Red Demon (50 page)

Jules had already become much stronger, her face and smile radiant as she clung to him at the pool’s edge. Her small skirt came free from her hips, sinking. She stared down. “Wait! I like that design,” she argued, fumbling for it, but he caught her hand.

“Darling, I’ll take you shopping every day for the next year if it makes you happy.”

“With that flat, plastic card?” She stared up at him joyously. “Truly?”

“Can I watch while they truss you up in all the finery?”

“That is not polite, sir.” She swatted his arm, but he pulled her against his chest, swimming them toward what was obviously the shallow end of the enchanted pool.

“Once and for all . . . ,” he started.

“I will always call you ‘sir,’ ” she said. “I find that doing so is rather . . . sexy.”

“Oh, how you adapt to the twenty- first century,” he growled, nipping her ear. “I like it!”

Then they were in the shallow area of the bathing pool, and Ari stood, drawing her up against him. His own shirt dripped heavy rivulets, and she reached to pull it off, but he held out a hand, yanking it over his head and hurling it across the water’s rose-petal surface.

Jules held to him, thinking that the flowers along his arms were only a lush reminder of his very masculine beauty.

Never taking his eyes off of her, he was out of his pants, too, so that all that remained was her white lace blouse. She began removing it quickly, needing to be naked and bare against Aristos.

Then, with a self-conscious glance, she searched all about them. “Are we truly alone?”

He captured her mouth, kissing her, and then whispered. “Eros himself told us to get it on.”

“Get it on?” she repeated, then intuiting the meaning, made her eyes wide. “He did not! He said we were to spend time together in this pool.”

“Together, baby. Subtext is king.”

Hitching her legs about him, she felt how very aroused he was, the thick length of him pushing between her legs. “This pool has some wicked mojo in the water.” He laughed, drawing her right up into his arms. “Not that I need any help when it comes to wanting you, darling.”

He cupped her buttocks, sliding her up against him, and before she could hold her breath, he was pushing up inside of her. “Yes,” he said, eyes sliding shut with pleasure. “That’s what I want.”

They rocked together, wordlessly, and a warm wind fanned across their semi-exposed bodies. They dipped in and out of the water, moving and thrusting, but always that magical quiet wove its way between them. To be alone like this, together on Olympus, at the very seat of Eros’s power of love and magic, made the moment of joining breathtaking.

“I . . . geez, I can’t hold back,” Ari barked. “This . . . something here makes me want to really lose it, fast.”

She could feel him releasing inside of her, the jerking motion as he filled her completely. He gripped her hard, right up against his chest, and her own body responded in kind, gripping and pulsing and needing.

When they were totally spent, he still kept her in his arms, so close and tight, she could hear the hammering of his heart. “Sweet Jules,” he sighed against the top of her head. “Nobody does it better. Trust me on that one.”

They kept clinging together, unwilling to let the other go, and Jules marveled at the strength she felt, like a bell ringing all through her body. “I’m going to live, Aristos,” she whispered into his ear. “This pool has saved me. You have saved me.”

A whispering sound came overhead then, and they both looked up with a start. It was Eros, flying right over the pool, an expression of absolute glee and joy on his handsome face. “Love has saved you!” he crooned. “And
I
have defeated my father . . . this time!”

Then, raising his bow, a flaming arrow—a crimson one—he fired right over their heads. “Live forever, my young ones!” he sang. “Both of you, eternal. Your love, immortal. Yes, live forever!”

N
ikos turned in the bed, blinking his bleary eyes. How long had he been sleeping? And why did his chest hurt so badly?

He rubbed his eyes, trying to recall how he’d gotten here in . . . Where was he? Another look, and he saw Mason’s antique dresser and the framed Harley-Davidson posters on the wall. He sank down into the pillow.

He’d almost died, and they’d healed him—and apparently, someone had brought him here to Mace’s room. Why here, of all the blasted places, he wondered miserably. That was when he noticed an empty chair beside the bed, and he felt his eyes burn. Mason wasn’t in that chair, because undoubtedly he’d been too spooked by Nik practically dying in his arms.

He groaned slightly, rolling onto his back, knowing that he’d lost Mason Angel for good. There was no way around it.

“You’re up, huh?” Mason asked softly. Nik hadn’t realized he was sitting beside him on the bed. “About time, too, Dounias. Don’t get soft and lazy on me in your old age.” Mason brushed a hand through Nik’s hair. “Might have to call you Sleeping Beauty if you keep this up.”

Nik blinked up at him, confused, his body still hurting. Desperately wanting to believe that having Mace in bed beside him meant something.

Mason wore shorts and a faded Marine Corps T-shirt. A sudoku magazine was propped against his knees.

“How long have I been out?” Nik asked groggily.

Mace checked his watch. “Going on about seventy-two hours now. You were starting to worry me, but Ari and Soph kept saying you just had to sleep it off. So . . . I took up guard duty.” Mace grinned down at him, his green eyes filled with undisguised tenderness and affection. “I was starting to miss you in a pretty big way, man.”

“I didn’t expect I’d have you here,” Nik said honestly. He knew what Mason must have felt, holding him, injured and bleeding to death. All the man’s worst fears and memories had surely been brought back—and every one of his reasons for avoiding a relationship fully confirmed by that horrible scene. “I . . . just figured you’d be scared off for good by now.”

Mason’s light eyes became teasing. “After that dying act? Look, you gotta stop going for the attention.” Mace slid down on the bed and propped his head on one elbow. “ ’Cause, for the record, you’ve had my attention all along. You copy?”

Nik nodded, feeling ridiculously shy, especially when Mason moved a little closer, and continued. “So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About you. About us . . . And about me, my stupid issues, my past, Kelly. So here’s the thing,” he said, staring meaningfully into Nik’s eyes. “You deserve a boyfriend who’s got his shit together, you do.” Mason drew in a breath and announced, “I’m gonna go back to the VA. Get some help to deal with my PTSD, all of it. Because you deserve a guy who’s not gonna run scared every time you try to get close. You deserve . . .”

“You, Angel,” Nik said, pulling Mason into his arms. “You are all that I want and deserve.”

Mason began stroking his hair very slowly, such a gentle, sweet thing that Nik got sleepy. Really, really sleepy, and then he was floating into the dreamworld again. Until with a start, his eyes popped open. He turned to Mason, who had apparently just been lying there, watching him rest.

Nik stared into Mason’s eyes. “Aristos often says I am too reserved, and I suspect he is correct, so I’m going to do something very, very risky right now.” Nik cupped Mason’s face, murmuring, “I’m not asking this time. I’m telling you what I want, what I need . . . my one kiss.
This
kiss. It’s mine, Angel. You are mine. Make no mistake on that matter.”

“Roger that.” Mason began grinning like an idiot. “You’re about to become one of the few, the proud . . .”

“
Mine
,” Nik growled with Spartan brevity.

Mace began laughing as their lips brushed together and murmured, “Oorah!”

But then suddenly he heard someone clearing his throat, and Nik froze, Mace still in his arms. Shit, he wasn’t ready for the cadre to really know the full truth about what they had going, not so early on.

“Sorry,” River said sheepishly, hesitating at the threshold. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“The door was open,” Mason said, sitting upright and waving him on into the room.

River walked closer, hands in his pockets, seeming awkward and unsure.

“So, uh, how are you feeling, Nik?” River ventured, taking the empty seat beside the bed. “You’ve had us all worried.”

Mason slid a hand onto Nik’s shoulder and in a soft voice said, “River’s been in here for most of the time you were sacked out.”

“You didn’t have to . . .”

“You moved to save me when Layla attacked.” River’s green-gold eyes weren’t going to brook any argument, not this time. “Just like you tried to help me down in Hades during that recent battle. Like you searched for me while I was lost in the ocean, trapped in dagger form. Like, it seems, you’ve been doing for years.”

Nik averted his eyes. “You would have done the same for me. We are brothers.”

“Are we brothers?” River asked, his voice unusually vulnerable.

“Always. You know that.” Nik closed his eyes. “I hope that you do.”

“What about the krypteia? That memory I had recently?”

Nikos kept his eyes closed at that one. River had come out of his recent captivity remembering a moment in their shared past that Nikos had done his best to erase from the warrior’s mind. He’d never wanted him to remember that confrontation.

“I never put the death squad on you,” Nik said after a long moment. “You can’t imagine that I’d do that, not to my . . . brother.”

Mason shifted beside him, planting a reassuring hand on his arm. Solid; strong; unwavering. Nik opened his eyes and looked at River. “I would not have sent the krypteia to harm you, River. Know that. I would always protect you.”

“My point,” River said firmly, “precisely. We are warrior brothers, yet you’ve always shoved me away. Always kept me at a distance intentionally. Leonidas won’t tell me why, but I’ve decided . . . three times you’ve put your life on the line for me. That’s what brothers do. But I want to know what the secret is, the reason you won’t be friends with me. Brothers,
yes
. Friends—never.”

Beside him, Mason began to laugh. “Hmm,” he said in a teasing voice, “I think I recognize that dance. And you didn’t even learn it from me if it’s been going on that long. Jesus, you got something going with River I should know about?” Mason nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “I need to be jealous or what?”

Nikos groaned, his eyes sliding shut. All these years, and he’d kept the secret; he did care about River. Tremendously.

Without looking at either of the men beside him, he said simply, “We
are
brothers.” He sank farther down in the bed, his body weak, his spirit tired. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Shit, Nik!” It was Mason. “Are you saying . . . ?”

He dared to open his eyes, trying to focus on River. “My father . . . He lusted after your mother, wanted her despite her being married. She had no choice; as a slave, how could she resist a nobleman? She never had any choice, and I was ashamed of that. I hated you for it. . . . You were the living proof of what my father had done to her.”

River gaped at him, sharp blotches of color hitting his cheeks. “You . . . you . . . We are . . .”

“I’m your half brother,” Nikos said, battling deep exhaustion. But River needed him to finish this conversation, so he forced himself to stay awake. “That memory, the krypteia. They did come for you, but I gave myself instead. Had them beat me. You never knew.”

“You protected me,” River whispered, eyes wide, amazed. “You’re my brother. My brother, for real . . . Why wouldn’t you tell me? How could you keep this from me?”

“Well, brother.” Nik sighed. “I should’ve told you many things. Long ago, but my father—our father—spent a lot of time comparing me to you, making sure I wouldn’t want a relationship. That night? With the death squad?” Nikos hesitated, recalling the humiliation, the physical pain. “They extracted quite a price, and made sure it lasted most painfully. I didn’t want . . . I was ashamed,” he admitted. And he prayed that neither Mason nor River would ask exactly what was done to him in the dark field once the beatings were finished. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Least of all you.”

“I wouldn’t have judged.”

“I judged myself,” Nikos said gruffly, daring to look into the other man’s eyes. All he saw, the only emotion, the only reality, was true acceptance. “I should’ve said something long ago. I am sorry, River. Much time has been lost, hasn’t it?”

River smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. Funny, but he almost seemed shy. “Nice thing about having lived this long,” he said carefully, “is that time becomes rather meaningless. I wish you’d been truthful with me years ago, but we can get to know each other better now. Starting today.”

Nik nodded, his eyes drifting shut even though he wanted to stay awake. “Yes . . . brother.”

“You need rest,” Mace said, tugging the blanket up over his chest.

He’d have sworn he felt the guy brush a kiss against his forehead. “Not just one. Way, way more than one kiss for you, Nikos.”

 

Juliana held the shopping bag in her hand, swinging it lightly as they walked along River Street. For the first time since her return, it felt safe to see a river—any river. The sun set low over the water, massive ships heading out to sea. She couldn’t quite believe how much commerce and industry had grown since she’d last lived here. But she was starting to grow adjusted, even in the few days since they’d returned from Olympus.

“I am so taking you to Leopold’s,” he said. “Ice cream. Really great homemade ice cream.”

“Is that before or after the Thai food, the beers at Pinkie Masters . . .”

He placed a palm atop her head. “Are you saying I’m a Dionysian kind of guy?”

She turned and smiled at him, not even caring that so many tourists bustled past them on the cobblestone street. “I’m saying, sir, that you have . . . let’s call them voracious appetites.”