Spanked by an Angel [Notorious Nephilim 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Carolyn Rosewood

  He nodded. “With Leo and Andras.”

  “What about the other four? Are they still here?”

  “Sterling and Hugh died in 2004, along with Caleigh. She came to work here as a singer during World War Two. We still operated a nightclub back then, but it wasn’t cost-effective, so after the war, we shut it down.”

  “And the other two?”

  “Blade and Cristian are still with us, as is Joelle.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “I’d love to meet them. Just to talk, you know.”

  Emmett grinned. “I’ll see if that can be arranged. They live in a separate wing and don’t leave it very often. Joelle just celebrated her ninetieth birthday.”

  “How does that work? I mean, for you and Zach and the others? I just assumed you were…I don’t know. Ageless.”

  “We start aging once we choose a mortal life. I guess if you had to pin a number on us, we’re roughly thirty human years old right now.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of growing old and dying? I mean, it must be amazing to stay the same age and never have to worry about getting sick.”

  Emmett looked into her dark eyes, trying to choose his words carefully. She wasn’t the first woman to romanticize their plight. He wanted to help her understand what he felt, but didn’t want to frighten her.

  “It’s a long time to be alive, Abigail. Most of our day-to-day existence is routine and boring.” Emmett shifted his body so he could look into her eyes. “That is, until someone like you comes along.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “Abigail”—he touched her cheek—“you’re the kind of woman we wait for.”

  “You mean the kind that will let you do whatever you want to her.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean at all. Look, we don’t tell that story to everyone. In fact, the majority of our guests leave here never knowing it. And of the ones we do tell, most of them freak out or laugh their asses off. They either think we’re lying or they get scared, like we’re zombies or vampires or something.”

  “Maybe you should show them the scrapbooks.”

  “It’s not even necessary to go that far. All they’d have to do is look a bit closer at some of the pics in the lobby.”

  * * * *

  Abigail averted her gaze as she remembered her first day here. She had noticed the resemblance to Emmett in one of the photos right away. “It’s hard to believe only a few people make the obvious connection.”

  Emmett shrugged. “They don’t come here to ferret out our secret, so their minds gloss over anything that points toward it.”

  “They come here for uninhibited sex.”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  She hadn’t been here seventy-two hours yet, and she’d had more sex in that time than she’d had her entire adult life. Even counting Zach and Emmett, the number of sexual partners she’d had reached a grand total of five. Her boyfriends before Malcolm had been losers whom her parents finally persuaded her to stop seeing. She’d only dated them out of spite to begin with.

  But even those experiences hadn’t changed anything. She’d gone from doing everything her father told her to do—and fearing the consequences if she didn’t—to letting her husband control her life. Even her divorce hadn’t altered her behavior. She worked for her father, and he kept her on a short leash. But for all that, he had no idea she was here right now. She’d told her parents she was going to California to visit a friend from college, a friend who lived off the grid and didn’t have Internet or cable. Abigail chuckled as she imagined the look on her father’s face if she told him about Zach and Emmett.

  “Is it something I said?” asked Emmett.

  “No. Just had one of those funny thoughts, you know?”

  “Anything you’d care to share?”

  He watched her as if gauging her reaction. How could she explain to him that she thought he and the others were the luckiest creatures on the planet? They had time and resources to do whatever they wanted. No one controlled them or told them what to do.

  So why was she still afraid of them? Last night had been incredible. She’d had too much to drink and knew that, but even without the rum, she would have come here with them. They’d seduced her with words and music. The sight of Zach in those pants, singing to her, had been too much for her to resist. And Emmett had looked good enough to eat.

  “What’s on your mind, Abigail? Talk to me.” Emmett’s voice was so gentle, so concerned.

  “I don’t know how to explain it, Emmett. The whole experience is surreal.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s because we’re so amazing in bed.”

  Abigail laughed then stopped when Emmett put on a fake pout. “Okay, Emmett. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it. I’m not laughing about what you said. You are amazing. I just love your sense of humor.”

  His grin made her clit throb. At this rate, she wouldn’t be walking by the end of her two weeks here.

  “And I love that I can laugh with you. You were right, Abigail Emily Cosslin. You do know how to have fun.”

  “I’m glad you finally realized that.” Abigail tried to shake the uneasiness that had settled on her heart. Two weeks would go by so quickly, and then she’d be back in Duluth, working under her father’s watchful gaze. She didn’t want to go back to that, but what choice did she have?

  “Uh-oh,” said Emmett, frowning for real this time. “Something just happened. Your whole aura changed. What did I say to upset you?”

  She shook her head and averted her gaze. “You didn’t upset me. I was just thinking how much I suddenly don’t want to leave.”

  He pulled her closer, and she inhaled his scent. “So stay.”

  He said it so softly she was certain she’d imagined it. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t leave. Stay.”

  “Emmett, that’s not possible. I have a home. I have a job. I have financial responsibilities.” And parents who would scour the earth looking for her if she simply disappeared.

  He sighed deeply. “I know. But it’s fun to dream, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” She snuggled closer and moved her hand under his robe. Grasping his stiff cock, she stroked it slowly. “And since neither of us is tired, Emmett, why don’t we crawl back into that warm bed and wake up Zach? I need my two angels inside me again.”

  He chuckled warmly. “Whatever you wish, Abigail.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zach opened his eyes and rolled over to glance at the clock on the bedside table. It was nearly noon. He had way too much work to catch up on, but one quick glance at Abigail, and he very nearly crawled back into her arms. To hell with the books. Most of the morning staff had probably overslept anyway, and he imagined their guests were still in bed. Their parties usually went on all night, but he hadn’t felt the least bit guilty when he told Reeve and Niko they’d have to find someone else to sing the other two sets.

  Grunting, he began to pull on his clothes before he woke Abigail or Emmett. She had to be sore and tired, especially after their second time with her. She continually surprised him with her passion and trust. He could get used to having her around. Very used to it.

  “Don’t go there,” he muttered. It was best not to let hope get a foothold in his heart. He’d been burned too many times before.

  “Is it morning already?” she sat up and smiled at him. His heart gave a strange lurch, and he knew he was in deep shit. He was falling for this woman. Hard.

  “It’s almost noon. I have to get to work,” he whispered.

  She crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. As he watched her progress, he frowned. He’d have to find some aloe for her rear end. Her skin was all red and puffy this morning. He didn’t want her to be in pain.

  Zach groaned as he pulled on his shoes. If he didn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s ass, he’d get absolutely nothing done today. He walked into the sitting room and bit back another groan as he turned at the sound of her footfalls behind him. She w
as still naked.

  “I want to ask you a question before you go.” Her eyes were bright but hesitant.

  “Sure thing. What is it?”

  She took a deep breath, which only served to draw his attention from her eyes to her breasts. “I miss playing the cello. Will you…I’ll understand if you say no, but I was hoping I could maybe play yours. Just a little, even?”

  Zach drew her into a tight embrace, knowing he’d be working with a raging hard-on the entire day and not caring. “Abigail, I would love to let you play my cello. How about later this afternoon? I have to get some work done first.” He pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose. “Not that I’ll be able to while thinking of you.”

  The smile she gave him made his breath catch in his throat.

  “Thank you, Zach. For everything.” She hugged him around the waist, and Zach called up every ounce of self-control he had. He was actually relieved when she released him and skipped back into the bedroom.

  * * * *

  Zach was so absorbed in work he didn’t notice Abigail standing inside his office until her perfume caught his attention. Looking up, his gaze traveled over her sweater set and jeans. The woman could wear an old rug and make it look sexy. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore very little makeup. He’d never seen her look lovelier.

  He stood up and stretched. “What time is it?”

  “Dinnertime.”

  “Really?” He frowned and turned around, surprised to see it dark outside.

  She laughed. “Don’t feel bad. I went back to my room after you left this morning and fell asleep. I’d still be sleeping if Emmett hadn’t called the phone in my room. Come have dinner with us. Can I play your cello afterwards?”

  “You sure can.”

  During dinner, Emmett asked Abigail to describe her job at home, and she kept up a steady stream of conversation about law research and briefs. As Zach listened and watched her facial expressions, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of passion about her work. Emmett had told him how her marriage had ended. Zach couldn’t imagine having to continue to show up day after day in a place where your husband had embezzled from the firm and run off to the Caribbean with a coworker.

  Why didn’t she simply go to work for another firm? It sounded as though she had excellent skills. Surely someone else would hire her. At least she wouldn’t have to face constant reminders of what Malcolm had done.

  “I’m curious about something, Abigail.”

  “What’s that?”

  Zach took a sip of whiskey. He hadn’t had any alcohol to drink since Abigail’s first night here, so he was being careful, but that didn’t stop Emmett from watching him carefully. “Why do you continue to work there?”

  She looked confused for a second, then averted her gaze and shrugged. “It’s easier.”

  “Easier than what?”

  “Zach…” Emmett’s voice held a note of warning.

  Zach put down the glass. “I’m not trying to get a rise out of you, Abigail. I’m simply trying to figure out why someone with your skills and experience would stay in a place that has to make you terribly uncomfortable every day.”

  “It’s not so bad.” The hesitation in her voice didn’t match the words. “I mean, everyone has been really great to me, you know? Very supportive. And I…I want to pay my father back for the house and everything…”

  Her voice trailed off. She began to pick at a blemish on the table, and Zach was reminded of her first night here when she’d done the same thing. So, she stayed out of a sense of duty to Daddy Dearest. Zach had the feeling there was more to that story than she was telling.

  Emmett shot Zach a look that would reduce a mere mortal to blubbering. Zach pushed his glass away. The last thing he wanted to do was upset either of them. He leaned close to Abigail and grinned.

  “Are you going to tell Sharon about your time here when you return to work?”

  She shook her head and blushed. “Probably not.”

  “That’s not fair,” he teased. “She told you everything.”

  Abigail reached for his hand and squeezed, then did the same with Emmett. “I’m not telling anyone about this place. I’m going to hold it in my heart and play the memories in my head, over and over. I’ll never forget either of you.”

  Zach stared into her chocolate-colored eyes and felt something shift, as though the planet had suddenly tilted. The hope that had begun to build the moment she climbed into the sleigh with him grew until it filled the icy-cold places in his heart. He couldn’t be mistaken. The emotion shining in her eyes wasn’t only lust. She had feelings for him—for both of them—because she gave Emmett the same look.

  Emmett’s grin faltered for a second as Zach watched surprise fill his features. He’d just reached the same conclusion. Zach was certain of it.

  “We won’t forget you either, Abigail,” said Emmett.

  * * * *

  Abigail followed Zach to his rooms, gasping as she stepped across the threshold. “I think this is the first room I’ve been in here that isn’t decorated like something out of a museum.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” She glanced at the half-moon valance draped over Venetian blinds on the windows, the moss-green walls, and the simple wooden end tables and flowered lampshades.

  “The forties are my favorite decade,” he said. “I love the colors, the clean lines of the furniture, and the simple fabrics.”

  “It’s amazing. I feel like I’ve traveled back in time.”

  “And I especially love the music,” he said, crossing the room. He opened the top of a Victrola, then reached into the cabinet underneath and pulled out a vinyl recording.

  “Does it still work?” she asked, moving to his side.

  “Sure does.” He put the 78 on the turntable and turned the crank, then carefully moved the needle onto the album. As the sounds of Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” filled the room, Zach held out his hands. “Would you care to dance, Abigail Emily?”

  “How could any woman say no to you?” She leaned against him as he swayed with her in his arms, taking tiny steps in a fox-trot pattern. His scent filled her head as the soothing music washed over her. The smell of baked apples and cinnamon would never again remind her of autumn. Instead they’d remind her of Zach at this moment. Abigail blinked back tears as she realized this was easily the most romantic thing she’d ever done. It even topped the sleigh ride three nights ago.

  She’d had to summon every ounce of self-control in her body at dinner not to spill her guts about her feelings for both of them. Falling in love with two men wasn’t something any woman should do. It was an impossible situation. She’d been here only four days, but Abigail felt as though she’d been here for months. The outside world no longer seemed real.

  When Emmett had asked her to tell them about her work, she felt as though she were reciting from a technical manual. Her day-to-day routine was boring, tedious. This was reality. The knowledge she’d have to leave in just over a week wasn’t something she allowed herself to dwell on. She couldn’t.

  “Tuxedo Junction” began to play, and Zach moved faster, twirling Abigail as she laughed and tried to keep up with dance steps she’d never done.

  “We need a forties party,” he said, “complete with swing music.”

  “That would be so much fun.”

  He pulled her close and gazed into her eyes. “You’re fun.”

  They stayed that way until the song ended, staring into each other’s eyes. Abigail was used to the slipping sensation now, and no longer noticed the electrical charge to the air, or the way everything but his pewter-colored eyes faded into the background.

  Zach released her and removed the needle. “You still want to play my cello?”

  “If I wasn’t so sore, I’d say the cello could wait.”

  He chuckled and met her gaze. “I’m sure you are sore. I hope we didn’t hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “No. I loved
it. Every second of it.”

  “So did I, Abigail.” He held out his hand. “The cello awaits your touch, m’lady.”

  Zach led her into a small room off the sitting room, decorated in the same style. She put her hand over her mouth when she spotted the cello. Abigail had never seen such a beautiful instrument. She was almost afraid to touch it.

  “How old is it?”

  “Not that old, actually. From the twenties.”

  “Maple?” She ran her hand over the front.

  “Yes.” He pulled over a straight-backed chair. “Have a seat. Let’s hear you play.”

  He handed her a bow and the instrument. Zach was considerably taller, so she had to adjust the end pin. As she tuned the cello, a wide grin spread across her face.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve played.” She was filled with such a sense of peace, as though this cello had been waiting for her touch, and now she’d finally come home.

  His smile sent a shiver through her body. Malcolm had never watched her play or smiled at her delight over a musical instrument. Zach was enjoying this. He wanted her to play it, and he wanted her happy while doing so.

  “What a beautiful sound it has.”

  He nodded. “I think so, too. Do you need music, or can you play from memory?”

  “I’m more comfortable playing from music. What do you have?”

  He lifted a leather case into his lap. “Just about anything you could want.” He pulled out several books and loose sheets, then riffled through them, finally selecting one and placing it on the music stand in front of her. “Try this.”

  Abigail stared at the notes of Prelude from Suite No. 1. “I haven’t played anything like this in a long time.”

  Zach reached for the music. “Would you prefer someone other than Bach?”

  “No, I love Bach.” She bowed long notes to warm up, then made her way through the piece at a much slower pace than would be expected if she were performing it. When she finished, she giggled, immediately feeling silly.

  “That was really good,” he said. “You have a nice tone to your playing.”