“Go away. I want to unpack.”
“Can we shower first?”
“We?”
He scoffed. “Of course. Wait ’til you see the shower.”
The shower was everything he implied and more, since it was big enough for four, and had so many jets that it had taken Nico a few months to figure out which shower heads he liked best, at what temperature and for how long. He’d quite enjoyed the novelty, actually. But showing it to Antonia was even more fun, especially when he demonstrated the best use of the tiled ledge which just happened to sit at the perfect height for him to lift her onto it, spread her sweet legs, and fuck her to a screaming orgasm, until his body surrendered and shot his own climax deep inside her.
She clung to him in the aftermath, limp and breathless, while steam continued to fill the enclosure and hot water pounded his back. “Did we shower yet?” she asked weakly.
Scooping her off the ledge, he laughed softly. “Not yet. You want your hair washed first, or your body soaped?”
“Oh, no,” she insisted. “You can wash my hair, but you are not doing the rest. I know you, and I won’t be able to stand, much less speak coherently when you’re finished soaping.”
He grinned smugly, even though she couldn’t see it. “How about you wash your hair, and I’ll do the rest?” he suggested reasonably.
She looked up at him. “Did you not hear me? You’re not touching the rest of my body. I’ll end up a limp rag with prune-like skin, and maybe clean hair. I have to meet the rest of your people, and sound reasonably intelligent during a very important meeting. And neither of those will be possible—unless you want me to sound like I spent the afternoon drinking—”
“No,” he protested. “They wouldn’t think you’d been drinking. They’d probably just figure we’d been fucking.”
She tsked and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“I’d be reassured.”
“That’s it. No hair, no body, no nothing. This stupid shower room is big enough for you to use the other end. Go.”
She pointed dramatically, which only made him laugh. But he went, because she was right about the upcoming meeting. They would need her to be able to tell them everything she knew about Sotiris, his allies, and his whereabouts.
Besides, he’d have the whole night after the meeting to leave her . . . how had she put it? A limp rag, with skin like a prune. That shouldn’t have appealed to him, but damn if it didn’t. He laughed again, keeping it to himself, and moved to the opposite end of the enclosure to finish his shower.
NICK WAS PULLING on his boots when Antonia wandered out of her dressing room and into his, bringing with her the soft sweetness of her scent. She wore a very modern perfume, but a woman’s scent was a mix of her unique chemistry combined with whatever perfume or oil she chose to wear. And he’d have known Antonia’s scent anywhere.
She used his mirror to check something about her earrings or hair, then turned and frowned when he laced up his combat-style boots. “I know you said casual, but—” she pointed at the boots, “—are we participating in combat drills tonight?”
He finished one boot and started on the other. “These are comfortable. We all wear them a lot of the time, including Casey.”
“Not Lili or Maeve?”
“Definitely not Lili. Maeve has a pair, though I haven’t seen her wear them since our last battle with Sotiris. I’m sure she won’t be wearing them this time, since she’s pregnant. Dragan will want her on the sidelines, preferably far away from any conflict.”
“Does Dragan still have his wings?”
“He does. Why do you ask?”
“Wings.”
Her smile was almost dreamy, which almost pissed him off. What was so great about wings?
“To be able to fly,” she said wistfully, answering his unspoken question. “It must be wonderful.”
“Don’t say that around Maeve. Dragan’s wings are usually invisible. When he flies, they rip through the skin of his back, and leave him bloody. Maeve cries every time it happens, though she hides it. So don’t tell her I know.”
“Why does she hide it?”
“Because Dragan loves to fly. They live in the Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee now, and he flies for the sheer pleasure of it. She’d never take that away from him.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “That’s sad and romantic at the same time. Is there a chance their child will have wings? Is it genetic?”
“We’re not sure. His wings are a so-called gift from the goddess of the island where he was born. That was a different world from this one, and thousands of years ago as we now count time. History would have dictated that his brother, who was next in line to be king, would have produced his own second son who then inherited the goddess’s gift of wings. But if genetics come into play in this world . . . who knows? He can hardly go to a geneticist and ask about his wings, can he? They’re hoping for a girl, so it won’t be a factor.”
“Except for the modern genetics question.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s definitely sex-linked, so a girl should be safe.”
“Any other social landmines I need to avoid? Unexpected pregnancies or surprise visits from the mother-in-law, stuff like that?”
“Not that I know of. Grace and Kato have a little girl, so Grace will play a non-combat role. She can shoot a gun, but we’re not going to be short on fighters with guns, not in this battle.”
“So much has happened. So many battles fought,” she murmured. “I feel as though I’ve slept through it all, like a cursed Snow White.”
“Snow White was cursed—or rather, poisoned. But since we’ve already established that I’m a prince, I promise to kiss you awake every morning.” He stood, kissed her, and said, “Just don’t eat any strange apples.”
“Ha ha.”
“I thought so.” The intercom chirped Lili’s signal. “Hey, Lili,” he said, activating his end.
“Dragan and Maeve are here,” she said happily. Lili and Maeve had become good friends, since they were both total nerds and loved their computers, inside and out.
Nick stomped his booted feet to settle the fit. “We’re on our way. Big man out.”
Antonia eyed him. “Do you have to say that every time?”
“Nope, I did it just for you. Are you ready for the feast, my princess?”
“I’m ready, but if you call me that even once, I will turn you into a toad.”
“I don’t believe that’s in your skill-set, babe.”
“That goes double for calling me ‘babe.’ And you have no idea what’s in my skill-set anymore.”
THE FIRST THING Antonia heard when they walked down the stairs was the happy sound of lots of people talking at once that only occurred among good friends, and sometimes family. Since Nico’s group was both, she wasn’t surprised to hear it coming from the dining room. And having met some of Nico’s friends, she was no longer nervous at getting to know the rest. If anything, she wondered why she’d ever been worried. After all, Nico hadn’t changed, so why would his choice of friends be any different?
Lili and Abe had arrived a few minutes before them, and were just finding seats at the dining room table, which was set in an even bigger room. Nico had grown up in a huge castle, and had built one for himself once he came into his full power and achieved total independence, so she supposed it made sense that when he built a home in this new world, he’d look for wide-open spaces. Besides which, he and his warriors— and Abe too, for that matter—were such big men, that if you put them all together in a smaller room, with a smaller table, there wouldn’t be space for them, much less the women.
Lili waved from across the table, while Abe held her chair back, then slid it in beneath her. The gentlemanly gesture had the tiny vampire woman bl
ushing like a school girl, which Antonia thought was wonderful, given the hard nature of her early life.
Nico’s hand on her lower back guided her to the left, where the head of the table sat empty, and she shot a quick glance to the right, hoping the plan wasn’t to put him at one end and her at the other. The arrangement would have been all but mandatory in the world she’d grown up in, but a nightmare for her on this night. She’d barely socialized before Nico’s arrival had broken the curse, and while she could have faked it, she would enjoy the dinner much more with him next to her.
She bit back a smile when he seated her to his left. She should have known better. Nico was far too possessive to ever let her sit that far away from him. She was happy to see Damian to her left and Casey next to him. At least she’d have someone she knew to begin the evening’s conversation with.
She’d no sooner sat, however, than Damian shouted down to the other end of the table, where another huge man was getting settled. “Dragan, Maeve! This is Antonia.”
Dragan’s head came up and his gaze locked on her with the piercing focus of a hardened warrior. Or a dragon, she thought as she stared back at him, unwilling to break the contact, though whether to establish equal dominance or to keep an eye on the dangerous predator, she didn’t know.
But then he smiled, and it was such a sweet, gentle smile that her heart melted. She remembered what his life had been like even before he’d joined Nico, much less in the centuries or more that he’d spent trapped in stone. Nico had told her that Dragan’s stone prison had been particularly cruel since his wings had been lifted in preparation for flight, and he’d been stuck that way for the entire duration of his imprisonment.
“Antonia.” Dragan spoke quietly, but she had no trouble hearing him. “I’m very happy to meet you at last. And especially happy that you and Nico are finally reunited.” He waited a beat, then said, “This is my wife, Maeve.”
A pretty dark-haired woman who’d been talking to Lili looked up at the sound of her name. Her complexion—which was almost certainly extremely pale by nature—seemed just a shade paler, but her face glowed with happiness, and her gaze when it touched on Dragan was filled with love. She started to rise, but Dragan touched her hand to stop her, so she limited her greeting to a smiling wave, and an expressive look at her solicitous husband.
Antonia realized that these men—all of them, except for Abe—were from her world. Their world, too. She could have told their women— whether mates or wives—that these men would always have been over- protective and sometimes controlling. But never with malicious intent. They were warriors. Protectiveness was in their blood. It was who they were, who they’d been trained to be from the moment they could walk.
A young woman came around and poured wine for her and Nico, who immediately stood and raised his glass. “To friends and lovers reunited,” he said, and everybody drank, even Maeve, though with water in her wine glass. Once the glasses were down again, Nico raised his glass again and said, “I’m more accustomed to sharing this toast with warriors, which means mostly men. But everyone in this room tonight has a stake in the coming battle. Everyone has not only a part to play, but a score to settle. So, my friends—” he glanced at Antonia, “—my family, I raise a toast now . . . to victory!”
The room resounded with deep, male voices shouting the word, “Victory!” But though the men drowned out the women, that didn’t mean they were the only ones shouting. And when it came time to drink, everyone drained their glasses, as if to emphasize their intent. They would find both victory and revenge once and for all in the coming battle. Or they would die trying.
Antonia set her glass down with a solid thud, knowing she sure as hell felt the same.
That done, however, everyone was hungry, and the serving staff was ready. The soup came out first, a cool gazpacho which fit the warm Florida weather. Antonia might have welcomed something hot to offset the air-conditioned chill of the room, but she was glad she’d taken Nico’s advice and worn one of the sweaters she’d brought along. She could tell already that living with him, she was going to need them. The gazpacho was delicious, however, so well worth the chilly room.
She actually read once that Chicago had more authentic Mexican restaurants than any city in the U.S. She still had trouble believing that, and couldn’t help wondering how they defined “authentic.” Her reality was that despite living in a Chicago suburb, she’d never even tasted it. Not that her experience was in any way representative of the average person’s, since she’d never left her own neighborhood. Regardless of the reasons, however, she loved the opportunity to try something new, and she loved the gazpacho, too.
The serving staff whisked away her bowl as soon as she’d placed her empty spoon on the underplate, and moments later, the salads were delivered. Again, this being sunny Florida, everything, from the greens to the bits of fruit, was super fresh, and the dressing was light and refreshing. She decided right then that she could get used to living in Florida, and then wondered why she hadn’t prepared more interesting meals for herself all these years.
“You okay?” Nico’s warm voice in her ear had her smiling.
She looked up at him. “Better than okay. I’d say I’m happy, but I don’t want to tempt the fates.”
He chuckled. “A woman after my own heart. I’m constantly berating those bitches.”
“I think you might have missed the logical order of things when it comes to temptation, my love.”
“Yeah, well. I was never much of a believer. I just did a lot of cursing.”
She laughed. “I remember that.” She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. “I’m so glad to be here with you. With them,” she added, lifting her chin at the lively group.
Nico didn’t say anything, just put his arm around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair.
“Hey! No necking at the table!” someone shouted. She couldn’t have said who, but it didn’t matter, because everyone cheered or jeered, and the moment passed into the next topic of conversation. Just as it should be, she thought.
By the time the main course had been served and eaten, Antonia was so full of delicious food, she thought she would burst. She was also thankful that the chef, or whoever was making the decisions, was giving them a few minutes before dessert. Maeve had immediately left for the bathroom, with Lili along for company. And the guys had shifted seats, to sit next to each other and confer in low voices—no doubt discussing manly things, whatever those were, though the subject of war and weapons likely played a part.
Nico and Damian were doing the same, rattling off what sounded like an inventory of weapons suitable for a medium-sized country, or maybe something bigger, since she doubted any country in this world included ensorcelled blades or other weapons in their arsenal.
Antonia listened with half an ear, answering the occasional question regarding magic and spells, but otherwise, drinking in the lovely and loving ambience, and hoping with a tiny part of her heart—so tiny that the fates wouldn’t notice—that when the coming war was over, they’d all gather again in this room, even Gabriel and Kato and their mates from California, and raise a toast to a better future for all of them.
The scent of herbs and warmth coming too close had her turning to see a pretty human woman, with her long dark hair tied back, leaning over to wrap an arm around Nico’s shoulders and exchange double cheek kisses in the style that was common in Europe, but not so much in the U.S. She and Nico greeted each other, speaking in rapid French, which had Antonia switching languages in her head to keep up.
“Nicholas, mon cheri. You are more handsome than ever. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
“That can’t be true. I’ve been eating your food. I can’t be wrong about that.”
“That’s because I cook for you, but you’re never here. I can only imagine the horror of how you re-heat my food.”
“Ah, apologies, ma chèrie. But I think of you all the time while I’m eating.”
She slapped his shoulder. “Liar. But I love you, so . . .” She kissed his cheek.
Nico reached out and took Antonia’s hand, pulling her into the conversation, and drawing the chef’s attention in her direction. “Antonia, this is Viviane Géroux, the finest chef in the Southeast.”
Viviane turned a bright smile at Antonia and held out a hand. “Vivi,” she corrected. “And he exaggerates.”
Antonia took her hand. “Having tasted your food, I don’t think he gives you enough credit. It was wonderful.”
“Ah, you must keep her around, Nicholas. She will eat my food.”
“I eat your food,” he complained. “But don’t worry, Antonia will be living with me from now on.”
“Mon dieu,” Vivi said, eyes wide, “Finally, you are becoming a man.” She put a hand to her chest. “I’m as proud as if I were your own mother.”
Nico rolled his eyes and muttered, “Prouder, I’m sure.”
Someone swung open the kitchen door and signaled silently, but it was enough to draw Vivi’s attention. She made a tsking noise and said, “I must go. They are helpless without me.”
She kissed Nico, then kissed Antonia on both cheeks, and said, “Good luck with that one.” Before leaving, she paused to study Nico a moment. “But he’s good-looking, so . . .” Laughing, she tilted her hand from side to side, then hurried to the kitchen where, before the door closed completely, she could be heard speaking very rapid French to some poor soul.
“She’s a life force. French?”
“French Canadian, but trained in France.”
“Did you . . . date?”
“Fuck, no. Vivi uses twice as much energy as the rest of us just walking from one place to the next. I love her, but she’d drive me crazy in a day.”
Antonia looked back at him. “Really?” she said again. “And I’m what? Peaceful?”
The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus Page 37