Gargoyle's Embrace Page 5

  The thought made Octavius’s body harden like stone.

  “Anything…” Charon groaned, sweat glistening on his cheeks and upper body. “Just end this.”

  Petra’s glance met Octavius’s, and she shrugged, her expression growing uncertain. “I find myself caught in my own trap. There are still things I’ve never experienced. And I’m…excited by the thought of you watching. Will you hate me?”

  Again, he wondered how he understood her thoughts, but he shook his head, giving his blessing although she didn’t need it; he hadn’t earned the right to command her. Besides, he had to admit watching her work her sensual magic on another man inflamed him.

  Petra knelt in front of Charon and reached up to stroke Charon’s engorged shaft. “He isn’t as massive as you, gargoyle, but he’s still impressive.”

  “Just get on with it,” Octavius growled, his own sex swelling as he watched her fascinated gaze devour the other male.

  She stuck out her tongue and licked a wet trail up the length of the straining cock then opened her mouth and engulfed the head.

  Charon groaned loudly, and his hips bucked.

  Octavius let go of his arms and reached down to trap the other man’s hips and hold him still while Petra explored, sucking on the cock, her cheeks hollowing as her lips tightened around him.

  Octavius barely restrained his own body, wanted to rut as he watched her eyes close. She bobbed forward and back, her mouth making moist, slippery sounds as she drew on the rigid shaft until at last Charon shouted, and her eyes shot open.

  Octavius let loose a fierce angry growl, knowing she swallowed the other man’s release, but he wasn’t angry with her. He was angry that he couldn’t take his turn with her.

  Not now. Not yet. The shudders racking Charon’s body gentled, and he sagged inside Octavius’s embrace. “Witch,” he said then chuckled softly.

  Petra released him at last, sitting back on her haunches. Her cheeks were reddened, and she bit her lower lip as she met Octavius’s glare. “You’re angry with me.”

  “No,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I’m not angry.”

  Charon laughed. “He’s aroused. I can feel him poking at me. But forget him, your touch is addictive. I would feel it again, witch.”

  Octavius shook him. “You’re under her thrall.”

  Charon snorted. “And you are not?”

  Petra tossed back her hair again. “You’re not at all what I expected the ferryman to be like.”

  Octavius felt his eyebrows rise. He’d thought her clueless about Charon’s true identity.

  Charon snorted. “What? You thought I’d be sour and ratchety?”

  “I thought you’d be old and creepy.”

  Charon turned his head. “Can I pull my trousers up, Tav? I promise, the moment has passed. I won’t attack her.”

  Octavius shoved him away, and then regretted it, because his own cock tented his garment.

  Petra blinked, eyeing the evidence of his arousal, and a small one-sided smile curved her mouth.

  “We haven’t time,” he ground out.

  “Much to his regret, no doubt,” Charon broke in, laughter in his voice.

  “Haven’t you work to do?” Octavius said with a glare.

  Charon’s chest rose around a deep sigh. He bowed at the waist to Petra. “I look forward to your journey back.”

  Although his old friend was the last man he wanted near her again, Octavius certainly hoped she’d get the chance.

  Petra let Octavius drag her down the dock. Her legs felt weak, her stomach fluttery. She couldn’t believe she’d done what she had and was grateful, for once, that only one man seemed immune to her curse.

  She didn’t know what she would have done if her touch hadn’t accomplished most of the work. That she’d been aroused had surprised her. She’d only intended to stroke the boatman’s face and chest until he came but watching Octavius’s expressions, and how tightly he held the other man against him, had worked on her own control.

  Lord, she was becoming a brazen woman. She’d actually fantasized about watching the two men together, about having them both take her. But it had been enough to share Charon’s completion while watching her lover growl and grit his teeth.

  The dock’s covering ended, and suddenly they were standing on the dirt of the opposite bank of the river. The landscape had changed. Gone was the lush forest. When she glanced back, she couldn’t see the other side of the water. Her home was gone.

  Here, the land was arid and rocky. Desolate. Frighteningly so. A mountain of white rock loomed before them.

  “This is where you came from?” she asked in a little voice.

  “Yes. And again, it’s not safe to stand here.”

  Petra didn’t know where the well of strength she found inside herself came from. She ought to be terrified and exhausted. She straightened her shoulders. “What now?”

  Octavius cleared his throat. “Beware of a wild dog. He guards this side.”

  “A dog?” Something sifted through her memory. More of the stories she’d read when she was a child and had nothing better to do because no children played with her. “Are you talking about Cerberus?”

  “Yes. Hades’ pet.”

  A shiver trickled down the center of her back as she remembered the dog had multiple heads—each capable of snapping a man in two. “Hades. He exists?”

  “I exist. Charon exists. Can you still doubt myths have some basis in truth? Come, we have far to travel.”

  “Where to?”

  “Up the mountain.”

  In the distance, they heard a howling, so loud and full a sound she shivered again. “I’m guessing we should run.”

  “No need.” He swept her up against him. “Wrap your arms and legs around me.”

  Eagerly, she accepted his embrace and wrapped herself around his torso. She liked this position, clinging to his body like she had when they’d made love. “We don’t have to worry about the rules here? You can fly?”

  “My land. Ancient rules. We use the weapons we were born with.” He ran several steps, his wings flaring wide then flapping downward, cracking against the air and lifting them upward.

  She ducked her head and pressed her face against his neck. “Don’t drop me.”

  Octavius snorted. “Now, you’re at my mercy. Do you want to bargain?”

  “I’ve already given myself to you,” she said, her voice muffled against his skin.

  “But there are so many ways to please me,” he murmured.

  At his wicked tone, she forgot her fear and leaned back to watch his expressive face. “You liked what I did for him?”

  His jaw tightened. “I hated every second.”

  Interesting. “You hated it only because you were jealous. And yet, you were aroused.”

  “He did not interest me,” he growled.

  Even more interesting was the fact he’d thought of that first. “I think that’s not entirely true.”

  “Why would you come to that conclusion?”

  “Because we are bound somehow. I wanted to watch you with him. You must have been thinking it.”

  Again, he snorted. “The day I bugger a man…”

  She didn’t bother suppressing a smile. “You would want it…with me.”

  His throat worked around a hard swallow, and her grin widened. He was thinking about it now, wondering what it might be like. “You awakened me,” he said roughly, “but have I awakened a lustful creature inside you?”

  “The possibilities seem endless,” she said airily. “With you there to protect me, I can explore.”

  “And as foul a mood as that thought engenders, I find I am intrigued by what thoughts arouse you. But enough for now. We’re here.”

  She leaned away to look down and immediately regretted it. They were still high above the ground. Holding tighter, she waited while he brought them down, landing lightly on the top of the rugged hill beside a building with tall marble columns forming a half-circle, which gleamed
brightly, reflecting light from the large moon above them.

  Octavius set her on her feet then squared his shoulders. “When we get inside, follow my lead. Don’t let them engage you in conversation.”

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You don’t belong here. They shouldn’t show much interest.”

  He preceded her up the stairsteps, leading the way through an open doorway and into an airy, torch-lit interior. All around her, she could only stare. Statuary, as lifelike and detailed in appearance as he had been, stood like sentinels along the outer bounds of the large room. The floor was tiled in mosaic with the figures of three women, one spinning and weaving cloth, another with a long stick, which she used to measure the colorful fabric, and another with shears she employed to snip off stray threads.

  “The Three Fates?” she whispered. Figured. She’d already met Charon, why not the women to whom Zeus sent departed souls for judgment.

  Only Petra wasn’t dead.

  “Octavius,” came a voice from behind them.

  Petra whirled and found a woman dressed in a long gown stepping from behind one of the statues. Her hair was dark; so were her almond-shaped eyes. Her face was free of lines, but something about her expression spoke of maturity. And cunning.

  Octavius stiffened beside her. “Atropos,” he said, his voice even.

  “I’m disappointed, darling Tav,” she said, only her expression showed no disappointment, just a simmering excitement. “We had high hopes for you.” She strode closer, running her fingertips along the edge of one of his wings.

  “I’m hoping for a chance to rectify my mistakes.” Octavius kept his gaze trained straight ahead.

  Petra felt forgotten as the two spoke and was glad of it given the tension radiating from Octavius’s body.

  “It’s already too late,” Atropos said, her lips forming a pout. “The weave of your fate is complete.”

  His fists curled at his sides. “I know Gazsi best. I know what he’s capable of.”

  “Again, it’s too late. The pattern is already changed.”

  His eyes closed briefly, and he nodded. “I have one other matter to bring before the council.”

  Her eyes flickered from him to Petra. Her lips curved. “You’ve brought us a witch.”

  “Still living, breathing. She has no place here.”

  “But you know how he loves to play with the living, to breathe in their fragrance and wallow in their desires. He rarely steps outside this realm these days.”

  “Still, I would seek an audience.”

  Her regal head inclined. “And you may have it. Tonight. Bring her.”

  She walked past them, her fingertips glancing along his arm as she left, her body vanishing, fading before she’d taken three steps past them.

  Petra’s next breath was no less relieved than Octavius’s appeared to be.

  They continued through the large room toward an open doorway at the back. Sounds of music, the bustle of people, so normal, but so unnatural for this mystical place, drifted through the doorway. They entered a village with rows of connected buildings, brightly painted doorways, cobbled streets. Torches in sconces lit the path.

  “Where are we going?”

  “If we’re lucky, somewhere to rest and bathe. And I need clothing.”

  “I suppose you do. Although I don’t think going naked here would cause any concern.” Her gaze followed a naked young man who hurried past them carrying a large urn on one shoulder.

  “He’s not naked out of choice but from lack of status. He has to earn shelter and clothing.”

  “What does he do to earn it?”

  “You don’t really want to know, do you? Do you know where we are?”

  “Charon traverses the river Styx, which borders Hades’ realm. So, we’re in Hell.”

  “One region. This land has had many names. The ruler many faces. We’re going to see the master himself.”

  “Should I be worried?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “You had a mission on earth.”

  “I was tethered to Taob. It was my duty to protect him and to be a damper on his powers. He wasn’t a particularly frightening demon.” His gaze landed on Petra. “He had the power to incite love.”

  Petra’s jaw dropped. “He lived in my father’s house?”

  “Your father might have lived there and never known he shared the space. They might never have met—unless Taob wished to show himself.”

  “He was responsible for my curse!”

  Octavius shrugged. “Probably. But likely not out of cruelty. Taob would have considered it a gift.”

  Petra shook her head. “You said you were tethered…”

  “I accepted an invitation from a Nephilim to enjoy a rare night out in New Orleans. He escaped me, drugged me.”

  “He went back to the house.”

  “Yes.” Octavius closed his eyes. “He killed my charge, Taob.”

  “And this Nephilim…?”

  “Gazsi…” He drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. “He’s a mixed-blood angel condemned to walk the Earth. They are permitted to trifle with humans but not to interfere in any significant way. He’d have gone unnoticed, except that he began to seek other creatures whose power he took by force. I was warned to keep an eye on him but ended up befriending him. He betrayed me.”

  “Which landed you in Richard’s garden.”

  Octavius nodded. “Where I would have stayed until my body eroded away, and I was no more.”

  Petra reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad I was there to prevent that.”

  His chest lifted on a deep inhalation. His mouth slid into a wry half-smile. “It might have been kinder to have left me there.”

  Petra slowed her pace. “You’re scaring me. Will Hades keep you here?”

  “I’ll be punished.”

  “Fire and brimstone kind of punishment?”

  “That’s a Christian view, but it has some merit.”

  Petra swallowed hard, finally realizing the trouble they were in. “What about me?”

  “I hope that he’ll do right by you and return you to your realm.”

  A chill caused goose bumps to prickle on her arms. Octavius’s expression grew darker, more remote. She kept silent, sensing he needed to gather his thoughts for the coming confrontation.

  They followed the path out of the village where it wound downward, following the slope of a valley. At the very bottom, they stood at the center of what looked like a quarry. Stone cliffs, carved and jagged, rose high all around them. The ground beneath their feet was filled with shards of shattered rock and stone dust. Caves like dark, hungry mouths lined the bottom of the silvery cliffs.

  “This one,” he said, leading the way toward the one lying at the lowest spot in the valley. The cave opening was small, unimpressive, but as she entered it, a gust of hot air blew over her, tearing at her hair.

  “Keep moving. You won’t be roasted. I promise,” he said with a tight smile.

  She followed his footsteps through a long stone tunnel in unrelieved darkness, only the crunch of his feet on the uneven floor to guide her.

  A reddish glow grew brighter at the end of the tunnel, welcoming them into a room that seemed crudely fashioned for a creature that was viewed as a god, perhaps even the Satan of Christian lore.

  A large fire pit dominated the center of the room. Small boulders formed a ring around it with metal fittings in the ceiling above and sunk into rocks ringing the pit. It was a crude smelter of sorts, she guessed, from the number of implements resting in the hot fire.

  Toward the back of the cave, a nearly naked, black-haired man labored, his back as broad as her gargoyle’s, his arms even more impressive, his ass completely bared. As he turned, she admired the rest of him. Everywhere she looked was bronze skin, stretched tightly over thick, bulging muscle. An apron fashioned from squares of thin, hammered metal hung from his waist, no doubt to protect his sex from flying embers and held up by a thick leather cord. />
  The man drew a sword from the fire. The metal glowed a deep orange-red. He raised the tip, pointed it at Octavius, and traced a path from his breast bone down his belly, an inch from his skin.

  Petra held her breath at his expression—narrowed eyes, flared nostrils, lips pressed together in a thin line.

  Octavius didn’t flinch.

  Black, frightening eyes glared. “I should open you here,” Hades said softly. “Spill your guts on the floor. You’ve disappointed me. Disappointed all of us.”

  Octavius’s jaw worked, a muscle flexing along the side. He bowed his head.

  Petra stepped beside him, drawing the large man’s gaze.

  A thick dark brow rose in a wing-like arc. “Are you trying to protect him?”

  She opened her mouth, but his fierce expression halted the words. “I don’t want him harmed,” she said at last, her voice barely a whisper.

  “You’re brave.” His gaze flickered over her body. “And gifted, or so Charon claims.”

  She lifted her chin. “Charon’s an ass.”

  Those dark eyes bored steadily into her now.

  Then she noted the shape of the pupils, barely distinguishable against the inky irises—they were slitted.

  “Are you angry because he told?” he asked, his mouth twisting in a snarl. “We’re all gossips. How else would humans know our history, or our version of it, anyway? We tend to embellish.”

  His words might have sounded charming, ingratiating coming from anyone else, but spoken in his uninflected tone, his deep bass rumbling and causing dust to filter from the ceiling, she could only quiver. Because she hated showing fear, she squared her shoulders. “I thought Hephaestus ran the forge.”

  Hades scowled. “He does. This is a hobby.”

  “Milord, she doesn’t belong here,” Octavius said quietly.

  The man’s gaze flickered over her. “No, she doesn’t. But she did commit a transgression. An amusing one, but she earned punishment just the same.”

  “She should be returned.”

  “And she will. In time. But we have other matters to attend. More important than the disposition of this woman.” Hades’ gaze swept her from head to toe. Then he turned to Octavius—a hint of challenge in the tilt of his chin. “Leave her in my hands.”