So Tempting (8 page)

But he showed absolutely no sign of recognizing her. There were the masks to consider, however. She looked at the ornate silver ring again, its design intricate and unclear from this distance.

Memory slammed into her. Hands sliding over her breasts, fingers trailing up her thighs...

"Detective?"

Jesus
. "What?"

Still he appeared only bored and slightly impatient. "Is there anything else?"

Jace gathered her wits. "Not at the moment, but I'd like to be able to call upon you again, if I may."

"Certainly." He nodded with an aristocrat's grace and rose from his chair.

On the way to the door, Jace's attention was captured by an unusual mask comprised of glossy black feathers on a glass-smooth base, striking in its design.

He noticed and gestured.
 
"The Mask of the Dark Priestess, worn by a chosen person in each generation of a matrilineal tribe in a remote part of the Amazon basin." He picked it up carefully and set it in her hands.

"Amazing." So light.

"Surprising in its elegance, is it not?"

She nodded. "I guess I thought primitive tribes would make things that were—"

"Crude?"

Abashed, Jace nodded. "Yes." She examined the object gingerly, then handed it back.

Their hands grazed.

Abruptly, Jace was cast into darkness so deep her body seized in naked terror. She couldn't breathe. She screamed soundlessly.

He turned to the case.

Jace plummeted right back into the moment.

He replaced the mask as though nothing at all had happened. "Would you like to know its purpose?"

Jace sucked in air. Blinked.

He looked over his shoulder at her. Their eyes locked.

A faint, shimmering trail beckoned her, surrounding her body and his, then journeying beyond them.

His eyes narrowed. "Are you all right?" He stood only inches from her.

"Yes—yes, of course." Jace fought the urge to shift away. "The, uh, the mask. Its purpose."

For a second he didn't answer, his gaze peering deep into her but revealing no trace of emotion.

Then he returned his attention to the mask

She felt as though she'd hovered at the edge of a cliff and barely avoided plunging over.

"It is used in a ceremony where the Priestess brings the young men of the tribe into the Light," he explained. "She does so by drawing them into her body."

Into the Light
...something about that phrase tickled at her memory.

The image of a powerful woman wearing that feathered mask, sexually initiating one young man after another, seared into her brain. Jace shifted her eyes to a nearby niche while she composed herself. In it she glimpsed a carved clay pot, a beadwork vest, a silver disc that—

"Anything else, Detective?" His tone was barely leashed impatience.

"No." She extended her hand. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Sabanne."

"You are welcome."

When his skin touched hers, she fell into a starburst. Colors exploded from beneath her skin.

Desperately she tightened her grip on him, a primal lunge for survival.

He let go, and she plunged back into his study.

She rocked on her feet, struggling for balance. The hair on her neck rose. What the—?

His expression was a study in unconcern, but his eyes...

As quickly as it had come, the flare winked out. "I will escort you to the door, Detective."

Jesus. Get a grip, Jace.
She set her back ramrod-straight and fisted her fingers. "Thank you, but I know the way." With rigid care, she managed her way across the room and out the door.

Feeling his eyes on her back every step of the journey.

* * *

Dante remained frozen in place as she left.

He recognized her, of course, even so changed from the other night when he'd visited The Club, disturbed by the rumors about a girl's death. When he'd encountered Simon there and been accosted by his former lover Antonia, he'd known that his fears were not unfounded.

But this...

He'd searched the world to find any reference to the Prism his father had mentioned to him as a young man. He'd pored through ancient texts, sought the wisdom of holy men, unearthed every writing on magic he could find, all to no avail.

Yet somehow, at the instant they'd touched, the beautiful detective had opened the portal.

And the True Path had been visible.

Did she hear the Song, too? Never before had he heard the notes so clearly.

But the second they'd ceased contact, every trace had vanished. It had been all he could do not to seize her and spirit her to his refuge, to speak the Words, to take her with him.

But she'd seemed utterly shocked. Terrified, actually.

Could she not know? Was it possible that she...

So much was at stake. He was the last of the Light Walkers, and the balance of the world teetered. He could right it by walking the True Path as he'd been born to do...but without the Eye of the
Magos
, he was blind.

The dark sludge, the filthy tentacles... Evil was near. Darkness hovered, waiting for him to make a mistake. The True Path was disappearing...was this woman the key? Did she know it? He had to speak to her, determine what she knew, but if she knew nothing?

Carefully. Proceed slowly.

Be still for now.

Wait.

He was so tired of waiting, of searching fruitlessly.

If only he could abandon who he was. What he was born to do.

I sense that you will be one of the few Guardians who will attain full power when you find your Prism, the one whose heart speaks to yours.

But he'd had his great love, and she was lost to him. His heart had grown cold and his powers diminished, his faith all but vanished.

Yet now...after so many years with no hope...

Could this unlikely woman be the key?

Chapter Six

"What a pleasant surprise."

Startled, Cassie looked up from her book to see Markos Petrakis. "Um, hello."

He gestured to her outdoor table. "May I join you? I wouldn't want to interrupt your reading."

She closed the book with a snap. "No, please—sit with me. This is nothing important. Just a way to avoid boredom."

He cocked one elegant eyebrow and smiled. "I can't imagine having the energy of youth and ever being bored." Gesturing toward her coffee cup, he asked, "Would you allow me to buy you another?" Lifting one hand in a negligible gesture, he nonetheless had a waitress there in an instant.

"The young lady would like another..."

"Cappuccino," Cassie supplied.

"And for me as well," he smiled at the woman, then turned back toward Cassie. "So tell me, how does someone so young allow herself to become listless? All of life is before you."

"Tell that to my jailer," she muttered.

"And who might that be?"

Cassie cut a glance over at him, chewing her lower lip. "I...you might know him."

"And would that be so bad?"

"It would if you told him I was at your party the other night. I used his invitation."

He threw back his head and laughed, white teeth gleaming, strong throat undulating with each chuckle. Cassie couldn't help smiling back.

Amusement still shining in his eyes, he prodded. "I have wondered why you were there. Not precisely your sort of gathering."

"It was pretty lame—oh. Sorry. I just...it was different than I thought it would be."

One bushy eyebrow lifted. "Would you care to hear a secret?"

"Sure." She liked him this way, sparkling and full of mischief.

Markos leaned closer, voice lowering. "I found it somewhat tedious myself."

Cassie giggled. "Then why did you invite all of them?"

He sighed. "Sometimes one has certain responsibilities that cannot be evaded."

Wow, maybe he could know how she felt, at least a little. "So those weren't all your friends?"

"Not really."

"Everyone acted as if I was just a kid." She glanced up, shy now. "Except you, that is."

He gave a faint nod. "You were also a surprise. Quite a refreshing one, actually."

They shared the smile of conspirators. Maybe she'd found her second—no, maybe third friend in Santa Fe. He was a lot older than Melinda and Jimmy, but older guys could still be friends, couldn't they? It wasn't as though she had too many to count.

"So tell me about this jailer of yours."

Cassie exhaled a deep sigh. "It's my brother." Glancing up quickly, she worried. "You sure you don't know him?"

Markos smiled gently. "Now that would be difficult to determine, since you've never told me your last name, beauteous Cassie."

Her cheeks warmed, maybe from his extravagant compliment, or maybe just from knowing she'd been rude to such a polite man. "It's Sabanne. My brother is Dante Sabanne."

He showed no signs that it was a big deal. Perhaps she'd met the one person Dante couldn't bully. After all, he was rich, too, and he was close to Dante's age, she thought. He might be a really good person to have on her side. "You don't sound impressed."

"Should I be?"

The waitress returned with their drinks. After she left, Cassie returned to his question. "Most people are. He's got power and money, which is why he's able to lock me away."

Markos scanned the immediate area. "And where are your guards? Surely they object to you conversing with a stranger?"

Cassie flushed. "I don't have any, at least not right here." She fell silent.

Markos reached over and touched her hand gently. His right hand bore a heavy silver ring sort of like the one Dante wore. "You don't have to talk to me about it. I merely want to be your friend. We can discuss something else, if you prefer."

The touch was light, almost a fatherly pat. Of course, she was guessing about the fatherly part. She'd never known her own. Her mother had spoken of him little except to tell Cassie that he'd died before her birth.

Thinking of her mother brought sorrow still. It had been six years since she'd died, since Cassie was sent away to convent school hell. Some days she could barely remember having a real home, a mother to cuddle her.

Once Dante had been a big, powerful, favorite playmate whose visits were grand occasions. She missed his smiles, his laughter.

"I'm sorry," Markos said. "I would never make you sad on purpose."

She wouldn't cry, though his sympathy stirred the urge. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself. "It's nothing."

"You look as if you could use a friend, little Cassie."

"Please don't call me 'little'—I'm so sick of being treated like a child." Anger spiked. "It isn't bad enough that I've been stuck in a convent school for six years. Now I find that Dante lives practically in the wilderness, where I don't know anyone and he keeps me locked up as if I can't be trusted."

"Perhaps he's only concerned for your welfare. Convent school is not a good way to become experienced in matters of the world. Perhaps it is the world he doesn't trust, not you."

"That's not how he acts. I have to check in with him all the time. He always has to know where I am, who I'm with, and he never wants me gone at night."

"So how did you make it to my party?"

"I sneaked out." She grinned, pleased when his eyes widened. "Dante was out of town, and Melinda said she would cover for me if her grandmother checked, but Mrs. Montoya sleeps pretty soundly."

"Who is Melinda?"

"The housekeeper's granddaughter. She's my best friend," Cassie shrugged. "Well, really my only friend." She wasn't yet sure how to classify Jimmy.

"I could be one, too, Cassie."

"Really? I'd like that."

Then he frowned. "There might be a problem, however."

Cassie's heart sank. "What?"

"Your brother might not understand. There is a great age difference here. He could worry that I would take advantage of your innocence."

"But you wouldn't. Anyway, I'm not going to tell him anything. You'll be my secret friend."

"It is not wise to lie. If he finds out, he won't trust you anymore."

She snorted. "He doesn't trust me now." Crossing her arms over her chest, she made up her mind. "Dante doesn't need to know everything about me."

He shrugged. "That is your decision, but I don't care to sneak around to see my friends. If you don't like your living conditions, why do you not leave?"

Uncomfortable echoes of Jimmy's questions. Why had she pretended to be older than she was? She had a new friend, and they were starting out with a lie between them. How would he react if he found out she was a teenager? She was afraid to tell him, but within her was the voice of her mother saying that trust could not be built on a foundation of lies. "Markos? If I share something, will you promise to still be my friend?"

He smiled easily. "Do you have a deep, dark secret that will render you hideous? Perhaps some truly frightening revelation that will put my life in danger?"

Cassie smiled back. "No, nothing that bad."

"Then perhaps I will be able to handle it. I'll certainly try."

She took a deep breath. "I'm...not as old as I look." Glancing up, she saw a smile ghost across his mouth. "I'm only eighteen and I've never had a job. I'm not afraid of being on my own, though." Well, maybe she sort of was, but— "I mean, it's not that I can't live without all the money Dante has." She glanced up. "He's really rich, you know."

At his shrug, she continued her point. "I didn't have all that much at school. We never got to do anything, anyway, so we didn't really need money. But I'm not spoiled and I don't have to have expensive things—"

"I do."

"What?"

Markos leaned forward, brown eyes boring into her. "Cassie, there's nothing wrong with having money. It is the best way to buy your independence from others. It is power, which is a very pleasant thing indeed."

"But I don't have any power. Dante has it all."

"Then you must decide if you want to change that." Markos glanced at his watch and frowned. "I'm sorry. I must leave. I have an appointment in a few minutes. Perhaps we could continue this discussion later?"

"When?" She didn't want him to go. He was the only person who seemed to understand her.

"I do not like the idea of sneaking around your brother, but from the sound of things, a call from me would get you in some trouble, am I correct?"

She nodded sadly.

He handed her a business card, very simple and elegant, gold lettering on a cream background. "Call me at the number on the bottom when you are able to meet again. We'll speak more."

Cassie clutched the card in damp fingers.

"But understand this, Cassie." His voice grew solemn. "I will not be part of a childish rebellion. If you want to behave like an adult, I am willing to help you find your way. If, however, you only want to play-act at gaining your independence, I will not be a pawn in your game."

"Oh, Markos, I would never—" She gulped at the fear thickening her throat, then straightened. "I want to be your friend. I won't let you down."

The stern face relaxed; white teeth flashed quickly. "Very well. I look forward to our next meeting." With that, he walked away, never looking back.

Cassie held the card to her breast. Glimpses of freedom beckoned. Markos would help her.

If she wasn't strong enough to overcome Dante, he surely was.

* * *

Bent over a report, Jace studied her wording, trying to get it just right. A shadow fell over the paper, and she looked up.

"Hi." Gabriel's voice, low and husky, sent a tingle through her. Three days had passed since they'd spoken.

"Hi yourself." She glanced around the room. "What's up?"

"Got a minute?" His posture was casual, but the vivid blue eyes pulled at her.

Jace shrugged. "Sure."

Silence fell between them. She didn't know what to say. She hadn't called him as she'd promised.

"How's the case going on Sam Sunshine?" Gabriel jingled the change in his pockets.

"Fine. Actually, not so fine. Got some odd results in the blood testing. I'm doing some follow-up now." Jace stirred, picked a pencil off her desk and twirled it through her fingers.

"Yeah?" But his tone said he wasn't that interested in Sam Sunshine.

"How about you?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Same old, same old...trying to put away the bad guys and barely making a dent."

"Yeah. Sometimes we don't see much progress." Their conversation had never been so stilted. He'd been angry when they'd last parted, and now she couldn't read him at all.

"Listen, Jace, I wondered if you'd want to go out with me."

Whatever she'd expected, this wasn't it. "Out? You mean like...a date?"

A faint smile softened the uneasy lines of his face. "What if it was?"

"But we don't date."

Gabriel glanced around the room. "Can we go somewhere to discuss this?"

She realized that Cardozo was standing nearby, very still. "Follow me."

They made their way out into the hall, deserted for the moment.

"Listen, about the other day...it was that I was worried, but not because I don't think you're competent. If you don't want to talk about your cases, you don't have to."

Jace found a small smile. She had missed him, she'd admit. After what had happened at Sabanne's house...

She hadn't eaten enough that day, that was all. She'd become lightheaded, as a result, plus she was suffering a hangover from whatever had been in the air at The Club. And there was all that weird stuff at Sabanne's place, all that talk of priestesses and other woo woo crap...anybody would have been weirded out.

"Look, I've got to go to this cocktail party tonight, and I just thought maybe you'd like to come with me. A little change of pace. We could stay there long enough for me to do the necessary handshakes, and then we could split and go have dinner."

"Cocktail party?"

He smiled like the old, easy Gabriel. "Don't look so sick. You clean up fine."

"I barely own any dresses."

His smile vanished. "Look, if you don't want to go, all you have to do is say so."

If she turned down this overture, it would hurt him. She didn't want to do that. A sure cure for what was ailing her was a big dose of normal. Gabriel was as normal as they came. She'd welcome a return to their days of easy fun. "I'm not—it's just that— Do we have to call it a date?"

"Not if it bothers you."

She worried at her lower lip.

"Forget it."

"Yes," she said hastily. "I'll go."

Gabriel's blue eyes locked on hers, and he bent toward her.

Footsteps sounded, coming down the hall.

They stepped apart.

"I'll pick you up at six." Before she could respond, he was gone.

* * *

When she saw they were headed toward the expensive houses, Jace was glad for the shawl she'd borrowed from Myra. Fringed and beaded, a rainbow of colors, it brought Jace's simple black slip mini-dress to life. Black stiletto sandals completed the outfit which repeatedly drew Gabriel's attention from the road.

Jace kept the conversation light, just shop talk and sports. She'd worked with men long enough that it was second nature. Gabriel's full complement of charm was turned her way, and she found herself relaxing, thinking everything might turn out all right.

Until they turned into the drive of Dante Sabanne's estate. "Why are we here?" Her heart sped up.

He nodded to the mansion, a bright jewel in the dark night. "This is where the cocktail party is being held."

Just then a valet approached. "I'll take care of this for you, sir."

Gabriel handed him the keys and alighted, circling the hood. A second valet had already opened Jace's door for her.

"You ready?" Gabriel wrapped one arm around her waist.

"I guess."
Think about this as an opportunity to take Sabanne's measure again. To see that he's just a man. Rich, yes, and maybe with odd interests, but only a man.

"I know politics isn't your thing. I promise we won't stay long."