Storm & Seduction (Warriors of the Wind Book 2) Page 7

  “You don’t need to pretend with me,” Dante said.

  Antonio scraped a hand through his dark hair. “Corus is far more calculating and cunning than before.”

  “Africus was the same.”

  Antonio’s gaze moved past Dante to Samia. “But you defeated him.”

  “I had help.” Dante grabbed Samia’s hand and pulled her closer. “Samia, this my brother, Antonio. Antonio, Samia Hassan.”

  Antonio moved forward and took Samia’s other hand. He bent over it, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “A pleasure, Samia.”

  Oh yes, a born charmer, this one. “Are all your brothers this good-looking, Dante?”

  Antonio looked up and grinned, and she guessed this was a glimpse of the real Antonio shining through the strain. “I’m the best looking.”

  Dante yanked her into his side and slung an arm across her shoulders. “Mine.”

  Antonio smiled. “I see that.”

  “We think Samia has Aurae heritage. And she also happens to be a badass assassin who is very good with knives.”

  She smiled up at him. “Hey, I only stabbed you once.”

  “She is also mine and I’m never giving her up.”

  Warmth filled her chest.

  Antonio slapped his brother on the back. “I am very happy for you, Dante.” His gaze changed, something rippling over his face. “It must be nice to find the right woman.” Then he forced a smile. “Although, I prefer to enjoy a wide variety of feminine delights, myself.”

  Dante snorted.

  Antonio turned to Samia. “Samia, if you ever realize you picked the wrong brother, give me a call.”

  Dante mock-scowled at his brother.

  Then Antonio’s smile dissolved. “I am glad you’re both okay. I need to get back to Florence. Back to hunting Corus.”

  “Can we help?” Samia asked.

  “I wish you could.” A hard look appeared on his face, the handsome charmer gone. This was the Warrior of the West Wind. “I will find Corus. And I will stop him.”

  They all stepped out onto the balcony. A cool morning breeze rippled over them, the sun just beginning to rise.

  “Be careful, Antonio.” Dante hugged his brother, slapping him on the back.

  “I will.” His green gaze moved over Dante and Samia. “Enjoy your beautiful woman.”

  “I already am.”

  Dante and Samia watched as his brother turned into the wind and streamed away.

  Samia leaned into him. “You’re worried.”

  “He’s not himself, Samia. He’s the most laid back of us all and he’s tense, strained.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, offering quiet support. He pressed his face to her hair and breathed deep.

  “I’m here, Dante, whatever you need.”

  “My brothers will find the rest of the Tempest Winds. They are strong, unrelenting.”

  She had no doubt. And selfless and brave, just like her warrior. “Maybe there are other Aurae out there?”

  Hope ignited in his eyes. “Aurae descendants who can help them. I hope so.”

  He pulled her close, his hands smoothing up and down her back. She leaned into him and pressed her cheek to his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart.

  A heart that now belonged to her.

  She smiled. The Warriors of the Wind would continue to fight and protect. And now she had a new life. From now on, there would be no more death for her. With Dante by her side, there was only life and love.

  ---

  I hope you enjoyed Dante and Samia’s story!

  The stories of the Warriors of the Wind were some of the first stories I ever wrote and published. I wanted to mix action, mythology, and romance into sexy, short reads. I am so excited to have the chance to give them a little polish and release them again.

  Read on for Antonio’s story, Seduction, set in the twisting streets of Florence.

  Seduction

  Anna Hackett

  In the time of gods and magic, the monstrous god Typhon created violent winds—the Tempest Winds—to aid in his battle to rule the cosmos. The Tempest Winds wreaked havoc against man, and carried the dark vices of lust, greed, pride, and anger.

  To save the world, the King of the Gods, Jupiter, gifted control of the cardinal winds to man. Five brothers became the Warriors of the Wind, and their sons and grandsons after them. Now, even in the modern age of technology, they are the only thing protecting mankind from this centuries-old evil.

  Chapter One

  He was naked and chained to a wall.

  Antonio Favonius Venti shook off the fog clouding his head and yanked on his arms. Cazzo. Where the hell was he? The silver chains wrapped around his wrists rattled, but held him firm.

  Dio. The restraints had been designed for a supernatural being with superior strength. And that included him.

  He shook his aching head, trying to remember what had happened. He’d left a party at the museum, and then headed out to hunt his enemy. He lifted his head and eyed his prison. It was a damn elegant one. The bedroom was decorated in an ornate style—silver and black wallpaper and an elaborate four-poster bed with red covers.

  Memories poured in. Chasing Corus through the twisting streets of Florence. The Northwest wind was a cunning bastardo. For the last few weeks, he’d eluded Antonio while infecting the people of Florence with the vice of lust.

  Antonio sagged in the chains, his chin touching his chest. The rise in sexual assaults alone… His throat tightened. He had to stop Corus. It was his duty as a Warrior of the Wind.

  He’d cornered Corus in the Piazza della Signoria. The Tempest Wind had been raping a woman. Oh, she’d appeared to be enjoying it, but Corus had the power to make people want things they didn’t truly desire. Antonio’s fingers curled into fists. He knew that all too well.

  He’d ripped Corus off the woman, but high on lust, Corus had caught Antonio with a huge gust of wind and knocked him out.

  Now Antonio was trapped.

  But not for much longer, dammit. He summoned his wind.

  Air swirled around him, the West Wind filling the room. It was familiar, carrying the brisk scent of ocean from the Atlantic, and the warmth and promise of the spring.

  Like his brothers, like their father and grandfather before them, he was a Warrior of the Wind and he existed to hunt the evil Tempest Winds.

  The chains rattled and Antonio pushed with all his strength. His power swelled inside him and he felt the metal give. An inch. Two. He thrust with everything he had.

  Nothing. They wouldn’t budge any farther. Cursing, he cut his power and the wind died away.

  Before he could regroup, the door opened.

  The man who stepped inside gave Antonio the eerie feeling of staring in the mirror. Strong jaw, straight nose, and a muscled frame. But his dark, curly hair was longer than Antonio’s, and instead of green eyes, this man’s were black, soulless pits.

  As the man stepped forward, the atmosphere in the room grew warmer. A lazy push of air curled around Antonio, carrying the scent of sex. Two women stepped in behind the man. They wore very little—only wispy scraps of black lace. The blonde had a long winsome body with slim legs and small, high breasts. The redhead had the lush curves of an artist’s muse. Antonio smelled warm female flesh and arousal.

  He swallowed hard and spat out the man’s name. “Corus.”

  Corus smiled, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Such venom, Antonio. You should think of me as a friend. We’re the same, you and I.”

  “We’re nothing alike.” Antonio jerked against his bindings. It was the truth. He had to believe it.

  Corus stalked closer. “Our winds both carry lust. I embrace it.” He reached for the blonde and cupped one of her breasts. She arched into him with a purr. “And you want to embrace it.”

  Antonio’s chest heaved. Since the Tempest Winds had escaped from his brother, Lorenzo, the Keeper of the Winds, they’d started spreading their vices. Antonio had been i
nundated with the heat of lust. His wind carried the promise of new life, and that made him more susceptible to Corus.

  For almost three weeks, his skin had been tight and hot, his gut churning with the need for release, his cock semi hard all day long. He was balanced on the edge of giving into the seductive vice. “I fight it. I’ll always fight it.”

  “Why not give in?” Corus ran a finger over Antonio’s shoulder. “It’ll make you stronger. You won’t have the agony of battling your desires. Slake the lust, Antonio. It feels so good.”

  Antonio tore his gaze away from the Tempest Wind. He stared at the silver swirls on the wallpaper, but Corus’ words dug under his skin. Antonio wanted, he craved. He yearned for sweet, feminine skin. To press his lips between a woman’s fragrant thighs and feast. To bury his cock in tight, wet warmth.

  Dammit, control yourself. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. He heard the taunting whispers in his ear, carried by Corus’ wind. Every hour of every day since the Tempest Winds had escaped, those whispers had been tormenting him.

  And if he gave in…then Corus won. Antonio would turn as rotten as Corus and lust would infect Florence, then Italy, then Europe. The tourists would carry it around the world like a virus and the entire planet would descend into lust-fueled chaos.

  The redhead slinked closer, like a hungry lioness, her green gaze locked on him. He tensed.

  She ran a long red nail down the center of his bare chest.

  “Why not let them take care of you?” Corus’ tone lowered. “Katya has a mouth from heaven and Nadine loves to fuck. Any hole, any position, any time.”

  Antonio gritted his teeth. The woman fingered the hard ridges of his stomach and dammit, her touch felt good.

  He couldn’t succumb. Not for an all-too-brief moment of pleasure. “Africus has already been defeated in Rome.” Antonio pulled strength from the fact his brother, Dante, had already defeated his Tempest Wind. “I will banish you. I swear.”

  As the woman grasped Antonio’s hardening cock, he closed his eyes and swallowed a groan. His thoughts went to the one person he wished was touching him like this.

  Luscious curves, a foxy face with a stubborn chin, large blue eyes and a full mouth a little too wide for true beauty. His forbidden temptation.

  A woman with a passionate love for art that rivaled his own and a brilliant skill at restoring damaged paintings. A woman who’d made it very clear when she’d arrived from the US three months ago to work at his museum that she had no interest in men—especially wealthy, privileged men. A woman who wanted to uncover secrets Antonio didn’t want revealed.

  Still, the thought of her and her fresh, floral scent was enough for him to regain a tiny scrap of control. He kicked out and caught Corus. The man stumbled sideways, knocking the redhead away from Antonio.

  Corus righted himself and sighed. He grabbed a handful of Antonio’s hair and yanked his head up. “I will break you, Warrior.” The friendly tone was gone, replaced with a cold, dark voice. “And I think I know just the thing to do it.”

  He spun and barked at the women. Abruptly, the trio left, the door slamming shut behind them.

  Antonio sagged, letting the chains take his weight. He welcomed the sharp pain as they dug into his wrists. His skin felt sensitized, the blood in his veins hot and pounding. The air was saturated with lust, and filled with whispers. Touch yourself, work your cock, find sweet release.

  He was at the very edge of his control.

  The door opened again and he tensed.

  A large man backed in carrying something in his arms. He didn’t look at Antonio, just dumped his cargo on the blood-red covers and left.

  Antonio stared. Every muscle in his body tightened, so hard it was painful. His gaze traced the naked curves of the unconscious woman’s body. Slim limbs, curvy hips, beautiful full breasts topped with cherry-pink nipples. Her dark hair fell over her face, hiding her features.

  Oh, no. He didn’t need to see her face. Her scent teased him. Like a spring meadow in full bloom.

  The newest employee at Museo Venti—Dr. Sophia Crane.

  Corus had just locked Antonio naked in a room with his greatest temptation.

  ***

  Sophia came to and blinked, focusing on the red canopy above the bed. Canopy?

  She sat up, her hands twisting in the bedcovers. Where in God’s name was she? And why the hell was she naked?

  She yanked the cover up over her body, the silky satin sliding against her skin. A knot lodged in her throat. She’d been at the museum, poring over some old manuscripts on the legends of the Warriors of the Wind. She’d heard a noise and then…nothing but a big void.

  Shifting, the satin cool and slippery beneath her, she scanned the room.

  And saw the man.

  The naked man.

  Oh, my God. He was chained to the wall and powerfully built, with hard muscles on a lean frame. Wide shoulders narrowed down to trim hips and a six-pack stomach. Helpless to stop herself, her gaze drifted down. A long, thick cock arched upward. She jerked her gaze up and froze.

  Familiar deep-green eyes watched her. Her boss. Antonio Venti.

  She gripped the covers harder. “Antonio?”

  He licked his lips, like his mouth was dry. “Are you okay?”

  His low, husky voice shivered through her. He had a face ripped from the walls of the museum he owned. A modern-day renaissance lord. A hawkish nose, full lips and green eyes that made her think of her favorite Verona green paint. The man was outrageously handsome and wealthy, and was one of Italy’s most eligible bachelors.

  “Sophia? Did he hurt you?”

  She blinked. “I don’t know what happened or how I got here, but I don’t think I’m hurt.” She had no aches or pains. “He? Who did this?”

  Antonio scowled. “His name is Corus.” Antonio shifted and the clank of metal drew her attention to the chains.

  God, he was chained like an animal. She slid her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, her knees dangerously wobbly. She made sure the cover was wrapped around her frame. “Corus?” She frowned. “That name sounds familiar.” It scraped at some distant memory.

  “He’s my enemy.”

  Antonio’s hard tone sent a rash of goosebumps over her skin. She moved toward him. “Why am I here?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “I think you know why. Even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

  She jerked to a halt. Oh, she knew what he was talking about. But she’d come to Italy for a new beginning, for her career. Not to repeat her past mistakes.

  A year ago, she’d lost everything. Her perfect life had shattered with terrible consequences. Even now her heart spasmed and she pressed a hand to her flat belly. After three months in Florence, she was finally starting to feel alive again.

  She was excruciatingly aware of Antonio Venti and the charged attraction between them. But she couldn’t risk her heart again. It still wasn’t whole. And Antonio reminded her too much of James.

  All she had, all she cared about, was her art. And her dream of finding out the truth about the Warriors of the Wind. “I came to Florence for a fresh start. That’s it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re running from, Sophia, but you can’t have a fresh start if the past still haunts you.”

  His words were like an arrow to her chest. “You’d know.”

  His frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve watched you.” Even when she knew she shouldn’t. But something about him, something hauntingly familiar, made him far too fascinating. “You do everything you can to let people think you’re a playboy without a care in the world. The wealthy billionaire who attends all the hottest parties.”

  “That is me.”

  “I’ve seen the man who works hard to source, buy, and care for the priceless art in his museum. The man who organizes for underprivileged kids to come and tour the museum.”

  She saw his jaw tighten.

  “And the last few weeks, I can see the strain
you’re under. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I can tell it’s bad. It’s this Corus, isn’t it?”

  They stared at each other. The room silent except for their breathing.

  She hitched up the sheet and took a step forward. “Look, we need to get out of here. Report this Corus to the polizia.”

  Antonio snorted. “The police can’t help. It’s my duty to deal with him.”

  That sounded a little too mafia-like for Sophia, but her first priority was getting out of here. Wherever “here” was.

  As she reached for the chains, Antonio went rigid. “Stop!”

  She stilled, searching the room for any danger. Nothing. Except for a light breeze that twirled around her, ruffling the sheet. The temperature rose, like someone had flicked on a heater.

  “Don’t come any closer.” Antonio pressed his palms flat to the wall. “I want you to go. Find a way out.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” She frowned. Her skin felt flushed, her face warm.

  “Just go, per favore.”

  The breeze increased. Where was it coming from? The windows were closed and covered with thick curtains. The light wind ruffled her hair and brought her Antonio’s scent.

  God, she loved his cologne. It had driven her crazy from her first day at Museo Venti. He’d lean over her shoulder to see what she was working on and that dark, spicy scent would tease her. Now it was mixed with hot male and it made desire ignite low inside her.

  She let herself look at him. Who knew his perfect Armani suits had hidden so much hard muscle? She shifted her thighs restlessly. She noted the sheen of perspiration on his skin, the way his muscles strained.

  Did he feel it too? This crazy, insane urge to throw caution to the wind and touch each other? She wanted to touch his skin, explore that powerful, masculine body.

  She reached out. Not to undo the chains, but to smooth one hand up his hard chest. Oh God, he felt good.