"It's all in the body language, Tania," Gauge said. "She is all my brother needs right now, not the drama you're getting ready to pile on him."

"He's as much my brother as he is yours," Alec reminded him.

"I've seen him at his worst and his lowest. I sc.r.a.ped his own filth off his skin after Ma.n.u.s..."

"After Ma.n.u.s what?" Tania cut in. "Gauge?" The horror dawned on her face. "What did Ma.n.u.s do to him?"

"You two need to back off Daedalus."

Gauge went on ignoring the look of disgust on Tania's face and centered his vehemence on Alec. "And you're coming in after the fact, pal."

This was Daedalus's battle, but Alec wanted to kill Hermes himself.

"We saw the scars on his back," Tania said. Anger was evident in her voice. Alec fought to keep control of his.

"Courtesy of Ma.n.u.s."

"We'll have to wait until Daedalus trust us enough to tell us what happened to him on Santorini."

"We should have it already, Alec. We just buried your niece," Tania said.

Alec held Tania close to him. He forgot how funerals depleted her positive outlook on her new life. Vampires are supposed to be hard to kill. Juliana proved them all wrong.

Gauge looked away then back. Alec readied himself for more of his verbal onslaught. The polymorph's eyes glowed with intensity and shifted from red to yellow to dark brown.

"You look like Radu," Gauge said.

"So does Daedalus." Alec continued reigning in the beast. He understood Gauge's anger. "What is your point?"

"You don't put me at ease, Alec. Forgive me if I don't harbor that fuzzy family feeling when I see you."

"Do you ever give it a rest? Neither of us loved Radu," Tania insisted.

"I wished to G.o.d Radu hadn't killed your father, but I'm not him. Goodnight!"

Chapter Seven

They finally reached the entrance of the cemetery, walked under the Gothic House arch then down another long lane. The real world was in their line of view. Ilida was under a silent, beautiful spell: its name, Daedalus.

"My car is on the next corner."

"Lead the way."

They walked side by side again. This time, Ilida felt the couples' eyes on her back. "Was that your brother back there?"

"Yes," he said in a monosyllabic tone.

She had to strain to look up at him. "I noticed the resemblance. Both of you have squared faces. You have the cleft in the chin, he does not." She wanted to say he has beautiful lips but kept it to herself instead. "Was that his girlfriend?" she asked as her thumb discreetly pointed back. "The tall African- American woman?"

"You sound shocked."

"Where I come from race mixing isn't encouraged."

"I'm glad you moved. I find your views amusing, being that you are mixed yourself."

"I'm not against it. My grandfather gave my mother up for adoption because his family wouldn't accept her. My father never encouraged me to date men from different races because of that." She admonished herself. Now was not the time, if ever. "Why am I telling you this? Anyway, they make a striking couple."

"The tall African-American woman is his wife. Here is my car."

Ilida spotted it right away. She wondered if cars tend to look like their owners after a while. Her car, compared to his, was a pile of junk. She knew instantly why he'd chosen this one. It was a black, liquid, metal marvel. The door unlocked without any outward movement from him. He opened it for her and she stepped in and sat down in the black, leather pa.s.senger seat. She reached over and opened the driver side door for him. Soon, Daedalus sat next to her and turned the ignition key. He waved a large hand over the control panel under the dashboard. A hum and then the controls lit up with green lights. "I've never seen this before."

"It's not on the market yet."

He drove as if he'd been driving all his life. He looked to be around her age. How could he have had a twenty-year old daughter? Why on Earth did it matter to her? After this, she would never see him again. That much she knew.

They drove in silence. She pretended to watch the traffic while watching him. He drove one-handed. Yep! Probably started driving at sixteen. Probably had his own car at sixteen. He fit the rich and aloof category well.

They stayed silent until Flatbush Avenue and Grand Army Plaza Circle. "You never told me your name," he said.

"It's Ilida."

"It means light in Greek," he said.

"I know."

"It's also a chain of supermarkets in Peloponnese."

"Oh gee." There went her claim to fame, she would have said.

He shrugged in the most elegant way possible. His profile was perfect. An actor would kill for it. He must have heard her thoughts. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Note to self: learn how to keep thoughts to myself. There had to be books on telepathic shielding at the library. Why leave him with the task of helping her? He had enough to deal with, even if he was cold, rich and suspicious of the slightest act of caring.

"Do you have a headache now?"

"I had a small one at the cemetery. It's gone now."

With a fluid turn of the wheel, they were on Seventh Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked.

"Five years. Daedalus is a character in Greek mythology," she said. In the rearview mirror, she saw his eyebrow arched. Was he surprised? Probably. She had a way of surprising people. She wished she hadn't surprised him.

"That's right. You don't seem the type to know that."

"Why?"

He shrugged again. "I've lived long enough to not buy into stereotypes. Sorry."

That was a strange statement. He looked no older than she was. Well, he did have that old soul aura about him like his daughter and brother.

He still didn't offer any information about himself and her mind fought to categorize him. She came up empty. Labeling and stereotypes, she mused. They were both doing it.

"My apartment is right...here on the right." The car came to a slow stop. The engine cut off. His eyes intent on the road, he took her left hand and held it. This time, nothing prepared her for the electric jolt that shot up her arm to her neck to the apex of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s from his naked touch. Neither was he, she could tell. He dropped her hand as if she'd burnt him.

She sat there and waited. The silence drowned out the muted sounds coming from outside, and her furious beating heart. He wasn't going to move, and his nearness unnerved her. Why did the touch of his hand have to be so sensual? She pulled the latch opening the door. Droplets of rain collected on her knees.

"Don't go yet," he commanded.

Ilida swung her legs back in the car, closed the door, and waited. The car seemed too small. His very height, his demeanor, his shoulders were too powerful to be contained in the vehicle. He dwarfed it and her.

He stared straight ahead. Freezing rain a.s.saulted the windshield. "I won't bulls.h.i.t you. I'm drained and in need of comfort."

She watched the quick flick of his wrist and the wipers swept the rain back and forth across the windshield. Insight came unexpectedly for Ilida. "I know you're hurting."

"I'm more than hurting. I am numb. I want to feel - something."

"We could go to a restaurant and talk for..."

He interrupted her, adamant about what he wanted. "I sensed you around me after I found my daughter. We shared our grief silently but together."

She couldn't deny that. She was attuned to his every thought. He wanted physical comfort. She didn't do casual s.e.x. Yet, his invitation was provocative enough to make her want to leap at it.

She was an adult, she could handle it. If it made her uncomfortable then she could tell him. Did it make her uncomfortable? "I'm sure you have other women you can-"

"You were there, Ilida."

His invitation charged her insides and excited her. "I've never had casual s.e.x before."

"This, by any stretch of the imagination, isn't casual."

He stared straight ahead and she sensed he wasn't looking at the cars ahead of them or the dreary, nearly deserted sidewalk. He was waiting for her reply, watching her every physical nuance.

Three vehicles ahead a car tried to park in a s.p.a.ce. Its red lights blinked through the rain. Her mind raced with all the arguments against what he was proposing. "Then what? You send me on my way in a cab afterwards?"

"I won't do that."

"You might as well. We'll have the awkward silence bit that all women love while staring at the rumpled sheets."

"We're adults. I'm sure we can handle having s.e.x with each other without the awkwardness."

"Is this how you pick up women?"

He laughed bitterly. His voice dripped with cynicism. "I don't have to pick up women. They come to me."

"And you think I'm easy like your other...how many? Forty women?"

"It's forty now? I think you want to sleep with me, but you don't know how to say it." With his head bent down and eyes shuttered by insanely thick black lashes he said, "By the way, I think sleeping with forty women simultaneously is sleazy. Don't believe everything you read."

"You've had numerous affairs."

"Most men my age have."

"This will be another notch on your belt!"

"I'm seeking spiritual comfort not just physical."

She knew in her soul that he was telling the truth. "I'm not your type."

"I'm white but you still want me. Goes both ways."

His invitation was so cold and honest. Uncertain of her feelings, she got out of the car and looked up benignly at her apartment window. The light was on. Which meant Beverly was back. She and Kwame must have had an argument. Turbulent emotions floated out the window to her. Beverly had the worst timing in the world.

Daedalus turned on the engine. Over the clamor of the rain, she heard the door click. He was getting out. This was her chance. She could be the same old Ilida or sleep with him and emerge changed-good or bad. When was the last time she took her l.u.s.t in her own hands?

"Where do you live?" she asked as her vision swam. It'd been almost a year since she'd had s.e.x. "My roommate would decide to come home tonight. She's nosey, too."

Daedalus stood before her trapping her against the car and shielding her from the rain. He said, "I can get us to my place in twenty minutes."

He was true to his word. They got there in a little under twenty minutes. He opened her side of the door. She was surprised he did that. She expected him to forget she was alive except for him wanting to get in her panties. Beverly had told her enough horror stories to convince her not to do this. Why was she here?

His large hand held hers, lifting and pulling her out of the car. The huge umbrella went up, protecting them both from the downpour. He held her around the waist as he guided her to the wrought iron gate of his home.

The exterior of the townhouse, bathed in red, beckoned to her. The black wrought iron detailing on the canopy made this home look older-not stuffy. It must be the cold and the rain. She felt anything but warm, but looking at it felt like she was coming home. How ridiculous was that? She wasn't home. She was standing on the steps, watching Daedalus unlock the front door so that they could have s.e.x.

The door swung open without outward movement from him. "Welcome to my home."

"Thank you."

The house was long as most townhouses are with floor to ceiling windows throughout and cherry wood flooring. Her boots would echo. She squatted remembering she had a skirt on.

"Let me help you with that."

"I can manage."

"Sit down," he said evenly and authoritatively.