City of Lust (Half-breed Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  “There’s no dishwasher,” I countered. “You cook it, then you’re hand washing every spoon, plate, and that hundred-pound cast-iron witch’s cauldron.”

  He grimaced. “Eating out sounds better and better.”

  There was a small pantry off the kitchen, as well as a half-bath. Heading back to the living room, I made my way up the winding marble stairs to the upper floor. Three small bedrooms overlooked the avenue, side gardens, and parking area, with narrow low beds across from ornate wardrobes. In between them was a bathroom with a claw-foot tub and tiny shower off to the side. The master suite where Irix had deposited our luggage took up half of the upstairs, with a bed that could easily sleep four, a huge wardrobe, a sitting area, and a little secretary-style desk. The walls had the same silk wallpaper as downstairs, although this room was in varying shades of deep green. The accents were cream and silver, and instead of terracotta, the bedroom had a marble mosaic floor with interlocking circles in white, tan, rose, and gray.

  I went over and opened the doors and shutters to the balcony, with its wrought iron railing and little café table with two chairs, and breathed in the cool air coming off the lake. I was so going to sit out here in my pajamas tomorrow morning with my espresso and a book.

  “I like this place.” I turned to see Irix admiring the room. “You might have terrible taste in rental cars, but I’m putting you in charge of where we stay from now on.”

  It wasn’t easy picking out a villa from just the photos online. It had taken me a while to find what I thought would be the perfect place. I was thrilled that Irix approved.

  “It reminds me a lot of my home back in New Orleans,” Irix commented.

  I totally understood what he meant. This villa was low with larger rooms and nary a wood floor in sight where Irix’s house was a three story narrow rowhouse with high fences and a small wandering garden of a yard. But there was a similar feel to them. Maybe it was the ornate iron fencing, or the silk wallpaper, or the mix of old and new. Maybe it was that aura of centuries gone by. Or maybe the Frenchman who’d originally built Irix’s house shared some design aesthetics with these Italians. Either way, this villa felt like home.

  “Shall we try out the bed?” Irix’s arms came around me once more and he pulled my back against his front, where his hard-on pressed against the upper part of my ass.

  “I thought you wanted to bend me over the banister?” I turned to face him, snaking my arms around his neck.

  His golden-brown eyes heated. He leaned to kiss me, then looked past me out to the view of the lake, the mountains, the clouds rolling in from the north. “There’s a banister here.”

  Yeah, a thin metal railing and a drop onto a stone patio. But the exhibitionist in me loved the idea of having sex out on this balcony, where anyone on the lake could see us. And the view…

  “I’m game.”

  He grinned, then bent his head to kiss me. His hands sneaked under the hem of my shirt, lifting it and tickling the sensitive skin of my sides. I jerked, squeaking into his mouth. He chuckled, deepening our kiss, and moving his hands up to unsnap the front my bra.

  We separated, Irix stepping back to lift my shirt over my head and slide my bra down my arms. With one hand, he twisted the bra around my wrists, pushing my arms down so my back arched. Then he bent his head to my breasts, his tongue rasping against my nipple.

  This was new. We’d enjoyed some rough sex before, but not like this. The bra was practically cutting into my wrists, Irix’s grip so tight that I knew there was no way I could get my hands free. His other hand unsnapped my jeans and yanked them down, pushing me back a few steps so that I felt the cold iron of the railing against my bare ass. He pressed against me, his mouth rough on my breasts, and I felt the iron of the railing give slightly.

  An instinctive fear shivered through me. I couldn’t move my arms. I was on the verge of going over the balcony railing, or through it if it gave way. The cold metal bit into my skin. My shoulders ached, my wrists burned. I whimpered as Irix gently bit one of my nipples, tugging it into his mouth.

  His hand left my hip and I heard his pants unsnap and the rasp of his zipper. Then he kicked my legs apart, one hand twisting the bra around my wrists tighter while the other swiped through my wet folds then hooked around my thigh, lifting me slightly up and angling my hips. Now I was completely helpless, on the tip-toes of one foot, the delicate metal railing the only thing keeping me from a long fall—well, the railing and Irix’s firm grip on my leg and wrists.

  He trailed a line of kisses and not-so-gentle bites up my chest and neck, then leaned his forehead against mine as he positioned himself at my entrance and drove forward right as the first drops of rain began to fall.

  The railing groaned. The skies opened up, drenching us instantly. I gasped, giggling at the thought of us pressed against the railing, having sex in the pouring rain. He chuckled in reply, tongue darting out to lick a drop of water from my lip. His skin was so warm, slick and wet, his hair dripping onto my shoulders. I felt the long slide of him as he pulled his hips away, then once more he drove forward.

  Every nerve in my body came alive at the feel of him. Eyes on mine, he began to move, stroking deep and gradually increasing his rhythm. I could do nothing but grow soft and willing against him, watching the gold sparks flickering in his eyes, feeling his breath against my lips, relishing the feel of him as he filled me.

  Irix’s breathing changed, growing faster and heavier, the railing making an alarming squealing noise as he slammed into me. I didn’t care. Everything was tightening inside me, like a coiled spring. If this damned railing gave way, I only hoped I came before we hit the ground.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Please don’t stop.”

  He growled, his movements frantic, his fingers digging into my thigh as he lifted me higher. I shattered, crying out every nerve ending pulsing as I tightened around him. He did the same, pausing deep inside me as he peaked, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt him pour every bit of himself into me, not holding back, his stored sexual energy spooling into me with every pulse of his cock.

  This was more than sex, more than his sharing energy. It was so much more. I felt something shift between us, felt as if any slim barriers that remained separating the two of us had been shattered. There was something so open in Irix’s gold eyes, so giving, and so vulnerable.

  “I love you,” he whispered, still inside of me.

  His hand loosened on the bra and I felt it slide from my wrists. Bringing my arms forward, I gripped his sodden shirt with one hand, bringing the other one up to tangle in his wet hair. I watched him, watched his eyes as I traced the edge of the cowlick on his forehead. I wanted to stay here always, him inside of me, his warm body pressed against mine as the rain drenched us. I wanted this to be forever.

  “I love you, too,” I told him. “For all of eternity, until my very last breath, I will love you, Irix.”

  Something sparkled in his eyes, something that wasn’t the usual demon-gold, something that looked a lot like tears.

  Chapter 2

  Irix had ordered food from the café across the street, then started up a fire downstairs while I was warming up in the shower. I didn’t bother to dress, bundling my wet hair on top of my head and wrapping myself in a soft blanket to curl up on the leather sofa in front of the fire. Outside was gray, thunder in the distance as rain continued to pour from the sky.

  I’d never felt so content, so happy, so satisfied. I was in this beautiful, snug villa listening to the rain, watching the fire, snuggled in a blanket. I heard the door open, and smelled something amazing.

  “Dinner has arrived,” Irix said. He put a box on the coffee table and began unpacking. There were several containers, a bottle of wine, and a carafe of coffee. And dishes. I was pretty sure the kitchen had dishes, so I shot Irix a raised-eyebrow look.

  “Evidently the café across the street is used to supplying the villa owners with food, and does the same for guests. We just put the dishes
in the box and leave them outside the door under the overhang, and they’ll collect them. We can even have pastries, fruit, and espresso delivered in the morning if we want.”

  This. Was. Heaven. I was so glad I’d taken a chance on this apprenticeship opportunity and booked this vacation. It was an experience, and I wanted my life to be full of experiences like this.

  Irix opened a container and spooned a huge helping of a pasta dish onto a plate.

  “What the heck is that?” I’d expected some kind of spaghetti noodle and marinara sauce, but these noodles were short, broad, and thick. They were an odd taupe color, and rather than a sauce, they seemed to be coated in a pale cheese. It all smelled amazing, but the colors reminded me of the gray rain outside our windows.

  “Pizzocheri,” Irix said. “It’s a local staple, a sort of hearty pasta that these Italians have been eating for generations. The noodles are made with buckwheat flour, hence the unusual color. And the sauce is like a thick fondue. It’s fontina cheese with grappa instead of wine, garlic, butter, and swiss chard. The owner of the café says that it’s the perfect meal for a rainy evening, although he claims that Italians tend to eat heavy food like this as their afternoon meal, then have a light, late supper.”

  I dug in and was surprised at how rich and filling the pasta was compared to the marinara-style I was used to eating at home. I finished off my serving, then nibbled on some pickled vegetables and cured meat, cradling my glass of wine while Irix stored the leftovers in the fridge and rinsed the dishes to send back across the street.

  The rain continued, the gray sky darkening as the sun began to set. Without a word, Irix tended the fire, then sat on the couch, pulling me over so I was lying against him, both of us looking out the doors to the patio and the lake beyond.

  “Cigars and cognac?” he murmured in my ear as I finished my wine. “Or do you want some of that espresso the café sent over in the thermos?”

  “Right now I just want to stay here in your arms. After it’s full-dark, let’s break into the cognac and cigars. My internal clock is kinda screwed up with the time change, and as enticing as espresso sounds, I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep at all if I have a cup.”

  Irix scooted me up tighter against him, my butt pressed against his crotch, his legs spread out and intertwined with mine. There was something magic about us curled up together while the rain beat a slow rhythm on the roof and windows. Irix’s warm breath stirred the hair at the top of my head, his fingers gently stroking my stomach and hips under the blanket. The rain muted to a gentle mist as the sky darkened to night, the crackling of the fire rising to a crescendo in its absence.

  Irix kissed the top of my head, then gently set me aside to get up. I shivered at the lack of his warmth against my back. Then I rose and, still wrapped in my blanket, I opened the tall French doors leading out to the patio, breathing in the cool night air that carried the scents from the herb garden, as well as the roses, into the house. Off in the distance, I saw a pair of shadows flit like giant ravens across the hazy, partially obscured moon. A fast-moving cloud, no doubt, coming off the mountains. The wind picked up and I shivered, thinking how the temperature had really dropped from the heat of the day.

  “You opened the doors? Kinda defeats the purpose of the fire,” Irix teased as he handed me the two snifters of cognac. I held them while he trimmed the ends from the cigars.

  “No, the purpose of the fire is ambiance and romance, not necessarily warmth, although I’m sure I’ll be glad of that later. I just wanted the fresh air.”

  Irix lit one of the cigars and handed it to me, trading it for one of the snifters. “I could get used to this, you know—jetting around the globe by your side, enjoying human civilization and the beauty that this world has to offer.”

  “So what’s stopping us?” I asked. Irix had enough money to do this sort of thing. Although I didn’t, I knew he’d be happy to foot the bill.

  He stood next to me, our shoulders touching. Cigar smoke curled up into the night air, the brandy sparkling from the firelight behind us.

  “Nothing. We could travel for a few years, or decades, or centuries until you felt the need to put your degree and botany talents to good use. Or we could put down roots somewhere and just make sure we take frequent vacations.”

  I eyed him, wondering where this was going. He knew I wanted a career, that I had an urge to do something heroic for the world, starting with something heroic for a company or a municipality or a local park service. The idea of spending my life traveling was an intoxicating one, but I knew I’d soon find that sort of life shallow. I needed a deeper meaning, a purpose, otherwise these amazing experiences would just begin to feel flat.

  Did Irix feel differently? He was an incubus, and sex demons loved a carefree existence. Was this his way of pointing out to me that as much in love as we were, our paths were going to eventually diverge. I’d want more than endless travel and new experiences, and he’d feel weighted down by my need to save the world one plant at a time.

  “Well, if I manage to get this apprenticeship, I’ll be here in Italy for the next few years. We could take a year and travel after that, in between the apprenticeship and the next job. If I don’t get it, we could probably spend a few months jetting around before I wanted to start work with Jordan down in New Orleans. I don’t know how much vacation time I’d get, but we could always plan something big every year at the least.”

  He nodded, but suddenly he felt very far away.

  “Do you still want that? Us moving in together in New Orleans? I could always find an apartment–”

  “I want you with me. Whether that’s in Italy, or New Orleans, or a rusted trailer in a vineyard in California. I want you with me.”

  That was reassuring, especially because with the way he’d said it, it seemed like a vow.

  “I want to be with you, too,” I replied.

  We were silent a few minutes, sipping the cognac and smoking our cigars, when Irix suddenly spoke up. “Do you really want kids? I mean, demon children are very difficult to raise, as I’ve said before.”

  I caught my breath. “My whole life I thought I was human. I always saw myself getting married and having kids as well as having a rewarding career. I’m adjusting to the changes I’ve needed to make in those hopes and dreams, but it’s hard to give up the one about having kids. I think that’s the toughest dream for me to let go of.”

  He took a big gulp of the cognac. “It would be difficult to juggle a career and raise little demons, even if we hire a dwarven nanny to help. We wouldn’t be as free to travel or stay out late. And we’d have to take care of our need for sexual energy in a way that wouldn’t bring human child services down on our heads.”

  I winced, envisioning trying to explain to a social worker why Irix and I were out all night at an orgy. But we’d have a dwarven nanny to babysit. That should help.

  “What if our child tries to seduce the kids in Kindergarten?” he continued, “or the fourth grade teacher, or gets caught masturbating in the park playground at age eight, or gets mad and sets the grocery store on fire because we won’t get him the cereal he wants?”

  “We’d have to homeschool,” I countered. “And be very careful. Didn’t you say dwarves are skilled at keeping those kind of behaviors under control?”

  He was right. This was going to be impossible. I wanted to continue to live as much like a human as I could, but would that be fair to Irix? And would that be fair to a child who would be three-quarters demon? Or a dwarven nanny who needed to basically be there twenty-four seven because Irix and I couldn’t manage our own child.

  I took a deep breath. “Let’s table that one. Honestly, I’m not ready for children right now. Maybe we don’t have kids. I might be okay with that. Right now I don’t want to completely rule it out. I don’t want to agree that we’re not going to, only to decide in a few years, or decades, or centuries that I really do want to have a baby.”

  “In a few decades or centuries, t
hings might be different,” Irix added. “And it’s not just you who might want a child later on. Demons often go through periods in their lives where they feel an incredibly strong urge to create offspring. In a few centuries, it might be me begging you for a baby.”

  “So…maybe? Shall we agree on maybe and that either one of us can bring the topic up again if we feel the need?”

  Irix nodded and shot me a relieved smile. “Agreed.”

  We stood in companionable silence for a few moments, then I turned to Irix. “So what should we get into tomorrow? I don’t have to be at the seminar until Monday, so maybe we could do a few tourist things. And, of course, we’ll need to scout around for some sexual partners.”

  Irix smiled. “I thought we’d tour a few villas, then head out at night after dinner to a bar. There’s a big hotel the next town over where we could probably pick up some tourists without any problems.”

  That sounded fine with me. And hopefully language wouldn’t be a barrier, or I’d need to have Irix around to translate for me.

  “I’ve got some other plans for later in the week if you get a break from your seminar stuff,” Irix continued. “I want us to go up through the mountains into Switzerland one day, and take a boat out on the lake another day.”

  “I want to explore the towns a bit, and do a little shopping in Bellagio,” I told him. Although everything would need to fit in around the seminar schedules and the apprenticeship testing. As much as I wanted to enjoy a vacation, that was the real reason for this trip.

  Irix crinkled his nose with dismay at my mention of shopping. “While you’re looking at shoes and scarves and purses, I might go see if I can score a few quickies.” He reached out and smoothed my hair. “If I know you, you’ll get busy and run low on energy, then need to expend everything you have saving a hibiscus garden or something. I have to make sure I have enough energy to share.”

  I should have been insulted, but I’d grown used to Irix nagging me about how I needed to spend more time gathering sexual energy. And he’d gotten used to sharing his with me. What had once been an area of friction between us was now a sort of fond teasing. Even though he was right and I really did need to put more consistent effort into picking up sexual partners, I knew that he loved to share. It was his way of taking care of me, of showing his love. And energy that came from Irix was especially potent and sweet.