by Addison Fox
She’d always loved her work but something washed over her—warm and happy—way down deep inside as she thought about sharing her work with Rafe. Not as a member of his staff, but as an equal. As a lover. And even more wonderfully surprising, as a friend.
She had someone to share her talents with. Not nameless, faceless patrons or competitors from hotels down the Strip, or even the cool brass who owned the place where she worked.
But someone who—just maybe—cared for her as she cared for him.
* * *
Chaos floated through the secondary plane, watching over the streets and surrounding areas of Las Vegas. The gods may have locked him up, but all their power couldn’t fully contain his essence.
Even if their damn chains did ensure he had to channel his precious energy into bumbling, inept minions who had the freedom to do his bidding.
And what had it gotten him?
Frost had promised him his next attacker would make good on their goals and get into the Archangel undetected, but the zoned-out moron sent in for the job was now a dead French fry. Worse, though Frost hid it well, Chaos was well aware he was at his wit’s end to find another subject to do his bidding. Fear had spread quickly among the addictive set and they’d all scurried to their burrows like frightened rats. Even promises of a fresh score for a job well done hadn’t paid dividends like they’d expected.
Which meant he needed another approach. Humans only went so far and his powers were limited on this plane. Unlike the Helios, he wasn’t mortal and there were the damned rules.
Always rules.
Frigging Titans and their odd sense of supreme order. What the hell good was being a god if you couldn’t rig the game to your benefit?
So he hovered, swirling through the atmosphere like a wraith as he considered his plans. In the blink of an eye he moved to another casino, his focus on the craps table as he hovered low. Some woman was throwing dice like a champ, the entire table screaming and cheering when she tossed a ten—the point she’d been aiming for.
Chaos watched, bored yet intrigued at the avarice that painted the human faces around the table as they, one by one, reached for their winnings. When the money had been paid out and the game begun again, he watched as the roller threw a seven amid many cheers. Then another one. And then a six.
He knew the game—that knowledge was something that simply existed in his conscious fully formed—and he began whispering around the table to increase bets. When the amounts weren’t enough, he then encouraged play on the sucker bets in the middle of the felt table. Once all was laid out as he’d intended, he leaned over as the woman tossed the dice—she nearly had her six—and then he flipped a single die one more digit.
Groans lit up the table, and the loss of the point—and all the money wagered on its arrival—filled the air. Several gamblers gave her grudging thanks and good wishes, but as the woman’s face fell in disappointment, he knew he had his answer.
And wondered how he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
He needed others to do his bidding, but he was hardly limited to using Hunters. How had he been so short-sighted?
* * *
Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, willing away the strange sense of premonition that tingled there at the base. He wasn’t prone to the fanciful—he kept an army of well-trained security experts for that—but he also knew the stakes had changed. Their world was threatened, and no amount of planning or watchfulness could change that.
And then there was Evangeline.
The woman hadn’t been far from his thoughts for the past six hours. She filled his mind—images of her, the scent of her and the warm, willing imprint of her body wrapped around his. He’d nearly abandoned his afternoon commitments, but had persevered, pushing through mind-numbing discussions of the stock market with his high rollers and an endless meeting with the gaming commission that nearly made his ears bleed.
But now he was home.
He could already sense her as he pushed through the door, muted lighting and soft music spilling through the entrance in welcome.
When he came face-to-face with a ten-foot tree he nearly lost his footing. “What is this?”
“Your unicorn.”
Rafe shook his head, the silliness of their earlier conversation taking root. He’d sensed the tree was important to her, but hadn’t realized quite how much. “Looks like a tree to me.”
“Oh, it is that, yet it’s so much more.” She drifted over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her daily uniform of cargos and a tank, with a long-sleeved shirt wrapped around her waist for good measure, had vanished, replaced by another frothy concoction he believed he’d seen down in one of the boutiques.
“You’ll have to enlighten me. I’m not that good with trees. Or holidays, for that matter.”
“You don’t celebrate?”
“We congregate. My family is large and my father has always insisted on throwing something lavish. It’s not so much a holiday as a day of feasting, drinking and platooning back and forth to the security center to keep an eye on things at the hotel.”
“The casino business never rests.”
“Never.”
She patted his chest. “Poor rich hotel magnate. Looks like we’ll have to bring the holiday spirit to you, then.”
He watched in fascination as his holiday sprite did her level best to do just that. In a matter of moments, she had his coat off, a drink in his hand and was gesturing him across the room to the feast she’d laid out on his dining room table. “First we eat. Then we decorate.”
“I have to work for my holiday?”
“Absolutely.”
“Seems like a vicious plot.”
“Or part of the fun.”
While there was a large part of him that would be perfectly content with dinner, followed by endless hours of lovemaking through all the rooms of his apartment, Rafe had to admit there was a simple sort of joy in watching her. She was happy. Lighter, somehow. And for the first time, he realized more had changed in her than the sensual moments they’d shared.
The woman who powered around his property like a whirling dervish, never sitting or settling, had used that endless motion as a way to hide.
“What are you looking at?” Evangeline looked up from where she twirled angel-hair pasta around her fork.
“You.”
“You look like you have questions.”
“No questions.” He laid down his fork. “I’ve come to an understanding. Of you.”
He liked that he could keep her off guard, but the hint of wariness that crept into her gaze was a clear indicator of how much in her past still haunted her.
“It’s a good understanding. A happy one.” When that wariness faded, replaced with the brighter shades of curiosity, he continued. “You’ve made an incredible contribution here at the Archangel. Your installations are the best in the business and your passion for your work is visible in everything you do.”
“I sense a but. Am I being fired for having sex with the boss?”
At her wry smile he could only shake his head. “Cheeky woman. You’re not paying attention.”
“I am. And I appreciate the compliment but I do what I love. I’d say the same about you. About Gabe. About Madelina down in the spa. You and your family have created a magical oasis here in the middle of the desert and it’s a professional privilege to be a part of that.”
“You really don’t see it, do you?” The tension he’d seen in her shoulders was still vivid in his mind. Evangeline had carried the weight of the world on her slim frame and he was beyond pleased to see that lifting.
“I guess I don’t.”
“You’re free. I see the smile that reaches your eyes and the relaxation that fills you and it makes me happy. It’s like you’ve become untethered, somehow
, to what held you back in your past. It’s wonderful to see.”
“You’re a big part of that. What’s happened over the past few days.” Her gaze stayed level on his. “What has been the outcome of something I felt from the very first moment.”
That first moment they met. She speaking her mind to their poor, hapless horticulture lead who’d been drunk and sloppy on the job. Rafe had carried that image in his mind all year, clinging to it like a lightning rod every time he saw her, so he wouldn’t be tempted to get too close.
That, and a dossier full of details on parents who didn’t love or support her or see the beautiful gem of a person they’d created.
Of all the oddities in his life, he’d never questioned his parents’ love. While they’d determinedly lived their own lives, traveling, spending time with family and seeding the Stavros hotel empire throughout the world—all while his father built his own career and reputation—they’d always been there for him. He’d always known he was loved.
“Maybe Gabe was wrong.”
“About?”
“Maybe my early Rejuvenation was my body giving me a kick in the ass to make a few changes in my life.” He extended a hand, taking one of hers tightly in his own. “A change that is more welcome than I could have ever described.”
* * *
“The garland and tinsel go on last.”
“We need both?” Rafe stared at her over a long strand of garland, currently stretched between his hands like a skein of yarn.
“It will be pretty.”
“It’ll be gaudier than a whorehouse.”
“You spend a lot of time in those, Stavros?”
He had the decency to look contrite and Evangeline fought to keep a smile from her face. “No, but this is Vegas. I’m not totally ignorant of the other entertainment options that draw my customers out of my hotel and away from my casino.”
“I never considered the competitive angle.”
“I did. And let me tell you, it takes a bite.”
“Poor, powerful hotel magnate.”
He nodded, his gaze solemn. “Perhaps you can console me and make me feel better about it.”
“Perhaps I can.”
Holiday music drifted out of hidden speakers, a low, jazzy version of some well-known Christmas carols, and Evangeline used the swinging beat to dance around Rafe, sliding a large, shiny red ball into a gap on the branches.
“Thank you for this.”
With his hands still wrapped in the garland, Rafe leaned over and pressed a hot kiss to the shell of her ear before following it up with a lazy drift over her neck. A wave of heat suffused her nerves, that ready desire flaring to life in a near explosion.
How did he do this? Even more amazing, how could he? She was a levelheaded woman who had never considered herself wrapped in her baser nature. Yet the moment he touched her, everything inside of her stood up and focused on him.
Only on him.
He plied her with kisses, that tantalizing journey from ear to neck to collarbone, shifting, morphing as he found her mouth. With his hands still wrapped up, all he had was his mouth and oh, wow, could the man kiss. Her knees grew weaker as he pressed his lips to hers, using teeth and tongue to further coax a response.
“Rafe.” His name drifted out on a sigh.
She used his temporary capture in the garland to explore the hard planes and angles of his body. Those broad shoulders, so impressive beneath the crisp white shirt he wore. The solid expanse of muscle that architected his chest, firm as a sculpture, yet able to yield to her touch. Still, she drifted on, her fingers following a lazy path over his body.
The closure of his slacks beckoned and she slid open the material before slipping her hands beneath his briefs. She found him hard and ready for her, the warmest sort of welcome, and she plied his body with the same urgent tenderness he’d applied earlier.
A long, low moan ripped from his throat as she curved over and around the generous length of him. With each passing moment, a sensual magic seemed to wrap around them, more binding than the garland that currently wrapped his hands.
“I seem to be at a disadvantage.” The words vibrated against her ear where he pressed his mouth, hard shudders racking his body as she pressed him ever onward.
“How’s that?”
“Your hands are free—” He broke off as she captured the wetness at the tip and used it to further lubricate her actions up and down his shaft. “And mine are otherwise engaged.”
“Maybe it’s good to give up control every once in a while.”
“Evange—” Her name faded on his lips as his pleasure overtook him. Heavier shudders ripped through his body with all the force of a tidal wave, made that much more luscious by the capture of his hands.
She used his disadvantage to her advantage and sank to the floor, her mouth quickly replacing her hands as she drew him through his orgasm.
The garland fell in a jumbled ball beside them, his suddenly free hands wrapping around her shoulders to pull her against him. She sensed his urgency and his rapidly fading control, but she refused to stand, linking their fingers instead.
And that’s when she knew the sweetest feminine victory.
His release was magnificent, the moment a gift, just like all the moments with Rafe that had come before.
But in that moment—that bright, singular shining moment—Evangeline knew what it was to love. To give selflessly to another. To care deeply for their happiness and their pleasure.
To share it with them.
For in that moment, Evangeline knew she’d fallen irrevocably, irresistibly and undeniably in love.
Chapter 10
“How does it work?”
“Hmm?”
“Your fire. How does it work?”
While he appreciated the interest more than he could describe, Rafe had no idea how the woman even had the strength to speak, let alone ask questions. He pulled her tighter against his body and let one eye drift open to read the clock: two in the morning.
After the mind-bending explosion of pleasure he’d experienced in his living room, they’d worked their way through his apartment. From the long formal table he kept in his dining room to the multijetted shower in his master bathroom to—just a few minutes ago—his bed.
“Seriously. Tell me how it works.” Evangeline scrambled out from beneath the weight of his arm, scooting herself back against the pillows at the head of the bed.
“How what works?”
“Your fire, Rafe Stavros. I want to understand it. When I touch you here—” She broke off, painting a line down his spine before drifting those long, glorious fingers over his cock. Defying every bit of logic he possessed as a man, he felt himself springing to life at her tempting touch. “I feel the heat of your body, but there isn’t an actual fire. You just feel like a man.”
“I am a man.” He intended to growl out the words but they came out on a half moan as her fingers tightened.
How was this even possible?
He’d experienced lust before and had enjoyed more than his fair share of the company of women. Yet none of them had this effect on him. He was more sated than he’d ever been in his life, yet needier than he could ever imagine. Those twin states—the urgency and the satisfaction—were inexorably linked, the strangest of bedfellows.
Sort of like them.
Evangeline continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “So if this is just normal body heat, where do the flames come from?”
Since it was evident she wasn’t going to let up, Rafe decided to have a little fun. Placing his hand over hers to hold her in place, he shot a small burst of flame off of his shoulder. Her surprised shriek was what he was going for and he opened his eyes once more, anxious to see her expression.
And wow, she didn
’t disappoint.
Her hair drifted in tousled disarray around her shoulders and her dark eyes were wide with shock as he allowed the fire to dance from his shoulder, down over his biceps and on to his forearm before he wrapped it around their hands.
“How? I mean, why?” She stared at her own hand, wrapped in flame. “Why don’t I feel it? I mean, I feel it, but it’s like a warm blanket, fresh out of the dryer.”
“You’re here. We’re touching and you’re inside my aura. You’re safe here.”
“That’s why. Before.” She stopped, the memory of earlier suddenly joining them in the bed. “If I’m touching you, I’m safe.”
“Exactly.”
If she continued to contemplate the distance he’d needed earlier to slay his opponent, she said nothing. Instead, she focused once more on their hands, her gaze reflecting back the fire that leaped between them. “It’s amazing.”
“At times. At others it’s a pain in the ass.” The fire winked out, along with his interest in discussing it. She may have forgotten their earlier tangle with Chaos’s minion but he hadn’t. She’d been in danger.
And he’d killed for it.
Although he’d been threatened before, he’d never killed anyone—even a Hunter—and the knowledge sat hard on his shoulders. By silent assent, Evangeline seemed to understand his reticence to talk, asking no more questions as she snuggled into his arms. But an hour later he still hadn’t fallen asleep. It had taken Evangeline quite a while to sleep as well, but he’d finally felt her body go slack. Satisfied she was fully asleep, he slipped his arm from around her, got out of bed and padded into the living room.
The tree shone brightly from its proud place in the center of his apartment. The boxes for the ornaments were stacked neatly on the coffee table where she’d placed each, once emptied, but the garland still lay in a ball at the base of the tree, abandoned once she’d so generously made love to him with her mouth.
Love.
The word echoed in his mind, a living, breathing reminder of all he’d avoided in his life. Affection. Desire. Love. All were real. Tangible. Feelings that had weight and depth and far too many emotions layered through them to give him any sense of objectivity.