Mythe & Magick

by Shiloh Walker

  But now—hot damn.

  He didn’t know why he didn’t do so now, but Angelo had learned long ago not to question his instincts. He made his living off them.

  He jerked his jeans over his naked hips, thankful he had at least managed to get some clothes clean before falling into a stupor early this morning. He had spent the last week tracking a kid whose dad had decided to skip town with him. If the dad hadn’t been sliding the boy downers to keep him quiet and malleable, it wouldn’t have taken so long. But the boy’s emotions were repressed, abnormal, and it had taken a little longer than Angelo had expected.

  Now they just had to get the drugs out of his system. He was sleeping it off in the hospital, and his bastard of a father was in the downtown jail. Probably wouldn’t stay, he thought, as he jerked a T-shirt on and jammed his feet into boots.

  Angelo was a touch empath.

  He could touch an object a person had held and know their fears, their thoughts, their needs. He could hold something of personal value and use it to lock in on that person, eventually. It made his job easier and harder, trying to explain to the cops how he had just followed a lead…

  He was out the door in five minutes. And he didn’t bother with the car, even though Jordan was bound to have luggage. He threw one long jeans-clad leg over the Harley, made sure he had the extra helmet. There was always an extra jacket stowed. A few minutes later he was on I-65 and heading towards Indianapolis International, a hot grin on his face.

  He didn’t know where in the fuck Lee was.

  And he didn’t care.

  He was going to see Jordan.

  He would get to touch her.

  She belonged to his brother, she would be marrying his brother, and Angelo respected that. Hell, he was probably going to have to leave town just to keep his distance. She didn’t like him, and that made it easier, but damn it…he wanted her so bad.

  He had started falling just a little in love with her from the first, when she had slid out of the car while Lee continued to sit inside, talking business on his cell phone, yakking away while his pretty little faerie stared at Angelo with wide, nervous eyes. Her first thought of Angelo was one that wouldn’t ever leave him…I’d never mistake him for Lee…

  Of course, it had felt like an insult.

  But Angelo knew too many things about Lee. Broken dinner dates, late business meetings that really weren’t that important—Lee didn’t seem to realize what a prize he had in Jordan.

  He took the turnoff for the airport and felt his body tighten in anticipation. The bike’s engine sounded twice as loud under the sheltering overhang provided for the people waiting for their rides.

  The thriving masses, so many different moods.

  Anger, frustration, happiness, sadness, loneliness—the airport was a living, breathing thing to Angelo’s senses. His shields fell into place almost automatically, and he hated that he had to keep them in place as he saw Jordan pacing the sidewalk. He wanted to know what she was thinking, feeling, dreaming.

  She had said curtly, “I’ll wait out front. Thanks, Angelo.”

  He slowed the bike to a stop as he caught sight of her and pulled his helmet off, waiting until she looked his way.

  Her eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks. And even with his shielding in place, he could feel her surprise. “You want me to ride on the Harley,” she said, her voice oddly…rough?

  Her short, spiky black hair looked more tousled than normal as she moved a little closer. “I’m sorry,” he lied easily. “I wasn’t even thinking about your bags.”

  She scowled, her rosebud mouth puckering. “Don’t have any,” she sulked. “They are en route to Toledo.” She slid him a look that warned him not to laugh.

  He smiled. “Bad day, Jordan?” he asked.

  “The worst,” she sighed. She slid her eyes back to the bike. “I…how am I supposed to ride that without touching you, Angelo?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know exactly what Lee’s told you, Jordan. But I’ve got no problems having a pretty woman touching me. I can pretty much pick and choose what I want to absorb. And unless it’s skin to skin contact, there’s not much I’ll pick up.” Liar. Angelo’s gifts had started out that he had to be in direct contact, back when he was five or six. But the older he got, just close proximity could do it.

  And now…it didn’t even have to be very close proximity. He could drop his shields and be overcome by the emotions of nearly every person waiting out here, and quite a few of the people in the immediate area inside.

  So when she climbed on, unless he decided to shield good and tight, he would know damn good and well what she was feeling.

  But she didn’t have to know that. Hell, even Lee didn’t know exactly how refined Angelo’s gifts had become over the past decade, especially the past few years.

  She hesitated and Angelo rolled his eyes. “C’mon, or do you want to wait here all night for Lee? Look I can touch you and be just fine.” He reached up and laid both hands on her cheeks, staring down into her big green eyes, maintaining his indifferent face, grinning almost absently all the while.

  But hot damn the emotions inside her…

  Exhaustion, yearning, hunger, loneliness, frustration, aching, burning needs that he wondered if his brother was even aware of. Lee treated Jordan like she was made of spun glass. He pulled his hands away a hell of a lot quicker than he wanted to—he had found something he hadn’t expected to find. Jordan didn’t dislike him.

  She wanted him.

  He made her nervous.

  She was afraid of him.

  Afraid of…how alive? What a weird way to put it.

  Thoughtfully, he smoothed a hand over the back of her tense neck and urged her toward the bike. And discovered something else new.

  Hot little licks of frustrated longing…all centered around a big black Harley. Angelo couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he pulled the spare jacket out. Damn it, what in the hell was he going to do about this?

  * * * * *

  As Angelo helped with the helmet, to distract herself, she asked, “Do you know where Lee is? I’ve been trying to get hold of him for a couple of hours.”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him much this week. Bad week. Busy,” he said. His eyes—dark brown, like Lee’s, but they seemed so much warmer and softer—drifted down to meet Jordan’s before he lowered the visor. “If he had known you were coming, he’d be home.”

  “I know,” she muttered, shifting on the seat. A Harley. I’m sitting on a Harley. With Angelo Kelley. Too fucking bad it wasn’t Lee. Then she frowned. Something told her Angelo was the better of the twins to spend time on a Harley with. She glanced up, caught an odd glitter in his eyes, almost like he knew what she was thinking.

  No. He didn’t. He didn’t have Lee’s unusual skills. His were all about the feelings, and he had to be touching. And he hadn’t been touching her. Lee could catch random thoughts, hear them, but not Angelo. Damn good thing Lee wasn’t around right now, she thought darkly.

  Angelo turned away, but not before she caught sight of a grin on his lean, tanned face. His longish blond hair was still in a stubby ponytail and he slid his helmet on before mounting the bike easily, even though he had gotten her on first, shown her how to sit, made sure she was comfortable.

  Not, her mind shrieked. The bike roared to life and Jordan shuddered as her entire body did the same.

  Damn it, it was more than she had thought.

  “Hold on,” Angelo told her, shouting over the rumble of the engine. She leaned forward, tentatively wrapping her arms around his waist. “Tighter, Jordan.” She was trusting him here and hoping that the leather separating them was going to do what Angelo had insinuated—hoping he did have to have skin-to-skin contact—because if he didn’t, she’d never be able to look at him again.

  Jordan’s fantasy in life was to get swept away by a big, brawny, sexy biker, taken away somewhere, given no choice or say in it while that big, sexy man had his way w
ith her and fucked her six different ways to Sunday. And Angelo definitely fit the bill, six-foot-four, sun-streaked golden hair, melted-chocolate eyes, big shoulders, big muscled arms, wide muscled chest…

  Oh, damn…she was getting wet. Her nipples stabbed into the lace of her bra and she squirmed uncomfortably, then wished she hadn’t as the friction stimulated her clit and brought a gasp to her lips.

  A deep, shuddering sort of sigh rippled through Angelo but she hardly noticed as she unconsciously shifted a little closer while he wove in and out of traffic. The house she shared with Lee was about forty minutes away…damn it, she wasn’t going to be able to handle this.

  Damn it, he couldn’t handle this.

  Her thighs cradled him and she had shifted forward so that she was pressed tightly against him, as tightly as she could be with the layers of clothing between them. He shouldn’t have let his guard down when he touched her.

  But how in the fuck was he to know how strongly she was drawn to him? Or the kinds of fantasies she had lurking in her mind? His cock throbbed under his jeans as he headed back down I-65 south. She wasn’t even aware of it, but she was rocking against him…fuck!

  He hoped like hell Lee was home.

  Otherwise he was going to have a fight with himself to keep from touching her. If he was a nice brother, an honorable brother, he would call Lee. They had a link, most twins had some type, but theirs was a special one. And Jordan was wrong. Angelo’s gifts went above even what Lee knew about.

  But Angelo didn’t call out to Lee. He didn’t want his brother picking up on his emotional state, or his physical one.

  His breath hissed out between his teeth when her hands slid down from his waist down, her hand absently brushing over his cock as she shifted her grip from his waist to his hips, while she continued to unconsciously rock her pelvis against him.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan could hardly breathe. The helmet wasn’t helping, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was this damn bike—it was like a giant vibrator. And the problem was Angelo. It was his fault. She was feeling guilty, too. He was big and sexy and he looked like the man she loved, and he had put her on this giant vibrator. He had put her on her fantasy, and how in the hell was she going to explain this to Lee?

  She squirmed a little more and hoped like hell he was home.

  Otherwise, she was going to have one long, frustrating night.

  Then she started hoping he wasn’t. If he wasn’t she could pull out her own vibrator, handle the problem that way and forget this little episode. With her luck he’d give her the sexual equivalent of a pat on the head, some nice sweet missionary sex, which she was really starting to hate, a sweet little kiss on the lips, then cuddle her into sleep, and she’d still be wanting a good hard fuck—damn it!

  It was Angelo’s fault, she thought, sulking, shifting and squirming on the leather, rocking against his firm ass absently, reveling in his rather unique scent while the wind whipped past them as he took the exit to her house.

  Lee was home all right.

  She climbed off, stood there on weak, shaky knees, felt Angelo slide one hand under her arm as he guided her up to the porch. She shouldn’t have needed help, but she had been lingering on the verge of orgasm for forty-five fucking minutes—damn it, she hoped Lee didn’t pick up on that.

  Angelo lashed his shields down tightly. He didn’t want Lee picking up anything from him right now. He wished he could do the same with Jordan but there wasn’t any help for that. She was about five seconds away from having an orgasm, and Angelo would have given his right arm, his kidney, and his empathy just to be the one to give her that orgasm.

  But, no, she belonged to Lee.

  And Lee was going to have the fucking pleasure, again.

  With a humorless smile, he took her keys from her shaking hands and opened the door, guiding her inside the house.

  Lee had heard his bike.

  His brother was shouting from the other end of the sprawling house. “Angelo, get the fuck out—”

  Jordan stood frozen, her flushed face slowly going pale, her head cocked to the side as she studied the room before her. Her big, green eyes looked black in her face. She stood staring at a beaded blue cocktail gown and a woman’s purse lying on the floor. A little further away, one shoe, and then the other, and as she stood there with Angelo’s hand under her arm, staring, she heard a woman’s laugh, followed by a moan, and the unmistakable sounds of sex.

  “No, Jordan,” Angelo whispered gruffly, tugging her back towards the door.

  “Angelo,” she said quietly, pulling her elbow away.

  She walked soundlessly down the hall, following the sounds of moaning, and heard a hand striking flesh. She stopped and shuddered. Lee treated her like an antique, a lady, a flower in bed. Oh, he was a good lover, but he was also a ­gentleman. God forbid he should spank her while he fucked her.

  She felt Angelo at her back.

  “Angelo, I told you to get the fuck out. This doesn’t—oh, damn it, do that again—concern you,” Lee shouted.

  The shouting wasn’t necessary. They stood in the doorway, watching as Lee drove his cock into the ass of a ripe redhead. Tears stung Jordan’s eyes. She knew that woman. It was Kaitlyn. As she watched, Lee spanked her again and Kaitlyn moaned and said, “Do it again, damn it. Fuck me harder, Lee. Damn it, I love it.”

  Lee drove harder into her and a tiny, distressed sound left Jordan’s mouth. It was drowned out by Lee snapping, still unaware of her, “I didn’t know you were so into watching, bro. Kait, you want a double fuck? You can lose Jordan’s vibrator and we could—”

  Angelo heard her though. Wrapping one strong arm around her waist, he whispered, “Shh, honey.” He drew her back against him, rubbing her arm gently, nuzzling her crown with his chin, his gentle concern masking the rage he felt. “Such loyalty you two motherfuckers have,” he said casually, the ice dripping off his voice catching the attention of the pair on the bed.

  “Lee’s right,” Jordan said huskily as the pair on the bed finally froze and noticed she was standing there. “This doesn’t concern you, I guess. But it does concern me.” She twisted the ring off her finger and dropped it on the floor. Shifting gently out of Angelo’s supportive embrace she turned and walked on shaking legs down the hall and out of the house.

  “Jordan,” Lee rasped, his face going red.

  Kaitlyn’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

  Angelo lifted a brow at them. Lee surged off the bed, shouting Jordan’s name but Angelo blocked the door and laid a hand on his brother’s bare shoulder, narrowing his eyes and absorbing. “You fucking bastard,” he whispered. “Her money? Is that all that mattered to you?”

  “Not all, no,” Lee snarled. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Kaitlyn clambered down off the bed. “Angelo, Lee cares about Jordan. This is my fault—”

  They all heard the door slam.

  Angelo smirked. “I don’t care whose fault it is. She’s not going to forget what she just saw. And I’m going to make damn sure of that,” he drawled. He cocked his head at his brother. “I’ve got something I oughta share with you, bro. I’ve been in love with your ex-fiancée for months. So maybe I should say thank you to both of you.”

  Lee lunged at him but Angelo had already moved away.

  He caught up with Jordan as she stood staring at her keys with blank eyes. Her fire-engine-red BMW was in the drive and she was staring at the keys, then at the car like she didn’t know what in the fuck she was supposed to do.

  “C’mon,” Angelo said gruffly, taking her keys and pocketing them. “Lee’s going to come looking for you. You go off by yourself and he’ll find you. You want that?”

  “No,” she whispered soundlessly.

  It had always been so romantic, Lee being able to find her without half trying…but the thought of seeing him now, she suppressed a shudder. “Did you know?”

  “No,” he said quietly, leading her back to the bike and just lifting
her up and putting her on it. He put the helmet on her and mounted. Lee was opening the door and running out, still jerking his pants up.

  Right as they pulled out of the drive, Lee got to them. Angelo flipped his brother off as Lee was reaching out to Jordan, looking properly anguished. Jordan turned her head away from him, thanking the helmet that muffled his voice.

  She rode in a daze. It was getting cooler. Several hours had passed. Her thighs were aching, her tail was sore from spending so much time on the bike. But her mind…she had succeeded in blissfully blanking her mind.

  She lifted her head only when the rumbling stopped. Looking around, she realized they were in a clearing, a little log cabin in front of them, water glinting off a lake behind them. “Where are we?” she asked hoarsely.

  “My cabin,” Angelo said. “You need a place to let your thoughts settle, I reckon.”

  “Do you know how long it’s been going on?” she asked.

  He threw a leg over the front of the bike and turned to face her, studying her in the moonlight. Gently, he took the helmet off and looped it over a handlebar. He ran his fingers through her hair, settled them at her neck and massaged. “A while. Now’s not the time to talk about this, Jordan. You’re too hurt,” he said softly. “It’s been going on a while. I didn’t know. I would have told you if I had.”

  Solemnly, blinking her eyes at him owl-like, she said, “You read him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

  “Afraid so,” he replied, digging his fingers a little more firmly into her supple skin. “I can’t believe that jackass is my blood.”

  “It’s not gonna work, saying he’s the milkman’s boy. The resemblance is too strong” she told him, smirking a little, looking a little more like the feisty Jordan he knew, a little less lost. “Kaitlyn…she’s my best friend. Was,” she whispered.