Part 1 (1/2)
Double Trouble.
Allyson James.
Chapter One.
The last shard of the vessel lay in Fionaas hand.
Fionaas s.e.x jar, the other archeologists snickered.
The painting on the terracotta two-handled jar depicted two beautiful men with long, very erect c.o.c.ks, one on either side of a voluptuous woman.
Their p.e.n.i.ses half penetrated the woman in profile, one in front, one behind, in an impossible position. The woman hovered between the two, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her long black hair touching the c.o.c.k of the man behind her.
Their naked male physiques were in excellent shape, their faces near perfect, and each of them had unruly black, curling hair that ended just below the napes of their necks. The painting followed the sinuous curve of the jar and the menas muscular arms nearly touched in the back.
Fiona could study the painting for hours, enjoying the art of that long dead Athenian who had caught the threesome in their erotic act.
The ancient Athenians had not been afraid of s.e.x. Neither was Fiona, but spending her days in a m.u.f.fled office or digging things out of the dirt under the broiling sun didnat give her much chance to have any. Her last boyfriend had departed three years ago, and now the only time she got on her hands and knees with a man was to help him brush dust from unearthed pottery.
So she looked at the vessel that dated to 500 B.C.E. and wished she were the woman in the middle. She wondered if the painting depicted a myth or just the artistas own fantasy. Maybe someday her research would discover its secret.
Fiona had needed one piece, brilliant red tipped with black, to complete the jar shead been working on in the Athenian Agora for the past two summers.
Today, almost as if by accident, the last piece had nearly leapt at her from the spread of potsherds in the collection room. Now she held it in her hand, the ancient clay smooth and cool.
At last.
A gray tabby that enjoyed lounging about the site chose that moment to rub Fionaas legs. Used to her by now, Fiona barely jumped at the brush of fur on her bare skin.
She dabbed the shard with the paste they used to glue pots together, and with a satisfied smile, carefully set the last piece into place.
A sudden vibration hummed through her body. She heard a loud click, and the lights went out.
Someone outside the pottery room groaned. aGeneratoras gone again. To h.e.l.l with it, Iam going to bed.a Fiona took out her pocket flashlight and made her way to the door. The offices were in complete darkness, but no one panickeda”everyone was used to the temperamental generator. Mostly they muttered swear words and left the building.
Fiona left too, the cat staying behind in the comfortable dark. Fiona headed back to the dorm and the tiny private bedroom awarded her because she was a postdoc, a small step up from the graduate students who bunked four together in one-room apartments spread throughout the city.
She sighed as she crossed the compound under the mild Athens night. Such an anticlimactic end to a day shead looked forward to for two years. Shead finished her jar, but no one very much cared except herself.
The true life of an archeologist, she thought with an inward laugh. No Indiana Jones adventures for me.
In the pottery room, unseen by anyone but the gray cat who watched the jar with intense yellow eyes, the black and red vessel began to rock. A wisp of smoke rose from the top, the crazed cracks of the pieced-together shards vanished and the painted figures began to glowa * * * * *
Fiona woke to whispers.
aThink sheall be as beautiful when she opens her eyes?a It was a masculine voice, deep and rich and slightly accented. Greek.
aHave you ever seen hair this color? It is like the depths of fire.a The second voice was just as deep, just as rich, just as sinfully s.e.xy.
aIs it real, do you think?a aItas like the finest gossamer woven by Ariadne.a Fiona felt faint touch in her hair then it was gone.
aWhat language are we speaking?a the first man asked.
aEnglish.a aNever heard of it.a aIt must be her language,a the second man said. aOf course wead understand it. Sheas obviously a great sorceress.a Again the faint touch in her hair. aAnd a beautiful one.a aI saw her first.a aThe f.u.c.k you did. We arrived at the same time.a Fiona lay still, wondering what kind of dream had taken over her tired brain. She felt a warm weight on either side of her, as though the men had stretched out on the narrow bed with her. Musky and masculine scents wove through her half-asleep mind, soothing and comforting.
Their voices were similar, but she sensed a difference. The first man sounded amused, as though he found the world perpetually funny. The second had a poetic turn, rich syllables sliding from his tongue in beautiful phrases.
aI wonder where we are,a the first one said. aLast thing I remember is that b.i.t.c.h in the temple, and thena”nothing.a aIt is too dark. Is she a G.o.ddess, do you think?a aHer fingers are dirty.a Fiona felt her hand being raised and a brush of something warma”lipsa”across her fingertips. She stirred, the s.p.a.ce between her legs heating.
aA G.o.ddess can get her fingers dirty if she wants to,a the second man said, his voice deep and warm.
What a magnificent dream.
Fionaas eyelids began to open, and she fought waking up. Stay asleep, enjoy it. Waking up would bring dull reality rus.h.i.+ng back.
Sure, spending her summers in Athens working in the ancient ruins was exotic, but only until the lights didnat work and the plumbing backed up, and a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich seemed like food of the G.o.ds.
Fionaas eyelids wouldnat cooperate. They slid open and her eyes took in the darkness of the room.
Except the dream didnat go away. Two large, hard-bodied men lay full-length on either side of her, each propped up on one elbow, each with black hair rumpled to the napes of their necks. Two faces of hard, identical handsomeness hung over hers, two pairs of glittering dark eyes fixed on her.
Twins, she thought distractedly.
Both men were stark naked. They lay languorously on her bedcovers, legs stretched to entwine with hers, sculpted pectorals dusted with black hair, arms raw with muscle. The one on her left had her hand in his and was brus.h.i.+ng his lips over her fingers.
The one on her right looked at her with such intense concentration that his gaze seemed to bore straight through her head.
She opened her mouth to scream but only a strangled dry sound came out.
aShh,a said the one holding her hand, his breath tickling her skin.
For some reason, she wanted to obey him instead of fighting her way free and shouting for help.
aAre you a sorceress?a the one on her right asked softly. aOr a G.o.ddess?a Fiona gulped. aNeither. Iamaan archaeologist.a The two men exchanged a glance. aAr-chaeo-lo-gist,a the man on her right said, lips carefully p.r.o.nouncing the syllables. aA Greek word. Studier of the past?a aYes. I guess so.a At the moment, Fiona was not sure exactly what she did. aWho the h.e.l.l are you, and what are you doing in my room?a The two men looked at each other, surprised. aYou freed us,a said the one on her right, his intense look deepening.
aWe were drawn to you,a the first man said, his lips lingering on her fingertips. aAfter the spell broke and you freed us. Of course we want to thank you.a The second manas smile changed his serious demeanor. aWe will thank you in whatever way you like.a He laid his hand across her abdomen and even through the blankets, his large palm soaked heat into her.
aWait.a Fiona struggled to sit up. aI freed you? From what? Iave never seen you before. I havenat been anywhere but the dig in weeks. Youare mistaking me for someone else.a aNo,a the first one said.
They started speaking at the same time, each finis.h.i.+ng the otheras sentences. aWe were trappeda”a aIn obliviona”a aFor eternity.a aIt seemed like eternity.a aDo you know how boring oblivion is?a aEspecially with him.a They glared at each other. aAt least I know more than two jokes,a the one on her right said.
aAt least I donat sing. Zeus above, but your voice would make a Hydra cringe.a Fiona waved her hands to break in. aOblivion?a Their banter ceased, smiles vanis.h.i.+ng. aIt was darka”a aAnd so d.a.m.n cold.a aLonely.a aThe dark could eat your soul.a They stopped.