Seduced by Magic (9 page)

Sal took another swig of beer, all the while watching Justin from beneath lowered eyelids. “What? You didn’t know?”

“Know,” Justin took a deep breath, not really sure he wanted an answer, “what?”

Sal sighed and finished the beer in one long swallow. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“Sal.” Scarlata’s hushed voice scared the shit out of him but he couldn’t take his eyes off Sal. “Are you telling me he’s…”

“Yep. Bitch of a way to find out, isn’t it?” Sal said.

“Find out what?” Justin finally forced a coherent string of words from his mouth.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Scarlata shook her head and turned a speculative gaze on him. “That’s why my magic didn’t work on you. And why I detected no trace of magic in you. It’s been hidden by a master. What did you say your father’s name was?”

“Michael. Michael Johannson.”

“Son, your father’s name is Selvans,
lo spirito dei boschi
,” Sal said. “Otherwise known as the God of the Woods.”

Justin speared his glance back and forth between Sal and Scarlata. “Are you really trying to tell me my father was a Roman god?”

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“Roman.” Sal snorted. “Son, you insult your sire. Your father is part of the Etruscan pantheon, older than those pansy-ass Romans.”

Justin heard ringing in his ears and saw spots swimming in his vision. He might be ready to pass out but it made so much sense. Really scary, crazy sense, but sense all the same.

His father’s love of nature, his extended absences, his insistence on the existence of magical races. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘is’?”

“Come on, kid.” Sal shrugged. “He’s a deity. Immortality comes with the gig.”

Okay, not only was his dad a god but he was still alive.

He wondered… “My mom—”

“Probably doesn’t know a thing,” Sal finished his thought. “Your pop, he’s known for this kind of thing. Typically the women don’t realize what he really is.”

Well, hell. That sounded…really cold. Not at all like the man he remembered.

“Do I have other siblings, apart from my sister?”

Sal shrugged. “Perhaps, but none that I know of. Gods don’t have a lot of kids. Too many problems crop up. How long were your parents together?”

“Eighteen years. He died…” Justin closed his eyes, shutting out the sudden expression of pity on Sal’s face. “Wow, how stupid can I get? He didn’t die, did he? He left us.”

Sal nodded. “Usually he leaves after fifteen years. It’s hard for an immortal to hold the illusion of age, mostly because they’re vain. Looks like he truly loved your mom, kid.”

Anger flared bright and hot. “That bastard. Why the hell didn’t he tell us the truth?” But even as he spoke, Justin realized the answer. “Because I wouldn’t have believed him.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Scarlata drew his gaze, her expression sympathetic but not pitying. “It was hard for you to believe his stories were real and not 70

Seduced by Magic

fairytales. But that’s how it must be, Justin. We would be hunted to extinction if most humans knew the truth.”

He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt his beautiful Red. But she was right.

Science had supplanted magic and humans no longer believed in a power they couldn’t rationally explain away. And if they couldn’t explain it, they tried to kill it.

So what did all this make him?

He ran a trembling hand over his face and shook his head. Maybe he could shake loose some answers while he was at it.

“Justin,” Scarlata soothed, “why don’t you get some rest? We can continue this discussion when you aren’t so tired. We’re safe here for now.”

That sounded like a hell of a good idea. His temples throbbed, his chest ached and the muscles in his legs were cramped into tight knots.

“Fine. You’re right.” Justin had no idea why he didn’t argue. It just never occurred to him. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Not that I’m complaining but, yeah…I could use a rest.”

“Scary, take him up to the back room.” Sal jerked his head toward the stairs. “Then come back down so we can catch up.”

* * * * *

“Who’s after you, Scary?”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the
Mal
.”

Sal heaved a deep sigh before taking another drag on his cigarette.

“You do know,” she said, “those things will kill you.”

He snorted. “Not for another thousand years or so. If I’m lucky. So what’s with this one, Scary? I’ve never known you to come down from your mountain for a piece of tail before.”

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Scarlata felt a blush heat her cheeks. Even after more than three hundred years, she wasn’t immune to embarrassment. “I believed he had discovered my existence. I…was going to teach him a lesson. Then erase his memory.” Or kill him. She didn’t say that.

“But he didn’t respond to my magic.”

“And you couldn’t resist gettin’ a little of that beautiful ass, could you?”

She chose to ignore the bite in his tone. “I will admit to an instant attraction.”

“And now you think you’re in love?” Sal’s voice held a note of shock.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I did not say that.”

“Aw, hell, kid. You don’t have to say it. It’s written all over your face.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not.” Sal took a swig of the new bottle of beer he must have gotten while she’d taken Justin upstairs.

She’d wanted to stay, had almost asked if he wanted her to. Then he’d walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Her heart had hurt as if he’d grabbed it from her chest and broken it in two. He looked so lost she wanted to comfort him. But he’d shut the door. Shut her out.

“You know, you could ask him to make the choice. He could choose to stay with you forever.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Annoyed more with herself than with Sal, she rose to pace from the kitchen to the living room and back again. “But…it could kill him.”

Sal shrugged. “Yeah, there is that.”

* * * * *

Justin couldn’t sleep.

He’d used the attached bathroom to take a much-needed shower and, when he’d returned to the bedroom, hoping to curl around Scarlata in a real bed and get some much-needed rest, she’d been gone.

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He’d pushed her away. He’d done it deliberately, had just wanted a few minutes alone. But now he wanted to bitch because she’d left.

Damn, he was farther gone than he’d thought.

Flopping onto the bed, he lay on his back on incredibly soft sheets that smelled of fresh air and sunshine. He tried to sleep. But for an hour all he did was toss and turn.

Too much information crowded his head. Too much had happened today, things too incredible to be true. Things he’d spent ten years trying to prove existed but had never thought he would.

And yet there was a beautiful woman with pale pink wings downstairs who had wanted to stay with him. He’d seen it in her eyes, had smelled it on her bare skin.

And then there was Sal, who looked like Puck and spoke like a sailor. He’d met a satyr and a fairy today. A
salbinelli
and a
folletta
. He should be turning cartwheels.

But what they’d said about his father… He still couldn’t wrap his head around that.

His father…an Etruscan god?

He’d listened to his dad’s tales of fairies and gods and goddesses with the awe of a child. But as he’d grown older, his eccentric father’s stories had become embarrassing. It hadn’t been until his dad had died that Justin had begun to take those stories seriously.

Now he knew his father had set him up. He’d given him the information he needed to figure out everything for himself. And he had followed the path directly to Scarlata.

Had his dad meant for him to find her?

What else was he supposed to discover? Especially about himself? According to the girl with the wings and the man with goat legs, he was the son of a god. Why didn’t he have special powers? Wings on his feet? Extraordinary strength?

What about his sister Fiorella?

Were they human? Or something else?

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And what exactly did it mean when Sal said his father was an Etruscan god? How many gods were there running around? Greek, Roman, Celtic, Hindi, Egyptian. There were countless pantheons.

Nothing made sense. He was so tired he couldn’t see straight but he couldn’t close his eyes because his brain wouldn’t stop running.

Footsteps, very nearly silent, in the hall outside his room caught his attention then.

Red. He knew it was her, could feel her presence. Would she come to him?

She stopped outside his door.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the doorknob turned. He drew in a deep draught of air as the door fell open, spilling pale light around her silhouette.

Her face hidden in shadow, she stopped after taking one step into the room. Her wings fluttered once.

“You’re awake,” she whispered.

He sat up in bed. “Can’t sleep. Too wound up.”

Her laugh was unamused. “Yes, I can see how that would be a problem. I could weave a spell, a sleeping spell. No side effects.”

He shook his head and her shoulders slumped as she reached for the door. “Then I’ll just—”

“Don’t go.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

Her chin shot up at the command in his tone but she didn’t walk away. She moved toward him, closing the door behind her as he rose to his knees on the bed.

When she took his hand, he surprised a startled laugh out of her by pulling her onto the mattress and under him in one motion.

Hands by her shoulders, knees on either side of her hips, he trapped her. It gave him a sense of power that he felt sorely lacking in other areas of his life at the moment.

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When Justin leaned down to kiss her, he did so with a ferocity that very nearly scared him. She tried to raise her arms but he didn’t want her to touch him, didn’t want her to comfort him. He didn’t want that from her.

He wanted to lose himself in her.

It was easier than it should have been to subdue her. But after the first few seconds of struggle, she gave up the fight and lay passive beneath him.

It stoked his lust more than anything else she could have done at that moment.

Sitting back on his haunches, he grabbed her hands and drew them above her head, wrapping her fingers around the slats in the headboard of the queen-size bed. She gripped them, staring at him, waiting for his next move.

Her skin shimmered in the dark, drawing his hands to her. Starting at her wrists, he stroked down her arms to her breasts, palming their weight and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until she squirmed. She didn’t cry out though and he wanted—no, he needed to hear that.

He plucked the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making them into hard tips before he bent to take one into his mouth. He laved and bit then drew the pebble into his mouth to suck hard enough to leave bruises. He continued the pattern on the other breast.

Drawing back to look at her, he saw her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth lodged into her lower lip as if she were holding back a cry.

His lips lifted in a not-quite-nice smile. He’d always loved a challenge.

Bending over her again without touching, he blew on the smooth skin beneath her breast, raising goose bumps he could feel when he ran his mouth over them. Trailing his tongue from there to her bellybutton, he flicked the tip into the tiny recess, her belly quivering in response. Her hips rose a centimeter off the bed before she forced herself to relax.

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His cock hard and aching, he wanted to ram himself into her now. But he wouldn’t last long if he did, and when he came, reality would come crashing down. And he didn’t want to face reality. Not yet.

Instead, he grabbed her hips in his hands and lifted her until he didn’t have to bend far to press his nose into the auburn curls on her mound and breathe in her scent. A tiny sound escaped her then, no more than a whimper. It wasn’t enough for him.

Deliberately taking his time, he placed her legs over his shoulders and pressed his mouth against her wet sex. His tongue plunged deep then retreated to lick her clit, alternating short stabs into her sex with more prolonged attention to her nub.

He didn’t know how long he continued but he got his wish when he heard her cry out his name.

“Justin! Please.”

His cock pulsed red-hot and he drew back as lust blasted down his spine and tightened his balls. He reared back farther with a growl then plunged into her, feeling her tight muscles grip him.

Justin paused when he felt her draw in a deep breath. Then he withdrew until he’d completely slipped out of her sheath. His aching cock bobbed up and he used one hand to aim it straight, thrusting in hard and brushing his thumb against her clit until her body convulsed and arched off the bed.

Her shuddering moan inflamed him but he ringed the bottom of his cock with his fingers and squeezed ruthlessly until his impending explosion retreated. When he opened his eyes, he found her watching him through slitted lids.

“Justin. I want you to come. Now. Please,” she pleaded.

He shook his head. “Not now. I want to hear you scream first.”

Mercilessly he fingered her clit, rubbing it until she arched again and did exactly what he wanted. She screamed his name this time, her hands gripping the headboard with white knuckles before releasing it and going limp.

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His mind and body accepted her surrender and, with a shout, he let go and shot into her.

When his cock ceased pulsing, he withdrew and fell onto the bed beside her.

Without a word, she snaked her arms around him and held him. Gathering her close, he tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes.

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“Up ’n at ’em, kids. Get the hell out of bed! You need to be out of here in five minutes or all hell’s gonna break loose.”