City of Lust (Half-breed Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  “We’ll get you two or three tonight. Then you won’t need to worry about hunting tomorrow. If they see this was just a one-time thing, they’ll think you were just attracted to the guy, and not that you were trying to game the system with your, quite impressive, sexual skills.”

  Maybe. “Well, there’s no sense in my worrying about this right now. I’ve got tonight for partying and sex, and figuring out what the hell I’m going to do about a recipe with these Muscat grapes I brought home, so let’s get going and have some fun.” I eyed him. “And speaking of good days…did you screw half the town this afternoon or something? Sheesh, Irix. You’re looking exceptionally well-fed right now.”

  “Ilaria.”

  Oh, that’s right. Today was his day to wine-dine-and-screw the lady. Hopefully there would be no awkward explanations regarding Irix’s and my “open relationship’” if we ended up running into her or Bianca in the next week.

  “So you were right. She hadn’t had sex in a long time and was raring to go?”

  “Yep. And more than that, she’s not human. At least not fully human.”

  What the what? “Not human? Then what is she?” My mind ran through all the likely scenarios. Part demon was the most likely. Demons sometimes liked to impregnate humans, and their offspring had some demonic traits and the occasional one had minor powers. How weird that the family I assumed was into organized crime had a family member who’d been sired by a demon.

  “I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m thinking she might be half or three-quarters demon. I’m getting reptile from her, and lots of demons use reptile mixes as their first forms.”

  “So what, she turned into a lizard with a lion head or something when you were doing it? How do you ‘get reptile’ from a sixty-year-old woman while having sex with her?”

  I suddenly envisioned a long tongue. Kinky.

  “No. It was more of just a feeling I got when taking her energy. I’ve had sex with thousands of demons in my life, and I can tell the differences in energy between them as well as between theirs and human energy. Hers didn’t seem exactly like demon energy, but similar, so I’m thinking she’s half, or maybe three-quarters.”

  Cool. Or maybe not cool. “Will that be a problem?”

  “No. Sex with demons, as you’ve just recently learned, can come with all sorts of strings attached, so there needs to be a carefully worded discussion sometime before about what sex means and if there are any lasting connections implied in the contact. If she’s not a full demon, then that’s not an issue.” He spread his fingers and electricity arced between them. “She had a great time. I had a great time. I’ve got more energy than I know what to do with right now, and although I got the idea she’d be open to a repeat occurrence, she hardly seemed like the stalker type.”

  I was fascinated. “Are half-demons usually the stalker type? And are you open for a repeat occurrence?”

  Irix usually wasn’t. He was a one-and-done kind of incubus unless his partner was a demon and they’d agreed to a more substantial relationship. I fell into the “demon” category, thankfully, even though I was technically only a half-breed.

  “Yes, half-demons tend to be the type that boil your pet rabbit and try to chain you in their basement. That’s why you need to be careful. And that’s why I usually don’t even consider a repeat occurrence.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I might with her, though. She seemed unusually stable for a half-breed. And she was a heck of a lot of fun to have sex with.”

  Good. I liked Ilaria. But what was that comment about half-breeds?

  “So Ilaria is unusually stable for a half-demon?” I wrapped my arms around Irix and looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Am I unusually stable for a half-demon?”

  He chuckled. “No. I don’t think you’re the type to boil pet rabbits, but if I tried to leave you, I can completely imagine you knocking me over the head with a rock and dragging me down into your basement.”

  I smirked. “Damned straight I would. Now come talk to me while I’m getting a shower. I’ve got a whole lot I need to fill you in on.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Go get started. I bought some more wines for you to try to identify. I’ll bring them up and you can get some studying in while you’re soaping up.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was bombing out on this whole seminar, and that the steam and smell of body wash wasn’t going to help me in identifying wines. He was doing everything he could to help and support me in this, and I totally appreciated it. Besides, I wasn’t going to turn down a few glasses of wine while showering.

  I was just lathering up my hair when Irix’s arm snuck through the curtain, a glass of wine in his hand.

  “I really wanted to join you, but I don’t think I can manage to pour this stuff while in the shower.”

  I laughed, rinsing off one hand and taking the wine. “Well, it’s white. Actually the fluorescent lighting is giving it a lime-green glow, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the wine itself. And I doubt I’m going to get any indication on aroma right now.”

  I stuck my nose in the glass, confirming that the shower smells were overpowering whatever was in the glass. Then I took a sip.

  “Moscato?” I asked.

  “One point for the elf-girl. I thought since you’re supposed to come up with a Moscato recipe in the next thirty-six hours, a flight of them might inspire you.”

  I loved this guy.

  Setting the glass of wine carefully on the shower ledge, I rinsed my hair, then took another sip. “Napa Valley. 2012? It doesn’t taste super young, but Moscato wines don’t hold up all that well after five years.”

  “2014, but other than that, you’re right!” Irix reached a hand in for the glass and I drained the contents before handing it to him. “So what do you like about that wine? Is it something you can do with the grapes from the Montenegro vineyard?”

  I thought about it a moment while I shaved my pits and nether regions.

  “Well, I like the hints of peach and nectarine, but that’s more a factor of the grape than the process. Although I guess I’d want to create a wine recipe that preserved those flavors as well as enhanced them.”

  Irix’s arm came into the shower with another glass. This wine was slightly fizzy.

  “Another Moscato, this one from Italy. It’s not carbonated enough to be an Asti.” I sipped it again. “Did you know that the floral aromas come from a chemical called linalool which is also found in mints and citrus flowers?”

  “No, I did not.” Irix’s voice held a hint of laughter. I knew he couldn’t care less about these things, but he loved my nerd-girl botanist side.

  “You know, I’m thinking those grapes might make a nice Moscato d’Asti. Maybe I’ll do that, but do something to make sure the orange blossom aroma is primary.”

  “How will you do that?” Irix poked his head in the shower. “And you still haven’t identified that wine.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Italian Moscato. I’m going to call it sparkling and assume it’s either light by choice or that you opened it earlier today. And…2016?”

  “Nice job!”

  I drank down the rest of the wine, and finished my shower, thinking about my recipe. A Moscato d’Asti, highly aromatic, with an alcohol content on the low side.

  Irix took my glass and set it aside as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping me in a huge soft towel.

  “So what happened today at the seminar? Did that Spanish guy give you any more grief?” He rained a line of kisses across the nape of my neck and rubbed me with the towel, sliding some of that glorious sparkling energy into me as he dried me off.

  “No. I mean, yes. He called me a slut in Spanish, and he also call me a bimbo, and insinuated that I was an idiot. I think he even told me I was a moron at least once.”

  “He’s jealous.” Irix gently dried my hair.

  I snorted. “Hardly. The guy’s family owns a vineyard. He was learning the finer points of wines while I was suck
ing on a pacifier and playing with teddy bears. He’s been a sommelier in Paris, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Sounds like you’re jealous,” he teased.

  “I am.” I thought about that for a second. “You know, Marta is just as knowledgeable, and she doesn’t make me want to grab a knife and start stabbing. I don’t think it’s jealousy. I think it’s because he’s such an ass to me. He doesn’t talk to Marta that way. Or Eva. She’s American and he’s always very nice to her. It’s me he hates, and I can’t figure out why. What did I do to him?”

  Irix knelt down to rub the towel up along my legs and my thoughts took a naughty detour. His obviously did as well from the way his hands were lingering.

  “Was it when he caught you sneaking off with that presenter? Maybe that’s what he’s jealous of—he wanted to be the one having sex with you, not that other guy.”

  “Hardly. He’s been that way toward me since day one. I’ve got no idea why the guy hates me. Maybe I remind him of an ex-girlfriend, or he hates blondes or something.”

  “Maybe he’s been attracted to you since day one, and it pisses him off because you’re the pretty blonde American girl that he feels he shouldn’t be attracted to, or that he could never get.” Irix stood up and tossed the towel on the sink, leaning over to plant a kiss on my shoulder. “Have you read his fantasies?”

  No, I hadn’t. I’d been so busy that first day worrying about getting lost on the drive, getting situated, jumping into the deep end of a topic I was discovering I knew very little about, that I hadn’t read the fantasies of anyone there. Normally it was an unconscious thing, like a sort of radar that allowed me to hone in on potential sexual partners. I thought back to that day, and realized that the moment Celio had sneered at me and mocked me, I’d shut him out. I’d relaxed and picked up on Leo’s interest, as well as the fantasies of a few other attendees, but I got nothing from Celio—and I was thinking that was because of me, not him.

  “Do you really think so? Maybe he just hates me.” It would suck to open myself up to his fantasies, and find out that the sexual ones were about Marta, or one of the guys, where all his thoughts concerning me were of me falling off a cliff or getting run over by a bus.

  Irix shrugged. “Give it a try. At least then you’ll know.”

  He was right. I’d open up to Celio tomorrow and see what I could discover. But there was more on my mind than an irritating seminar attendee and what I should do about my Moscato recipe.

  “I overheard Catarina and Marcus talking right as I was getting ready to leave today,” I told Irix. “Toward the end of their conversation they switched to English. They were discussing Guido’s murder and whether to retaliate against the Sommarivas or not.”

  Irix frowned. “So they really do think he was murdered? It’s not just Bianca coming up with wild conspiracy theories in her grief over her uncle’s death?”

  “They do. Catarina wants to just let it go. She doesn’t want to risk any of her family in an out-and-out war between the two families, but Marcus wants to retaliate.”

  Irix watched me as I pulled a mini dress and some underwear from the dresser drawer. “Daniela doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who would murder a guy just for moving into her ‘territory’, even if they are rival families, and her father can barely walk around the house without needing to rest afterward. Why do they think the Sommarivas killed Guido?”

  I slipped the dress over my head. “Because they’re in the middle of a nine-hundred-year-old feud, so they blame everything on each other? It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing Daniela would do, but we don’t really know her.”

  Irix sat on the bed. “I can’t imagine waiting a few years after the guy moved in to kill him, but maybe she sent him a bunch of warnings first, or maybe Guido did something that was the final straw.”

  “Or maybe he pissed off a human who stabbed him. Or maybe he accidently fell on his steak knife.” I shimmied the dress into place and smoothed it down. “It’s going to make things worse for Bianca and Sergio though. They’re not going to let her go to the villa without a bunch of guards. No more sneaking away to see each other.”

  Irix laughed. “Oh you underestimate the resourcefulness of young people in love. I’m sure Bianca will be able to sneak away on a regular basis. I’m more worried about the thought that there could be an actual war between these two families. Drive by shootings, assassination attempts, conveniently set fires or car accidents? There are going to be human casualties, especially if it escalates.”

  I dug the mascara out of my make-up bag and thought. Would the government get involved? I remembered how difficult it was back in the States for law enforcement to police these organized crime groups. Gangs routinely killed each other, and although there might be the occasional arrest, bringing down the leaders, or the heads of the families, took decades of work and often yielded few results. It would be a shame if that sort of thing cast a shadow over such beautiful tourist areas here, or if those who were just trying to go about their normal lives got killed or had their businesses destroyed as well.

  “Well, Catarina made it clear she doesn’t want to retaliate, so unless the Sommarivas do something stupid like attack the Montenegros or try to kill Bianca, this should all blow over.”

  “What if Bianca and Sergio get caught together?” Irix asked.

  “I can’t imagine that would start a war if Guido’s murder didn’t,” I replied. “There might be some yelling and threats if someone caught the two of them in bed. Depending on who catches them, Sergio might find himself with some bruises and a broken bone or two, but that’s it. The worst thing I could see happening if they got caught is that the Sommarivas put down their foot on any Montenegro in their territory—which included the villa—and the Montenegros lock Bianca in her room. And take away her cell phone and internet privileges.”

  Irix chuckled. “Oh my. For a teenage girl, that would probably be a fate worse than death.”

  Chapter 16

  The restaurant in Bellagio had café seating with little romantic lights strung across the edge of the roof and along the banister that separated it from the lake. There was someone in the plaza singing, and the sound filtered its way through the hum of conversation. I sipped my wine, picking at the last bit of veal that I was too full to eat.

  Full. With delicious food, wine, and sexual energy from the jewelry store shopkeeper that had shown me the special stock he had in back, then shown me a whole lot of other things. Of course, that was nothing compared to what I’d shown him.

  “You look very content.” Irix’s smile was warm, his eyes glinting with lighter shades of gold in the reflected light.

  “I am. I’m feeling better about the tests and tastings,” I told him. “Thank you for helping me with the wine samples and quizzing me with the notecards. This can’t have been what you were thinking of when I asked you to come with me to Italy.”

  “I’ll admit it wasn’t, but I get a kick out of seeing you study and work so hard for something. Besides, when it’s all over I’ve got a surprise planned for us. So Friday, when you get back from Bergamo, be ready to celebrate your winning the apprenticeship in a big way.”

  There was no way I was going to win this apprenticeship, but the idea of a surprise got my blood racing—especially one of Irix’s surprises.

  “What is it? You have to tell me. Please? Please?” I begged.

  “It’s a surprise,” he repeated. “And no promises of blow jobs or anal sex are going to get me to reveal where we’re going or what we’re doing Friday afternoon and evening.”

  “Okay.” I liked surprises. I’d also spied our waiter, who had been flirting mercilessly with me all evening, head out front supposedly for a smoke. That look he’d sent my way was just begging me to come after him and I intended to oblige.

  “You’ll excuse me a minute?” I scooted back my chair and inclined my head toward where my prey had headed.

  “Of course. Take your time. I’ll order another bottle
of wine for when you return.”

  The waiter’s attentions hadn’t escaped Irix’s notice and he knew exactly where I was headed.

  “I won’t be long. He’ll want me to come back later, once he’s off work so we can take it slow.” I was quickly learning that most Italian men preferred romance at a leisurely pace, even when having a one-night stand. It took some adjustment from the American style of fast-hard-and-out-the-door, but I was enjoying it. It meant that I couldn’t fit in quite as many sexual partners as I normally could in a day, but the quality of the energy was richer and stronger—which made up for the lack in quantity.

  “Flirt a bit,” Irix instructed. “And make me out to be the jealous sort. He wants to feel like he’s stealing you away right under my nose.”

  I’d gotten that impression as well, but it was good to have confirmation from the more experienced Irix. “Will do.”

  I made my way through the diners, to where the man was smoking, leaning against the wall of the restaurant. He gave me a lazy smile and stubbed out the cigarette. “Are you lost, beautiful?”

  I walked up. He stilled, watching me as I maneuvered myself so close I could feel the heat from his body.

  “Yes. I fear I am very, very lost.” Then I gripped his shirt tight in my fist and pulled him to me, kissing him with everything I had. The energy, the attraction had been significant all through dinner, but now it roared to life, intoxicating in its sweetness. I moaned into his mouth and he sprang into action, gripping my ass with both hands and pressing me against him as he dove his tongue into my mouth.

  Ugh. Cigarettes. But any minor irritation at the tobacco taste was quickly overcome by his lust that was like a fire raging through me.

  I pulled away, breathing heavy. “I can’t. He’s waiting and he’ll notice I’ve been gone too long. I shouldn’t even be here, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “Amber?”

  I turned around at the outraged female voice and saw Bianca. Shit. Why was it always me that got caught? Irix screws her cousin, and no one knows, but I’m the one that gets caught sneaking out with the seminar presenter and shoving my tongue down the throat of a waiter.