Wave of Memories: The Sons of the Zodiac (9 page)

He refused the bait. “I’m sure your immortality can withstand the torture.”

Heavy, awkward silence replaced the jovial air and Drake bent to review his cards and pull together the chips for his bet. Within a few hands the women got bored and disappeared to have their own bonding time and then he waited a few more hands to make his leaving as inconspicuous as possible.

“I’m heading up.”

“Drake? You sure you don’t want to try and win that grand back from me? It’d be a shame to let me keep it without a fight.” Brody’s voice boomed even as his smile was forced.

Drake snagged one last beer from the cooler. “Nah, consider it a favor. Especially since it looks like your wife just spent it on shoes.”

Five minutes later, he found himself wandering up to the top floor of the house where they maintained an observatory. Long and narrow, it ran the roof of the brownstone and offered a clear view of the sky.

Through an elaborate set of physics having something to do with astral planes he had no earthly clue how to understand, the observatory wasn’t actually visible to anyone who might be staring at the roof. The brownstone’s simultaneous cohabitation on both the island of Manhattan and Mount Olympus ensured it was not only far larger than it looked, but that much of what made it a fortress for he and his brothers made it invisible to the average human.

Drake’s gaze was drawn unerringly to the Pisces constellation, where it bound the twinned fish together in the sky. No matter how disillusioned he grew with the depraved actions of humanity, he always found comfort in the proof of what he was.

The balance in the heavens Themis used so many millennia ago in her Great Agreement with Zeus. That same balance that allowed a disparate group of men—all with different strengths, skills and abilities—to work together on her behalf.

To save the humans worth saving.

He didn’t know why he was drawn there this evening, but couldn’t argue with the impulse once he sat breathing in the night air, watching the stars.

Long ago, before technology had made their lives both easier and harder, he and his brothers could communicate with each other through the stars simply by using the ink that marked their bodies. Now, their sat phones did the communicating and the night sky was just something nice to look at.

“I thought I saw you head up here.”

Drake ignored the voice in favor of a deep drag on his longneck.

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

He kept his gaze on the stars, but his voice was easy when he finally spoke. “Don’t worry about it, Ilsa.”

“It’s no excuse, but I still haven’t mastered that fine art of knowing when to shut the hell up.”

Drake turned to look at her and saw the tense lines that bracketed her mouth. No matter how heavy the urge to brood, he couldn’t stay mad at that winsome face with the sky-blue eyes. He knew what it had taken for her to begin to feel a part of their lives after her betrayal by Zeus, followed by endless millennia of soul-hunting for Hades.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing her thoughts before they tumbled out in a rush as if she couldn’t help herself. “We’re only curious because she makes you happy.”

“Happy?” What a joke that was. And even if it were true, he sure as hell couldn’t find a way to return the favor.

If he made her happy, he’d have an armful of witch on his lap right now as he played poker, all the while imagining her clad in her own pair of fuck me pumps later in the evening.

“You can’t possibly see what I see,” he muttered on a harsh laugh.

“What’s that?”

“A woman who wants nothing to do with me.”

Ilsa moved forward until she stood next to him along the narrow wall that made up the edge of the observatory. “She wants a whole lot to do with you, Drake. More than a lot, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“Let’s just say I suck at social pleasantries, but I spent an awfully long time observing people. And I know what I see when I look at the two of you.”

“What’s that?”

“Sorry cowboy, I’m not letting you off that easy. Besides,” she flashed the wicked grin he’d come to associate with her, “I think you already know.”

Before he could reply, Ilsa flounced toward the staircase at the edge of the roof hollering over her shoulder as she went. “Sorry to rush off, but I’ve got a pair of heels to go break in.”

Drake wanted to stay mad. He knew he did. But the wiggling ass that flashed her good-bye at him was too much to keep him in a dour mood.

Resuming his position at the end of the roof, he let his gaze drift toward the house next door. Brownstones lined the observatory on either side, but front and back were edged with a half wall that allowed him to look over into the backyards up and down their block. His breath caught in his throat as his sights settled next door.

Emerson stood fully naked, her arms stretched toward the sky. She moved in long, sensuous motions, her sleek body exposed to his gaze like an offering. His own body tightened in response, the sheer beauty of her striking him on a visceral level he was powerless to resist.

And helpless to ignore.

Fascinated, he stood and watched her. She was so private—so closed off from him in every way except sexually—that the opportunity to observe her without her knowledge was far too large a temptation to resist.

So he simply stood and drank her in.

One enchanting moment spun into the next as she moved through what he could only assume was a prayer. Her voice floated up to him in small snatches as she used her entire body in offering, moving through the ritual that encompassed her worship. Long slender fingers spread something from a pouch while the muscles of her thighs kept her balance as she moved through a series of complicated poses.

The long column of her throat caught the moonlight as her head fell back, and he imagined himself pressing his lips there, drinking in the hot scent of her as it mixed with the light summer breeze that swirled through the air.

On a muttered curse, he took a long drag on his beer, draining the bottle in a desperate effort to cool the raging ardor that filled him.

Gods, how he wanted this woman. His body burned for her in more ways than he could count.

He craved the opportunity to hold her tucked against his heart and he yearned to talk with her at the end of each day, their words full of the everything and the nothing that made up daily life. He wanted her for his partner—that glorious knowledge his every thought, every need, every want was safe with her.

Gods damn it all
.

His fingers dug into the concrete ledge of the half wall as he fought the rising emotions that threatened to swamp him like a ship at sea. Desire was a harsh and punishing taskmaster, and it was having a fucking field day with his emotions.

Unlike his fellow warriors, his Pisces blood ensured he didn’t equate getting in touch with his softer side as emotional emasculation. Fuck it all, he was
sensitive
and he still knew how to put his proverbial boots on.

And the damned woman had thrown it all back in his face.

The anger he’d managed to set aside after talking with Ilsa reared up again. Restless and needy, he turned away from the sight of Emerson in her ritual and took long, deep breaths as he struggled to find some of the calm he was known for. The slamming of his heart against his chest slowed and his tight grip on the bottle relaxed as the seconds ticked off, one by one.

Satisfied he’d regained some semblance of control, Drake turned and set the bottle on the ledge of the half wall. He’d talk to Emerson later—he had to. These reactions weren’t like him and he wasn’t content any longer to take the scraps she offered like a hungry dog.

He had feelings for her and he had things he wanted to say.

Resolved, Drake reached for his bottle, determined to leave her to her private moments. As his gaze caught on her beautiful form once more, a slight movement in his periphery caught his attention.

Cloaked in shadow, a large man skulked along the edge of the fence that rimmed Emerson’s backyard. As Drake focused on him fully, the asshole took hold of the top of the fence and pulled himself up to climb over.

Without conscious thought Drake threw himself into a port. Before he could even hear the bottle in his hand shatter on the concrete of the roof, he’d closed the distance between the warriors’ roof and Emerson’s backyard. On a loud battle cry, Drake slammed himself into the large form that dropped into the grass, his only intent to reach Emerson.

*  *  *

Emerson’s eyes popped open on the loud shout that echoed toward her from the far side of the backyard. On a scream of her own, she dropped her arms from where she’d had them lifted toward the sky. Two large figures skirmished at the edge of the yard, their grunts evident even from where she stood.

On a muttered oath Emerson moved forward, her fingers already itching with the need to spew fire.

And nearly forgot the sacred circle she stood in.

“Damn it.” With a quick, efficient movements, Emerson dissolved the circle she’d created at the start of her ritual and took off for the grunting, heaving mass that knocked against the fence. She caught sight of Drake’s large form, the reassuring size of him sending a shot of warmth through her belly.

What was he doing here?

And what the hell—?

She screamed again and leapt toward both of them as Drake rolled his opponent onto his back.

“Drake! No!”

More grunts assailed her and she knew she was risking a hit by a stray elbow, but she waded in anyway. “Drake! Get off of him.”

When her voice still didn’t register, she did the only thing she knew how.

Extending her hands, she let the waiting heat flow out of her fingers as a stream of fire rimmed the struggling duo in a circle of flame.

“What the—?” Drake looked up, but the movement cost him. A heavy fist slammed into his jaw.

Before he could retaliate, Emerson pulled back the fire and let out another scream. “Magnus!”

The haze of battle filled Drake’s green eyes and it was only as she ran toward him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders that some of the warrior dissolved from those orbs. The iron set of his shoulders relaxed slightly under her hands as his breathing slowed.

“Drake. It’s okay.”

“What the hell is this, Em?” Magnus’s loud voice echoed over her shoulder, carried on the night air.

Drake’s arms tensed immediately and his hands gripped her waist to move her out of the way. “You know him?”

“Magnus!” Emerson hollered over her shoulder. “Shut the fuck up for a minute and go stand over there.”

“Em—”

“Over. There,” she shot back through gritted teeth, unwilling to break eye contact with Drake. “Drake?”

His hands still spanned her hips and Emerson was increasingly aware of her naked body pressed against his. That familiar magic—as old as time and more powerful than any other force on earth—settled low in her stomach as wet heat pooled between her thighs.

She
so
could not do this right now.

Drake broke his gaze from her to watch Magnus along the length of the yard. “Who the fuck is that?”

“My brother.”