thing. No one guessed she might be anything other than what she purported to be. And even though Eryx was a god like her, even he could not see through her disguise.

For all intents and purposes, she was invisible. Just another museum staffer.

If there were any true feelings between him and the little slug, she'd discover it soon enough. And then she'd take action.

The little push on the steps had merely whetted her appetite for revenge. If Maia Douglas got on her bad side, she'd unleash the powers of hell on her.

For now, they could enjoy their little flirtation, such as it was.

But soon enough, Eryx would be hers. She'd waited an eternity for him to come to his senses, and would not be denied. She was willing to wait a little longer, but not forever.

Smiling to herself, she retreated back into the museum. She had work to do.

Eric led her into the hospice, conscious of how her pace was slowing down. She was terrified. Scared to allow hope to bloom only to have it ripped up from the roots.

"I appreciate you bringing me here,” she said.

"No big deal,” he grinned.

She turned to face him. “It's a huge deal. You don't understand. This isn't an easy place to visit."

It was true. With all the gurneys and IVs and frail patients haunting each room, it was dismal at best. He reached for her hand, anxious to comfort her.

"My dad's in rough shape,” she continued in a little, soul-searing voice. “He was always this big man, the noted archaeologist who lived for the dig. Full of life and energy. To lose the use of his hands was pretty much a death sentence. He gave up, and his health just went downhill."

Eric remembered seeing pictures of Jim Douglas when the Eryx statue was discovered. He had indeed looked larger than life, passionate about his work. To hear he'd been brought so low grieved him too. “Let's go see him, Maia."

She stopped outside her father's door. She was squeezing Eric's hand so hard his heart swelled for her. “It must be a mistake. What the nurse told me."

He smiled down at her, wanting to tell her everything would be okay. “Go in. You can do this."

Impulsively, she asked, “Will you come with me? I know I have no right to ask."

"Maia, I'm right behind you.” She looked so small and fragile, and he tried to shake off the temptation to kiss her again. It was very hard, now he'd permitted himself those two small, exquisite tastes.

She sighed, as if relieved to have his assurance, and opened the door. She poked her head in and gasped.

Jim Douglas was not in a hospital bed. He wasn't even in a wheelchair. He was standing, and a team of doctors were huddled around him, each one looking more befuddled than the last. Jim looked robust, despite the weight he'd lost over the years, and there was a healthy, happy glow in his eyes. He looked ready to take on the world.

He spied her. “Maia, my sweet pea! Look!” For her benefit, he spun around, and then made some jabs in the air, as if pretending to be a boxer. “I'm cured.” His voice was hoarse from not being used for so long, but otherwise enthusiastic.

Maia just stared, as if waiting for him to fall down.

"Now, now, Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors interjected. “Let's not be hasty. We're still running tests."

"Tests, schmests.” Jim waved him off. “I've never felt better in my life. Come ‘ere, sweet pea. I haven't been able to hug my girl properly in years."

She crept into the room, clutching Eric's hand. “Daddy?” And then she ran to him and hugged him.

Eric watched them, overjoyed at his handiwork. He'd been a self-indulgent bastard for most of his life, absorbed in his own pleasure, but he'd given her this moment. And he couldn't believe how good it felt. Sure, he wasn't really supposed to mess with the cycle of life and all that crap, but if he couldn't use his powers for good, what the hell use were they?

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd raised Douglas from the dead, which was a no-no. He'd merely revitalized a sick man.

Jim looked up over Maia's shoulder and spied Eric leaning against the back wall of the room. His eyes widened, and he loosened his hold on his daughter. “You."

"Oh.” Maia looked up, embarrassed, and wiped her eyes. “Dad, this is my ... new boss. His name is Eric Lord."

"No, it's not.” Jim narrowed his eyes and stepped toward Eric. His expression was not one of suspicion, but wonder. “I know who you are."

Eric stood silently, gazing at the man.

Maia looked between the two men and then back at the team of doctors. “Um, Dad, maybe you need some rest. You don't want to tire yourself out.” She pulled on his arm.

Jim would not be dissuaded. He continued to stare at Eric, took him all in with a smile of joy. “You did this. Thank you."

Eric didn't say a word. He just smiled at Jim and then at Maia.

"Dr. Douglas,” one of the doctors said. “I must insist you come back to bed. Let's not take any chances."

With a laugh, Jim gave Maia another hug and returned to his bed. “Don't worry, Doc. It's just a little miracle."

The doctor went over to Maia, and Eric watched as they spoke quietly for a few moments. This was where he would tell her not to get her hopes up, to expect a relapse of some sort. Eric knew there would be no relapse. Jim was indeed cured, but the doctors would never discover how.

After a while, they left, and Maia stood still outside her father's door. She was shaking, and he couldn't resist encircling her with his arms. Upon his touch, he felt her body tense and then relax, as if she somehow belonged there and had just realized it. He ran his hands over her hair, breathed in her baby powder fragrance, and kissed the top of her head.

She felt so good. He almost didn't know why he was fighting against this so much. Maybe there was a reason for Maia Douglas being in his life. And if he couldn't use his godly powers to make her happy, why be a god at all?

If only he knew what had happened on the museum steps. He didn't like it. His heart wanted to believe she'd taken an innocent tumble, lost her footing, but he recognized the handiwork of Nemesis. It was a threat, plain and simple, intended for him as much as for Maia. So like Nemesis. He'd seen her indulge in such petty, dangerous pranks before. It was just her style. A sneak attack.

"So,” he said quietly, tilting her head up to his. “That was quite the fall earlier at the museum."

Her eyes clouded over, remembering. “It's so silly. I could have sworn I was pushed."

"Really.” He felt his jaw clench. So help him, he'd roast Nemesis on a spit if she hurt Maia. It was just like the vengeful witch to interfere.

The sheer ferocity of his feelings startled him, even as his brain sought to understand what was happening. He shouldn't care about Maia, but he did. More than he'd expected to.