City of Lust (Half-breed Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  “I swear to you I will bang at least two tourists tomorrow.” I held my hand up as if I were swearing a vow. “And I will exercise judicious restraint in healing hibiscus gardens and other plant life.”

  He laughed. “Deal. Do I get to pick the tourists?”

  Irix loved being involved in my conquests. “If you want to, you can even watch. Or participate.”

  He grinned. “If the gentlemen are so inclined. I know how picky you are and I don’t want to limit your selection pool even further by insisting on only those who want to add a guy into a threesome, or who don’t mind someone watching.”

  “Maybe we can just have a party-orgy and save some time,” I teased.

  He looked around the room. “I wouldn’t want to do that here and risk upsetting our hostess. If we have time later in the week, we can rent a hotel suite somewhere and bring a dozen people up to party.”

  It sounded fun, but not as much fun as it would be just spending a week one-on-one with Irix, without having to worry about finding other sexual partners or running low on energy.

  Irix sat down his snifter and wrapped his arms around me, my back against his chest. “We don’t need to hunt every night. I know how you hate it.”

  I didn’t. Not really. When I’d first found out I was a half-succubus, I hated that I needed to basically spend my life siphoning sexual energy from others, that I’d have to become what humans would consider a slut, that even if I found a great human guy and married, I could never be faithful to him. But I’d fallen in love with Irix, and with him this all seemed normal. I still wanted him all to myself at times, but the fact that he went out and had sex with others didn’t bother me. In fact, I thought the times we’d picked up swingers, or had orgies, or threesomes to be some of the most intimate, exciting sex we’d experienced. It was fun. And it was the sort of fun I could only have with Irix as my husband.

  Well, not husband because demons didn’t marry. Partner? Mate? Lover-for-possibly-thousands-of-years? I wasn’t sure what to call us.

  I leaned my head back against him. “Tonight it will just be us. No heading out later to pick anyone up. Just you and me making love all over this amazing house, then sleeping all night long in our bed together, waking up side-by-side. Tomorrow, we’ll hunt, but tonight is for you and me.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “That sounds perfect.”

  We stood like that, finishing our cigars and our drinks. Then closed the doors to the patio, shutting out the world to devote the rest of the night to each other.

  Chapter 3

  A light breeze blew over Lake Como, stirring my hair and rustling the scalloped edges of the awnings over the little café that was conveniently right across the street from our villa. Actually, the door at the end of our breezeway opened into a small patio area that was also claimed by the café, full of little round tables and excruciatingly uncomfortable metal chairs.

  I figured the metal chairs were to discourage visitors from sipping their espresso too long, whiling the day away, transfixed by the choppy waves of the lake.

  Choppy was a mild word for the silver-tipped waves. The only other place I’d seen waves this size on an inland body of water was in the Great Lakes. That alone gave me an indication of the size of the glacier lake in front of me. And the water was, as Sam would have said, colder than a witch’s tit. I had no idea how the paddle boarders managed. I guess the frigid waters were an incentive to stay upright.

  A woman slid into the chair opposite me, her dark hair to her shoulders, eyes shaded by sunglasses. She was curvy, but moved with an energy and grace, plopping her designer handbag on the chair beside her as she skillfully set a double espresso onto the table top. I stared at her a moment, wondering if sharing tables was a custom in Italy, and if so, why she’d chosen to share mine rather than take one of the four empty ones next to us.

  “I’m Daniela Sommariva,” she announced.

  The name clicked. “I’m Amber Lowry. Oh my gosh, you’re the cousin Gianna said she’d ask about the villa tour. I’m dying to get into your gardens.”

  That sounded like a euphemism for something naughty, and my effusive statement probably wasn’t helping my case. But the woman spoke English with an American accent, so maybe she was used to weird American manners.

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “We don’t normally open our home up to tours, but Gianna was quite taken with the both of you. Besides, treasures lose their shine when they only have a few to appreciate them. The admiration of others is part of their value, don’t you think?”

  I didn’t have anything that I’d consider a treasure. Well, except for Irix, I guess, and the admiration of others was part of his being a sex demon.

  “When do you think we could come for the tour?” I had the seminar all day tomorrow, but hopefully she could squeeze something in either today or in the evenings later this week.

  “Today in the late morning, perhaps? My father isn’t well, but a short tour should be okay. And we could possibly have a drink and a light lunch afterward depending on time.”

  I nodded. “That would be awesome. Can we bring something?”

  “Oh no, that’s not at all necessary. You and your boyfriend are here on vacation! Honestly, I will enjoy the company, and especially enjoy showing off our home.”

  “It’s been in your family for long?”

  She smiled and sipped her espresso. “For nearly a thousand years. My cousins own some of the more modern, neighboring villas, but Villa Sommarilla with its gardens and artwork has always gone to the eldest child in our family.”

  “Are you a large family?” I asked, a bit envious. “I grew up with just the one brother, although I have a sister that I only met a few years back. I’ve got an uncle on my dad’s side, and two aunts on my mothers, but they don’t live near us, so I didn’t grow up with a big family, playing with cousins or any of that.”

  “We have never been able to have more than two children. One is far more common with us. There are only sixteen in my family including my cousins. I’m my father’s only child, so I envy you growing up with a brother.”

  How sad that their family had such fertility issues. It reminded me of what Nyalla had told me of the elves back home. They also struggled to have children.

  It also made me think back to Irix’s and my conversation last night. Would I be able to have children if we decided we wanted them? My mother had to turn to a sex demon to become pregnant with me. I was assuming that Irix would have the ability to do the same as my demon parent and override any infertility issues I might have inherited from my elven mother.

  “Do you have children?” I asked Daniela. Gianna had mentioned that her cousin was living in the villa with her father, but hadn’t mentioned any kids.

  She looked down at her espresso. “I have a son. He is my life, the most important person in the world to me. My husband died...well, he died when our son was a baby and I will never remarry, so Sergio will be my only child. If I didn’t have him, I’m not sure I would have survived my husband’s death.”

  That was heartbreaking, but also romantic in a tragic sort of way. The thought that her love had been so perfect that she’d never find another to take his place, that her son was all she had of that perfect union…it brought tears to my eyes.

  “I don’t have any children,” I told her, since we seemed to be sharing these personal things. “Irix and I have discussed it, but we’re not sure if kids are in our future or not. There are…issues we’d need to face having children. They’d require some additional care and special schooling, and we’re not ready. I don’t know if we’ll ever be ready, but I hope so.”

  I realized after I’d finished my little speech that it sounded as if Irix and I had recessive genetic conditions that meant we’d have a high likelihood of having a handicapped child. Which was kind of true, if “handicapped” also included being able to call lightning down on a convenience store.

  Daniela smiled sympathetically. “I hope you do
have a child, and that he or she is perfect in every way. Sergio brings me great joy. I look forward to the day he marries and brings his bride to the villa, and hopefully fills the rooms once more with the sound of babies.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  She sipped the last of her espresso and rose, pulling a card from her designer bag and handing it to me. It was cream cardstock with embossed lettering telling me the address of the villa below an ornate coat of arms that looked like two wyverns up on back legs, boxing with their front, wings tucked in toward their backs.

  “Eleven o’clock? That way we can spend a few hours in the gardens and enjoy a late lunch while father naps.”

  “We won’t be disturbing him, will we?” I knew she said she was longing for visitors, but Gianna had mentioned her father’s melancholy, which I assumed was severe depression.

  “Not at all. He sleeps mostly, although if he is having a good day, he may want to join us for lunch.”

  “That would be lovely,” I told her, shaking her extended hand. “Thank you so much, Ms. Sommariva. I really appreciate the opportunity to see your villa and gardens.”

  “Daniela, please. And the pleasure is all mine,” she responded.

  I watched her make her way through the maze of tables and chairs in the café, thinking once more of her being a widow at such a young age. Daniela looked to be around forty, and had that immaculately groomed, subtle, but expensively clothed appearance that seemed the norm with European women. I felt shabby in my jeans and T-shirt, my hair a tangle of gold knotted up on top of my head. Maybe a shopping trip to Bellagio would be a good idea because I suddenly had an urge to update my wardrobe.

  It wasn’t until I’d headed back through the door into the courtyard of our own villa that I realized Daniela’s last name was Sommariva, the same as their villa and, no doubt, the same as her father’s. She hadn’t taken her husband’s last name. It seemed odd, because Daniela had given me the impression of a conventional woman who valued tradition above all else. Was her family name so prominent that giving it up would have been unheard of? Even with the love she’d clearly had for her husband, she’d kept her family name. Huh.

  I chuckled as I climbed the steps to our bedroom. Maybe Daniela’s husband had taken her last name instead. Now that would have been a surprise.

  Chapter 4

  “Wow.” I said as Irix pulled our tiny car into a small off-street parking area.

  “I agree,” he replied.

  Villa Sommariva was in Cadenabbia, which was the next town over from where we were staying. The winding road hugged the lake, leaving only narrow strips of tree-lined walkways, marinas, and the occasional restaurant or floating pool between it and the water. The land rose steeply on the other side of the road, leaving the residents to live on a switchback of drives and terraced lawns. Villa Sommariva was no exception, only on a grander scale than the other homes. We parked, buzzed in at the gate, then began to climb.

  The first level above the parking area held a huge fountain with camellias and crushed stone pathways. The second level had a long row of arches filled with citrus trees. Lemons, limes, oranges, and grapefruits budded on the thick green vines, and I gaped, wondering how they wintered these trees which wouldn’t survive a hard frost.

  The next level showcased an enormous variety of roses, and a stone wall that cleverly hid some storage areas for gardening supplies. Climbing the broad marble steps, we reached the paved courtyard on the same level as the villa’s front door. I turned around to look over the thick, carved stone barrier and caught my breath at the view. We were high enough up that the town and the road practically vanished, swallowed up with the beauty of the landscaping in the terraces we’d just climbed, and the stunning blue of the lake. The white caps twinkled in the sunlight, and from here the lake seemed enormous, promontories jutting out like fingers of green reaching toward the water. And in the distance were the snow-topped mountains, the southern edge of the Alps.

  “Welcome.”

  I felt a bit embarrassed that we’d been standing by her front door, staring at the view without knocking to announce our arrival, but Daniela’s voice carried only pride and slight amusement. Of course, she’d known we were on our way up as we’d buzzed in at the gate.

  “Irix, this is Daniela Sommariva.” I introduced him, noting that our host’s eyes did a slow, appreciative tour of my boyfriend.

  He took her hand and kissed it, and Daniela seemed charmed by his old-fashioned gallantry. Then he pulled her close and kissed each of her cheeks and I saw her blush.

  Oh, that dog. I hid a grin, wondering if our host’s proclamation that she’d never marry again extended to a lifetime of chastity. I doubted it. There was no reason for a woman her age to deny herself the occasional physical pleasure. Plus, Irix was tough to resist when he got that gleam in his dark gold eyes.

  She reluctantly removed herself from Irix’s grasp and turned to me with a bright smile, doing the air-kiss on each of my cheeks.

  “Where should we start?” she asked us. “Do you have any questions about the terraces? Should we head for the azaleas? The rhododendrons? The ferns?”

  Irix shot me a glance that let me know I was the one in charge here, that this tour was all about me and my passion for gardening. Later we’d, no doubt, get to indulge in Irix’s passions, but right now, we were going to spend a few hours talking about plants.

  And I adored that Irix was willing to spend a few hours talking about plants. So many guys I’d dated would have left me to do this tour on my own while they sat in some local bar, but that was Irix, wanting to be by my side, taking joy in whatever I took joy in.

  “I was admiring your citrus grove on the way up,” I told Daniela. “Mom has a tiny lemon tree at home and has to drag it inside every year for the winter. How do you keep the frost from killing them off?”

  “We cover them during a hard frost, which is where the arches are handy, as opposed to just having them planted in rows like a traditional grove. Plus, the weather here isn’t as harsh as you’d think. Snow only stays for a few days before it melts, and much of the winter is above freezing. It’s another story in the higher elevations, but around the lake here, winters tend to be mild.”

  She motioned us on and I walked by her side while Irix followed. The entirety of the land around the villa was one enormous garden with winding paths throughout. There were Persian Ironwoods, Austrian Pines, Holly and Magnolia. There was Bell Heather, Watson’s Breath, a gorgeous Tasso Yew with its thick ribbed bark. We walked past a dense breezeway of azaleas that looked to be over ten feet tall. I ran my hand along the verdant leaves on their sharp, thin branches and imagined how this would look in the spring—a wall of flowers shedding their brightly colored petals across the stone pathway.

  “This is a special place,” Daniela told me as we rounded a corner to a bit of rocky land that jutted out from the gardens, a tiny gazebo was ringed with stone benches for intimate seating, the whole thing overlooking the lake below. Clematis wound up the columns of the gazebo, bright flowers in white and purple making this a setting that I could imagine hosting many an exchange of wedding vows.

  “Very romantic,” I told Daniela. Then I looked back at Irix, expecting to see him with that naughty expression that told me he was thinking the same thing I was—that this would be an ideal location to make love.

  Instead he was fidgeting, his one hand fisted in his pants pocket as he looked out over the water. “Yes. Very romantic.”

  “Nico proposed to me here,” Daniela said, her eyes dreamy. “It’s a spot for lovers to sneak away and steal a few moments together. I expected him to kiss me, but instead he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.” She looked over at me and grinned. “Then, when I said ‘yes’, he kissed me. Quite a lot of kissing, actually.”

  I ran my hand over one of the stone benches, wondering how many lovers had sat here, hand-in-hand. “Did you and your husband live here in the villa, or did you return here after he pas
sed away? Or when your father became ill?”

  She smiled fondly. “I’ve always lived here. Nico moved in when we were married and we had a suite up on the third floor, complete with a nursery when I had Sergio. It’s too big a house for one man, even if my father tends to be suspicious of almost everyone. Besides, he needed me. Father began his decline when my mother passed away.” Sadness swept like a shadow across her face. “We’re not meant to be alone, and we only love once, only commit ourselves to one person in our lifetime. When they die…well, it’s hard to go on.”

  I reached out and took Irix’s hand, glad that we’d have so much longer together than humans did. Neither of us was sure whether I’d live as long as him, but thousands of years was better than losing the love of your life after only a few decades together, then having to live those thousands of years alone. And in Daniela’s case, she most likely didn’t even have a decade with her husband. It was so unfair. That one-soul mate concept seemed romantic, but in her case, I wished she was open to finding a second chance at love. She was too young to face half her life alone except for an ailing father and a son who would eventually marry and go on about his own life.

  “Come,” She forced a smile. “There’s another lovely section that I want you to see, but first I must show you the grotto.”

  The grotto was tiny with two entrances. Icy water dripped down on us from the gray ceiling, and streamed down the rocky sides. I hated it, and couldn’t figure out why our host seemed so completely enchanted with what was essentially a small, cold, dark, damp cave.