© Cyndi Friberg, February 2006
All Rights Reserved

“That ‘fascinating fellow' gave me the creeps.” Jonathan pulled her into a light embrace. “Charles K. Auss, even his name sounds suspicious. There was no way I was leaving you alone with him.”

She managed a distracted smile, but her mind whirled with speculation, and memories. Chaos's muscles rippled and his fierce eyes morphed from black to red as he watched her surrender to passion. His mouth demanded, consumed, while he thrust between her thighs. She pressed her lips together, ignoring the ache building within her. This couldn't be happening. She was over him! She had to be over him.

“Are you all right?” Jonathan's well-modulated voice drew her from the past.

“I'm exhausted.”

He pressed a quick kiss against her lips and eased away. “I think the West Loop is proving to the world that there is more to Chicago than Clark Street. I suspect this expansion will be quite lucrative.”

What did that have to do with her exhaustion? She wanted to collapse into a chair and have her feet rubbed. She wanted to be stripped naked and overwhelmed with sensations no mere mortal could comprehend. No! She wanted her feet rubbed.

“Do you mind if I take off?” he asked. “I have to be at the lab bright and early.”

“No. Go ahead. I want to send a quick email before I head home. Bruno will be thrilled that Downward Spiral finally sold.” There was no way Chaos had actually left. If she didn't confront him now, he'd appear in the parking lot, or worse yet, follow her home.

“Until tomorrow then.” Jonathan blew her a kiss. She tried not to cringe. Had he always been such a selfish jerk?

Alexa made her way to her office in the back of the gallery, scanning the shadows for her uninvited guest. Anticipation made her breath hitch. She didn't sense another presence, but her abilities waned with each year she spent in the Realm of Mortals.

Slipping in behind her desk, Alexa sent the email, then slumped in her chair. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“Can I do that for you?”

Bracing herself for Chaos's effect on her senses, Alexa opened her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He lounged in the open doorway; his arms folded over his chest. Sophisticated evening wear couldn't disguise the width of his shoulders or the bulge of his biceps. Her pulse raced and she kept her breathing even through sheer force of will. It had been so long since his big body covered hers, wrapped around hers.

“If you're this rude to all your customers, you won't stay in business long.” Even lightened with amusement his tone was dark and smoky.

“You're not my customer.” She picked up her shoes and came out from behind the desk. Refusing to notice how well his tailored slacks accented his lean hips and long, muscular legs, she focused on his face. “You're not welcome here.”

“Is that why you sent your watchdog home,” he ambled forward, “because you don't want me here?”

She hadn't sent Jonathan home, he'd deserted her. Still, there was no reason to correct his assumption.

The last time she'd seen him his hair flowed past his shoulders, morphing from black to red in a hypnotizing cycle. The short, solid black style only accented the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His eyes had also possessed the otherworldly quality. She found his new, solid black irises nearly as appealing.

“I told you I'd return.”

His voice caressed her, triggering unwanted memories. They writhed together, their naked bodies entwined. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue thrusting deeply. Her hands grasped and slid, every bit as eager as his.

“I missed you.” He leaned in close, whispering the words and filling her head with his evocative scent. He smelled like rain-washed trees and campfires. Why did Hades's son smell like mountain air?

She couldn't do this. It had taken long, heartbreaking years for her to build a life for herself. She was not going to fall into bed with him simply because he missed her.

“Spare me the drivel.” Clutching her shoes in one hand, she shoved past him and hurried from the office.

“How was the opening? By the time I got here most everyone had already left.”

Her jaw dropped at his audacity. She snapped her mouth shut and turned around. He couldn't expect her to calmly discuss the gallery's opening. Not after what he'd done. “I don't think you're getting the picture.” Needing an outlet for her seething emotions, she threw one of her shoes at his face. “Stay out of my life!”

Laughing, he batted the pump aside. The second one bounced off his chest. “You want to play?” He arched his brow, dark eyes flashing.

The sensual menace in his tone was all too familiar. She clenched and unclenched her hands. She would not give in to him -- again. Her nipples peaked and heat pooled between her thighs, mocking her determination. Damn him. No man should have this sort of appeal.

But Chaos wasn't a man; he was the Prince of the Underworld. And she was the child of water spirits regardless of how long she'd pretended otherwise.

He stalked toward her, predatory grace evident in every move.

“Stay away from me.” She'd meant it as a directive; it sounded like a plea.

“Where's the fun in that?”

Her back touched the wall and a violent shiver sped down her spine. He caged her with his body, hands on either side of her shoulders. “You have no reason to trust me. I don't expect you to. If my kiss no longer affects you, I'll turn and walk away.”

“It's not a matter of --”

His mouth stole her words and her thoughts weren't far behind. Sensation rolled across her nerve endings, a simmering burn. Insistent and firm, his lips pressed over and slid against hers. He angled his head, fitting his mouth more closely to hers. She inhaled his breath and parted her lips, inviting him inside.

He only touched her with his mouth, but her entire body felt his heat, sizzled with awareness, and aching need. It had always been like this with Chaos. How could she resist when every molecule of her being wanted nothing more?

“We need to talk, Alexa.” He whispered the words against her parted lips. “Really talk.”

A certain catch in his voice sent uncertainty curling through her. Talking had never been a priority with them. They touched and their senses exploded. Words were unnecessary, cumbersome.

“Too little, too late.” She tried to push him back. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then just listen.” He stroked his fingers along the curve of her cheek. She turned her face away. “Recent events have made me reassess my priorities.”

“The quest made you realize you can't live without me?” She filled her voice with sarcasm.

“Yes.”

Startled by the sincerity in his tone, she looked into his eyes. She'd always longed for more than he was willing to give. Was it possible -- Don't be an ass! He'll say whatever you want to hear as long as you spread your thighs . She gave herself a firm mental shake.

“Too bad your epiphany came two hundred years too late.”