But where the hell did Beatrice go? The bathroom was empty, and London was the only one standing in the sitting room. She tiptoed to the kitchen doorway and peered in. Ah, ha. Another door.
As she inched closer to the door, the music became more defined. It seemed to pulse through her, like the song was more than a song—an invitation. Her skin prickled with awareness, and she suddenly wanted to run back to her room and lock the door, convinced discovering the source would change her life forever. Yet she had stopped everything to investigate this place. There would be no turning back until she had answers. She told herself the worst that could happen would be Beatrice or another staff member catching her and telling her off, so she opened the door.
Another stairwell greeted her, but unlike before, no lights illuminated the bottom. It was the entrance to the first floor of the building. What was down there? Stockrooms? The entrance to the mysterious tunnels beneath the city? An in-house flute player? The hairs on her arms stood on end as the tune of the song changed slightly. Maybe it was her imagination, but the music seemed like it was telling her to strip naked. What the fuck was in my drink? London shrugged it off and used her phone as a flashlight while she crept down to the dark corridor below.
There were four doors, two on each side. Three of them were closed; the other was cracked. A sliver of soft light poured through the gap, leaving a single beam across the floor. A line she could cross at her own risk of being caught. One that crossing could answer all of her questions about the B&B she’d never heard of but had been there in front of her for eight years. London took care with each step, her bare feet soundless across the cold floor as she approached. The music was coming from behind the first closed door she passed, and she halted, hand outraised toward the doorknob when she heard a voice.
Beatrice was speaking to someone, but London couldn’t make out the words. She abandoned the door containing the source of the music and moved closer to the next. She peeked through the opening. There was Beatrice, unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse while perched on the end of a bed. “Come on, Calix. You can’t reject me now. Not when I know how much you appreciate my...assets.”
London reigned in her impulse to snort.
A man with long blond hair, presumably Calix, stepped into view, wearing nothing but a pair of silky boxer shorts. But that wasn’t what drew her attention. He had horns bulging out of the sides of his head, like the shadow on the TV show. And his feet... He didn’t have human feet. They’re hooves! Cloven, devil-monster hooves.
It couldn’t be real. Cosplay was in, right? Maybe she was witnessing weird kink that had nothing to do with the paranormal at all. Or maybe he was gearing up to further along the hoax they were using for publicity and Beatrice was in on it...which she apparently found sexy.
But what if it was real? What Calix was a deep, dark secret monster Jacen and his brothers hid beneath The Aegean Inn. Could that be why they didn’t go out of their way to advertise?
London had always wondered what would happen if she found herself in a horror movie situation. Would she be the cool, calm chick who made it to the end, or would she be the dumbass killed in the opening scenes? Fate made the judgment when her cell phone started to ring.
Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, fucking shit!
The mutated demon-man turned toward the door, frowning while he scratched his head beside the base of a horn. London franticly attempted to mute the noise as she backed away, she didn’t recognize the area code of the caller. Of all times to get a wrong number! She started to run, but it was too late. Two of the other doors opened. Belatedly, she noticed the music that had led her downstairs was silent, but that door remained shut. However, a naked man with shortish black hair and matching demon horns gawked at her, and then he smirked as his eyes perused her body.
“Hey,” he said with a sly grin. She tried not to notice how attractive he was even though he was obviously the same kind of demon as Calix. In fact, she tried to look anywhere but at him because she couldn’t stop noticing his very aroused penis, and since he was facing her, she wasn’t sure she approved of where it was aimed.
The man who’d opened the other door wore a bathrobe, but like Calix and the black-haired man, he too was obviously a demon. The Aegean Inn was a Hellmouth. She was going to die.
Calix approached the crowd in the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in the situation. “If you wanted to join in, you only had to ask,” he said it so casually, like naked hoofed men collected in B&Bs all the time. His accent was faint, barely perceptible like Jacen’s, but she didn’t want to make that connection. She couldn’t connect those dots to the one person not in the hallway. The one door still closed.
The man in the robe frowned at Calix. “Join in with what?” Robe Man shoved past Calix and disappeared into his room. “Beatrice! Do you ever actually work? Don’t make me fire you.”
“I can’t help it. When your music plays at night, I think about what you could be doing to me,” the woman responded from within.
“We will have to wipe her soon, won’t we?” Calix whispered to Robe Man as he returned to the hallway.
Robe Man nodded once in response.
“Wipe her? Like wipe her out? You’re gonna kill her?” London stumbled backward, seeking escape. Naked Man caught her by the shoulders and prevented it. Oh God, its penis is on my hip. It is touching my hip. Demon penis! Demon penis on my hip! She pulled herself out of his grip and left a wide berth.
“No one’s killing anyone. How’d you get down here anyway?” Naked Man asked, unbothered by her hasty retreat.
“Nobody locks doors, that’s how. Also, no employees in the lobby to prevent me.” She made eye contact with Robe Man as he cursed and glared back in the room at Beatrice, who had not joined them. London had the feeling Robe Man was their leader. “What are you? Demons?”
“Only in bed, love,” Calix chimed in and approached her before Robe Man could answer. He sandwiched London between him and Naked Man. “So why did you come down here? It’s very rude to spy on satyrs.”
Satyrs? Like the painting above her bed? She trembled when she felt Naked Man’s hand rest on her waist, and then Calix leaned in closer. Everything she’d learned about satyrs in school made the situation much more dire. They were symbols of unrestrained sexuality.
“Satyrs aren’t real. They’re myths.”
“Well then, I guess it’s time you learned some myths hold a grain of truth,” a new voice chimed in. One she recognized. With a lump in her throat, London turned. Jacen leaned against the doorway of the fourth door, the one closest to the stairs. The one where the music had originated from. He wore a bathrobe printed with The Aegean Inn emblem on it like Robe Man did. Like the others, he was also a...satyr. “Come inside,” Jacen gestured to his room. “We need to have a chat.”
For some inexplicable reason, London trusted him despite the fact he was like the others. She found herself rushing toward him, surprised when the two pressing against her backed off with no fuss. Still, she glanced at the stairs, debating her chances.
“I’d catch you before you reached the door.”
Unsure what would happen next, London took a deep breath and entered Jacen’s bedroom. She heard him talking to the other three, but only caught bits and pieces. Had he called one of them a prince? London stared dumbly at his ornate bed with the sheets pulled back. Waiting for someone to join him in it. She shivered and found herself thinking about how Beatrice seemed to have no issue with Calix being a satyr. In fact, she had been propositioning him when London was caught spying.
What would it be like to have sex with a satyr straight out of the myths? To have all that lust focused on her, a mere mortal? London felt flustered at the very thought.
Behind her, Jacen closed the door with a resounding click.
Chapter Four
“Cell phone.” Jacen held his hand out for it, waving his fingers impatiently.
“Why do you want my phone?” London clutche
d it against her.
“To ensure you didn’t take pictures or video of what you saw.”
London frowned at him, but finally relinquished the silver sequin-encased device. He promptly strode over to his nightstand and dropped it in a full glass of water.
“Hey!” London lunged for her phone, but Jacen caught her, holding her back against his chest as she struggled against him. Her ass pressed against his groin and the more she wiggled, the more his body became aware of her.
“Stop squirming. I’m ensuring our protection from exposure.”
“Get off me!”
Jacen let her go, and she whirled around, brows furrowed as she made a great show of straightening wrinkles in her tank top. She obviously wasn’t aware it only brought her breasts back to his attention.
“There was nothing on my phone because I didn’t even think to take pictures with it. My eyes are up here, mister.” She gestured at her face.
“I know where your eyes are.” Jacen was temporarily mesmerized by the way her nipples had hardened beneath the thin cotton before his eyes. She also hadn’t worn a bra. “Wasn’t looking there though.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what, being a satyr? It’s a curse. One which befell me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, since you found me out as the lascivious beast I am, I’m just going to leer at you creepily to uphold the stereotype.” He paused. “Try not to take offense.”
London crossed her arms, breaking the trance. He glimpsed her blank expression.
“You’ve failed. You look offended.”
“You are so weird.”
Jacen considered the criticism. “I’ve heard worse.”
“What will you do to me?” It came out as a mere whisper. Jacen knew what he wanted to do to her, but vocalizing them wasn’t the best course of reassurance. Not when their secret was exposed, and Calix and Orestes had been toying with her in the hallway.
“No one will hurt you, London. You’re safe here.”
“You aren’t going to wipe me like Beatrice?”
“Wipe...?”
“I heard one of them say they needed to wipe her because she was getting out of hand. What if they decide I’m out of hand?”
Jacen looked around for some kind of support from the thin air, but he was on his own. “Sit.” He motioned toward the bed.
“There? On your bed?”
“It won’t swallow you. Sit down.”
Jacen paced as he thought of how to explain the circumstances of keeping them out of the public eye. Unfortunately, Beatrice was getting out of hand. This wasn’t the first time she’d abandoned her post for sex within the past week, which meant they would have to wipe her memories and hire a new receptionist before the situation escalated further.
“It’s really unnerving when you do that?” London muttered, eyeing his hooves as she sat down.
“What is? Walking?”
“You have demon feet.”
“Your second toe is longer than your big toe, so maybe you have monkey feet.” Jacen regretted the response instantly, but London merely chewed on a fingernail and peered down at her bare toes. She wiggled them.
“I do pick things up with my toes from time to time...”
Gods, but she was adorable. “Oh, like what?”
London shrugged. “Stuff.”
“I don’t really think you have monkey feet.”
“I know.” She began kicking her right foot back and forth against the bed. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were pinker than before. “Sorry I said you have demon feet, but...hooves...” She motioned at them with both hands.
“Don’t worry about it. As I said, I’ve heard much worse.”
“Not from Beatrice.” It hadn’t been a question.
Jacen rubbed the back of his neck. “Beatrice has been here about five years now. Too long actually. We have to change out our human staff frequently or they start behaving like her.”
“Like a ho?”
“It’s not her fault,” he said and London looked abashed. “Satyrs can’t be around people if we go without sex too long, we get...well, we aren’t ourselves. And human women aren’t meant to have frequent intimate encounters with us. The curse was meant to repel women with our appearance, not attract. She’s been around us so long that it’s affecting her. She starts craving us like we crave sex.”
“Your employees have become dependent on sex with you?” She wrinkled her nose.
“I hate it, but it seems that way. I generally avoid our human staff as much as necessary, or include Calix and Orestes when the need becomes too strong. It feels less personal in a group.”
London’s eyes widened. “In...include? Are you going to share me with all of them? Your own brothers?” Her voice climbed in pitch until the last word was nearly a shriek.
“We aren’t related; being brothers is a cover story. And they’re not touching you. I hadn’t intended to share you at all.”
“But...you intended on having sex with me?”
Jacen clenched his fists, wanting badly to kiss her. To show her how much he wanted her. Her fear was mostly gone, and he didn’t want to give her a reason for it to return. But he found he had no control around her.
“I planned to swoop into your room with breakfast and dazzle you with my charming personality. Afterward, I would gain your trust and admiration and then treat you to lunch wherever you wanted to go. And when we came back to the inn, I was going to ravish you until your toes curled against my skin and you screamed my name so loud the windows cracked.”
London visibly gulped and looked away. A line formed on her forehead as she contemplated how to respond to his confession. She stood, squaring her shoulders.” What happens when you wipe Beatrice?”
“London…”
“What happens? I assume the same will be done to me, so I deserve to know what I am getting myself into.”
He turned and retrieved his panpipes from the same table his glass of water was on. Seven reeds were bound together by leather. They varied in size, arranged from smallest to largest. He’d been playing earlier to pass the time until he could see London again. Instead, he’d accidently drawn her down to him while thinking about her. “We play her a tune, and her every encounter with us becomes a dream in her mind. She will remember some, but dismiss it. She will believe she quit her job because she couldn’t stop fantasizing about her bosses and needed a change.”
“Robbing her of her memories? You create illusions and lies.”
“It would make it impossible for her to turn to mortal men again if we didn’t, they would all be lacking. And if she leaves here and tells the world we exist, where will we go? The forests of the world are getting smaller every day. We don’t even know where the rest of our kind is, not for sure.”
“Were you going to erase my mind after you had mind-blowing sex with me?”
“You would only see me as a human, a weekend fling. There was no need, unless you came back wanting more than I could give you, and I could only give you two days.”
“But now?”
“You saw what we are. It’s not me I’m protecting. Calix, Orestes, and Vander are the only family I have left. I will protect them at whatever cost.” Even if it breaks my heart to do it.
“And what is the cost? I don’t want you to steal my memories, Jacen.”
“I won’t have a choice. You’ll remember it all as a dream, and then tomorrow you can tell me about it at lunch. We’ll laugh at the absurdity of satyrs and then still have the mind-blowing sex I promised.” But it would be stale. As much of an illusion as his human form. It would contaminate the whole experience with deception.
London’s eyes glittered with unshed tears as she crossed the room, stopping in front of him. “But if you do, you’ll never know what would’ve happened if I accepted you as you are.”
Before Jacen had a chance to comprehend the meaning of her words, London kissed him.
***
The terryc
loth of the robe was soft and warm in her hands, but his mouth was hot, molten. London rejoiced when his shock melted into passion. Jacen wrapped his arms around her body, gripping her ass and squeezing as she allowed her tongue to mate with his. He tasted like ginger and sin, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
Jacen pulled away, opening his mouth to question, but London wouldn’t have it. If he wanted to erase her memory, he would have a damned hard time trying. She would hold him to his definition of mind-blowing, because she wanted this night scorched into her brain to where no magic could remove it. She wanted to remember wanting him for all he was and not the image he chose for her. If anything was being taken from her, she’d make damned sure it was worth it.
London yanked the front of the robe to the sides, exposing his naked body to her gaze. The tie held the garment in place around his waist, but a quick tug and that was gone too. He was magnificent. The classical artists made a mockery of satyrs in their glory. This wasn’t a half-goat, little cherub-faced creature with modestly petite genitals. No. But other than the hooves, the horns, and the thicker leg hair on the bottom half of his legs, he was all man. All hard lines and rough edges. His dick was fierce, and London bet he would be too when uninhibited.
“No fair keeping your clothes on.” He reached for her top, but London wagged her finger at him.
“Not yet. My memory’s the one being erased; I choose the way this goes. Drop the robe.”
Jacen untangled his arms from the robe and tossed it behind him.
“You know, the artwork in my room upstairs? I’ve seen it before in Art History.” While she spoke, Jacen stalked her, herding her toward his bed. “Everyone always assumes the nymphs were pushing him into the cold water to punish him for watching them bathe.”
The back of her thighs hit the mattress, but she wouldn’t let him take this moment from her. She stood tall. “You know what I think?” she whispered in his ear as he leaned over her, attempting to cage her between him and the bed. “I think they were dragging him off to have their wicked way with him.” London grabbed her satyr by the horns and yanked his head down for another kiss. She couldn’t tell if he’d picked her up against him or if she’d climbed him like a tree, but either way her legs were around him before her back ever touched the mattress.
The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection Page 26