Demons in Disguise: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book Three Page 14
Lucian smirked. “Thought you said we were idiots.”
I bunched the front of his shirt in my fist and backed him up against the wall. “Jayden’s not here to translate the crazy jargon so you’d better tell me what you know,” I growled. “Now.”
“Calm down,” Luna said, easing the papers from my grip. “Us idiots will explain the jargon. Your grades could sure use the boost.” She smoothed out the wrinkled sheets, and I eased up on Lucian as she spoke. “Bottom line is that DNA references indicate the sample came into contact with a multitude of haptogian mols.” She looked up. “We even checked the internet, but couldn’t find anything on those.”
I wasn’t sure myself. “Go on.”
She shrugged. “Okay. In regards to the particulates analyzed, one distinct item is sand from a very specific region of the desert. Most notably, it’s sand from the area where Novo is located.”
Oh, holy hellion.
Lucian said, “With the term Novo we had a little more luck. Kind of. We found some restaurants and companies named Novo, but none of them are in the desert. Its Latin meaning is beginning, refresh, or anew. Unless it’s an acronym. N-O-V-O. Then we haven’t a clue.”
And please, oh please, remain clueless.
I grabbed the documents from Luna and glared at them both. “You two get to lunch, and if you ever pull this kind of stunt again, I’ll squeal everything I know about anything you don’t want Mom and Dad finding out. Got it?”
They rolled their eyes and mumbled their agreement as they gave me dirty looks and headed down the hall. My hands were sweating as I crumpled the paper and shoved it in my jeans’ pocket, then entered the empty gym.
“There you are!” came a voice behind me.
“Yeeeack!” I reeled around, arms pinwheeling to keep my balance as I tried to choke down my heart.
Okay, gym not so empty.
“You!” I wheezed. “How in the heck? What in the world?”
“I’m always full of surprises, little dove, you know that.” Eros, Greek God of Love, hooked his arm in mine and patted my hand. “It’s been too long.”
The God of Love was, well, a god. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Bronze skin, a physique that chiseled marble couldn’t even do justice, although the masters had tried. Eyes of dark green jade full of sexual promise, and long locks of deep golden blond shining with what I’d swear were actual sunbeams. I might not be far off since, technically, he was a fallen angel. He was born to have mortals falling at his feet.
Just not me.
“You don’t understand.” I yanked on his arm and dragged him under the bleachers.
He laughed softly. “A sultry tryst undercover? Oh, that I understand all too well. But you had your chance. Psyche is not one to share, little dove. And while I love her violent streak, I prefer it not strike upon me in jealousy over you.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. Eros wore gym shorts and a tank top which showed off his well-shaped shoulders and biceps. Which I swacked.
“You are in a mood,” he pouted and rubbed the spot I’d hit.
Like I could hurt him. Although I noticed he still bore the puckered burn mark on his forearm where Ayden had snagged him with a blast of fire.
“It’s dangerous here for you at the moment,” I told him. “And I just found out—”
His eyes lit up with fear and darted around the gym. “Is it Gloria? She’s here?”
“What?” Oh. Eros was deathly afraid of my ditsy guardian angel. Didn’t make much sense to me. “No. I’m being stalked by the Sicarius.”
“Oh.” He seemed relieved. If not by much.
“One of whom is in the boys’ locker room this very minute.”
His glittering jade eyes shot toward the locker room door. “You do lead the exciting life, little dove, if not the most healthy. But I had to inform you of Tristan. He’s in the grimmest of circumstances.”
“I was afraid of that. The guys already left to look for him at Novo because he’s out of touch. What do you know?”
“That he needs our help, and there isn’t much time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Does it have something to do with haptogian mols?”
“Ugh.” Eros made a face and gave a delicate shiver. “They are among the deadliest of demons.”
Coming from him, that was saying something. Like I needed more bad news today. “You have to go warn the Boys that there’s a bunch of them somewhere around Novo. And tell them whatever you know about Tristan!”
The boys’ locker room door flew open and Armani stepped out, his fierce, laser-like gaze sweeping across the gym.
Eros sucked in a breath. “Cacciatori is stalking you? Oh, little dove, this bodes ill for us all.”
There was a flash of pink smoke and when it dissipated, Eros had disappeared.
Super.
“Hello?” Armani nearly shouted. “Who is here?” He spoke into the cell phone he held at his ear. “I will find her and let you know. No one will get in our way.” He strode toward the girls’ locker room door.
Uh-oh.
“Hey there!” I walked out from underneath the bleachers. “What’s up?”
Armani stopped and turned. He hadn’t changed outfits.
I said, “You’re supposed to wear the gym clothes.”
He looked me up and down. “You are not wearing them.”
“Beee-cause I’ve got to run an errand for Coach first.”
“Beneath the bleachers?” He came forward with purpose and peered into the darkness behind me.
“Just checking some mechanical things in there.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “Because I’m so mechanical. But you’d better get back in there and change from your runway attire. Not really appropriate for high school P.E. class. I could get in trouble since I’m responsible for you and all.”
He stepped closer to me. I jumped back.
He stopped, brow creased. “You will not be faulted. They checked, but do not have clothing large enough for me.”
“Shocker,” I mumbled.
“Perhaps by tomorrow. In the meantime, I can manage in this. But appearing a bit more casual could be wise.” He undid the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves a couple of times. The action moved the bulging muscles on his forearms rippling beneath the dark Italian skin.
It was impressive. The guy could break me in two. I swallowed hard.
“Better?” he said, opening his arms wide. When I didn’t answer, he continued, “I understand that you sometimes dance. As my official liaison, would you perhaps show me what you have learned?” He reached out his right hand. “To get me…up to speed, I believe is the phrase.”
“No thanks.” I shook my head and started to retreat when I noticed something just above his wrist. A mark.
Not just any mark. Two semi-circles reaching toward each other. Teeth marks to be exact.
My gut shot out a warning because while I wasn’t currently holding my dental records for comparison, I was betting they were my teeth marks. Where I’d bit down to make him let go of the knife he’d held at my throat.
Hairs on the back of my neck rose to frightful attention.
The attack by the boathouse. The demon’s henchman. Was it Cacciatori? The one whose blade had nicked my neck when he was trying to end my life?
I swallowed again. Or tried to. My mouth had gone dry. The cut on my neck, which had almost healed, started itching like crazy. Maybe sensing its perpetrator? I scratched it.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
I said quickly, “No, I just realized that I should show you a few dance moves.”
He was big enough in size to be the same guy. The bite mark was pretty damning. There was just one more bit of evidence to check.
Setting my backpack on the floor, I took his outstretched hand and twirled myself inward until my back was pressed up against him, his arm tight around my waist. He went rigid for a moment in surprise, then he relaxed into me.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said softly. “What physical encounters did you have in mind for us to experience next? I am open to satisfying whatever desires you suggest.”
The comment came out in a very suggestive way that suggested he had a few suggestive suggestions of his own. He was good.
I had to be better.
I used one hand to sweep my hair away from my face and said over my shoulder, “Now you need to press your cheek against mine and kind of sway side to side.”
His rumbling voice was suddenly very close to my ear. “It will be my pleasure.”
He did as he was told. His lips lightly grazed the cut left by the knife, then he leaned his cheek upon mine, the dark stubble of his five o’clock shadow scruffing gently against my skin. I tensed for a moment, then forced myself to relax. Play the game.
“Like this?” he whispered.
“Right.” I cleared my throat. Whoa, baby. Calm down, cool down. A game, Aurora. You need to play it better, not simply play along. “Now we just need to—”
His arms tightened around me, one hand splayed over my abdomen, and he molded his hips, legs, and torso so entirely against mine that he effortlessly compelled my body into moving as one with his. A gentle yet decisive and alluring sway of motion that enticed and excited and…holy moly, the seduction guru had arrived.
“Something like this?” he murmured against my neck.
That would definitely do.
I let him lead us in an achingly slow, sensual movement, a rhythm made for engaging in acts that made people, especially me, blush. Which I did. Heat rising up my chest and neck, flaring my cheeks.
But I wasn’t scared. On the contrary, that feeling of warmth that stemmed from his touch crept over my skin and overwhelmed me. It fettered into my brain. A thought that nothing mattered but this moment. With him. It was luxurious. Or would’ve been, if there wasn’t a nagging thought that… there was a reason I was in his arms.
I had a plan. A brilliant plan. The purpose for letting him get so close. He was a stranger after all. A stranger who may have a secret which I needed to decipher.
What was it?
Ah, yes, I needed to check for evidence because I had a suspicion about…about? Think, Aurora. Oh, right. That was it. I needed to check on…I took a deep breath and…
It hit me in a subtle wave. He was close enough now, and there could be no mistake. It was that intoxicating scent, that incredible combination of clean and oh-so dirty that could drive girls to rip off their clothes in a carnal frenzy.
No more guessing. It was him. Cristiano Cacciatori was the sexy scented assassin who had tried to slice my throat at the country club.
Now he was here to finish the job.
CHAPTER 40
Son of a jackal.
His arms holding me so tender. His body so inviting. His lips brushing against the very wound he’d inflicted upon my neck. Trying to suck some of the blood? Getting off on it like some kind of vampire. Either way, he was a monster, trying to seduce me to my death.
Cold washed over me. More like ice. It cut off that oh-so-good feeling of his tantalizing touch. I saw red. Then some sort of dark purple, the color of a deep bruise as my rage increased, billowing with fury.
I threw an elbow back.
Both of his arms had been around me, he’d been relaxed against my body, the epitome of languid content, but somehow he suddenly moved like lightning. He ducked the strike and caught my arm in a hard grip. Then he twisted me around to face him.
He was smiling. “I am intrigued by this dance. I did not realize Americans enjoyed something so violent.”
“You’re one to talk.”
I lifted my knee and targeted his, um, sweet spot. He blocked it. I threw a punch. He struck it down with a casual, unhurried move, but the hit rattled my arm so hard it instantly went numb. Then he took both my wrists, pinned them behind my back, and hugged me flush against him.
“Fiamma, stop!” he commanded. His pale eyes had turned a dark smoky green with grey flecks shining like mercury. And they were fierce.
I reeled my head back, then snapped it forward and made contact with brutal force.
And blinding pain...for me.
Headbutts were not my strong suit. I saw stars, literally, and cried out.
Suddenly, I was free. Armani had let me go, cursing violently in Italian. I staggered away. Brought my hand to my nose. Something wet. Blood. Not again. I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand, groping blindly with the other as I backed away. My vision started to clear.
Armani reached for me. I grabbed my backpack and bolted. “Help!”
I ran to the door of the gym, the one that led outside. A flash of smoke and someone suddenly blocked it. No!
Wait. It was Eros, which explained the pink smoke. I stumbled into his arms.
Armani yelled something, and when I looked up, he had a gun pointed at me. Even in my dazed state, I saw it had a silencer. Where had he been hiding a gun? Whatever. He was the supreme assassin.
Eros flung us both out the door, his arm around my waist as he helped me stay upright, and we ran across the field heading toward the cover of the forest.
I heard the gym door slam open, but we were almost to the ridge of trees. Almost to cover and safety when…
Horus stepped out from behind a giant oak and pointed his gun at us. It had a silencer too. Sicarius must get a discount for buying in bulk.
Eros lifted me off my feet, swung me around, and held me to his chest. We were pinned down. Armani and Horus walked toward us, their rigid arms gripping the guns with deadly aim, their faces frozen like homicidal masks.
“You’d better go,” I said. “Psyche would never forgive me if I got you killed.”
“True, my little dove,” he said. “I do love her violent streak.”
And in a puff of pink smoke, he was gone.
CHAPTER 41
At least he took me with him.
I felt buoyant, weightless, like I was being transported with utmost care down a rushing river of rose petals. Soft, cool, delicately fragrant. A gentle pull sank me deeper and deeper into a cocoon of enchantment. Sound muted to an elegant harmony of wind chimes. Energy spidered around us in cherry blossom pink light, tickling my skin, both invigorating and soothing.
Then solid ground returned beneath my feet and gravity pulled against my bones. Someone held me close, a hand stroking my hair, my face buried against a firm, heaving chest.
“You’ll be alright, dove,” Eros cooed.
I looked up, found myself nose to nose with the hunky god, and shoved him off. “Hey, no funny business!” Already had enough of that.
“The debilitating side effects are quite normal.”
“Debilitating?” I bounced on my toes. Then slugged his shoulder. “Teleporting feels good. Like I’ve slept for a week.”
“Impossible.” He stepped back, a touch of pale to his golden skin, and sank into a bench under the shade of a large tree in some sort of botanical garden. He was wearing navy trousers, a white shirt, and a blazer with some kind of logo on the breast pocket. “Psyche told me of your resistance, but I didn’t believe her. Teleporting is excruciating, incapacitating. The exhaustion should overwhelm you.”
“No way,” I grinned, soaking up the euphoria. “I’m pumped.”
“But you’re bleeding.” He offered me a pink handkerchief that appeared in a puff of smoke. The blazer sleeve rode up, and I noticed he wore on his wrist one of those watches that are really complex, mini-computers.
I took the handkerchief and dabbed my nose. “The blood’s from me headbutting Armani.”
“You really need to work on tho
se.”
“So I’ve been told.” The bleeding stemmed. I stuffed the bloody cloth in my backpack and motioned to the computer tech on his wrist. “Fancy.”
“Yes, quite. It’s standard issue here.”
“For what? Where did we go?” I turned. And stumbled. Not from exhaustion, but shock.
Eros swept a dramatic arm. “Welcome to Novo.”
We stood in a glass enclosed garden, cool and moist, on a high balcony that overlooked an incredible compound. Outside the walls was an endless harsh, desert landscape, uninhabited but for low-lying shrubs and tall cacti. Mountains dotted one end of the far horizon, while in the other direction large rock formations the color of deep rust jutted toward the sky. A bird of prey with an impressive wingspan circled above looking for his its next meal.
Nearby, an air-strip shimmered as the heat lifted off the tarmac. Around it were several large metal airplane hangars painted the color of the surrounding sand. A small plane taxied in and parked itself near a few others while a larger jet took off.
Directly below our perch lay a swanky, futuristic resort encapsulated within miles of high adobe walls. The tinted glass I looked through blocked the harshest rays of the scorching sun.
Novo was a true oasis nestled in a hot, arid land. Parts of the huge complex even looked like a jungle, so many tropical plants, flowers blooming, and crystal blue pools. The main building towered at the center with smaller structures nestled amongst the flora and fauna, walkways meandering between or leading to three large pools which boasted lagoons and rock waterfalls. The golf course was a rolling sea of well-manicured green. People strolled, rode carts, swam, lounged, played golf and tennis, painted, even rode horses.
The five-star hotel façade held up until you noticed many guests in their minimalist, white tracksuits having enthusiastic conversations with absolutely no one. Mingling among them or lurking in shadows, watching like hawks, were men and women with the same logoed blazer Eros wore.
“You brought me to the lion’s den!” I gripped both sides of my head to keep it from exploding. “You idiot!”
I ran over and thumped his chest, then ran back to stare below, certain that squads of Sicarius were headed my way. But they weren’t. No one was.