by T. M. Cromer
Her gaze never left his as he moved—at first in long, drawn out strokes, then in with faster, forceful thrusts.
“I see you, Quentin. I’ve always seen you.”
He captured her joyful cry with a kiss as the waves of her release crashed over her. Without pausing, he continued to thrust, and with each drive of his hips, he lavished her with words of love.
It wasn’t until she grabbed his face and said the words “I love you, Quentin” that he allowed himself to let go.
When they were snuggled together under the quilt, her ear over his thudding heart, he sighed his contentment. This was what he missed. Their closeness. The shared emotion. The oneness.
As he was dosing off, she spoke. “Drew Parker asked me out a few years back.”
His eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head to stare down at her. The mischievous expression on her face told him he wasn’t catching a nap anytime in the near future. “The dweeby, blond-haired guy?”
“He was scholarly, but yes. He never showed up for our date.”
“Hmm. Imagine that.” He thunked his head back against the pillow and struggled not to laugh. He suspected she was onto him, but he’d wait until the conversation played out.
“Coincidentally, you showed up at the coffeehouse that same night.”
Yes, she definitely suspected him of a nefarious trick. “It shouldn’t be considered a coincidence, love.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Did you scare him away, Quentin?”
Because she seemed more curious than annoyed, he confessed. “Not at all. I firmly suggested he find another woman to date.”
“And?”
“And I may have flattened the tires of his drab little Honda Civic.”
“I see.” She bit her lip and cast her eyes downward, but not before he saw the laughing twinkle. “How many men did you make that same suggestion to?”
“Maybe three or four.”
“That’s not a lot.”
“A month, for seven years.”
Her laughter got the better of her, and Quentin delighted in the sound.
“I’m not even going to attempt the math on that one,” she said.
He rolled her over and settled himself between her waiting thighs. “Roughly between two-hundred-seventy to three-hundred-thirty.”
“Get out of here! There aren’t even that many men in our hometown.” In her astonishment, she pushed at him to sit up.
Leaning on one arm, he trailed a finger down the slope of her exposed breast and shot her a wicked look from beneath his lashes. “Okay, maybe I had to reinforce the suggestion a few times with the same guys. And maybe a portion of the three-hundred-thirty were only men trying to get an eyeful of your charms.”
“That makes more sense.” She flicked his forehead. “But let me get this straight. You got to sleep around, and I was stuck with a vibrator, using old memories of you and me?”
That got his full attention. “I’m having a hard time visualizing that. How about you show me—”
Holly slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, hush.”
He lightly kissed her palm. “I didn’t sleep around, Hol. Not after you were free.”
When his seriousness sunk in, Holly’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Don’t tell me you went seven years without sex!”
Quentin watched her with studied patience.
“How… what… what did you do for…?” Formulating a sentence was difficult in her shock.
“I did what you did.”
“A vibrator and mental images of you?”
Unbidden, laughter bubbled up and out. “Close. My hand and mental images of you.”
“You say the sweetest things. But admit it, you envisioned a threesome on occasion, didn’t you?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Not even if I do this?” She ran a finger the length of his dick.
It stirred to life under her touch, and he decided he could spend the rest of his natural born days in bed with her, having her tease him this way. “I’m not sure. You can keep that up, and we’ll see what happens in the end.”
Even as she laughed, she wrapped her hand around him and slowly stroked. “You’re going to fold like a cheap napkin.”
“More than likely. Keep doing what you’re doing and see how fast that happens.”
Chapter 13
Oh, look! Chapter 13 has been eliminated. Surprise, surprise.
* * *
In all seriousness, I almost added it to throw you for a loop. But then I thought that tempting fate was for fools. Superstitious? Me? You betcha!
* * *
P.S. Have you added Long Lost Magic to your TBR list yet? Alastair’s story is sure to delight!
Chapter 14
Quentin found it difficult to keep his hands to himself, but they finally managed to get a shower. Eventually, they sought out Nash, who was lingering poolside.
“About time you two showed up. I already grabbed breakfast, in case either of you cared that I was starving.” Nash checked his watch. “Actually, now that it’s time for lunch, do you want to find a cafe and make plans?”
“You only ever think of your stomach, brother.”
“I think of you too, sister. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here trying to save you and your boyfriend’s butts from the Council.”
Holly leaned over and kissed her brother’s cheek. “Thank you, Nash.”
“Let’s get to work. Our time is limited.”
Quentin couldn’t agree more. If they didn’t get in and out of Greece quickly, they were likely to attract the unwanted attentions of Victor Salinger.
They settled on a small restaurant only a half-mile walk from the hotel. Nash mumbled a spell that muted their voices and confused anyone who might overhear their conversation. Quentin committed the words to memory for future use. You never knew when it might come in handy.
Holly was the first to speak. “Let’s get down to business.”
Nash held up a hand. “After I order.”
“Your stomach is a bottomless pit, brother.”
“Your point?”
“Can we shelve the argument, kids?” Quentin picked up his own menu and winked at Holly. “I have to admit to being hungry too.”
After their orders were placed, Holly brought up the subject of Selene. “Obviously, any romance between her and Quentin is off the table. That leaves you, Nash. But more importantly, we need to find a way to get through the wards. Father told me that the National Museum is the Witches’ Council stronghold for this half of Europe. It’s going to be a bear to break through their magic.”
“Maybe not,” Quentin said thoughtfully.
Nash and Holly faced him.
“Nash, you’re already a Council member in America. Wouldn’t you already have clearance for this branch? If so, it would be a simple glamour spell to make you look like me. I think we could fool Selene enough for you to get in good with her.”
“But how does that get you into the vault?” Nash asked.
Quentin grinned. “I glamour myself to look like you, and we walk in together. With the two of us side by side, no one will know who the wards opened for. That gets me past the initial security. Selene would latch onto you because she believes you, as me, would be after the scroll.”
Holly leaned forward. “And me?”
“You go home and wait for us.”
“Not going to happen.”
Quentin sighed. “I had to try.”
“I could cloak myself and enter with you both.”
“Wouldn’t work,” Nash said and took a sip of wine. He gestured to their approaching server, and they all waited for the food to be placed on the table before they resumed their conversation.
“Why not?”
“The Council has cameras that pick up heat signatures. That means, even if you were invisible to the naked eye, you would still be detectable by a thermal camera.”
“Then I go in with you as m
yself.”
Both men groaned.
“What?”
“Hol, you…” When any reasonable excuse dried up, Quentin looked to Nash for assistance.
“You are a volcano waiting to blow, sister. It’s not a good idea if you go with us.” Before the protest left her lips, he added, “Besides, I doubt the Council would allow you through the doors.”
“Why not?”
Nash gave a nonchalant shrug. “You are a Thorne. Not just any Thorne, but one of the most volatile of the lot.”
“How do they know that?”
The hurt look on her face tugged at Quentin’s heartstrings. He reached across and gripped her fingers. “I’m sure they keep tabs on all of you.”
“They do,” Nash confirmed then shoveled in a mouthful of bread dipped in taramasalata.
Quentin wanted to shove more than the appetizer into that arrogant shit’s pie hole, but his size-thirteen foot sticking out of Nash’s face might raise questions.
“They can’t keep me from visiting the museum. It’s open to the public.”
With his inconsiderate words, Nash had drawn a line in the sand for Holly. Now, she was more determined than ever to enter that damned building, and there was no way in hell Quentin could sway her once her mind was set.
Rubbing the spot above his right eyebrow where a dull throbbing had begun, he tried to think through various scenarios that might appease Holly. He found it difficult to come up with a single one.
Setting down his eating utensils with great care, Nash folded his hands atop the table and sighed deeply. “Holly, pay attention and try to wrap your brain around this one. You will only get Quentin caught or possibly injured if you insist on participating in the retrieval of the scroll. You are far too impulsive to make this a successful mission.”
Other than a slight increase to the speed of her breathing, Holly betrayed no outward sign she was upset. Her eyes remained locked on her brother, and Quentin held his breath and waited for the explosion. A quick glance at their water glasses showed her struggle to keep her temper in check. Only a few bubbles made it to the surface.
“Hol—”
“It’s okay, Quentin. I’m used to it.” Slowly, as if she were a hundred years old, she gained her feet and laid down her napkin. “My family all seem to think I’m useless.”
Alarm flashed in Nash’s eyes. “That’s not what I said. I—”
“I find I’m not hungry. I’ll leave you to plan your mission.”
Hating the dull, defeated look in her eyes, Quentin snagged her wrist before she could run off. “Hol—”
She shook her head and stared down at the point where his fingers were wrapped around the fine bones of her wrist. “Let me go. Please. I need air.”
“I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“It’s only a few blocks, and the street is a main thoroughfare. I’m not likely to be abducted in broad daylight. Seriously, you and Nash need to figure out how this is going to work.”
“Don’t do anything cra—” Quentin stopped himself when her furious gaze snapped to his. “I didn’t mean that.”
The water in the glasses started at a slow boil.
“Sure you did.” Holly jerked free of his hold. “But don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect little angel and wait for you both to do the heavy lifting. I wouldn’t want to screw anything up for you.”
“You’re being overly dramatic, sister.”
Without warning, Holly grabbed Nash’s ear and yanked. “And you’re being an asshole,” she spat. She released him with a smug laugh and sailed out the door of the restaurant.
“I should follow her.”
“Unless you have a hunch something bad is about to happen to her, leave her be, Quentin. We have things to discuss. I want to know how it was possible for her to swear that emphatically and not bring the entire avian population down on our heads?”
From his vantage point, Quentin could see Holly stalking down the sidewalk toward the hotel. Passersby must’ve sensed the violence brewing beneath the surface because they all moved out of her way. He turned a mocking smile on her brother. “That’s her secret to share if she chooses.”
“She has you pussy-whipped.”
“I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
Nash sat back with wine in hand to study him. “No, I don’t suppose you are. I find I like you.”
The words were eerily similar to Alastair’s a few days earlier, and Quentin found himself chuckling. Nash would rather gouge out his own eardrums than hear he and his father were twins born forty years apart.
“What’s so funny?”
“Private joke. Let’s come up with a few alternative courses of action for tonight. I imagine we may have to play a few things by ear, and I don’t want any surprises. Also, I need to check on Holly before we go tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“It has to be tonight.”
“Is it a coincidence that there’s a gala at the museum this very night?”
“No.”
“Good to know.”
Once Holly was out of sight of the restaurant, she willfully ignored her quasi-promise to go back to the hotel and caught a cab to head to the National Archaeological Museum. After she arrived, she stood at the base of the steps and stared at the imposing building with its large stone columns.
Was she being an impulsive fool by coming here to scope out the place? Or was she really only here to scope out the competition? What was it about Selene that had her this disturbed?
Holly spun to leave when the clicking of heels on pavement captured her attention. Of course it had to be the woman who was quickly turning into her nemesis. Selene strode forward with all the grace and confidence of a lioness. Each step was perfectly placed to move her forward, and the purpose behind her strut left Holly in little doubt that the woman was as fierce as the cat to which she’d been compared.
Watching Selene coming toward her, Holly’s heart sunk to her toes. This gorgeous creature was the perfect match for Quentin’s stunning good looks.
“We meet twice in less than twenty-four hours. Is this a coincidence, Ms. Thorne?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?”
Amusement brightened the dark mocha of Selene’s eyes. “I believe I would.” She studied Holly for an extra moment or two. “Would you like to join me for coffee? There is a café off the gardens.”
Despite feeling gauche and very much like a country bumpkin next to this sophisticated woman, Holly said, “I believe I would.”
“Splendid. My name is Selene Barringer.”
“You’re English.”
Selene’s brows shot up.
“Last night, I didn’t get to talk to you at length. I missed the accent.” Holly fluttered a hand up and down. “I thought you were Greek or Italian. Plus, there is that exotic beauty thing you’ve got going on.”
Lips twitching, Selene nodded. “Thank you. My mother was Greek, my father was English. If you’d care to follow me, I’ll lead the way to the café.”
“How is it that you know who I am, Ms. Barringer?”
“It’s my business to know things. The Thornes are infamous in the witch community. Seeing one of you outside the United States is like seeing a zebra in London’s Trafalgar Square.”
“A complete oddity.”
“Exactly.”
Speaking of oddities, as much as she wanted to hate Selene, Holly found herself admiring the woman walking next to her.
After they were seated and waiting for a server to deliver their drinks, the two of them made small talk. Unease coated Holly’s veins when Selene turned the conversation to Quentin.
“The man who was with you last night, Quentin Buchanan; how well do you know him?”
“I thought it was your business to know all about the Thornes?” Holly quipped before taking a sip of her steaming coffee.
“Touché. But then, he isn’t a Thorne, is he?”
With a shrug, Holly answered, “We’ve k
nown each other all our adult lives. For a brief while, we were an item.”
Selene frowned as she ran a well-manicured finger around the rim of the ceramic cup. “For a brief while? Last night, he stated you were his girlfriend. Is that not true?”
“There are things we are working through.”
Surprisingly, sympathy flashed across the other woman’s face, and Holly found her stomach flip-flopping at the sight.
“Holly—may I call you Holly?—why are you here in Athens?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Holly’s hand crept up to the tanzanite necklace.
“You’re too smart for games. We both know you are in Athens for more than a vacation. Thornes don’t venture far from their home. Call it a security blanket. Again I ask, why are you here?”
“Why do you think I’m here, Selene?”
“What the devil do you think you are doing engaging Selene?” Alastair’s voice boomed loudly in her head, and Holly nearly winced.
A small smile twisted Selene’s luscious mouth. “I think you are here for an ancient artifact. The rumor is that your family seems to be collecting items for your father.”
“It’s true,” she said, waiting for the explosion through the telepathic connection to her father. It was easy to predict his ire.
“For the love of all that is holy!”
And there it was.
Struggling with laughter, Holly bit her lip.
“I’m surprised by your honesty,” Selene told her.
“She isn’t the only one.”
Again, Holly shrugged. “What is the point of lying? I’m terrible at it, and I’m sure you’ve already been alerted by the Witches’ Council.”
“So, you do need the Cheirotonia Scroll.”
“The what?”
Selene seemed taken aback by Holly’s question. “The Cheirotonia Scroll. I was informed it would be your target.”
“You were informed wrong.”
“Tell her you are after the Magic Sphere of Helios on display at the Acropolis Museum.”