All of the fish had congregated by her feet, swimming on top of one another to get near her. She kicked one of the stones with her foot, and it plopped into the water. The fish scattered, but swam right back to her as though she had fish food in her pockets. If Parker saw this, he’d suspect something was strange about her, and she’d already given him enough to whet his appetite.
“I’m sorry, I have to use the restroom and wash my hands.” She rose from the table as if her seat were on fire.
Parker’s eyes widened in surprise. “By all means.”
“I’ll be right back.” Syrinx pushed in her chair and wove through the other tables toward the restrooms in the back. She needed a break from her sizzling client and a way to get rid of those fish. Maybe she could drop some food on the opposite side of the pond on her way back?
Just as she reached the door, she turned back to the pond. Had the fish followed her all the way to the other side? Confusion and surprise hit her. The fish still swam by her table, swarming at Parker’s feet.
Maybe it wasn’t her presence after all.
But then, what could it be?
Chapter Five With Open Eyes
Pan made sure Syrinx had entered the bathroom before he bent down and splashed the koi pond lightly with his fingertips. “Get away! Scram!”
The date was going so well, and he didn’t want a few giant goldfish to get in the way. Why nature had such a draw to gods and goddesses, he had no idea. But the fauna’s fawning had always been an annoyance, even in the woods at Mount Olympus. Who wants hummingbirds nesting in your hair?
At least these modern buildings kept them at bay. The twenty-first century had some conveniences, even if it lacked magic or imagination.
One of them was the culinary achievement of salad. This place had the most exquisite blend of herbs and vegetables, almost rivaling what he found in the forests of Mount Olympus.
Syrinx brushed past him, enticing him with her fresh, floral scent. She pulled her chair out and sat down elegantly, crossing her long legs. He’d always loved her elegance and the way she could sit perfectly still, like a fawn listening to the wind. Her eyes strayed to the koi pond, but he’d quelled the little beasties. Confusion registered in her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Did I miss anything?”
“Only the waiter coming back to fill our glasses.” Too bad neither of them drank much of anything. The poor pimple-faced boy had returned uselessly. If Pan hadn’t been hiding his powers, he’d burn off all those pimples so the lad had a chance of snagging his own maidens. Alas, he’d have to wait a few more years until his hormones stopped gushing.
Syrinx grabbed her glass and gulped down her water as if trying to uphold her mortal facade. Pan stifled a chuckle. Might as well uphold my own pretense.
He sipped his water, then leaned across the table. “Let’s play a game.”
Syrinx scrunched up her pretty little nose as if he’d suggested they eat poison. “A game?”
“Yes, to get to know each other better. I say a word, and you say the first word that comes to mind.”
Syrinx stiffened. “I hardly think that’s going to help us plan the floral arrangements for your party or help your garden.”
Pan held up his finger to silence her. “You’d be surprised. Let’s give it a try.” He waved his hand over the table. “Wood.”
“Forest.” Syrinx challenged him with a glare. “Now your turn.”
Forest. The room heated by a few degrees. There were so many associations with forest, so many things he couldn’t speak of. Syrinx waited by tapping her fingers across the table. Pan had to give her something. “Brook.”
Now it was her turn to squirm. “River.”
Nymph. He bit his tongue. Couldn’t say that. This game was revealing too much about him and not enough about her. “Fish.”
“Salmon.” Syrinx smiled. “It’s what I ordered, bringing us full circle.”
He reached for his glass. The rancid reek of roasted flesh stopped him in midair.
The waiter had returned with two plates. “Rack of lamb for you, sir.” He plopped down a hideous monstrosity before Pan. White bones glazed with olive oil protruded from herb-crusted flesh. “And salmon for you, miss.”
Pan’s stomach churned. That could have been his distant cousin. And only a baby. Mortals were so barbaric. “This is not what I ordered.”
The waiter took out his pad and checked his notes. Horror zapped across his face. “Oh, no! My apologies, sir.” He took the plate away. “I’ll have your salads out as soon as possible.”
Scrambling through the tables, the young man brushed a few napkins onto the floor and banged into a woman’s purse hanging from her chair along the way.
The revulsion must have shown on Pan’s face, because Syrinx gave him a look of utter sympathy. “I’m so sorry. That must be horrible to a vegetarian.”
He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine that dinner running around on four legs. “You have no idea.”
She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, threading her slender fingers through his. Pleasure erupted through his skin and down his arm. This compassionate woman was a new side of her he’d never seen, and it enticed him further. So this is how I get to her heart? Through weakness and sympathy? He didn’t need a game to get to know her. Her actions spoke for themselves. The new revelation made him feel sleazy, and he pushed the thought away, trying to enjoy the moment and their closeness. His fingers tightened around hers, and a flash of desire stirred within the blue depths of her eyes.
Syrinx melted in his gaze. For a moment, he thought he had her within his grasp. Maybe she’d just sit there and stare at him for the rest of the night. But she broke contact, folding her hands in front of her plate. “I’m sure he’ll bring your food soon.”
“Aren’t you going to eat your meal? You must be ravenous.” Pan smiled. He knew she felt about as hungry as a doorknob. Gods couldn’t starve even if they locked themselves in a tomb for all eternity.
She pursed her lips as if trying to decide whether to maintain her needy mortal facade or wait politely for his food to come. “I’m fine.”
Pan was so amused, he bit his lip to keep from chuckling. “How conscientious of you. Really, there’s no reason to suffer on my account.”
She played with the edge of her napkin, picking at a frayed string. “Seriously? How long does it take to make a salad?”
Pan longed to take her hand back and feel her smooth skin underneath his rough fingertips. His eyes followed her fingers, studying the perfect curve of her short fingernails, imaging how they’d feel against his bare chest. “Your food is getting cold.”
Just as she reached for her fork, the waiter came back with two salad plates. “My apologies again, sir.” He placed both plates in front of him. “I hope the food is to your liking.”
“Yes, yes.” Pan waved him away, suddenly wanting to be alone with this new, sensitive Syrinx whom he hadn’t known existed. “It’s fine, thank you.”
The waiter bowed his head. “Is there anything else I can get either of you?”
A room for the night. Pan’s hunger welled up inside of him like a wild beast—and it wasn’t for the salad. Exerting an enormous amount of self-control, he glanced at Syrinx.
She shook her head. “No, thank you. That will be all.”
After the waiter disappeared, Pan watched Syrinx wrap her lips around her fork as she took a bite of salmon. “Is your business flourishing?”
Syrinx swallowed gracefully. “We do very well this time of year. The summer months are great for business.” She gave him a suspicious look. “But we’re not here to talk about my shop. I’m here to help you with your garden.”
“Oh yes.” Pan had completely forgotten. With all the spicy topics out there, cold, wet earth was not his topic of choice.
As Syrinx prattled on about the various types of species, Pan’s mind drifted to the skin above her neckline, and the way a single pearl lodged in the valley between her breasts. Rutherford’s word
s came back to him. Get to know her.
Pan tore his eyes away from her neck and refocused on her words.
“But you may want to use a lighter shade-loving species such as brunnera and hosta to brighten up the dark ground.”
Pan studied the excitement in her eyes. “You really love your work, don’t you?”
“I do.” Syrinx smiled and ate another bite of her salmon. “Why? Do I seem overzealous?”
Pan laughed. She was overzealous about a lot of things—her chastity being one of them. He needed to loosen this girl up, open her eyes to all the pleasures in the world. Sure, potting plants might be calming, but by the gods, she needed to have some fun. He held his forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “Maybe a tad.”
Syrinx dropped her gaze as if embarrassed, and guilt zapped his heart.
“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s great you love your work. So many people don’t take pride in what they do. Or they’re only interested in trivial pursuits.”
He thought of all the giggling maidens without a thought in their heads chasing him around. One of the reasons why he was drawn to Syrinx was her interests, her conviction. Sharp intellect and wit lurked beneath those vibrant eyes. She was more than another pretty face, and it fascinated him. The other gods had talked of her cold, overly pious demeanor, but he sensed a wild streak lurking behind that straight-edged attitude. He bet he could draw it out.
Syrinx narrowed her eyes. “Come now, you must have something you love just as much as I love plants.”
Pan looked away. The only thing he could think of was her.
…
They finished eating, and Pan paid for the bill before Syrinx could protest. They walked to the car, Pan wondering every second how he could prolong the date without seeming too overbearing. The deal was for her to help him with his garden, and she’d given him enough information to plant half the universe.
A breeze played with the strand of Syrinx’s white-gold hair, and she turned around, glancing over her shoulder as if someone tracked her on the wind.
“What’s the matter?”
Syrinx waved him away and walked toward the passenger door of his Jaguar. “It’s nothing, really.”
He placed a hand on her arm. “Something is bothering you.”
She laughed sheepishly. “It’s just this feeling I have of being watched. It’s silly, really.”
Pan tried to shake it off, but he had the distinct feeling she meant him. “Who do you think is watching you? Some old boyfriend?”
“Let’s just say I had a stalker for a while.”
“A stalker?” He hadn’t been that creepy, had he? An admirer yes, but a stalker? That made him sound like some naked pervert in a trench coat flashing his you-know-what. Pan was a god, an exquisite lover, not some common weirdo lurking in the dark.
Syrinx surprised him by leaning toward him. “Stay with me. Just a little longer. We could see the poet. We both know the seats won’t be sold out.”
He paused, unusually speechless. He didn’t want a woman who had no desire for him. Yet here she was, pulling at his suit coat with need burning in her gaze. She wanted him, but as Parker Thomas. How much of Parker was a facade and how much was Pan shining through without all the godliness and fuss?
Pan studied her eyes, trailing his finger down the curve of her cheek. He’d come all this way to win her over, and here she was leaning on his chest. This was exactly what he’d wanted. So why did he hold back?
He couldn’t give up now just because she’d called him a stalker. That was the old Pan—the man who’d go after what he wanted without a thought as to the woman’s needs. He was the new, more sensitive Pan—taking the time to get to know his conquest before the real seduction began. There was something she liked about him, and he had to figure out if that was enough to go on, or if he’d feel like a total scoundrel seducing her using Mr. Thomas’s clean-shaven face.
“All right. We can see the poet. But you have to let me buy the tickets.”
“Thank you.” Syrinx breathed with relief and hugged him, burying her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Intense desire welled up within him, along with something he hadn’t felt before—the need to comfort and protect her.
Syrinx played with a button on his shirt. “I’ve never told anyone about the stalker before. Somehow, I feel like I can trust you.”
Guilt seeped over him in an uncomfortable, thick, suffocating blanket. He had no tools to deal with the emotion since he’d never experienced anything like it before. Since when did he have a conscience?
“You can trust me with all of your deepest and darkest secrets.”
Syrinx jerked up and pulled away, studying him with skepticism. “Who says I have any of those?”
“No one.” He chuckled, but part of him wondered just how far he could take this deception. “Come on, let’s go see this master poet.”
Linking arms with him, Syrinx led him across the street to the Wildcats Auditorium. Pan bought the tickets, and they found their seats in the balcony with a great view of the stage. Surprisingly, there were quite a number of people in the audience. Pan flipped through the program notes, scanning the five-star reviews and an LA Times quote that read, “Master Don will turn you inside out until you see every shade in your soul.” A mortal accomplishing what only Hades could do? He read her the quote. “This poet must be good.”
“Hopefully not too good.” Syrinx shifted in her seat, playing with the pearl at the nape of her neck.
Her discomfort amused him. It was entertaining to see a goddess sweat it out a little. “What are you afraid of?”
Syrinx watched the people on stage set up some percussion equipment, including a rain stick and three sets of African drums. “What he’ll make me see.”
“Come now, what could lurk underneath that pretty face?” Pan was outdoing himself. He really needed to put a lid on his teasing.
The audience began to clap, and a small Asian man with a face so wrinkled it could have been a raisin walked out on stage. He wore a simple white cotton shirt and pants and carried a jade flute.
Syrinx leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Is that Master Don?”
“Looks like it.” Pan stretched his right arm on his armrest and watched in fascination.
The crowd subsided into silence, and Master Don picked up his jade flute. Pan watched in envy, wishing he could hold his own flute made of reeds.
Master Don blew a single long, mournful note. He allowed the sound to taper into silence, then he took another breath and spoke.
“Look to the future
The past clings with regret
A new day brings peace.”
Pan blinked, trying to make sense of his words. One sentence seemed that Master Don had meant it directly for him. The past clings with regret. What did he regret? Pursuing Syrinx without a care as to how she felt? Regret was a new feeling for Pan and one that didn’t sit right, making him feel as though his collar was too tight.
Before he could ponder the rest of the poem, Master Don walked to the African drums and tapped on the smaller one three times. He gazed out at the audience, and Pan noticed that one of his eyes was as dark as shadow, and the other milky white with cataract. The milky white one seemed to see more than the dark one, focusing directly on Pan.
“To de-thorn the rose
Is to mute life. Through pain one
Appreciates love.”
De-thorn. That reminded Pan of deflowering. He’d deflowered enough maidens in his time. But was any of it love? Certainly, there was no pain. If pain and love went hand in hand, did that mean he’d never loved because he’d never experienced pain? The room heated, and Pan shifted in his seat. Master Don held his gaze for a long moment, then glanced in the other direction.
Syrinx leaned over and whispered in his ear. “They’re haikus. Everything he says is in seventeen morae, in patterns of five, seven, and five.”
Pan nodded with intere
st despite the strange vulnerability the poetry brought out, making him feel as though he sat naked in his seat. Normally, he enjoyed being naked.
Master Don tapped his fingers lightly on the larger drum, creating a rhythmic bass thud that haunted Pan.
“A plunge into blue
White chairs wait for unsaid vows
A lifetime starts now.”
Syrinx shifted beside him. The muscles in her jaw had tensed as though she steeled her nerves against the last haiku. Which of his words had upset her? Clearly the haiku was about some wedding ceremony, maybe on a cliffside over an ocean. Why would that bother her?
Without thinking, he took her hand and squeezed it. She turned toward him, and her expression softened. A great wave of satisfaction rode through him. He’d comforted her.
“Are you okay? Do you want to stay?”
Syrinx nodded. “Just because your muscles sting and ache when used doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them.”
Pan sat back in his seat, thinking on her words. If she was right, his thinking “muscles” must have degenerated, because he’d never used them before in all his existence. Was he missing out? Or had he opened Pandora’s box only to find the evils that lay inside?
Chapter Six Holding Back
As Parker pulled into the parking lot in front of Sylvia’s Creations, Syrinx tried to let go of the clinging poignancy of Master Don’s third haiku. Why did the allusion to a wedding disturb her? She’d taken a vow for an eternity of chastity, meaning she’d ruled out the prospect of marriage. At the time, she could have given a centaur’s ass about matrimony. But now, she wondered what she was missing.
Too many years with mortals.
“Quite a philosophical end to a first date, eh?” Parker drove the Jaguar with so much ease, she never felt the car stop. It glided into place. Nice car or experienced driver? She couldn’t tell.
“I’m sorry. That was my fault.” Syrinx clutched her shiny silver purse and opened the passenger door. She’d asked him to take her to the poet because she had the distinct sense someone was following her. Maybe it was all paranoia? The intruder in her floral shop didn’t help, and Pan had stalked her for so long, she was used to watching her back. Gods and women alike almost always enjoyed being one of his targets. But for her, Pan’s affections caused an unresolvable dichotomy between her ideals and her urges. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she’d wanted to prolong the date. Prolonging the date or not, the poet’s words had turned against her as if Tyche had something up her fated sleeve.
Pan's Conquest (Entangled Covet) Page 4