She nuzzled against his neck and murmured wickedly, “I want to feel your down feathers tickle me. Inside.”
He groaned in her ear. “You’re tempting me most devilishly, Miss Tiades,” he said, thrusting his wings against the air with more force.
“Well, Mr. Petrakos, I must find some way to occupy myself during this terrifying experience,” she said, closing her eyes. “I cannot believe that you have me in your arms soaring through the sky. I only rode in my first Jeep this morning!”
“Yeah, time for you to engage here, baby. You’re right.” Hooking one arm more securely beneath her legs, he turned her slightly forward. “You really should look at the city below, sweetheart. You’re missing a breathtaking view.”
She burrowed her face against his feathered chest, hiding her eyes. “I’m terrified. I’ve never even been on one of those Ferris wheels my brother, Edward, loved so much. Remember how I made you take him on it?”
“Yes, and now you know why I wasn’t afraid of heights.” Cupping her cheek, he urged her to look at him. All she could see was his face, right up against hers; his eyes blazed with that rare silver hue; his hair tickled at her cheek. “I want to show you my world, Juliana. That’s why this is important . . . for you to see the universe the way I have for the past twenty-five hundred years.”
He gazed down at her, searching her face, and there was a flash of insecurity in his otherworldly eyes. She swallowed and made her decision.
She wanted all of him; that’s what she’d promised—and this flight was a significant part of that commitment. With a hand clinging to his shoulder, she slowly turned her head and, for one free falling, heart-stopping moment, screamed. Screamed and screamed . . . and then began laughing deliriously at the tiny buildings down below. The cars and vehicles were like ants, busy conveying crumbs and dirt to and fro.
The river shone with what seemed a dozen colors of sunset; and there were so many ships! The world didn’t just appear different from this supernatural view—at that moment she knew it had changed more than she’d been able to grasp.
“I’m taking you out over the water in a minute,” he told her in that harsh voice of his. “But first . . . want to see your old street? Or Forsyth Park, for memory’s sake?”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “No one can see us? None at all should they look up? You’re sure?” She dared another look at the ground below, eyes watering from the whipping wind.
“We are in the mid-dimensions, the place where my kind live and fight . . . and love,” he murmured, sliding a strong hand between her thighs. “Hawks mate midair, you know. Quite a fracas they make, as well.”
She looked up into his eyes, surprised, a little jealous. “You’ve taken women sexually while winged before?” She didn’t like the idea of anyone else sharing in this special part of him, this almost-sacred change.
He flushed, deep crimson coloring his cheeks. “Milady, no woman has ever glimpsed my wings . . . besides you.” He blushed more deeply, and she instantly understood the significance behind those words—and how overcome he’d been with his power around her, so shy yet eager about revealing himself. It was because his winged nature was tied to his masculinity on some very elemental level.
“You awe me,” she murmured, stroking the down feathers that dusted across his muscular, human chest. “How would any woman ever resist you . . . all of you? I feel humbled that you chose me, that you love me.”
He smiled slowly, then spread his wings wide and began beating them to fly much higher into the sky. You’re showing off for me, she thought with a grin of her own. He’d always been so proud and handsome; now she knew why. He’d had to compensate for hiding these gorgeous, rare wings. She imagined him waltzing into her town house, Harold at the piano, her mother in the parlor, and everyone staring up at these same midnight black feathers.
Savannah never would have been the same. In fact, it never had been, not for her, once Aristos Petrakos had set foot in town.
She smiled, wondering what her family would have thought about a winged immortal Spartan stealing her heart and whisking her off into the evening sky like this. That was the moment when she felt his warm hand slide between her thighs—and understood why he’d asked her to leave off the lingerie.
He wasn’t entirely sure how to accomplish what he wanted, but his body burned with need; he was inflamed from the crown of his head to the length of his hardened cock.
Feeling that slick dampness along Juliana’s tight little curls, the way she parted slightly the moment he touched her, it had him eager and urgent despite their midair position. His body trembled with lust and hunger for her, and his wings only pushed harder at the air in reaction.
“I want inside of you,” he told her, the words vibrating over his tight vocal cords. “Here . . . now.”
She wrapped both arms about his neck, holding tight, and then nodded her wordless assent.
“You trust me; I know you do,” he said, easing her dress up about her hips. “Let me shift you in my arms.”
She licked her lips and then gave another, determined nod; he turned her gently, opening her legs and then hitching them up around his waist. She now faced him, those shapely thighs tight about his hard abdomen and lower back. He felt her toes brush against his wings every time he beat them. Closing his eyes, he bent forward, capturing her mouth with a rough, demanding kiss. His hands were all over her back, stroking, rubbing, feeling, and the hum of power came even more alive inside of him. That kick of supernatural heat triggered a deeper level of transformation, the lines between arousal and shape-shifting blurring. His changeling body felt the surge of adrenaline and need, and delivered the goods—more of his hawk nature.
The bones of his hands began altering, and he tried to prevent his talons from emerging, but it proved an impossible task. Couldn’t be done—not here, while flying. Not now, when he was so desperately aroused. So he pressed his forearms against her back, keeping the sharp claws away from her sensitive skin. Next, his cheekbones shifted slightly, his face becoming more sharply angled, hawkish, but he never broke their kiss.
Alarmed, he wondered what she’d think, but when her hands dug into his scalp and she urged him to kiss her more deeply, he let go of any hesitation. He yielded to her invitation, drawing her closer against his chest.
She slid a hand along his low back, stroking his buttocks, squeezing and fondling him. Then . . . most daring of all, she pushed that dainty little hand down between his thighs, squeezing his balls. Through the tight fabric of his pants, she brushed and outlined him, caressed and demanded.
How the hell was he supposed to get out of these pants? he thought, working a hand between them. He couldn’t get a good angle on his fly, but she eased her hips backward and, with a flirtatious smile up at him, popped the damned thing open. Then, never blinking or looking away—didn’t she notice his modified features? how harsh they’d become?—without seeming to care at all, she lowered his zipper.
And then his pants were dangling open, and he shoved at them gracelessly, needing to be inside of her, and now. He spread his wings open their full span, taking them on a long, graceful glide—right as he positioned his hips against hers and began another low, graceful glide . . . into Juliana’s eager body.
Ari leaned against the tall spire of the cathedral, looking most satisfied with himself. He folded his arms across his chest after fastening his pants; meanwhile, she was a rumpled mess, splayed flat against the spire, unwilling to take a single step lest she fall.
“If you toppled, I’d dive for you,” he drawled. “I think we both saw how extremely capable I am at maneuvering midflight.”
She flushed, neatening her dress. “You mean to take me dining looking this . . . this . . .”
“Postcoital?” he volunteered with a devilish grin. “Yes, sweetheart, I mean to take you out in public and promenade you like my brand- new bride. I want to show you off.”
Her heart leaped at his casual mention of the word bride
but she kept her expression nonplussed.
“Surely the other patrons will know what we’ve been up to,” she said, attempting to fix her unruly hair.
“Flying? Making love—with only the setting sun as our chaperone?” He released a low, sultry laugh. “No, Jules, I don’t think those mere mortals will have a clue.”
She pressed an explanatory hand against her bodice. “My breasts are . . . unrestrained, Aristos.” With a downward glance, she was dismayed to see that her nipples budded through the fabric.
“It’s gonna be dark, anyway. We’re eating outside. Folks are gonna be more interested in trying to break their crab claws open than in noticing your state of undress.”
“You said you were going to fly me over the river,” she reminded him, growing chilled. “This restaurant, it’s out on Tybee?”
“Yeah, out on the island.”
“So we will definitely be crossing the river,” she said, drawing in an anxious breath. “I suppose I must face it sometime.”
He stepped gracefully around the spire, leaning up next to her. They watched the street below in thoughtful silence, the traffic and city noise drifting up to them. “It might help you remember,” he said after a moment.
She pressed her eyes shut, the earlier nightmare returning in vivid, horrible detail. “I think I already do,” she admitted, glancing sideways to gauge his reaction.
He said nothing, just waited for her to continue, but his eyes were filled with eager interest.
Blowing out a breath, she confessed, “I had a dream this afternoon. There were . . . creatures. Terrible, choking beings in that water. They dragged me below the surface—and kept pulling me farther into the river’s depths.”
He scowled. “That sounds like water demons.”
“I don’t know what they were, but they kept taunting me, communicating to me somehow even though they were yanking me deeper and deeper.” She stared down at the street with a shudder. “I couldn’t breathe or cry out, and all I wanted was . . . you. To tell you I loved you, would always stay with you.”
She felt dampness on her cheek, and only then did she realize that she’d begun to cry. “I did not want to leave you, Aristos.” She turned to search his face. “On the contrary, I most desperately wanted to remain with you; even in my very last moments, you were my only thought.”
Only a few days left, she thought in a panic. And when the end comes, he’ll believe I wanted to leave this time, too.
She opened her mouth to confess the rest, the bargain that she’d remembered, but a pain staked through her chest. “I . . . You should . . .”
Get far away from me, as far as you can, she wanted to warn him, but the words would not come forth.
“I love you,” she said instead, crying even harder.
He drew her into his reassuring embrace. “You’re here now, Jules. We’re together. No need to cry anymore. The memory scared you; that’s all.”
“I need to tell you something. . . .”
A voice screamed inside her mind, a shrill, piercing warning that was not from her own thoughts. She recognized it as Layla instantly.
Don’t warn him! If you do, I will make sure he dies.
That horrifying voice spoke inside of Juliana—making it clear that Layla’s dream threats had been true, that she shared a place deep inside Juliana’s own physical body.
If you warn him, the demon threatened, I will clip his wings with my claws and shove him off the spire so that he plummets . . . without any way to save himself.
“You don’t have enough power yet,” Juliana argued aloud, clinging to Ari.
Naturally, Ari thought she was talking to him. “Sweetheart, right now I’ve got enough power to light up this whole city,” he said with an easy laugh. “What do you want to tell me?”
I’m growing stronger with every second. I will devour him as I send him tumbling to that street far below! Layla taunted, and Juliana tried to blot out the image, to resist the powerful terror it elicited.
Juliana wrapped both arms about Ari, holding him closer as her breath caught. “It doesn’t matter,” she blurted. “Nothing matters except you knowing, truly believing, how much I love you.”
Chapter 26
Ari’s broad wings fanned out, at least six feet in span, as he did a slow glide into a sandy lot lined with various vehicles. A sign near the paved road said, THE CRAB SHACK, and she was grateful they’d reached the restaurant. Her stomach had been growling for the past half hour, despite the sandwiches they’d eaten at the inn.
“You’re absolutely certain that those patrons can’t see us?” Juliana pointed to the people dining on the large exterior deck as Aristos brought them earthward, running a few paces upon landing. That motion jostled her slightly against him, so she held on tighter, feeling the strong bands of muscle across his shoulders.
“No,” he told her, halting and swinging her onto her feet. He bent double, hands on his knees, breathing heavily for a few moments. “Not as easy as I made that look.” He laughed, finally standing tall again. “Whew. That’s some heavy lifting, flying you and me both.”
“Well, excuse me, sir! Are you implying that I am not delicate?” She popped an indignant hand to her hip, playing at being insulted.
He gave her a leveling look. “Now, Jules. You are the lightest, most perfectly shaped female I’ve ever hied away in my arms.” He smiled slowly. “In point of fact, you are the only one, as I already told you.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I’d certainly hoped you didn’t make a habit of deflowering virgins, then whisking them off into the sunset.”
“You always were the subject of my most”—he paused, placing a hand over his heart—“courtly attentions. And I pegged you for a wing girl, so there you have it.”
He took her hand and began slowly strolling across the sandy lot. “Let’s walk a minute. Let me cool down, and then I can dress and will remove the protections that are making us invisible to normal humans.”
He swerved, sidestepping out of the path of a couple who, indeed, seemed entirely unaware of her and Ari’s presence. “And inaudible, in case you were worried about that, too. We’re totally concealed.”
Several moments later, his breathing remained labored, and Juliana became concerned. “You should have told me that the flight was too strenuous for you. We could have acquired a Jeep for this journey or chosen someplace closer for dining.” She touched his tight abdomen, brushing away a rivulet of sweat.
“Darling, are you suggesting I can’t fly you anywhere your heart so much as contemplates?”
“I’m suggesting,” she answered, widening her eyes, “that perhaps you overtaxed yourself by hauling me so far and by making love to me in the midst of the whole process. I’m suggesting that . . . you’re human.”
He thrust his chest out defiantly. “Superhuman, thank you very much.”
“Superhumans don’t have limitations? Oh, but I forgot—you’re actually an Olympian god!” She giggled, trying to think of how best to tease him. “Ah, but which god would that be? This is the tricky point. I could name you Prometheus, and then we could bind and unbind you, a rather naughty thought, no? But since I’m the one you adore unwrapping, I’d rather that not be our little scene. So . . .”
She had an idea and turned to him abruptly. “But of course! You are Eros, the god of love, wrapped in feathery wings, and I am Psyche. Although, you won’t become invisible to me, I hope.” She gave a little pirouette; she’d always felt this way when Ari courted her, a little intoxicated and giddy. As she came to a stop in front of him, she realized that, unlike her, he wasn’t laughing or smiling at all. In fact, he seemed quite somber as he pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head.
“You don’t want to be Eros to my Psyche?” she asked softly, not understanding what had darkened his mood so suddenly.
“He’s the son of Ares,” he told her bluntly.
Now she understood and grew equally somber. “The god you bargained with
.”
“The one who controls my destiny,” he said in a grim voice. “They’re real, the Olympians. You need to understand that. Demons, angels, gods and monsters, Djinn and Titans.” He waved his arm about them, as if the unseen world lurked in every direction. “Anything you ever dismissed as myth . . . anything you imagined was nothing more than folktales from ancient times, sweetheart?” His voice got louder, more intense. “It’s all real, and most of it’s dangerous as hell!”
She averted her face, staring at the pebbled sand. Demons were real. Of course they were—a fact she now understood all too well. But how could she confess everything about Layla? And he had worried about revolting her? A ridiculous notion all along, but especially now that one of the entities he battled dwelled inside her own soul.
He stepped sideways until he stood just in front of her. “Look at me, Jules.”
She kicked at a palm frond; it was broken on the sand, probably a victim of last night’s storm.
“Juliana, sweetheart,” he coaxed, tilting her chin. When at last she met his gaze, he said, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I . . . I’m not in control lately. You’ve seen it yourself, and it needs to be explained.”
“I was thoughtless and unkind to make those jokes when you bear so much on your shoulders.”
A devilish gleam filled his eyes. “I love the idea of pretending to be Eros, while you are Psyche, my fair maiden who can only feel my feathers in the dark, but never see me.”
She closed her eyes, losing herself in the image of him as Eros. “Sling your quiver across your shoulder, release your wings, and . . . capture me,” she said, releasing a slow, aroused breath. “When I least expect it, seize me and fly me to some high peak, where you will ravage me in mountain grasses warmed by the sun . . . and your body.”
He blinked at that scenario and touched his groin, adjusting himself. Only then did she see the way his manhood jutted prominently against the front of his pants, his arousal undisguised. She reached forward, stroking fingertips over the heated, thick flesh, their bodies separated only by thin fabric. He sucked in a breath, tilting his hips forward ever so slightly.
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