by J. Kenner
He swallowed. “Tracy.”
She pressed a finger over his lips. “Don’t argue. There’s no point, remember? I’m wearing the belt, so I get what I desire. Who I desire. And that’s you, Hale.”
“It’s not real.” His voice choked on the lie.
“I don’t care. I want you.” She slipped tight against him, and automatically he closed his arms around her. “And right now, I’m in a position to get what I want.”
He was strong. Zeus knew he was one of the strongest Protectors on the Council, but he was powerless to resist this woman. She’d trapped him in his own lie, and worse, Hera help him, he didn’t want to become untangled. This might be the last time he touched her, held her. And he wanted it. Wanted it so bad he could almost feel the desire burning in his veins.
Stumbling backward, he led her to the garden shed, yanking open the door and leading her into the darkened room. The back section held camping equipment, and an old cot was stored there, probably for the estate’s former gardener. In no time, Hale had thrown a sleeping bag over the dusty cot; then he grabbed Tracy by the shoulders and threw her down, too.
“You’re sure?” he growled. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”
Her eyes were wide, innocent. But more than that, excited. “Quit stalling. I told you what I want. You.” In a bold move, she pulled her skirt up, revealing first an enticing bit of thigh, and then an even more enticing view. She’d neglected to wear panties.
Sweet Hera, the woman had set out to drive him insane.
But who was he to argue with one who so clearly had a plan? His jeans seemed to fall away and in an instant, certainly before she could change her mind, he embraced her, already painfully hard and in no mood to wait even a second longer.
“Do you want me?” she whispered, her voice teasing.
He rubbed against her, drawing supreme satisfaction from the way she drew in a breath and arched back, her eyes closed and her pulse throbbing in her neck.
“What do you think?”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Hale doubted he could have held out any longer anyway, but with her sensuous demand ringing in his ears, he was lost. In one quick thrust, he entered her, losing himself in her hot, wet depths and giving them both what they longed for.
As he took her, she screamed out his name. Not sweet and gentle, their coupling was hot and wild and indescribably satisfying. Her skin burned beneath his, her legs wound around his waist. She cried out, urging him on, throbbing around him as she found her own climax. And when he was spent, when he finally collapsed against her, she pressed gentle kisses against his forehead.
“Tracy,” he murmured. “Oh, Tracy.” He leaned up, propping himself on his elbow. “Why?”
“Because you love me.” Her skin was still flushed—she was the color of a woman who’d been taken to heights of passion and back again—but her face reflected no hesitation. Her words were just a simple statement of fact.
Hale swallowed, unable to face the truth, and certainly unwilling to reveal it.
“We’ve already been over this. It’s the belt.” His hands skimmed over her waist, still clothed and bound with the golden accessory.
“It’s not the belt, Hale.”
“Of course it is.”
She sat up, leaning against the bed frame. Her skin glowed pink from lovemaking. “No. I’m saying this isn’t the belt.” She unclasped it and handed it to him. “It’s a duplicate.” Standing up, he took it with some trepidation, his hands closing around the gold mesh. Upon inspection, he knew she was right. The back held no inscription from her grandmother.
“What? Why?”
“Don’t you think I should be the one asking you that question?” she asked. “Protectors aren’t affected by a mortal wearing the belt. I know. I talked with Zoe.”
Hale cringed, irritated with his sister, but not surprised. After all, no one else could have gotten Tracy the duplicate so quickly.
“Why did you lie?”
He had no choice but to tell her the truth. With a sigh, he sat back down on the bed. “It seemed easier.”
“Easier than what? Than loving me?”
Hera help him, yes. He nodded.
“But you do love me. And I love you.” She blinked, releasing a single tear to trail down her check.
“It’s not enough. Tracy.” He took her hand, hating that he was hurting her, the woman who’d become his friend and lover. “I wish it was.”
“Why not?” Her voice was calm, but even so he could hear the underlying anger and frustration. “Because I might leave? I won’t.” She reached out to grasp his hand, her fingers closing around his, warm and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere. Not even when you’re a pain in the rear like this. I’m staying right here.”
“You can’t know that. No one can.” Though it killed him to do it, he stood up, ripping his fingers free. “I’m sorry, Tracy. I love you. Hera help me, I do. But I can’t . . .” He shook his head, turning away, unable to face her. “Zoe was wrong to have told you. It would have been better if you’d never known.”
“Better? Or easier for you?” The cot creaked, and he knew she was standing up. “I never thought it was possible.”
“What?”
“A cowardly superhero.” The door opened, and he fought the urge to turn and look at her. “But that’s what you are, Hale. You’re a coward.”
And with that truth still echoing in the she’d she slammed the door. The noise masked the sound of Hale’s fist pounding against the wall as he tried to beat the frustration out of his system.
Her tears flowed in earnest now, and Tracy wiped them away with the back of her hand. She’d been so sure her plan would work. She’d thought he would realize she knew his secret, admit he loved her, and then they’d live happily ever after. So much for fairy tales.
In the real world, apparently, love was just a four-letter word.
She should have known. For her at least, true love had never been an option. She’d foolishly thought that everything had changed with Hale. But now she knew how stupid she was.
Well, that’s what she got for falling for a superhero with issues.
Still sniffling, she threaded her way down the darkened path. The bushes and shrubs of Tara-too, beautifully landscaped now, and which had seemed friendly when she’d approached Hale, now seemed ominous and menacing. Shivering despite the warm summer breeze, she rubbed her hands over her bare arms and tried to tell herself she was being silly. A woman scorned, and suddenly her whole world turned to black? Shouldn’t she be stronger?
Maybe so, but she didn’t know how, and at the moment, she wasn’t inclined to learn. She wanted Hale, and that’s all she wanted. Wanted his love. But it wasn’t something she was ever going to get.
At least he’d given her a couple of nice memories.
She ran her hands over the tops of the birds-of-paradise, the sturdy flowers tickling her palms as she tried to decide if she wanted to go back into the house. Mel was long gone. Lane and Zoe, who stayed to give support and protect her, and find out how the plan went, were watching television. Davy was surely asleep. She could join them, of course, but she really wanted to just be alone.
Instead of turning left at the fork in the path, she turned right, following the path that would lead her to the swimming pool. Hale had done himself proud there, too. The once-murky water now glistened in the moonlight, and the algae that had covered the cement sides had been stripped clean.
The whole estate had been transformed into a magical fantasyland. Too bad her one wish would not come true.
She knew Hale had followed her, to protect her, but that he wouldn’t let her know that. She sighed, wishing she could take comfort in his presence, but the hurt was still too fresh.
Taking off her shoes, she dangled her feet in the pool’s cool water, wishing it could ease the passion burning in her.
Unrequited passion, apparently. A flurry of ripples spread out from w
here she’d broken the surface and, for some stupid, silly reason, that reminded her of Hale. What he’d done was touch her, and he’d sent ripples shooting through her life. He might leave, but she’d never be the same again.
Something tickled her face, and she reached up to brush whatever it was away, only then realizing she was crying again. No big surprise. For the last couple of days, crying seemed to be her natural state of existence. Heck, she’d probably lost five pounds in water weight alone.
Sniffling, she tried to pull herself together. Sitting in the dark moping couldn’t be healthy. She’d tried to win Hale. She’d failed. Now she should go inside, be with her friends, and regroup. Besides, being alone with Hale, knowing he was watching her, only made her sad.
She headed back to the house, determined to pull herself out of her funk. But when she got inside, she couldn’t bring herself to join Lane and Zoe. They were watching The Way We Were, and somehow, that just didn’t fit her mood.
Instead, she called out to let them know she was back, then headed for her bedroom and parked herself in front of the full-length mirror. Her tousled hair and swollen lips didn’t exactly make a fashion statement, but she did look like a woman who’d just been made love to.
Sadly, it was probably for the last time.
Behind her, Aphrodite’s real belt gleamed from its perch on the chaise lounge, taunting her. Her grandmother’s warning had been prescient, and now she picked up the belt and ran her finger over the carefully inscribed words.
“What you wish for,” Tracy whispered. All she wished for was for someone to love her. No, not someone. Hale.
But wishes didn’t always come true.
Feeling a little silly, she exchanged belts, securing the clasp tight around her waist. She did a little pirouette in front of the mirror.
“Too bad you don’t affect Protectors,” she said. Considering she’d hit rock bottom, at the moment, she’d be more than willing to use the powers of the belt to make herself irresistible. Cheating, maybe. But she didn’t really care. She wanted him, and she’d run out of ideas. The ball had been hit firmly into his court, and he’d refused to return it.
There were times when life truly, truly sucked.
She was just about to succumb to another whopper of a crying jag when there was a tap at the window. She peered at it, but no one was there.
Hale!
Immediately, she raced over and threw up the sash, and was rewarded by a movement in the air—someone climbing in the window.
Missy suddenly appeared around her ankles, a low growl in her throat.
“Hush, little girl,” Tracy told the dog. “It’s Hale.”
“Sorry, it’s not.” Mordi materialized in front of her. “Prototype invisibility and propulsion cloak. Pretty nifty, huh?”
“Oh.” She had no idea what he wanted, but the fact that he’d come in through a window made her more than a little hesitant, and she took a step backward. “Hale’s not here, and Zoe’s downstairs.”
“Actually,” Mordi said, “I came to see you.”
“I’m not the best company right right now . . .” She trailed off, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.
“Not having the best of days?”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“Hale?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I truly hoped the two of you would get this worked out. But as I said, my cousin can be an idiot about a lot of things.”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, he can.”
A moment of silence, and then; “I’m sorry, Tracy.”
With a little shrug, she tried out a smile. Maybe he really had come to check on her. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, I’m afraid it is.”
Squinting, she looked him in the eyes, then backed further away when she saw something unexpected there. “Mordi? What are you doing?”
“I’m truly, truly sorry. I have to do this. Hera help me, I have to.”
The next thing she knew, his hand was over her mouth and his cloak was wrapped around her shoulder. He sprang forward, and—with Missy’s frantic barks echoing beneath them—they were off the ground and zooming above Los Angeles.
Tracy never even had time to scream.
Nothing looked wrong, but even so, ice-cold dread settled in Hale’s stomach as he walked up the front path to the house. He stepped cautiously over the threshold, only to be met by Missy’s excited yapping. The dog raced down the stairs to greet him. He tuned her out, more interested in determining where Tracy was.
He’d followed her through the grounds, watching until she’d entered the house. Once she was safe inside, he’d gone back to work finishing her yard. Had she sneaked out without him or Zoe noticing?
“Tracy?” No answer. He tried again, louder. “Tracy!”
“What’s going on?” Zoe’s head appeared around the corner from the living room.
“Is Tracy with you?”
“She’s in her bedroom.” His sister pressed her lips together, looking concerned. “What happened?”
“She found me. And we fought. And now I can’t find her.”
“Oh, Hale. You need to—”
He held up a hand. Now wasn’t the time for lectures. “I don’t need to do anything but find her.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Missy’s continued barking broke their silence.
“What’s she saying?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t listen—” He closed his eyes, realizing he might have just wasted valuable time, and knelt in front of the fluffball. “Hey, girl. Sorry. What’s that you’re trying to tell me?”
She yipped and yapped and he struggled to understand her primitive speech, made even more inarticulate by the fact that the dog was more than a little pissed off at being ignored.
Considering the information she had, she had a right to be pissed. “Mordichai,” he repeated. He closed his eyes, his heart twisting from a raw fear that pulsed in his veins. “Mordichai took her.”
Standing up, he met Zoe’s eyes, knowing only one thing for certain. He loved Tracy. With all his heart and soul, he loved her. And he was going to get her back.
27
“She’s a lovely little thing, don’t you think?” Hieronymous stroked Tracy’s cheek, and the girl flinched, turning her face as if she wanted nothing more than to melt into the damp stone walls to which she was bound.
Mordi grunted in agreement, wishing he could crawl under one of the stones in the floor.
The prison room in this faux castle was simple. A single window high above the Pacific. Four walls, each lined with permanently affixed manacles. One door, laden with heavy, unpickable locks. One chair, upholstered in red velvet, for Hieronymous. And one ratty mattress stretched out on the floor for those instances when Hieronymous’s softer side was touched and his prisoner was allowed a bit of shut-eye.
The castle was definitely not Metropolitan Home but it was surprisingly functional for having been built as a movie set. Apparently, the movie mogul who’d built the place years ago had a passion for swashbuckler movies. He’d built the thing, filmed a few movies, then converted it to his house and the backlot to his own private playground after his company had gone belly-up.
Hieronymous—or one of his companies, rather—had picked the place up for a song.
Despite having been built by an eccentric millionaire with a love of castles, there were still modern touches. The cameras, for example, that hung in every corner of the room. Eventually, the technophilic Hieronymous intended to wire the entire castle. Right now, only this chamber had been rigged. The alcove beyond the door and the rest of the castle were still technologically challenged.
Mordi fought the urge to unbind Tracy and to rush her out past his father. But that wouldn’t help her or him. He had a role, he’d chosen his path, and now he needed to play his part.
“We’re so pleased to have you as our first guest,” Hieronymo
us said. He turned to Mordi. “Aren’t we, son?”
“Thrilled.”
“First guest?” Tracy snapped. “You might want to consider better accommodations before throwing any house parties. And if I were you, I’d seriously consider hiring a decorator.” Hieronymous scowled and took a step back.
Mordi faked a yawn, using his hand to hide his grin. Thank Hera, Tracy’s spunk hadn’t left her. She’d need it for dealing with his father. And with Clyde.
“Comments like that aren’t good for your health.” Speak of the devil. Daddy Dearest’s number-one minion, Clyde the Creep, stepped into the chamber. “I looked for years to find just the perfect place.”
“If you’re into creepy-crawlies. Sure. It’s perfect.”
Clyde took a menacing step toward her, but Hieronymous held up a hand, stopping him. “Clyde, please. There’s no need to intimidate our guest.” He tilted his head, clearly inspecting her from toes to hair. “For that matter, you must be uncomfortable.”
He spoke as if she were simply sitting on an extremely hard chair, rather than being stretched so tight that she balanced on her tiptoes with her wrists far above her head.
“Mordi, there’s no reason for Tracy to be bound. She’s our guest after all. Let her down.”
Mordichai nodded, then slipped the key from his pocket. He moved slowly, as if he wasn’t in any hurry to help her out, then started to fumble with the lock at her wrist. “Just stay calm,” he whispered, hoping his father couldn’t hear him. “Stay calm and it will all be over soon.”
If he’d hoped for some sense of connection between them, he was sorely disappointed. The look she aimed at him was scathing, and full of hurt, and once again Mordi cursed the birthright that had led him to this situation.
As soon as she was released, Tracy sank to the floor, then crawled to the mattress and started massaging her wrists. “What do you want with me?” She aimed the question directly at Hieronymous, and Mordi was impressed that she looked him in the eye.