* * *
The god who popped into existence in my living room after my brunch with Bill and Lily epitomized the word. Wavy black hair fell to Ares’ shoulders. His unadorned blood red t-shirt emphasized the sharp plains of his chest and the ripples of his abs. Black jeans hugged his lower body in all the right places. I gave him credit for trying to fit in with twenty-first century life, but he couldn’t be subtle no matter how hard he tried.
He was basically sex on a stick.
Framed by his neatly trimmed moustache and beard, his full lips quirked into a cocky grin. “So you decided to accept my offer, Samantha.”
Not even a fucking question. He really believed every female, no matter whether Normal or supernatural persuasion, should drop her panties at his request. He was that sure of himself.
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest and gave my best evil eye. “Didn’t Phil tell you why I wanted to meet you?”
He chuckled. “Females often prevaricate in order to experience my particular skills.” With each word, he took a swaggering step toward me.
“I’m not lying,” I ground out between my clenched jaws. He was too damn close. Exuded too much sensuality. “I need answers to my questions.”
He reached behind my head for my ponytail and playfully yanked it. “What will you give me in return for your answers?”
Anxiety and lust shuddered through me. It was worse than I imagined a vampire’s mojo would feel like. Annoyance at being manipulated in such a manner cracked whatever spell or influence he aimed at me. My irritation welled, and I smacked him with a psychic bolt.
My combination telepathic/telekinetic stunt knocked him backwards. He landed on his well-formed ass. The floor shivered under my feet. Not sure if it was him or me that caused the vibration, I wondered if I had started something that I couldn’t finish.
Again.
“If all you’re going to do is play games, then leave.” I tried to keep my voice level, but I’m sure I wore my bitch scowl on my face.
Ares climbed to his feet, but didn’t look pissed as I expected. His steady gaze held me, but none of the earlier leering quality lay in his expression. “This is why you need a more suitable mate.” He gestured at the scuff on the carpet where he had landed. “You would have killed the vampire.”
I quelled my shiver of fear. No sense in giving Ares any more ammunition. “I’ve smacked Duncan with a psy-bolt before. Worst thing I did was give him a headache.”
“Your strength is growing, my lady.” Ares shoved his hands in his pockets. The non-threatening gesture didn’t make me any less worried about what he could do. “Yes, you knocked me down, but you would’ve sent the vampire through the glass.” He tilted his head toward the huge plate windows and sliding doors to the terrace behind him. The terrace filled with bright noon sunshine. “He wouldn’t survive Apollo’s rays, much less the impact on the concrete below us.”
Was that the real reason Duncan avoided our bed last night? Did he know how strong I was becoming? Did his Elizabethan sensibilities object to the reversal of our roles? He’d been the one watching my back since the day I died and became…
What? Every time I got a handle on the things happening to my mind and body, someone offered a new theory.
And I really hated the latest theory.
I cleared my throat. “Would you like something to drink?”
Ares’ smirk returned. “Wine.”
My irritation returned. “It’s too fucking early for wine. You’ll take a soda and love it.”
“Of course, my lady.”
His faux politeness stoked my temper while I stomped into the kitchen. I pulled two colas out of the fridge and managed to suppress the urge to shake his so it exploded in his face.
Except I was shaking it slightly, not on purpose, when I returned and handed it to him. The reality of the answers I’d been denying for the last four months prompted what could only be an anxiety attack. My breath came in short rapid pants. Sweat prickled along my neck. This wasn’t Ares’ doing. Why the hell weren’t the nanites compensating for my nerves?
“Would you like to sit down?” I waved toward the couch.
He sprawled across the upholstery as if he owned Las Vegas. I perched on the edge of the matching plush armchair and busied my fingers with opening my can. Carbon dioxide hissed as it escaped from its aluminum prison, but no foam overflowed.
From Ares’ disappointed expression, he’d expected me to sit next to him on the sofa. He took a drink from his can before he said, “I still expect payment for my assistance.”
The exasperated exhalation that escaped from me matched the sounds I often heard Duncan make when he was at his wits’ end with something idiotic I had done. “Sex is off the table.”
Ares’ smile shifted into another cocky grin. “Personally, I prefer a bed.”
“No sex at all.” I glared at him. Or tried to. His wicked humor and dark hair would be my undoing. They were the very same things that attracted me to my ex Jake and my current Duncan.
My mental state wasn’t helping my resistance to him. After spending years photographing, and resisting, the most gorgeous men on the planet while I worked for one of the top tabloids, I had thought I’d been picky. But since I’d died, I felt like a werewolf in heat. When I had asked Bebe about my revved-up libido, she admitted that it corresponded with my revved-up everything else thanks to the damn nanites. Deep down, I had believed I wouldn’t hurt Duncan by cheating on him, no matter how my hormones tried to convince me otherwise. But it was getting harder and harder to keep my impulses under control.
All of my impulses.
I focused on Phil’s threat to put my speed healing to the test by shoving a grenade down my throat for even thinking of doing her dad. She’d made that point perfectly clear on the phone, even if he was the one chasing me.
It wasn’t my fault if Ares mojo’d me, was it?
Aluminum crackled beneath my fingertips. Maybe I needed to focus on other things I really cared about. Like my unborn niece.
“I can be your personal shopper for Tiffany’s baby.”
Ares snorted in derision. “You believe I cannot provide for my foster granddaughter?”
“I think Cerberus is a totally inappropriate choice for a mortal child’s puppy,” I shot back.
Glass in the windows and pictures frames hummed in response to his laughter. “Not even I would be that foolish.”
“Then there’s my mother,” I added. “You want to have access to Tiffany and her baby? You’re going to need me to get through her. This is the woman who had no problem taking on the zombies that invaded my brother’s wedding. Not to mention, she bitched out three ancient vampire coven masters in the hospital afterward. Mom’s not going to cut you any slack because you’re a god.”
Ares’ right eyebrow lifted. “And if I simply remove her?”
“If you came to me with that proposal while I was still alive, you would have had a deal.” I shrugged. “Now that I’m dead, I found myself a little more forgiving when it comes to her behavior. So if you do anything to her, I’ll have to knock you on your ass again.” Somehow, I managed to keep “well-formed” out of that statement.
“How does my treating your mother with deference correlate to a favor given by you?”
“I’m smoothing the path, remember? If you want to do something stupid, oh, like give the baby a present that will cause her harm, let’s say a Golden Apple from the garden of the Hesperides, that’s your fault, and Mom will find a way to take you out.”
I took a sip of my soda, watching for his reaction. For all the stories about him not being the brightest of the Olympians, I got the impression his moronic playboy behavior was mainly an act.
“I’ll accept your offer with one condition—”
The carbonation in my stomach cavorted with my stomach acid to produce an uncomfortable sensation. “Yes?”
“I accompany you on this shopping trip.”
The vision of the Greek god of war holding my purse while I looked for onesies triggered an unfortunate response. I started laughing hysterically. Somehow, I managed to set my cola on the coffee table before I dropped it, but despite my best efforts, I could only tamper the sounds down to random guffaws.
Ares scowled. “And why do you find the thought of my company so amusing?”
“Because I can’t imagine you doing the things for me that Duncan would do on a shopping trip,” I said between snorts.
“And what do you think a vampire could accomplish at a market that I could not?” From the sparks in Ares’ eyes and the red flush creeping up his neck, I’d pushed him too far.
With a strength of will I didn’t think I had, I managed to sober myself. “First of all, he carries my bags.”
“Done.”
“He pays for everything.”
“Of course.” The wicked smirk was back.
“And he does it without complaining or whining.”
A scowl chased the smirk off Ares’ face. “Are you calling me a sniveler with no backbone?”
“Are you saying a vampire can do something you can’t?”
“No.” His tone was the same as a pissed-off werewolf. I should know. I’ve done my share of pissing off weres.
“Do we have an agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Swear by the River Styx.”
That jolted him out of his anger. “You cannot be serious! You want me to swear our most sacred oath over a shopping expedition for baby gifts?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not just the shopping and you know it. I help you with handling Mom and selecting the baby presents. In return, you answer my questions.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Fully and truthfully,” I added. Maybe Colin’s negotiation lessons were sinking into my robot-laden brain. “And absolutely no sexual innuendos, suggestions or touching of any kind whatsoever.”
Ares was silent for so long I thought he would disagree and leave. “Did you destroy the roses I sent?”
His question was so unexpected, his voice so quiet, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. The potted rose bush with twelve perfect, ebony blooms had been my first gift. The Normal girl from housekeeping who’d brought it to my office was still on personal leave, but at least she was out of the hospital. I was the only person the plant wouldn’t attempt stab with its thorns.
“No.”
“Where are they?”
“In my safe where they won’t try to drink anyone else’s blood.” I tried not to think about the special vault in the basement. When the city had been first built, it had been a safe house for vampires immigrating to Las Vegas. Later, it became a prison for rogues. I hated going into that vault. The stench of death and despair smelled better to me than the Karnak chef’s molten lava cake.
And that scared the piss out of me.
Concern creased Ares’ forehead. “Aren’t you feeding them?”
“That thing drinks blood!”
“Of course.” He actually looked confused at my revulsion. “Can you not conceive of a better gift from a god of war to a goddess of death?”
“I’m not—”
He looked at me askance.
The denial died on my lips, but I still wasn’t ready to say the truth aloud. I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not in the market for a boyfriend, Ares, and I already have one fiancé, which is plenty. This is why I want you to swear on the River Styx concerning our deal.”
The sorrow in his expression made me want to cry. Somehow, I knew his emotion had nothing to do with me turning him down or my insistence on his oath concerning our deal. “Ox blood. If you are unwilling to feed my gift human blood, then feed it ox blood.”
Would the damned plant even leave if I gave the potted roses back to him? I’d read enough Greek mythology to know that gifts, or curses, from the gods couldn’t be returned. Only amended.
With the supernatural races, I was learning there was always a grain of truth within their stories. I nodded once. “Thanks for the info. Now about our deal—”
He blew out a deep breath, and I suppressed a smile. It seemed I exasperated every male I encountered.
“How do I know you will keep you side of the bargain?”
I shrugged. “You can always ask Phil to be your enforcer. She’s already threatened to use a grenade to disembowel me if I sleep with you.”
“Is that why you won’t—”
“No!” The walls of the penthouse shivered in response to my shout, and a hairline crack appeared above the kitchenette. Great. Now I needed to call maintenance, and they would tell Duncan, and he’d ask what happened, and…
I cleared my throat. “Do I need to repeat my terms?”
“When?” Ares looked too damn amused by my discomfiture.
I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. Best to get this over with. “I’ve got time tomorrow afternoon to shop.”
He leaned forward, not predatory, but pretty damn close. “Then I get to choose the place.” He surprised me by naming the department store at the Beverly Center where Max and Tiffany had registered, though the registry itself was probably my mom’s idea.
As much as I dreaded spending any more time alone with him than necessary, maybe a trip to Los Angeles would sooth my fractured emotional state. I nodded. “As long as you answer my questions here and now.”
“Agreed.” He leaned back against the couch.
I cough not so discreetly, and he rolled his eyes.
“I swear by the River Styx that I will answer all your questions for the next three hours, fully and truthfully in exchange for you spending an equal three hours in my company tomorrow where we will partake of the midafternoon meal and purchase appropriate gifts for my foster granddaughter. I also swear I will carry all packages, as well as Lady Samantha’s purse with no complaints. Satisfied?” His expression dared me to disagree.
“Yes. Thank you,” I added. “Shall we begin?”
* * *
Max’s right toe tapped a nervous rhythm against the kitchen tile of Caesar’s mansion while Bebe perched on a chair next to him and examined the new adornment on his wrist. “Well?”
“I think you’re picking up some of Tiffany’s less endearing habits.” She glanced up at him. “Do I need to give you a sedative, or will a kick in the shins suffice?”
With monumental effort, he stilled his foot. “Can you get it off?”
She shook her head, brunette curls swaying. “No.” She leaned back, but kept her hand over his. “Describe this person again.”
He repeated his impressions of his visitor. “He’s the same guy that appeared in one of the candid shots at the zombie-interrupted ceremony, minus the tissue stuffed up his nose while at my office, but no one remembers him being there. Do you have any idea of who it is?”
“Now I do.” She pursed her lips, rose from the kitchen chair, and strode through the swinging door.
Max jumped to his feet and raced after her. She’d already disappeared from the foyer, but from the sharp clicks of her heels, Bebe was headed down the hall toward her, well, magick lab was the only thing he could think of to call Caesar’s former conservatory.
The heavy drapes were pulled back from the huge windows when he walked into the room. A scarlet Persian carpet highlighted with gold threads covered the black, white and gray marble floor. Antique birch chairs and tables sat on the thick wool. Bebe examined the contents of the floor-to-ceiling shelves along the back wall.
When Max crossed over the gigantic silver pentacle underneath the carpet, tingles radiated from the strange watch along his skin. Most people didn’t know about the metal embedded into the marble and hidden by the carpet. Knowing the ring was there and actually feeling the power added to his fear.
Bebe glanced up from the tome she’d pulled off the shelf. Her lips tilted down as her gaze traveled from the floor to him and back. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“‘Interesting’ is not the word I’d chose.” The instant he stepped out of the silver circle the electric sensation along his arm disappeared.
She turned the book so he could see the page she was looking at. “Is this him?"
The woodcut had to have been close to two centuries old, but the resemblance was uncanny. Max nodded. “Who is it?”
“Baron Samedi. One of Voudon loas of death.”
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