‘The necklace only responds to you because of the ability you have by nature,’ he’d said the last time they’d talked about the necklace. What did that even mean?
Settling onto her side, she listened to the rippling water, enjoying the spreading heat radiating through her.
The pillow smelled of him and her, and of their sex and blood. Her shoulders burned and the memory of the skill he’d used to cut her skin flooded back to her. The knife play on the edge of an allegedly blessed blade was one of the most erotic experiences of her life. As gentle as he’d been, he’d still peeled back her flesh to extract the wretched, bloody wings.
She chewed at her lower lip with the renewed swell of disappointment. Unlike the soft, golden luxury of Mano’s wings, the things he’d pulled from her back were a mockery. Ugly. Not feathers, but grizzly quills clinging to skinny arm-like appendages. Blood feathers, he’d reassured her, kissing her, hugging her, holding her.
Mano had regarded them with the same reverence and love with which he looked at her. She was glad they were bandaged and wrapped so she couldn’t see them.
Pulling herself from the bed, she adjusted to the new weight at her back and slid into her robe. Gracefully she strolled out to the pool to watch her handsome fiancé swim.
“So, how is the water, love?” she called as she walked through the gray morning. “It’s not really fair that I have to wait to heal before joining you.”
She expected to see his lean, powerful body, his dark tattoos gleaming in the rippling water, so seeing the enormous shark in her pool was more than her brain could process.
Barking out a curse, she stumbled back, tripping on the lounge chair. She slammed her shoulder against the metal arm as she went down. A jolt of scalding pain tore across her bandaged wings.
Through the red haze of pain, she heard him call her name. Water splashed, and he was at her side, naked, wet, and, thank God, no longer a shark.
“Love, are you all right?” His hands cupped her shoulder right where it hurt, as though he felt it. “Fuck!”
“You’re a fucking shark!” she accused through gritted teeth.
Impishly he ducked his head, looking at her through his golden lashes. “Um, sort of.” His smile was pure, dangerous trouble.
“Wow, that’s something you might have wanted to share with me. ‘Will you marry me? Oh, by the way, I’m a shark.’” Marcie struggled with the frantic heartbeat throbbing along with the crackle of pain.
He laughed. “Yes, followed by, ‘I’m really not crazy.’”
Ruffling his hair, she melted into helpless laughter. “A fucking shark!”
His grin became roguish. “It’s not that I’m a shark but it’s…umm…a spirit form.” He helped her sit up. “I’m really sorry. I thought, since you’ve seen your fins, it wouldn’t be too shocking.”
As he checked her back, something about the gleam in his silvery eyes suggested that the shark form was not everything. “Oh, God. There’s more.” She motioned for him to come out with it. “Do your friends do this, too? Is this part of the secrets I can’t tell people?”
“I’m not at liberty to talk about my friends, love.” That didn’t answer her, but he didn’t look ready to say more.
“You can’t swim around that way when Ursa and the others are here!”
“I’m not a were-fish,” he said firmly. “I have control.” His lips brushed lightly along her shoulder, soothing the discomfort.
“Spirit form? What is that exactly?”
He hesitated, brows drawing together as he considered her question.
“Mano, you said you would tell me your secrets.” She sensed him holding back, saw the hesitation in him as he searched her face. Anxiety bloomed in her stomach.
She wanted to know everything.
Needed to know everything.
The disappointment spreading through her felt more akin to anger. Why couldn’t he just tell her everything?
Before he could answer, her phone rang.
“This isn’t over, angelfish.” She stood, gritting her teeth at the pain fanning across her shoulders from the fledgling wings.
She shouldn’t be angry but irrational frustration darkened her mood. What if he lied to her? What if he wouldn’t tell her? Chill out, Marcie. Damn.
“Hello?” Marcie answered the phone, keeping her back to the pool.
“Hello. Miss Perez?”
“Mmm,” she agreed.
“My name is Anthony Wallace. I recently came across your resume and I’m curious if you’re still looking for employment.”
She looked over her shoulder, finding Mano standing in the doorway, beautiful and naked, not even bothering with a towel. With a secret little smile he prowled into the room, slipping his arms and wings around her. Curse him and the luxurious feathers. He felt soothing against her throbbing back and she leaned into him.
“That’s interesting, Mister Wallace, I only recently started up my job search.”
Mano’s lips curled into a cat-in-the-cream grin. She pinched his hip and he retaliated by tickling her with his feathers.
“I hope that’s my good luck. It appears you have experience in a larger corporate setting, but I hope a slightly smaller opportunity might interest you. We own a group of restaurants here in Yountville and really feel you could be a good fit for what we need.”
She reached for Mano’s wing and gave it a little tug as he grinned dangerously at her, pulling her tighter to him. His palms covered her stomach, stroking up toward her breasts. “Oh. Right. Anthony Wallace. I’m familiar with you. Your nephew caters for me a few times a year. Isn’t that a small world?”
Somehow, she knew Mano had his fingers in this. The way he smoothed his big hands over her body, cuddling her protectively against his chest, spoke volumes. What had he said the other night after her world flew to pieces? I can make this right.
“That’s right. Sean Torrez! I know with the holidays you might not have time, but we really hope you will come in and talk and see if this is a good fit for everyone. We can explain what we need and see if it matches with what you’re looking for.”
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’m spending the holiday here in Saint Helena so I’m fairly close.”
Mano tightened his hold on her and nuzzled his cheek into her neck and she smiled at him, stroking her fingers through his wet hair.
“How about tomorrow, Miss Perez? Does morning work for you?”
“Yes, that is perfect actually. It will fit in with my trip to see your sister and her horses.”
Mano’s eyebrows arched up sharply, his wings sweeping farther around her body, enfolding her.
“Perfect. The offices are off Washington Street. I will email you directions.”
“I look forward to seeing them.” She peered at Mano’s look of concern as she said her goodbye and tossed the phone on the pillow. “You are too clever for your own good.”
“Me? Oh, no. Just clever enough.” He paused and asked, “You’re looking at Marion’s horses?”
“Travis and Vans will be. The horse is a gift for her. Christmas.” She turned within the warmth of his feathers and spread her hands over his chest. “So, are you pleased with yourself? Think the Wallaces might need a financial person, too? Leo might be looking for work.”
Mano chuckled. “You will have to ask him yourself.” He lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles along her cheek, grinning up at her. “I went to school with Anthony and his wife, Barbara. I’m good friends with her brother, Sebastian.” He looked so damn smug, as though he were already seeing far ahead and making moves into places she couldn’t possibly foresee.
“I don’t trust that smile.” Marcie once prided herself on being good at the game. That was the kiddie pool. Mano played with higher stakes. He’d probably played this way his whole life. “Just so you know, Marion tried to set me up with one of her nephews, so watch yourself.” She pushed against him, edging him toward the bed.
“Better not get me sta
rted love. Young Mister Torrez is coming.”
“How can you possibly—”
The doorbell chimed, and he tapped his temple, smirking up at her.
Marcie groaned as she drew away, out of the warmth of his arms and away from his addicting nudity. “You’re impossible.”
“I don’t have clothes in here. All of mine are still out there in a wet pile.” He grinned at her before looking down at his naked body.
She loved how he stood shamelessly before her, letting her drink him in. From wrists to ankles, the network of tribal swirls covered his hard body. Not flash tattoos purchased from the wall of a seedy shop or crafted by a trendy artist. These had meaning. The ink won in deeds, not simply paid for in blood.
“So, come out naked,” she taunted, fixing the sash of her robe as he held her gaze.
“Tempting.” He licked his lips, silvery eyes seeing right through the blue silk clinging to her breasts and hips.
“I have a robe or two in there that should fit you.” Palming his cock, she kissed his cheek. “Don’t take too long.” She released him after only a teasing squeeze and turned, striding from the room with hips swishing.
Sean did a double take, gawking at her as though dazzled by the brilliance of her happiness. “You look…different, Marcie,” he said carefully. His dark-brown eyes didn’t linger on her neck and the marks there. Instead his attention drifted to just above her head.
“Yeah, it’s been a very full few days. Come on in. Need help carrying anything?”
The young man adjusted the box he held and glanced over his shoulder. “Um, no. Okay, so my mother suggested my cousin join me. Sorry, Marcie.” He jerked his chin back over his shoulder. “This is Kenneth Harris-Wallace. Mom was only trying to be helpful,” he whispered.
Marcie looked at the young man who came ambling in with another box. He was an extremely handsome young man. The family resemblance between the two was obvious. Tall, muscular, with black curls neatly styled and bright golden-green eyes. Kenneth was younger, his skin darker than his brown-eyed cousin, but the dimples and full lips were the same. If Marcie hadn’t just won the love lottery, she would’ve been tempted by the handsome young man.
“It’s all right,” she said instead, enjoying the view as she closed the door behind the two men.
“I need to change the menu,” Sean said as they moved toward the kitchen.
“Really? Why?” Marcie leaned against the counter, playing with the tie on her robe.
“Um, there’s a different energy in here,” Sean answered seriously.
“My mojo is off?” She laughed.
“I’m serious, Marcie,” Sean said, not batting an eyelash. “Something with a little more spice maybe.”
“Oh, she likes it spicy all right,” Mano teased as he came prowling in.
The two men started and whirled toward the voice and then stared with wide eyes at the man.
Marcie felt her eyebrows lifting up and she followed the gaze to the man in question. From their rigid stances and expressions, she expected to find Mano naked. Instead, he wore her robe. The pink, faux-fur one. She rolled her eyes.
“What is Mambo doing here?” Kenneth asked with a sharp edge to his voice. He gripped the box as a shield, as though he expected the shorter man to charge him across the kitchen.
“Mambo?” Marcie sputtered and then laughed and stared at her fiancé. “Mambo?”
He lifted one shoulder, looking unconcerned and very comfortable in the fuzzy pink robe. Leaning against the doorframe, he murmured, “I didn’t pick the nickname. Hey, little prince, how is your grammy?”
Both the young men stared at Marcie as though they expected her to sprout another head. Or they were judging if she’d lost her mind. She stared right back at them, polishing her engagement ring on the front of her robe.
Sean caught on first. His eyes shuttered closed as he laughed. “Oh! Oh, damn. Marcie, congratulations! I definitely have to change the menu.”
“Thank you, Sean. Whatever you think is best. You’ve never let me down. You have any special meal requirements, angelfish?” she asked Mano, smirking when he gave her a long-suffering sigh. “I am not calling you Mambo. That is ridiculous.”
Sean turned away, quickly covering his laugh and concealing his smile.
Poor Kenneth still couldn’t form a coherent response about his grammy. He looked like a fish. His mouth worked without anything coming out.
Mano winked and blew her a kiss. “I’m fine with whatever, love.” His sharp silvery gaze cut back to the young men. “I trust you will tell your parents the good news?” He tipped his head. “Young Kenneth is Anthony and Barbara’s youngest son. Such a small, complicated world, hmm?”
“Don’t be hard on him,” Marcie soothed and slipped closer to Mano, sliding her arms around him. “Marion is playing the match game. Not his fault. And it’s nice to meet you, Kenneth.”
“Matchmaking is a full-contact sport around here,” Mano told her, obviously enjoying watching the chain of events rattling neatly into place. She experienced the sensation of pieces moving out before her, arranging the plays so she could fit perfectly onto the board.
Damn.
“Marcie is going to see the horses at your mommy’s place, hmm, Sean? Amy’s horses are still there, right?”
Kenneth finally shook himself. “Marcie Perez? The lawyer?” He got a faraway look in his eyes as though he were also seeing moves and countermoves. “Oh, my God! With Mambo? Amy’s horses? Uh—”
“Mano,” Marcie corrected, kindly but firmly. She felt the blond’s silent laugh shiver against her. She pinched his ass.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kenneth whispered, focusing on her, and then his gaze drifted to a spot over her head just as Sean’s had.
If she had a fucking halo, she would die. She smoothed a hand through her hair, making sure she didn’t have feathers sticking out somewhere. Where did she leave the feather he gave her?
“I need to get dressed before the guests arrive. Sean, you know where everything is. I have my phone with me, or just sing out.”
“You will never get people around here to call me by my given name, love,” Mano murmured as they walked back to the bedroom.
“It won’t be for lack of trying. Why the hell don’t you correct them?”
He shrugged. “It began as an insult way back in high school. When I embraced it, I disarmed their weapon. Now it’s mine.”
She narrowed her eyes, liking it even less, knowing the origin. “Those assholes.” She cupped his face, pushing him against the wall of the upstairs hallway just to feel his strong body mold to hers.
His expression softened, and a low growl whispered up in his throat as she pinned him, as he willingly submitted to her. “I honestly don’t mind it, love.”
“Are you sure?” The knowledge that her love had been bullied in childhood made her want to reeducate those responsible. All of them.
He brushed his knuckles against her lower lip and nodded. “Yes, my fierce love. I promise. But your defense of me is more touching than I can express. Thank you, my lady.”
“I suppose a tough biker needs a nickname, right? What did you call Gun?”
“We used to call him WarRaven.”
“Why did he get a better name?”
“Because he’s more than three times my size.” Mano winked up at her.
“I bet you’re cleverer.”
He inclined his head in acceptance of a compliment, eyes twinkling. “Don’t tell him that.”
She played with the lapels of his selected garment and laughed. “I have a black robe, you know.”
“But this is far more fun. Rough biker in his lady’s pink robe?” His eyebrows arched up in question.
Laughing, she reached for his hand, pulling him into the bedroom. The moment the door shut, the eager questioning began bubbling up in her. There really shouldn’t be secrets between them. She had a right to know. Didn’t she?
“Do you know what they were looking a
t over my head? I don’t have a halo, do I?”
“Halo?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. Your…urm…energy. Mojo?” He wiggled his fingers, testing out other words as her expression turned skeptical. “Aura? Chi? Juju? Manna? Grace?”
“Fuck! They can see it?” She blushed, and he growled out a delighted laugh.
“Yes. Many people around here are sharp-eyed enough to see.” He lifted his hand and tapped his temple with a finger. “They look closer than most folks. Like you do.”
“Damn,” Marcie murmured, feeling a growing disquiet. “Will they see the wings?”
“No.” He chuckled low in his throat, rocking onto tiptoes to kiss her lips, softly and sweetly. “They are clever, but first, they have their own secrets to guard. Second, there is no way they want to cross you. Third, you can see them, too.”
“Can I?”
He smirked, catching her in the circle of his arms with a quiet sigh of pleasure. “You know you can.”
“Lately I’ve not been the best judge of character. People I thought were friends changed and I didn’t even know.”
“Only because you didn’t question their motives or look closer. You are generous and trusting, cherry pie.” His voice took on a particular edge. “And I would end anyone who changed your sweet nature.”
A cold thrill washed through her as he hugged her. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to that extreme, love.” She squeezed his fingers, watching him.
Questions gnawed at her. Why was she prying? Did it matter? She should just shower and chill out. Against her better judgment, the questions continued.
“Last night you said the knife was blessed by Pele. Were you serious? The goddess Pele?”
“Yes, love. There are three things I have learned to never question—the wisdom of Delphine Dutllet-LeRoux, Welton honor, and my father’s honesty. He wouldn’t make up something like that.”
Dangerous Seduction Page 2