Storm & Seduction (Warriors of the Wind Book 2) Page 9

  Antonio felt Corus’ wind, heard stumbling steps and a feminine gasp. Sophia tumbled to the ground beside him.

  Gritting his teeth, he stooped and helped her up. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get very far. His wind caught me—”

  “I’m so glad you could join us, Sophia.” Corus took a few steps closer, his voice smooth and seductive.

  Antonio thrust out an arm. “Leave her alone. This fight is between us.”

  Corus ignored him, focusing completely on Sophia. “I am Corus, darling.” He held out a hand. “Why don’t you join me?”

  The Tempest Wind’s voice drifted in the air like a lovely song. Antonio watched as Sophia’s jaw slackened, her eyes glazing over. She took a step forward.

  Antonio slapped a hand against her chest. She blinked.

  “You will not touch her,” he ground out between his teeth.

  Corus’ smile widened into something nasty. “Stop me.”

  A wily breeze twirled through the air. It fluttered through Sophia’s hair and trailed over her clothes. Her mouth dropped open and she slapped a hand over her chest. “It’s…touching me.” She turned to Antonio, her eyes wide and horrified.

  He yanked her to his chest. “Damn you, Corus.”

  The groping wind died away. Sophia clutched at Antonio, her body shaking. He saw Corus wink at her and she turned her face away. Antonio ran a hand over the curve of her waist and hip before pushing her behind him.

  Antonio lifted his hands. The West Wind blew up—strong, powerful, filled with purpose. He thrust his palms outward.

  Corus lifted his hands in reply, meeting the West Wind with his own. A dull roar filled the room as the winds battled.

  The windows blew out with a deadly shatter of glass. It swirled into the wind and Antonio felt it pepper his skin.

  He also heard the whispers growing. Take the woman. She wants you. Make her yours.

  He shoved harder and when Corus stumbled back, Antonio smiled a grim smile.

  Slake your desire. Lust will make you stronger. Take your pleasure.

  Now he lost his footing. As the whispers multiplied, he couldn’t think. The wind around him turned hotter, and perspiration spread over his skin.

  And desire curled in his gut—hot and demanding.

  Can’t…give…up. His muscles strained and he went down on one knee. He pushed everything he had into his wind. He couldn’t let Corus win. He had to protect Sophia.

  But the Tempest Wind was strong, bloated with lust, and empowered by Antonio’s own weakness. Corus dematerialized, his body turning into the wind itself, whipping it into a higher frenzy.

  Antonio’s power was leaking away along with the last tatters of his control. He threw his head back, straining. He had to keep Sophia safe.

  But slowly, he felt his power beaten back by the Northwest wind. The ugly whispers grew louder, more seductive, to the point that Antonio felt he was losing his mind.

  He roared into the wind.

  He’d failed.

  ***

  Sophia pushed against the wind. It was so…strong. Her bare feet skidded on the floor. The few feet between her and Antonio seemed like miles.

  She had to reach him.

  Through the swirling whirlwind, she saw him on his knees, his head thrown back in anguish.

  He was losing the fight.

  Something hit her head with a glancing blow. She ignored it and kept moving.

  But the wind was far too strong. She could no longer see Corus, but she knew he was there. She felt his presence like an oily sludge on her skin. She dropped to the ground.

  On her hands and knees, she crawled closer. Almost there. Then she saw Antonio’s face.

  Her belly cramped. The veins in his neck stood out, and his eyes were closed, his face caught in a grimace.

  “Antonio!” The wind snatched her scream away.

  But his eyes snapped open and his gaze locked onto her.

  Oh, God. His irises were still green, but now they glinted with a red edge. Like he was possessed.

  “You should have left.” He slammed his palms against the floor. “Go!”

  Fear was acid in Sophia’s veins, but screw it. She wasn’t going to let Corus have Antonio. She reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm. His skin was so hot it felt like it was burning her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” His words were a tortured plea.

  “You won’t. Let me help you.” She wasn’t sure why she was so certain she could help him, but the feeling welled up from deep inside her. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him.

  “Sophia.”

  Going on instinct, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  He went still for a second, then he groaned and his arms wrapped around her like bands of iron. He pulled her closer, one hand moving to tangle in her hair.

  God, the man could kiss. Shocking sensation crashed through Sophia. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she returned the kiss, every urgent stroke. He tasted so good, and nothing had ever felt this right.

  The wind still howled, circling around them, shutting them in their own little world.

  Antonio’s hand slid down her side, and she pressed her hands into his hard shoulders, smoothing over tense muscles. She thought she felt him relax, just a fraction.

  His palms circled her waist and he pulled her closer. Her thin shirt wasn’t much of a barrier and her breasts rubbed against his bare chest, her nipples tightening to hard buds. She made a husky sound in her throat. The wind still spun around them in a dangerous vortex, but in his arms, she felt a strange sense of calm. As though they were in the eye of the storm.

  She felt Antonio’s hard erection against her hip and heat arrowed between her legs. He took her mouth again, his hands sliding up under her shirt to cup her breasts.

  He slid his mouth down her throat, his tongue lapping at the rapid beat of her pulse. She pressed into him, shocked at the cries that ripped from her throat. He nipped at her shoulder and now his busy hands moved downward, sliding under the tiny skirt, fingers brushing along her thighs.

  She tried to say something, but desire made her throat tight.

  His hands tightened on her upper thighs, so hard his fingers dug into her skin. She flinched.

  He jerked back. “Sophia.”

  “I’m fine.” She saw that eerie red in his eyes deepening and she cupped his cheeks. “We have to stop Corus and get out of here. Together.” She rubbed her fingers over the night’s worth of dark stubble on his cheeks. “You can do this.”

  Something swirled in his eyes, the red dimming. He nodded.

  He pushed to his feet, his jaw tight as he scanned the room. “I will end Corus for daring to drag you into this.”

  She watched Antonio stride into the wailing maelstrom and her heart jumped into her throat. He could beat Corus. She was sure of it. She stood on shaky feet. Debris caught in the swirling wind whizzed past her—paintings, candlesticks, glass. Power throbbed in the air.

  And Corus’ laughter was carried on the gusts.

  Sophia’s gut cramped. Something was wrong. She took a step forward, her gaze on Antonio’s back.

  Where was Corus?

  Suddenly, she heard the laughter again. Behind her.

  She spun. The Tempest Wind was only a few feet away.

  He winked. “Nighty, night.” He twirled a hand around.

  A huge funnel of wind burst to life and caught her.

  It picked her up and turned her over. The room became a whirl. Her scream was eaten by the gale and then she slammed into a huge mirror that shattered on impact.

  Pain exploded through her. As she hit the floor, struggling to stay conscious, she heard Antonio’s agonized roar.

  Then darkness swamped her and dragged her away.

  Chapter Four

  Antonio carried Sophia’s limp body through the streets of Florence.

  Guilt ate at him with razor-sharp teeth. It was h
is fault she was hurt. He looked down at her pale face, at the bright red blood staining her hair. She hadn’t moved since he’d snatched her up and leaped out the broken windows of Corus’ little club.

  But she was breathing, and her pulse was strong and steady.

  “Hang in there, cara.” Please.

  He reached her apartment. It was in a butter-colored historic building not far from the Ponte Vecchio. He’d never been there but knew she lived on the top floor. Looking up, he saw a tiny balcony surrounded by a black wrought-iron railing. After checking that no one was in the street, he bent his knees and jumped. At the same moment, he called the wind and it gave him a gentle push.

  They landed safely on the balcony, and he shifted Sophia in his arms as he dealt with the flimsy lock. Then he stepped inside.

  When he looked down at her, he saw big blue eyes watching him. Something eased in his gut. “Are you okay?”

  She slid an arm along his shoulders. “Head hurts.”

  “I know. I’ll take care of you.” He moved toward the dove-gray couch and set her down gently. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  She nodded. “Under the sink in the kitchen.”

  In a moment, he was back and when he saw her sitting up, he frowned. “You need to lie down.”

  She touched her scalp. “I’m fine. It’s stopped bleeding.” She touched her left arm and winced. “I think I have some glass in my arm and shoulder.”

  “Let me see.” He ripped open the kit, and sank down beside her. He slid a hand into her tangled hair and even in knots, it felt like silk. With his free hand, he picked up an antiseptic wipe from the kit and dabbed at the cut on her temple.

  He studied the wound. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Still, the sight of it and the smears of her dried blood made his chest tight. He’d wanted to protect her, and now she was firmly in Corus’ sights.

  Next, Antonio studied her arm and shoulder. Several small pieces of glass were embedded in her skin. His jaw tightened, but he fought to keep his touch light as he used some tweezers to remove the shards.

  “You’ve never been here before,” she said. “How did you know where I live?”

  “You’ve talked about how much you love this building and the view.” And he’d seen her address on her employment forms. His gaze swept the room. She had a few good quality art pieces, stylish furniture, and a bookcase bulging with art history books. “This place suits you.”

  She shrugged. “I like it.”

  His gaze fell on a print of a painting by the French painter Bouguereau. It showed an elegant, mostly naked man leaning over a beautiful woman. The man had butterfly wings on his back.

  “Zephyr,” Sophia said. “One of the Anemoi. The Greek version of the wind gods.” Their gazes met. “Zephyr was god of the West Wind and known as Favonius in Italian.”

  “My middle name,” he said quietly. He managed a small smile. “No wings, though.”

  She cleared her throat. “Tell me about your brothers. What vices do they battle?”

  Antonio cleaned her remaining cuts. “Lorenzo is the Keeper of the Winds. He keeps the Tempest Winds imprisoned on Isola del Vento.”

  “Island of the Wind,” she murmured. “That’s where the Venti horse estate is?”

  “Yes. Stromboli erupted three weeks ago and fueled the Tempest Winds. They escaped.” Antonio grabbed a small bandage and pressed it over a deeper cut. “The vices the Tempest Winds spread have been growing ever since. Dante battled pride, Soren fights greed, and Luca wars with anger.”

  “That must be so difficult.”

  Her calm, quiet voice washed over him and desire rose. He ruthlessly shoved it down and stared at the blood smudged on her cheek. “It is. But once we hunt down the Tempest Winds, we’ll imprison them again.

  “How will you do that?”

  “We’ll free them from their mortal bodies. Then my brothers and I will summon a storm to trap them back on the island. Dante has already beaten his wind.”

  Now Antonio had to do the same. Before more people were hurt.

  Against his will, he stroked Sophia’s hair. He would keep her safe. No matter what.

  She shook her head. “I’ve collected and studied art pieces about the Warriors of the Wind. A part of me still can’t believe it’s all real.”

  “The Warriors have existed since the now-lost time of the gods. That’s when Jupiter gave control of the winds to man in order to defend again the Tempest Winds. The Warrior of the North Wind always has five sons who each inherit the power of the wind.”

  “Amazing.”

  Her fascination could end up getting her killed. He forced himself to move away from her. “Your cuts are all clean now. I’ll keep an eye on you today and stay on your couch tonight.” It might kill him, being so close to her and not touching her. “Tomorrow, you’ll take the first flight out of Florence.”

  “No.”

  Antonio sat back and scowled. “What do you mean, no? Corus is dangerous. You saw what he can do. I have to stop him and if you’re here, he’ll use you to get to me.”

  “I can help you—”

  “Like you did this morning?” He gripped her shoulders. “You almost got yourself killed and I almost—” Dio. He heaved in a breath.

  Her fingers wrapped around his wrists. “You didn’t hurt me, Antonio.” Her thumb brushed over his pulse. “And I’m honest enough to admit I enjoyed the kiss, and every time we touched.”

  Antonio closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t even be close to me.” His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “I could have raped you, right there in front of Corus.”

  Blue eyes watched him steadily. “That would never happen.”

  Like a rush of wind, Antonio moved fast. He yanked her against him, his face close to hers. “You don’t know me, Sophia. You don’t see the rot taking me over inside. The only thing I can focus on right now is defeating Corus.”

  “And kill yourself in the process?” She pushed him away and rose shakily. “I can hear it in your voice. You’ll sacrifice your life if you have to.”

  Antonio’s jaw tightened. “I’ll do what I have to do to protect the world. It’s my duty.” And to protect this woman who touched something inside him he hadn’t ever felt before.

  She paced a few steps, then spun to face him, eyes sparking. “I can help you. I’ve been collecting art and items related to the Warriors of the Winds for years. Maybe there’s something in there—”

  Antonio rose. “I don’t want your help.” He advanced on her, and she backed up. When her back hit the wall, he continued until his chest pushed against hers. Her eyes widened and he realized he was still shirtless and her gauzy shirt did nothing to stop him from feeling her. His cock tightened and he gritted his teeth. “What I want is to fuck you, Sophia. Sink my cock so far inside you that you’ll feel me for a week.”

  She sucked in a breath.

  He tried not to, but he had to touch her. Just a little. He nuzzled her neck, drawing in the scent of her. He didn’t know if it was the lust talking, or him, or both. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of feeling like he was losing.

  “I just want to screw your brains out. That’s all I want from you.” He looked up and saw angry tears glistening in her eyes. The sight cut through him. “Is that what your married lover said to you?”

  “You bastard.” A shaky whisper.

  She tried to hit him but he caught her wrist. He had to push her away. Had to make her want to get on the damn plane back to the US. “Is that all he wanted?”

  One glistening tear slipped down her cheek. “He told me that he loved me and I fell in love with him. But yes, he was already married and just looking for a fuck.”

  Her pain made Antonio want to sweep her up and soothe her. To tell her the asshole was an idiot. But Antonio kept his mouth shut. Her safety was more important. “You’d make a good one.”

  She wrenched her hand free and slapped him. The sound was loud in her small apartment. “I was pregnan
t when James’ wife tracked me down to inform me I was just another in a long line of gullible sluts.”

  Madre de Dio. “Sophia—”

  She shook her head, her lip trembling before she firmed it. “I lost the baby. And I vowed that I would never, ever lower myself like that again. Now get out.”

  Antonio didn’t hesitate. He went back onto her balcony and in a single move, leaped over the railing.

  He landed in a crouch, then crossed the street and entered a narrow alley between two buildings. He stopped and sank against the brick wall.

  Looking up, he saw her curtain fluttering in the gentle breeze. She deserved so much better than him. He scraped a hand down his face. Damn, he was tired. He let the weathered brick take his weight. He’d stay here and make sure Corus left her alone until she left Florence.

  He wanted her to go, but the thought of her leaving made him feel like his insides were being carved out with sharp claws.

  Apparently, he could feel something more than lust.

  Misery.

  ***

  Sophia stepped outside her building and blinked in the sunlight. After a night spent tossing and turning until her sheets were a twisted mess, she knew she looked tired. She’d seen the dark circles under her eyes in the mirror. She smoothed her hands down her fitted skirt.

  Inside, she was a mess of conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, worry, fear, and dammit, desire.

  Sophia was hoping work would take her mind off things.

  She set off down the street. It was still early enough that not many people were about yet. Most Italians didn’t appear to be morning people. The old buildings made her smile. She loved Florence—the beauty, the history, the architecture. The birthplace of the Renaissance oozed a sense of history that spoke to her.

  One block later, she realized someone was following her. Her pulse leaped and she quickened her steps. Expecting to see Corus, she glanced over her shoulder.

  A dark figure. With familiar broad shoulders.

  With a huff of breath, she stopped. When Antonio reached her, she noted he was dressed in one of his usual suits. Then she saw his face and gasped. “You look horrible.” His face was drawn and his olive skin was pale.