“Pfft. And my mother is a turkey.”
Kat snorted. “I don’t even want to know what kind of Thanksgiving traditions go on at your house.”
“Girl, pull your head out of the gutter and put some pep in your step. Hustle.”
Kat shook her head but jogged a bit faster. “I think you and I need to have a talk when we leave the Barrens. And it is gonna be about who is in charge around here.”
The man chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. Checking for monsters? “You can be in charge all you want, but if I beat you to the van, I’m leaving your ass.”
Chapter Three
What was that back there? Kat wondered for the umpteenth time as they shuffled into her hotel room. Her mind registered that they needed to film a segment to go along with the weird footage they collected while the memory was still fresh in their minds, but first they had done what any sane people would have...
They had sprinted to the van, yelling at a bewildered Cindy to start the vehicle as they threw themselves into it. Then they had sped all the way back to the hotel in order to hide, and Kat slammed the door and locked it behind them. She proceeded to close the curtains while Rick checked the ammunition in the licensed shotgun he usually kept in the van in case of emergency—like a repeat of the cougar incident.
They just sat down on the beds in order to collect their thoughts, Cindy calling them superstitious and accusing them of overreacting, when a knock at the door had Kat rolling over the bed like a ninja and disappearing. When had she become such a coward? Rick aimed the shotgun at the door.
A second knock. “Hello? Is everything okay in there? I’m Peter, from the room next door. I was walking back from the gas station when I saw you three running like bats out of hell.”
Kat motioned to Rick to hide the gun, wondering if Peter had seen him carrying it, as she checked herself quickly in the mirror on her way to the door. Her hair was wild as usual. No helping it without a shower, blow dryer, and a straightening iron. She unlocked the door, keeping the chain latch in place, and opened it as far as it would go.
Holy hotness!
The hottie hotel neighbor from next door wore a slight frown and his brow was furrowed. He appeared to be genuinely concerned about them. Or merely perplexed. “Hold on a sec. I forgot the chain latch.” She closed the door and adjusted the twins, mouthing he’s so hot at her friends. A girl’s confidence was sometimes directly proportional to how much cleavage she could use to entice a hot guy without being downright slutty about it. And for a single lady who hadn’t gotten any in over a year due to little issues like, say, recovering from an animal attack, Mr. Tall, Hot, and Neighborly might be just what the doctor ordered.
Kat was still on a bit of an adrenaline rush from what happened in the woods, so her hormones were ready to jump on him and get busy. Or rather, that was what she told herself to avoid questioning her intense response to him. The events from earlier were unexplainable, at least on the surface. Even though she had cowered behind the bed when Peter knocked on the door, she had been steadily convincing herself what happened in the woods had been caused by a large bird or something out of sight. It had to be.
The Jersey Devil didn’t exist. It couldn’t.
She opened the door, smiled, and motioned for him to come inside. “Sorry to have disturbed you. We were kind of in a rush to return from filming.”
Peter stepped into the room and nodded once in acknowledgement to Rick and Cindy before he turned his gaze back on her. Eye to eye too. Oh, nope, score one for the cleavage. Back to her eyes again. His irises were forest green, twinkling mischievously, and Kat’s imagination suddenly went to many different fantasy scenarios involving him, her, and his tongue trailing along where he had glimpsed moments before. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she was so turned on by only the sight of a man, fully clothed, and for some reason it didn’t bother her as much as it should. Why is that, Kat? Concentrate. Peter’s gaze dipped once more and she lost that train of thought all together.
“Filming? Are you a movie star, then? And you didn’t disturb me in the least. I was worried you were in trouble and wanted to see what I could do to help.” His voice was the perfect timbre of masculine, deep enough to excite her with a slight hint of an exotic accent she couldn’t quite place. Very Old World. She’d heard it before, but wasn’t sure where. Perhaps in a movie or someone she spoke to recently. So instead, she observed the man before her. Peter was decked out in black jeans, equally dark shoes, and a white T-shirt with the red and black emblem for the New Jersey Devils hockey team on it.
Wait. He thought she was a movie star? Rewind.
“Oh, stop.” She laughed and twirled a strand of her hair. Oh, God, I’m acting like a high school girl with a crush! Get it together! “I’m actually a zoologist. We’re shooting some footage for a documentary in the Pine Barrens. But it was very sweet of you to come to our rescue.” She’d leave out the part about his favorite hockey team’s inspiration.
“Beautiful and smart. I’m pleased to meet you, Miss...” He held out a hand to her. She took it in order to shake it, but he raised her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. She might have imagined a slight brush of his tongue as well. Her throat went dry, and she had to clear it. His gaze met hers, and there was the mischievous twinkle to them again. Peter smirked as if he knew what he was doing to her.
“Katerina, but everybody calls me Kat.”
“A pleasure, Katerina.” The way his soft accent lilted over her name made her shiver. “And your friends?” He scrutinized Rick, who was the perfect picture of male posturing as he stood in the background with his legs braced apart ever so much, arms crossed, and a look of wary consternation on his face as he studied Peter’s flirtations. Cindy, on the other hand, appeared to be ten seconds away from ordering popcorn and a Coke and becoming thoroughly entertained.
Kat blushed, realizing her reaction to Peter was a public event. “Sorry, I’m being terribly rude. This is Cindy and her husband, Rick. They’ve been my partners on a lot of projects, and Rick’s been my cameraman for years.”
“Pleasure,” Peter said, nodding toward the other two once more. Rick’s scowl became more defined. Cindy beamed at Peter before hopping off the bed to put her arm through Rick’s still crossed one.
“Come on, honey. We can unload the van and see if we caught anything on camera.”
Rick scoffed. “We still have to discuss what actually happened.” He shot Kat a pointed glare.
“What actually happened is you spooked yourselves. Plus, I want you to myself for a while.” Cindy winked at Kat and murmured a farewell to Peter as she dragged Rick out the room. He had always acted like an older brother toward Kat, intimidating men who spoke to her.
As soon as she believed they were alone, the door shot open and Kat jumped slightly as Rick wandered back into the room with exaggerated slowness and then rummaged through the closet. He retrieved his shotgun and made deliberate eye contact with Peter when he did it. The unspoken warning rang clear.
Men.
“Call me if you need me,” Rick said, squeezing lightly on her shoulder before he exited the room, leaving Kat alone with the sexy stranger behind closed doors.
Peter was obviously addling her brain. She nearly forgot about the strange encounter already and it had just happened. She should be reviewing the footage with Rick and Cindy, not flirting with a stranger. But he was so...well...hot. Could she really be faulted for flirting a little? One time?
“Ah, alone at last,” Peter said as Kat claimed one of the two chairs at the table. She raised her eyebrows at the statement as Peter seated himself in the other.
“An expression. I’m not going to attack you or anything.”
Yet she secretly wanted him to. Even though she wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl, she had the inexplicable feeling she could be one that day. Her body was heavily aroused. Sure, Peter was hot, but her reaction was odd. She’d never been so fired up over a complete
stranger, but if Kat told herself the truth, she kind of liked not being overcritical and reserved for a change. She wondered how her laptop would handle being shoved to the floor so she could pounce on him across the table. But then she feared that would scare him away and decided to see what happened on its own. Ack! What is this? What is the matter with my hormones?
Peter leaned back in his chair, relaxed as though he could be content in any setting. He cocked his head as he observed her in the way Kat did with animals in the field. It should’ve made her uncomfortable.
It didn’t. She found herself wanting to give him a show worth seeing, but she didn’t quite have the nerve to act on the impulse. So instead, she crossed her legs, gritting her teeth against the sensation the movement caused. Definitely not a normal reaction.
“So what brings you to the fine Fancy Pines Hotel of Jersey?” Kat would make with the small talk. Usually, she would require dinner and a few dates before considering sex with anyone; however, it’d been a while since her last boyfriend. She wondered if the powerful arousal was because she really, really needed something to take the edge off not only the day but the past year as well. Would sleeping with a stranger really be so bad in the long run?
I can’t believe I am even thinking about this. At all.
Peter was so handsome she could ogle him for hours. His silky, dark hair wasn’t too long, yet it wasn’t short. Long enough he could probably tie it back if he wanted, but not enough to make him resemble an escapee from an eighties rock band. His olive complexion and accent seemed exotic despite the casual, down-to-earth attire. Kat’s inner harlot screamed at her to stop analyzing things and toss the man on the bed before she chickened out or said something geeky and scared him away.
“Just passing through town. Thought I’d stay awhile, and it appears I made a good decision.” There were crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, hinting that he must love to smile and laugh. It made him all the more attractive. “And with a celebrity at that.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m a celebrity. There are maybe two households who actually know my name: my parents’ and my grandparents’. But enough about me...” She trailed off as he stretched his arms over his head. His shirt rode up and revealed a set of washboard abs and a dark happy trail; her gaze couldn’t go any farther due to his pants, and the table hid any evidence of said happiness. Stupid table. She licked her lips.
Then Kat hopped up, pacing and twisting her fingers together for something to do with them that didn’t involve fondling strangers. Realizing she probably appeared unhinged, she jammed both hands into her pockets. She glanced out the corner of her eye toward Peter, hoping distance between them would help. He raised his eyebrows as he tracked her movement, and she decided he must wonder why she was acting so spastic.
A sudden thought struck her, and she went for it. Anything to break the increasingly awkward silence. “Are you thirsty? I can pour you a glass of wine. Unfortunately, it’s a little warm since there isn’t a fridge here.” She retrieved the bottle and two of plastic cups the hotel had supplied. She returned and set the bottle on the table and began to unwrap the cups.
Peter stood up so fast his chair toppled over, crashing against the heating unit under the window with a loud crack. He stared at her and back to the bottle of wine. His jaw was clenched, and he lost all the laid-back, casual happiness he’d previously displayed. As she was about to ask if he was okay, he smiled at her. It wasn’t a full smile like earlier though. It was forced. “Sorry about that. I...” He picked up his chair and then paused after he righted it. He seemed to be concentrating on something as though it were more important than breathing. It was rather strange. Maybe Rick was right to be wary of Peter.
Just my luck that the hot man would be a loony.
“Have you ever had the feeling you forgot to do something?” he asked at last.
“Yeah. All the time.” Kat set the cups down, one with the wrapper half-ripped open, and wondered if she should maybe open the door and step outside into public view.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, but I have this terrible feeling about something. Maybe we can catch up later or...something.”
That was a lot of “somethings.” He was lying, but Kat plastered a smile on her face.
“Sure, I’d like that.”
He muttered a farewell, stalked past her, and out the door. Kat peeked out through the curtains and watched him go into the room next door to hers. At least he hadn’t been lying about staying at the hotel. For some reason she half-expected him to take off in the opposite direction.
She was ever skeptical, paranoid, and still horny as hell.
Chapter Four
Pan latched the door of the hotel room he “acquired” next to the female’s, knowing she’d been spying on him as he mystically unlocked the door. Once more, being a god had perks. Luckily the room was vacant, or it could have been awkward. He’d taken one look at the Greek label on the wine bottle and memories flooded him like an open spigot. Still, he wouldn’t have needed to read the label to know it came from Greek vineyards; it had been opened, and he could smell the tang of the vintage when she set the bottle on the table.
It couldn’t possibly be the same wine he thought it was, but he knew it had been. It was too much of a coincidence. Someone had known he’d recognize it. Knew he’d remember the taste of it as if he only just taken a sip of the sweet but bitter liquid the day before. He had tasted wine of that making many times. Long before the birth of Christ. Before the Romans built their empire.
Someone knew who he was, but the important question was who? Was his remarkably beautiful woman out to do him harm in some way? Or was she a pawn in a bigger scheme?
Too good to be true. This is why I avoid redheads.
Pan’s moment of panic in her room had alarmed Katerina, and he could have kicked himself. His human manifestation had been perilously close to slipping in front of her. Safe without humans around to witness the change, he let it fall away finally, leaving him in the form he was cursed to endure. His thick horns weighed heavily against the sides of his head. He glanced down at his deformed feet. They were nightmarish, demonic even. His ankles and lower calves had a thick pelt of fur, the same dark brown as the hair on his head. It thinned out until it was the normal amount of human hair across his thighs. His hooves were the same jet black as his horns, split down the middle.
Pan could only imagine what Katerina’s reaction would have been if he’d allowed the change to come over him in front of her. The fear, the horror, the confusion. The lust he sensed coming off her in waves would have died within seconds. Very few beheld this form and desired him. No, not when he resembled the devil more than a man. A creature, a beast, an abomination. And that was only his satyr form. The other one made things a whole lot worse. His parlor tricks made people cry...and not from joy or admiration.
Katerina. Pan had known Kat was short for something, but he couldn’t bring himself to shorten her beautiful name. Shortening it cheapened it. Everything about her deserved to be savored. And someone else knows it too. Why else send her with that wine to bait me?
His jeans were too tight against his arousal, throbbing in need of the woman next door, and he cursed himself because he’d known all he needed to do was make a move to have her. She had been willing, but he’d sat there waiting for her to make a move on him. Pan hadn’t been able to help himself. Her desire and confusion were evident, and he wanted to see which won out. It had gone so well until she showed him the wine.
Fool, the wine saved you. The element of surprise is gone, and now it is a matter of finding out what she is up to.
As Pan leaned against the cool, metallic door, he unfastened his pants, gripped his penis, and then stroked it. Katerina had been all but ready to strip naked for him. He’d seen it in her eyes. He could have claimed her mouth with his and had her on the spot. And now there he was, reduced to masturbation because his curse had finally run the course of allowing him any sort
of reprieve. She was his undoing. She could be his destruction.
He wanted her anyway.
He handled himself a little tighter, roughly, as he berated his lack of control. The clop of his left hoof hitting the door as his body jerked would have sickened him in the past, but he barely heard it. He’d long come to terms with the fact he would forever be beastly in form—a physical manifestation of the lecherous nature of men.
Gods, he could detect her arousal through the thin hotel walls. He jerked again, so close to release. Pan stroked faster with his right hand and braced his left against the wall beside him, adjacent to the door. With a lift of his head, he spotted the air vent that likely connected with the ventilation to her room. Combine it with his enhanced senses and...
A low moan sounded from next door. Was she doing the same as he was, caressing herself while imaging his tongue on her? He closed his eyes, letting his mind paint a picture. Katerina lay on the bed, pants and shoes kicked off and forgotten on the tan carpet below. She had one hand under her shirt, cupping her breast. The other rubbing slow, lazy circles around her clit.
She was a true redhead.
He came, hard. He muted his shout as he spilled over his hand and onto the carpet, which contained gods knew what else from previous patrons of the hotel.
Making his way through the dark room, twin to the one next door, Pan washed off at the sink. He adamantly avoided his reflection. Afterward, he grabbed tissue and cleaned up his mess on the carpet as much as he could, flushing it down the toilet when he finished.
He’d wanted nothing more than to have fucked Katerina the entire night through. Her eyes had begun to dilate as soon as she saw him. He’d watched her gaze peruse over his body multiple times. It was a reaction he’d only seen when he or one of the other Arcadians played their panpipes to entice a woman to want a satyr for sex. But he hadn’t been playing, nor had he heard the flutes nearby. Maybe it had to do with the wine. The red hair, the musical laughter, the wine. He’d expected his past to stay where he left it, not to find him again.
The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection Page 4