There is time to tell him everything
, she thought as he neared, his black eyes flaring with sultry promise.
Time to find a way to stay with him for good.
He leaned against the dresser, looking proud of himself. The muscles across his chest and in his bulky upper arms flexed and rippled.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she declared, feeling heat move to her most sensitive place.
He lifted first one eyebrow and then the other. “Why, whatever do you mean, Miss Tiades?” he asked in a high-pitched, Southern accent.
“Do not make fun of me, sir!”
“Jules.”
He let the towel fall open at his hips. “I keep telling you—we are way, way past you calling me ‘sir.’”
She dropped her gaze to his groin, eager for what he revealed of his body, but then a strange, tinny noise began from the other side of the room. She turned toward it, jarred, confused.
“Oh, crap.” Ari lumbered across the floor. “Probably River, checking up on my ass.”
“It’s one of those small telegraphs?” she asked. “I didn’t realize it could make such a musical sound.”
“Got a Rolling Stones ringtone. You’ll love their stuff eventually. Although ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ might not be my best choice ever.”
She watched as he picked up his trousers, digging in first one pocket, then another. “One thing you’ll learn about this era, though,” he said, still rooting around, “is that you’re never really alone.”
Finally he retrieved that telegraph—what she now knew was a phone—and placed the device against his ear. “For whom the cell tolls,” he muttered into it. “ ’Sup, River man?”
“So nobody’s seen Ari since this afternoon?” Mason asked Emma, holding the door open so she could step ahead of him onto the sagging veranda of his family’s home.
River followed in their wake, tapping a number into his cell phone. “I’m sure I’ll reach him this time,” he announced, pressing the receiver to his ear, but he didn’t appear convinced. “I hope I will,” he added less certainly, walking out to the balcony’s edge.
They’d been talking about how Ari had gone off the rails while downtown, his power overloading to a dangerous extent—a common reaction these days, they’d explained with obvious concern.
Yeah, well, the guy would likely get a whole lot more unstable now that he’d aligned with a demon, Mace almost revealed, but he held his tongue. He was a lone operator on this one, which meant he had to prove the Djinn’s identity by working the situation like a good recon marine—gathering intel first, then waging a campaign of subtle, aggressive violence based on that data.
“Hey, man! Been trying to reach you,” River announced into the phone exuberantly. Covering the receiver, he whispered, “Got him,” clearly relieved to have located his AWOL friend. He nodded, listening to whatever the Spartan was saying, and moved down to the farthest end of the veranda, where he could talk privately.
“I’m so glad he found him,” Emma said, watching her husband for a long moment, as if she still needed reassurance that Ari was fine and stable, not in danger.
Yeah, Mace got that one. He was worried, too, and could barely restrain the urge to eavesdrop, although that had little to do with Ari’s power problem and everything to do with the female company he was keeping.
Mason turned to face Emma once they were alone. “So,” he ventured, keeping his voice as casual as he could, “what’s Ari’s deal, anyway? Why’s he having these outbursts? Oh, and keep him off
my
Wii, thank you very much,” he added. “Nik finally made me get Rock Band the other day.” He played air guitar, singing “Mississippi Queen.” “Southern rock, dude. I’m there.”
Emma cut her eyes at him. “Don’t let Nik on the drums. It’s like an obsession once he gets going.”
“Oh, trust me, Nikos and Nirvana? Didn’t see that one coming, not from ten clicks away.”
They laughed together, and then he brought the conversation back around. “So, seriously, what’s going on with Ari? He having a cosmic meltdown or what?”
Emma sighed, wrapping her arms about her abdomen in a protective gesture that didn’t quite make sense to him. “He’s really struggling lately,” she explained, her kind face appearing troubled. “Working to internalize the power exchange, learning to live with it . . .” She shook her head, still frowning. “It’s been a lot for him.” Again, she glanced toward River, who was still on the phone. Much lower she said, “There’s been a huge cost. That Ari’s so . . . boisterous? I think that’s made the process harder.”
“Boisterous?”
He snorted, unable to help himself. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
“Exuberant?” she tried with a bigger smile.
He only laughed harder, sidling against the veranda railing, thinking of all the many ways he’d describe Aristos Petrakos. “Let’s see. Wisecracking smart-ass, loudmouthed bastard, irreverent SOB . . .”
She poked him in the chest. “He’s one of my best friends—watch it.”
He directed her finger away, still grinning despite the gravity of the situation. “Are you kidding? He’s a madman, but who doesn’t love that guy?” They all did, with his easy acceptance, no matter who you were, or what you’d done. That was why he had to protect Ari from the Djinn—or at least it was one very compelling reason.
Her eyes grew sad, and she released a heavy sigh. “The thing is,” she continued, “River had
millennia
to grow accustomed to the power. For all we know, it might even have built and increased inside him over time. But when Ari stepped up for us, for River . . . that monumental energy was plopped down inside of Ari’s body in the space of a heartbeat. That was a lot to internalize without any preparation.”
Mason nodded appreciatively. “That’s one helluva big payload delivery; you’re right.”
“River blames himself. He loves Ari like a brother and feels guilty, even though Ari never hesitated. It was such a huge gesture of friendship, and he’s never looked back, but . . . we’re worried for him.”
Mason flashed on Kelly then, the way he’d moved right between him and that demon, eager to offer his own life as protection. Lover, friend, brother—the label didn’t matter. The real people in your life, the ones who would lay themselves in the road for you, never hesitated or debated potential consequences; they just stepped up.
“He’s strong,” Mason reassured her. And he meant it. “Ari’s a Spartan; don’t forget that. He’s disciplined and tough as an oak. He’ll be all right. Just give him some time to, you know, process things.”
But Ari didn’t have that luxury, not with that Djinn having targeted him. This time Mace was the one who had to lay down in the road—do the sacrificing and figure out how to watch everyone’s back. Because one thing was obvious: Ari was just too much in love to see the truth about the female demon’s identity. Mason would protect his friend and get him to understand the facts—and kill the creature before she harmed Aristos.
Quietly he said, “Ari’s good people. That’ll see him through, in the end.”
She lowered her voice confessionally, not quite meeting his eyes. “We think he might even be experiencing some of River’s old berserker issues. Intense stuff, you know?”
She got an embarrassed look right then, and no wonder. He’d heard the stories. There’d only been one way River had ever calmed
those
problems, and it had always involved sex.
Mace lifted an eyebrow significantly but didn’t offer any commentary.
Emma blushed at his unspoken observation, abruptly changing the subject. “Look,” she said. “It’s not just Ari I’m worried about. Are you okay, Mason? How are you doing . . . really doing?”
“Oh, Jesus,” he cursed, shifting away from her slightly. “You’re not gonna start in on me, too, are you?”
She gazed up at him with quiet, caring intensity. “I know things have been hard since your last deployment. I should’ve reached out to you when you got home, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t, but I had my own . . . Well, I had issues. I’m here now, though, and I miss you and I want to know you’re all right. I want to be close again.”
“Yeah, Em, me, too,” he agreed softly, staring at the warped planks of the veranda, way easier than looking into her open eyes. “And for God’s sake, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know what happened over there—”
He cut her off at the pass. “I’m good to go; always have been. Totally frosty.”
Fucking liar
, he thought, assuming an even more obstinate expression as Emma searched his face. He hadn’t slept in more than thirty-six hours, studying demon lore and texts until his eyeballs nearly bled. Plus, it was longer than two days since he’d had a decent night’s rest; the nightmares he’d brought home had been tormenting him every night. But sure, he was dandier than a Georgia peach, righter than a summer rain. Roger that.
Emma was talking again, he suddenly realized, but he’d missed her words, drifted off to his zoned-out place.
“. . . Nikos was concerned about you,” she continued, capturing his attention completely. “I know that you didn’t click with Juliana last night, but she’s awesome, Mason. Really sweet, no matter what our initial concerns might have been.”
Our concerns?
No, those doubts had belonged only to him, but his dear cousin was sensitive enough not to draw attention to his lone-wolf status.
He didn’t have a comeback, not one that wouldn’t open a giant can of worms, a shitload worth of them. So finally she added, “That’s why I told Nikos we’d check on you . . . stop by on the way back from downtown. Just to be sure you’re all right. Nikos was worried,” she reiterated.
Something in the way she said Nik’s name—like it was
the
special calling card, the one that would make him open up completely, had Mason blushing like a fool. He looked away, but Emma caught his arm. “Mason, talk to me,” she encouraged gently. “Please, just tell me what you’re thinking. Right now, this moment.”
They’d been so close at one time, but in the past years, everything between them had been hard work, and he hated that.
He touched her face briefly. “Nikos . . . just overthinks things sometimes.” He forced a laugh. “Get him going on Rock Band later. He’ll stop worrying about me.”
“He doesn’t strike me as much of a worrier,” she said uneasily, stroking her sleek ponytail as she studied him.
He gave her one of his most charming, winning smiles. The kind that had convinced his shrinks at the VA that his depression was gone—when it wasn’t. And that the PTSD attacks had stopped—when they hadn’t. “Darlin’. Please. Y’all gotta stop treating me like I’ve got ten screws loose just ’cause I did a few tours over in that big sandbox from hell.”
She laughed. “Fair enough, cuz.”
“Superkeen, jelly bean,” he said, using one of their childhood expressions.
River seemed to be wrapping up his phone conversation, walking back toward the middle of the porch as he asked, “So where are you staying tonight?” Mason’s ears pricked right up, and he grew alert at River’s next question. “Yeah, dinner
where
on Tybee?”
How utterly romantic; Ari was taking his woman out to the beach.
The guy was clearly in so deep, he couldn’t see the spiritual truth of the situation, or the reality of the demon he was currently wooing.
Mason swore under his breath, but in a very friendly tone he called out, “Tell him the Crab Shack rocks.”
River repeated the recommendation and then turned back to Mason. “Ari says marines must
rock
a lobster bib if that’s your favorite dining establishment.”
Mason smiled despite himself, grabbing his balls with a crude, requisite USMC gesture. “Tell him he can rock these.”
They both laughed, but Mason’s mind was already in overdrive. So was his truck, even though he’d not started the vehicle’s engine yet. He didn’t relish the knowledge that he was going to have to face down Aristos; in fact, it filled him with a heavy sense of dread, right in the center of his belly. But as a marine, one thing he’d always understood was commitment to duty, and in this case that involved protecting Ari from his greatest enemy in this skirmish: his own heart.
Chapter 25
A
ri leaped onto the railing, standing there like a mighty angel overlooking the city of Savannah. A light breeze caught his long hair, blowing it away from his face, and his profile struck her as nothing less than magnificent. His agile strength, his immense stature as he surveyed the evening sky, all of it was breathtaking. In the distance, the sun burst through the clouds, a streaking explosion of red and orange that glowed across his proud face and wings, painting him in shades of flame. He was epic, mythic, the most beautiful man she’d ever looked upon.
His chest was bare, and he wore only his pants and boots, although he’d tied the long-sleeved T-shirt about his waist in preparation for their impending flight. She swallowed hard, trying to imagine dining at a public restaurant, fully aware that she would not be wearing any undergarments. She flushed at the impropriety of it, thinking about the thoughts Aristos might have on his mind as they shared the meal.
Turning along the edge of the rail, Ari extended a hand down toward her. “Now or never, Miss Tiades,” he said gallantly. He unfurled his wings with a flare, which made a kind of rustling noise that shocked her. It was so . . . dangerous, so primal.
She gulped, frozen. Suddenly the Jeep seemed downright tame, and yet the thought of flying in Ari’s arms was far more thrilling. She took a step forward and raised her left hand.
With a firm grasp, he pulled her upward, swinging her lightly into the cradle of his arms . . . right as he stepped into the air.
Immediately she screamed, hiding her face against his chest; she felt his laughter rumble against her cheek. “I would never endanger you, sweetheart. You know that logically.”
“Yes, but I still refuse to look.”
The quiet rush of wind blew across her skin and filled her skirt, causing coolness to waft against the heat in her most intimate area. It was a sensual feeling, one Ari had undoubtedly planned when he’d told her to leave off her lingerie. She was keenly aware of every physical sensation. His muscled chest, the play of its strength with every motion of his wings. She also noticed something surprising as she nuzzled against him: light feathers tickled her cheek.