Sophia Danu
Kyp’s hips swayed in rolling, erotic moves that captured the eye of every male in club Sin Sin. Slim arms extended gracefully overhead and she dropped her head back in sensual abandon. Dancing was spiritual for her. It was the only time she truly let go and relaxed the facade that she presented to the world.
Her friends often joked about the attention she garnered when she danced. More than once they claimed that men were hypnotized by her exotic grace, she just laughed. She couldn’t explain the way it was for her. It was like she became someone else when she danced—someone powerful and otherworldly. She became a sponge literally absorbing the lust, love and anger of those around her. Their energy practically poured into her until the feeling was euphoric—a high unlike any drug could provide.
The males in the audience edged closer and closer. Her sexuality projected a gravitational pull that drew them in, luring them near like a moth to the flame. Every guy there ached to hold her, to possess her, to claim the sexual goddess undulating before them.
The first time she danced in public, she was fourteen at the outdoor market on a Cyprian street
corner. One man played the daf, a type of shallow drum, and another strummed the oud, a stringed instrument with a haunting sound, singing of lost love and betrayal. Kyp felt possessed, driven, and couldn’t stop her body from moving in time to the sound.
A crowd gathered, watching, encouraging her to continue. The musicians smiled and played with renewed energy. Her slim, young body writhed to a rhythm that spoke of unfulfilled desire and a maturity of emotions that she had yet to experience. When the music grew frenzied and the beat intensified, her mind opened with a nearly audible crack.
The emotions of the audience raced into her body filling every extremity. Her head dropped back and her arms flung out as the feeling overflowed. She experienced her first climax though she didn’t know at the time that’s what it was. She dropped on the ground gracefully and the crowd clapped and stomped in appreciation.
It was the moment Minos first saw her. The privileged, hotheaded teen, son of a corrupt, wealthy official, swore he would have the passionate, young beauty. Her fresh innocence coupled with alluring moves and exotic beauty captivated him. She inhaled a deep breath and exorcised the past, returning to the moment.
These days she didn’t lose control as she did that first time. She trained herself to become replete, gathering what she needed from a crowd, without climaxing. The music reached a crescendo and, when the surrounding males enclosed her in a tight circle, she eased it back a notch dampening the amount of pheromones drifting off her body, wafting to the nostrils of her appreciative audience.
* * * *
In another dimension, a scrying pool depicted the dancing female surrounded by hungry males. Theokritos watched her with predatory eyes. It was her twenty first birthday. The time had come. Her powers would begin to manifest. She would soon enter her first true mating season.
“You’re mine now,” he promised in his deep, husky voice.
* * * *
Kyp wearily entered her apartment shortly after two in the morning. Her friends treated her to dinner and dancing in celebration of her birthday. She was beat and slightly buzzed. She shed her clothes and fell into bed, virtually asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Out of the darkness came awareness and sensation. She was floating in the sea at night but panic didn’t rear its head. She was home again. This time a lean, strong woman’s body drifted along the current rather than a child’s waiflike physique of years before. She smiled and tasted the saltiness.
The water, warm and silky against her skin, felt like a soothing bath after a long day’s labor. Ribbons of moonlight shimmered and illuminated shadows on the sea floor below. Brilliant, fluorescent sea creatures darted to and fro as she lazily dove toward the bottom.
Although for some reason, unspeakably happy, she knew she shouldn’t be there, underwater. What she wanted, and even desired could be found below, but there was danger there. Yet she could no more stop her descent to the murky bottom than she could cut off her hand. Anticipation pooled in her belly at the thought of reaching the bottom and what was there.
She followed the moonlit, sparkling path that paved the way to her destination—the doorway. Suddenly knowledge waned, leaving her with no clue as to where the doorway led, but only with the truth of its existence—somewhere below. The image of a wide, brilliantly colored door, created in otherworldly metal and jewels the like as she had never seen, flashed in her mind briefly before that too was wisped away.
In this bizarre underwater world, Kyp felt free and lighter than was familiar. With that discovery, she realized that she wore no tank, no mask and no hose with which to breathe, but strangely she was fine. Breathing was apparently not a necessity at the moment. It was with that recognition that she also noticed she was naked. The customary frayed jean shorts and bikini top of the past were gone. Yet somehow, her nakedness felt right, natural.
When she reached the bottom of the sea floor, she felt an abnormal presence in the watery depths. A sense of fear, excitement and heat simultaneously filled her. Her eyes strained to see the threat.
Suddenly, hands slid around her waist from behind and eased her back against a strong male chest. Startled, her heart stopped for a mere moment. Her dark, red hair, suspended in front of her eyes, obscured her vision when she tried to see the man behind her. She shook her head to remove the silky mask and saw the most incredible, large, beautifully warlike male in existence. He looked like no one she had ever seen before up on the surface. Suddenly, a brief, vague memory of such a male trickled through her mind, then vanished before she could grab and hold on to it.
He turned her to face him. Eyes, of a dazzling azure hue, that rivaled the most stunning GloFish stared at her predatorily. Dark-skinned and bare-chested, he was trim of waist with ripped arms and abs. He wore pants that reminded her of Gi bottoms. The fabric, some sort of strange silken material, was a flowing, deep crimson. His feet were bare and oddly sensual as they treaded water slowly.
Most astounding and mouthwateringly erotic was his long, thick flaxen hair that swirled in the misty deep. On one side of the luscious locks, he sported a thin braid held with gleaming beads a designation of his highborn status. How she knew what the beads symbolized she had no idea, but the knowledge was inexplicably there.
He smiled, a feral bare of teeth.
The look was sexy, frightening and sinful. She squeezed her legs together in response to his appeal. Belatedly, she wrapped her arms protectively over her breasts and he shook his head, unhappy with her modesty.
He pulled her arms apart and softly dragged her against him again.
A hard cock peaked out of the top of his low-slung pants and bumped against her belly as his body caressed the length of hers in the luxurious water. She struggled to twist her wrists free of his gentle but firm grip. A deadly, sinuous eel with sharp, glistening fangs approached from the depths to swim closely around their bodies.
What had been an attempt to escape his grasp became a desperate endeavor to cling to it! He smiled in triumph when her arms circled around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. Satisfied with the results, he thrust his hips—moving his cock against her pussy—pumping, rubbing along her slit.
The friction of his silky pants against her clit prompted waves of sensation through her body. She clenched her teeth and bubbles floated toward the surface when she moaned in desire.
The eel, having achieved its goal, swam gracefully upward to drape around his throat—the head lay over the tail. She watched as it settled, blurred, then literally hardened into a dark, solid necklace. She reached out to touch it in awe and disbelief. At the same time, she noticed a tattoo on his sculpted shoulder. It depicted an eel, identical to the one now around his throat, wrapped around a glimmering crystal the same color as his eyes.
He moved his hands lower and squeezed her buttocks, filling his hands with the
soft flesh.
Tingles encompassed her now fiercely aching body from head to toe.
He turned his head, hair swirling, and grabbed her finger between his teeth. He sucked it into the warm cavern of his mouth. His tongue slid along the slim digit.
She watched her finger disappear past the wide sensual lips, then looked up into his hypnotizing eyes. More bubbles escaped as her lips parted at the hunger she saw there. His gaze consumed her. It told her that he wanted to eat her whole, to lick and taste his way along every curve and inch of her body.
He bumped his cock against her again, then thrust his finger into her slick heat, up to his knuckle. Withdrawing, he put a second finger in and thrust to the hilt again. When he had four fingers seated within her, stretching, rubbing the innermost part of her, he leaned over and bit her hardened nipple sharply.
Her head bent back, hair flowing in a burnished arc. Her back arched at the feeling that roared through her body. He was the other half of her, she realized. The dreams and the goals of her life all led to this place, this time and this man. His hands gripped her sides as he lifted her up to slide her onto his long cock, then eased her down slowly to give her time to adjust to his size. He was oh-so-breathtakingly long and wide.
When he was as far as he could go, his fingers gripped her skin tightly, eased out to the tip, then quickly, forcefully buried himself inside her.
Pain, pleasure and climax slammed through her system. Nerve endings and muscles contracted, burned and shivered along the spine to her limbs. She tightened on his cock, squeezing, milking him. His clenched teeth and curled lip were intimidating and sexy in the smooth watery depths of the sea.
He pinched her nipple commandingly as he pumped powerfully into her once more.
Climax speared through her again, overwhelming in its intensity. Light burst behind closed eyes as she exploded out of her body—and out of her bed.
A deep growl vibrated from the thick chest of the Rottweiler, Petra, as she scrambled to her feet to meet the threat that prompted her owner out of sleep so violently.
Air rushed in and out of Kyp’s lungs as she crouched next to her bed. She touched a shaking hand to the massive head of her loyal guardian and struggled to breathe. Pulse pounded in her ears.
Aftershocks reverberated outward from between her legs to the rest of her body. She blinked, thoroughly disoriented by the earth shattering experience. Her panties were moist and sticky, she realized with a grimace when she straightened up. A bead of sweat meandered its way between her breasts. What an incredible dream!
She laughed a quick burst of sound that bespoke incredulity and embarrassment, then ran a trembling hand through her damp hair. She lifted the heavy weight off her neck and swirled the mass into a loose knot. After stumbling to the bathroom in the dark, she splashed cool water on her face.
Petra padded after her.
Feeling slightly refreshed, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator in her small kitchen before wandering to the soft leather couch to slump down on its chilly exterior. The click, click of Petra’s nails followed her path across the hardwood floor. She pointed the remote at the wall-mounted flat screen. TV might ground her a little bit more into reality after the shocking wet dream.
She pressed the moist bottle against her cheek and sighed. She was physically sated from her climax, but she felt empty, haunted by the reminder of a different life. Her destiny was off the sun-baked shores of the Mediterranean and she longed to resume her quest, but if she returned she wouldn’t live long enough to fulfill her dream. Hell, she wouldn’t live a whole week.
Her life was here now. Cyprus was a world away and it was unhealthy to mire her thoughts in what might have been. With that in mind, she ordered herself, time to get on with the day.
Purposefully, she strode to her bedroom. Five minutes later, dressed in black yoga pants, a thin, dark purple hoodie and running shoes, she and Petra eased out of the upscale New York apartment. The spring dawn promised to become a glorious afternoon. With her Ipod for inspiration, she set off on a vigorous jog.
The strong, athletic Petra maintained the pace with ease.
Kyp pounded the pavement. Nine Inch Nails throbbed in her ears. The heat of the dream sprang to life in her blood when her favorite group crooned their deviant, sexual song. A sensual smile crossed her lips as long strides ate up the short distance to Central Park. Physically she felt better than ever. Lately, a new energy flowed through her blood that was palpable, almost electric. She felt enhanced physically and mentally.
Five miles later, she sat at a bistro table eating breakfast. After dropping half a bagel on the cobblestones for Petra to inhale in one giant swallow, she lingered over lemon water and perused headlines from around the world. A small picture caught her eye and, in that instant, her life changed forever.
Cyprus officials reported new ruins discovered off the coast. The artifacts were being featured in a museum in Nicosia. An ache speared through her chest region. Swallowing became difficult past the knot in her throat.
Sensing her distress, Petra licked her hand and rested her chin on Kyp’s knee.
The picture showed a single artifact. A necklace, shaped as a pyramid, with swirling circles in the center and a crystalline substance that filled the three corners—the same symbol tattooed permanently on her lower back.
She remembered cradling the necklace in her palm and the power exuding from it. Her father discovered the necklace in the sea shortly before he was murdered. He was dead because of the necklace—and because of her.
She rubbed her finger over the picture, smudging the newspaper ink. She felt the pull of the necklace by simply looking at the grainy image. The tattoo at the base of her spine tingled. She fingered the soft paper thoughtfully. The official mentioned would be him—Minos. Kyp’s brow lowered as she thought of the man who tried to kill her. The man she once loved. Was this a trap? Did Minos discover she was still alive?
A siren bellowed, echoing off the buildings as it roared through traffic and brought her back to present. She gritted her teeth. The paper clenched tightly in her fists. That necklace was hers and she would do whatever she had to do to get it back. Her father found the necklace and gave it to her, claiming it was her heritage. He was killed because of it.
For a moment, she was back in Cyprus, seeing his body stretched out on the cool, white tiles streaked red—a bloodied knife lying by his side. Guilt left a rancid taste in her mouth. She was the reason he was dead. She mentally erased the image from her thoughts.
She knew what she had to do. There was no avoiding it. Odds were great that it was a trap, but it was a chance she was going to take. If Minos thought she was alive, then he knew that the necklace would draw her, lure her in. He put it in a museum so she would feel safe trying to recover it without him around, but it would be guarded at all times. Regardless, she was going after it. Her father had been sure it was the key to Atlantis and she was, too.
She and Petra arrived back at the apartment. She showered and dressed in black dress slacks and a crimson peasant blouse that just touched the top of her pants. If she stretched, a slim tanned belly peaked through the gap. The triangle inked on her lower back was only visible when she reached down to adjust the knife in her boots. Petra didn’t go to work with her and past experience taught her not to be without some type of weapon.
She rubbed the tattoo. It had been throbbing all day. Suddenly memories of Minos’s tongue tracing the mark caused her to pause and steady herself on the heavy wooden dresser. She looked at herself in the mirror. Between memories of her dream man and Minos’s mesmerizing, punishing tongue, her eyes held a slumberous, knowing look of sexual satisfaction. Minos gave her such pleasure before the pain. She shook her head and fixed a gold Grecian necklace around her slim neck.
Patting Petra on the head, she said bye and swept out the door. She spent the afternoon handling her affairs—withdrawing from classes, resigning from her job due to a family crisis, paying bills, sayi
ng goodbye to friends and giving them her key so they could split the belongings she couldn’t take with her. It took her most of the day to finalize her life in New York.
Kyp was exhausted when she reached her door and heard Petra’s nails click on the other side. She gave her guard dog a pat, then headed to her bedroom. She changed to faded jeans, leather boots and a black baby tee for the trip. Big silver hoops flashed in her ears. She packed her leather bag with clothes, jewelry, a passport, and money and slung it over her shoulder.
Her knife was sheathed on her side and ready for quick removal. She wouldn’t be able to fly with the weapon, but for some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving without it. She would check it and have it mailed from the airport.
She shut the door to her apartment and leaned back against it, sensing the night. Her stomach swirled with distraught nerves. Something was about to happen. It was going to happen before she even got a chance to try to steal back the necklace. Hell, before she even got out of New York. He found her already? As she waited on the elevator to reach her floor, she felt them. They found her and they were close by. Her body vibrated with tension at the danger approaching. At least she held the advantage of surprise.
Petra stood growling and taut sensing her mistress’ fear.
Kyp told herself she was ready to kick some ass, but her dry mouth and pounding heart indicated otherwise. She was ready to go back to Cyprus to face them, but she wanted it on her terms, not theirs! The bell pinged when the elevator reached her floor.
It swooshed. Two tall, leather-clad brutes stood just inside the parting doors, then she saw him, leaning against the wall. She had a moment to reflect on how unfortunate it was that such a virile, sexy man was so evil before she buried her knife in his goon’s throat with a quick flick of her wrist. Goon number one gurgled as he fell, grasping for the knife. Goon number two cried out as Petra’s paws pushed him back into the elevator, her salivating jaws snapped inches from his nose. Minos backed up to escape Petra’s attack. Kyp punched the tenth floor button and grabbed Petra’s collar.
Atlantis Allure Page 17