Made love?

  What they’d done had felt like making love.

  His fingers closed over hers, stopping her from opening the drapes. He was at her back, and despite how much she trusted him, she tensed for a moment. His lips brushed her hair, and he murmured something in Greek. She was too rattled to translate, but when he touched her chin, tipping her head to the side, she sighed and let him do it. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the spot below her ear, then moved down, kissing the marks on her neck.

  His hands were gentle on her hips, but she didn’t want gentle. If he was going to touch her, she wanted to feel it. She grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands around and up to her breasts. His palms closed over them, and there was something both arousing and comforting about having his hands on her.

  Grigoris slid his lips to her shoulder, nuzzling aside her collar. He licked her, then added a little nip.

  Heat rushed through her, and she wanted to turn around and devour him. To lose herself in his touch.

  “Based on the criteria of intelligence and vision, there are two viable suspects from among the people here tonight,” Nyx said.

  Grigoris stilled, then thunked his forehead against her shoulder. “Nyx, my sexy brainiac, you sometimes confuse me.”

  She patted his hands, which still cupped her breasts. “I want very much to have sex with you again, which is precisely why we need to have this discussion now, before we get distracted.”

  Grigoris stepped back. He adjusted the drape, leaving it over the window but no longer covering the chair. He held the chair for her, and Nyx took a seat. Grigoris sat on the end of the bed, facing her.

  “Who do you suspect?”

  “Nikolett and Petro.”

  “Nikolett is on my list too,” Grigoris said. “But, as much as I plan to kill Petro for daring to lay his hands on you, his injury was not self-inflicted. It’s impossible that he shot himself.”

  “Shot himself, no. But he could have orchestrated it. Gotten one of the security officers or harcosok to shoot him.”

  “What’s his motive?” Grigoris asked.

  “To shift suspicion off of himself.”

  “Because he’s the mastermind?”

  “In this hypothetical, yes.”

  “And if he’s the mastermind, what’s his motive?”

  “I don’t know,” Nyx said slowly. It was something that had plagued her and the fellow librarians—what did their foe hope to accomplish? “Maybe he wanted to be made fleet admiral. He killed Kacper, assuming he would get the job.”

  Grigoris shook his head. “There wasn’t time to talk about it when we were in Dublin, but I’m not sure Eric is right about all the old admirals—I mean the ones who held their positions before all this started—being suspects.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they were all in that room in London. They could have been shot as easily as Winston or the admiral of Castile, Ricardo Garcia.”

  “You were there?” Nyx asked.

  “I was one of the knights in the room,” he confirmed. “I was there to guard Hande. It was chaos.”

  “But the tech the sniper used was state of the art, wasn’t it?” Nyx persisted. “Perhaps the sniper knew who he wasn’t allowed to shoot.”

  “It showed heat signatures only,” Grigoris said quietly.

  Nyx stiffened. “I think you underestimate Petro. If he is the mastermind, tonight is merely another example of him putting himself in the line of danger in order to throw suspicion off himself.”

  “Or it’s a second good reason why he shouldn’t be a suspect,” Grigoris said. “The mastermind has in the past used an expert sniper. This would have been an easy shot for even a moderately accomplished marksman—the lights were on in the office. It would have been easy to take a head shot.”

  * * *

  Nyx nodded. “That’s true.”

  “I know you want it to be him, but—”

  “I don’t want it to be him,” Nyx said sharply, though it was a lie. She’d already admitted she wanted it to be him. “I just know how manipulative he can be. I know that he is the sort of man who will go to great lengths to get what he wants, or what he thinks he deserves.” She kept coming back to what Lazar had said. What had Petro done to his vice admiral in retaliation for the way Lazar had helped her?

  Grigoris frowned. “That’s also true. But if what he wanted was to be fleet admiral, why isn’t he? Why was Eric named?”

  “We need to talk to one of the admirals who was at the second conclave. The one they held in secret.”

  “And we need to talk about your second suspect,” Grigoris said. “Nikolett.”

  “We had an interesting conversation.” Nyx briefly recapped their exchange.

  Grigoris’ frown deepened. “That might put her at the top of the list.”

  “She’s a strong candidate for the mastermind. She’s too straightforward to be manipulative, but I believe she could recruit people to her cause, the same way a cult leader recruits, through philosophical devotion and belief.”

  “But we know the mastermind used sexual manipulation, at least for Manon and the Rutherfords.”

  “Nikolett is beautiful,” Nyx pointed out. “And her forthright manner is most likely not the same approach she uses when it comes to sexual relationships.”

  Grigoris stared into space.

  After a moment, she asked, “Grigoris?”

  “I was thinking about the timeline.”

  Nyx blinked, realizing instantly what he was talking about. “Nikolett might be too young.”

  “Kacper was being poisoned for years. Would she have had time to recruit people in order to put all these things into place?”

  “And if she were the mastermind, why wouldn’t her attacks have started here, in her own territory?”

  “Don’t shit where you eat,” Grigoris pointed out.

  “This brings up another interesting point. Where the first attacks took place might be of more significance than we’ve allocated.” Nyx rose to pace. She always thought better when she was moving.

  “You mean maybe Winston, and England, were targeted first for a reason?” Grigoris asked.

  “But they weren’t the first victims.”

  “The murdered trinity in Rome.” Grigoris sat back, frowning.

  “Following our previous chain of logic, Giovanni Starabba would be on the shortlist for the mastermind; however, he was injured, and nearly killed, in the attack on his home.”

  Grigoris held up his hands. “You said maybe Petro shot himself in order to throw off suspicion.”

  “And I am steadfast in that conclusion. The degree of magnitude cannot be discounted.”

  Grigoris nodded. “There’s a world of difference between a bullet wound to the shoulder and having a building fall on you.”

  “And Antonio Starabba was in the building when the bomb went off. Giovanni’s dedication to his children is legendary. I doubt he would have risked his son’s life.”

  “He made his son a security officer. That is not a low-risk occupation.”

  “No, but again, it is not the same as being near the epicenter of an explosion.”

  Grigoris stood, and as she passed, he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop her pacing. “We’re talking in circles. And we shouldn’t narrow our suspects. There were a lot of people at dinner last night.”

  “And you’re sure it was one of them?” Nyx asked.

  “No. I’m not sure of anything. But it’s the most likely scenario. There are no cameras in or around the house, but there are cameras on the perimeter wall of the estate. There’s also an electric fence embedded in the top that is turned on whenever a lockdown is initiated. The instant the harcosok saw Petro had been shot, they flipped that switch, meaning anyone going over the wall would have gotten an electric shock strong enough to drop them. Nobody, and none of the cameras, were disabled.”

  “If the shooter isn’t one of the people who was in the house, they could be hiding on the grounds.”

  “The extra security we brought to check the house is doing a full sweep. And Fedir is testing the hands of all the staff for gunshot residue.”

  “If it was one of them, they were manipulated by Petro,” Nyx said instantly.

  “Most likely, since none of them are members, but they have to know at least something about the society.”

  “True,” Nyx agreed.

  “Tomorrow…” Grigoris looked at the morning sun that peeked around the curtain. “I mean this afternoon, I’m going to talk to a few people.” He touched her cheek. “Lazar is on that list.”

  “He couldn’t have held a gun long enough to fire it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Nyx frowned. “The same emotional bias that leads me to suspect Petro could blind me to Lazar’s involvement.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nyx wanted to keep talking, sure that if they just studied the patterns of behavior and potential motives long enough, they’d find a solution. There were so many things they hadn’t yet dissected—Rome was the first target, so who among the suspects, either those in the house or among the other admirals, would want to hurt or cripple Rome? What about the pathology of Ciril? Would he have accepted an order—or “help”—from a woman? It seemed likely that he was a misogynist, though she’d want to discuss that with Leila, who’d been kidnapped and tortured by the man. If that was the case, it might rule out Nikolett. At least rule her out as the mastermind. Maybe she was yet another of the mastermind’s pets.

  Nyx was about to say all this, but when she opened her mouth, she yawned.

  “Sleep,” Grigoris said. “We both need it. I emailed Eric about what happened today.”

  “Emailed?”

  “I’m too tired to deal with a pissed-off Viking. Besides, Lazar, or Security Minister Hans Molnar should be the ones to report this to the fleet admiral, but I doubt either of them did.”

  “I’m staying with you,” Nyx said. “My previous statements about sharing a room are rescinded. With that secret entrance to my room, I don’t feel safe. Even with Petro away from the estate.”

  Grigoris went pale, and then his arms came around her, hugging her so tight her ribs creaked. It felt good.

  “I checked your room and didn’t find it. I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her hair.

  “I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She raised her hand, touching his cheek. As she looked up into his eyes, she realized that she’d declared she would stay with him, rather than ask. A little trickle of uncertainty slid through her. “Can I…can I sleep in here with you? If you’d rather, I can—”

  He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. “Don’t be stupid.”

  He lay her down on the bed, then circled the room, running his fingertip over every wall, checking for a secret door. Nyx let him do it, not bothering to tell him she’d checked after he’d left earlier, scared that Grigoris had been lured out of the room so Petro could attack her a second time. Staying on the bed, she stripped down to the sports bra and panties she’d put on before heading downstairs. She tossed her clothes over the nightstand where they’d be in easy reach.

  When he was satisfied, he came to bed, stripping off his shirt. He kept the knife strapped to his arm, and seeing him shirtless and deliciously dangerous, thanks to the straps of the sheath wrapping around the sexy muscles of his forearms, made her body heat in a way that was newly familiar.

  Grigoris lay on his side, facing her. He traced a single finger down the midline of her body, starting at her nose. She nipped his finger as it slid over her lips, moaned as it teased her cleavage, and held her breath as his finger slid down her belly, lower, lower…

  …only to stop at the waistband of her panties.

  Nyx’s eyes popped open.

  Grigoris was grinning down at her. “Get some sleep, ángelos.”

  “You are quite evil.”

  Grigoris chuckled as he lay back, gathering her against his chest. She thumped her fist against his stomach, but he’d seen it coming and tightened his stomach muscles, so it probably hurt her more than him.

  “Do not doubt how much I want you,” he whispered against her hair. “But we aren’t safe, and the next time I make love to you, I want to take my time. I want to look at you. I want the room lit by a thousand candles so I can see every inch of your skin, watch your expression as I pleasure you.”

  Her irritation dissolved under a wave of arousal so strong that her nipples tightened inside the confines of her tight sports bra.

  “I want you too.” The words were so pale and simple, not at all representative of how she felt.

  Grigoris kissed her hair and pulled the blanket over them. Despite her arousal, her awareness of the way his bare skin felt under her cheek, Nyx’s eyes closed and she drifted off.

  Her last thought before she finally fell asleep was that he’d called it making love.

  Love.

  At last.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Nyx awoke, she suffered a brief flash of panic as she tried to recall where she was. Grigoris’ room in the harsh, bright light of day looked very different from the soft, warm dimness of night.

  The guest room was certainly reflective of the admiral’s home. The elegant furnishings, including this oak four-poster bed, had been chosen with the utmost care, so visitors were constantly reminded of their host’s immense wealth.

  She blinked her eyes several times, fighting to focus. When she did, she realized Grigoris was no longer in the bed.

  Nyx sat up quickly, startled, a soft cry of distress escaping.

  Her sudden movement drew the attention of Grigoris, who’d been sitting—shirtless—at an antique raised panel roll-top desk in the corner. He had been tapping away furiously on his laptop, but seeing her awake, he crossed the room to her in a half dozen long strides.

  While she felt rested and refreshed, it appeared Grigoris hadn’t managed to shut his mind off enough to sleep. The dark circles she’d seen last night as he’d investigated the shooting were even darker, and his face was creased with deep worry lines. He sank down on the mattress beside her.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  She ignored his question. “You didn’t sleep,” she said, her words almost an accusation.

  “I managed to rest for a couple hours.”

  “That’s not enough.” She reached for him, cupping his cheek in her hand. “You should lie down.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been building a case against Nikolett, researching her career, cataloging her travel, her connections, but there are too many gaps, too many parts that don’t match up to the mastermind.”

  “Put it away for now, íroa mou.” She used his native language for her term of endearment. In Greek, she was his angel. And he was her hero.

  Her savior.

  Grigoris ran his fingers through her hair, the soft expression in his eyes telling her how much her words meant to him. “There’s still too much to do, Nyx.”

  She understood his frustration, felt it. Grigoris had spent months caring for her. Now she had the opportunity to take care of him.

  “And there is time to do it. But not now.”

  Grigoris looked like he would continue to argue, until she reached out and ran her fingers down his chest, toying with his brown nipples as she did so.

  The fires had been banked last night—actually, this morning—as their exhaustion had overwhelmed their desires. Nyx wouldn’t, couldn’t, be denied again. She’d spent a lifetime in theoretical study when it came to sex. There was a time for books, but that time had passed.

  “Will you join me in bed?” she asked. “I know how to help you relax.”

  Grigoris’ lips tipped up in a sexy grin. “Oh, I know you do.”

  Nyx resisted the urge to smile. It was unusual for someone to tease her, to joke with her. She had accepted long ago that her serious nature intimidated others, seemed to discourage easy laughter and playfulness.

  Lately, Josephine had started to breach some parts of those walls, but Grigoris had scaled them all, right from the beginning.

  “Take off your pants,” she directed him.

  Part of her expected Grigoris to continue to resist, to insist on continuing the investigation. So she was surprised when he rose from the side of the bed, unfastened his pants, and shoved them off.

  He stood before her gloriously nude, but he made no move to join her on the bed. When his gaze slid lower, she understood why.

  Nyx slipped off her sports bra, enjoying Grigoris’ soft intake of breath as she revealed her breasts to him. Then she slid her fingers into her panties, lifted her ass, and pulled the lacy underwear off.

  Grigoris placed a knee on the mattress, intent on taking control, but she shook her head.

  “No,” she said quickly. “I am helping you relax. Remember?”

  Grigoris was unlike any man she’d ever known. Petro and her father were men of action, old-fashioned, chauvinistic. Neither of them would dream of taking orders from a woman.

  Her beautiful janissary respected and trusted her, and he showed it in countless ways. However, now, when he lifted his hands out, palms up in surrender, her heart nearly burst with happiness…and love.

  “Sit on the bed, in the middle,” she commanded. “And cross your legs.”

  Grigoris moved with purpose, assuming the position she’d suggested.

  Once his legs were crossed, she positioned herself in front of him, mirroring his body.

  “Have you ever practiced tantra?” she asked.

  “No,” Grigoris said.

  “The word tantric is from ancient Sanskrit. It literally means to weave energy.”

  Grigoris gave her a tired smile. “Energy sounds good.”

  Nyx placed her palms on her knees and Grigoris followed suit. She spoke slowly, softly, as she explained. “Tantra is a way to enlightenment. It’s a way to transcend the spiritual and the sexual through meditation. It’s about physical and spiritual awareness. I have practiced it alone for many years.” She hesitated before adding, “I would like to experience it with you.”

  “Show me,” he whispered.

 

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