Stepping onto the rooftop, Gigi pointed off to the right. “That way. We stay on the rooftops as long as possible.” Nico didn’t protest, staying apace with her as they moved. He was too quiet. “You, okay?”
“I can hear her in my head still, bitching, calling my name.”
Without thinking Gigi reached out, taking his hand in hers. “Better?”
Nico’s grim expression only lifted slightly. “Yes, thanks. She’s cut down our safe zone to about ten feet it seems, and touching helps even more.”
“Well, that’s going to make our lives very interesting for the foreseeable future, isn’t it?” And why did Gigi’s thoughts go straight to the idea of sharing a bed with Nico this evening? Yes, it would only be sensible but damn, if the idea of it didn’t dispel the chill in the air and heat her veins.
“We need to get somewhere safe and warm.”
“I know just the place. See that church spire in the distance? We need to keep heading that way.”
“There better be a bloody shower there. I smell like a mint bomb exploded over me.”
Good Heavens, Gigi’s lady parts began to throb, because if they couldn’t get further than ten feet from one another before Qetesh’s curse began to transform Nico, then things like showering were going to prove challenging. No more alone time for either one of them from now on in, and more disturbing than her sudden lust filled thoughts, was how very okay she was with the idea that she and Nico were all but temporarily bound together.
She’d been very good about resisting the temptation Nico represented so far. But she’d been able to get some distance from him occasionally. Retreat to her own room. Sink into a chilly bath. But now. Ten feet?
Gigi gave herself a mental kick as they traversed a particularly steep rooftop, clinging to the guttering and edging forwards via a narrow ledge. This was grumpy annoying Nico Yanez she was talking about here. He was nothing but her convenient make believe boyfriend and temporary spy partner.
He didn’t do love, or relationships. And why weren’t her lady parts acknowledging that fact and dialling down? Hmmm, because, as she followed Nico, admiring his tight butt in thoseblack jeans of his, she was very aware of the fact there was one thing he did quite happily believe in… sex.
Chapter Fourteen
Nico glared at the bathroom tile, digging fingernails into his scalp as he shampooed his hair. He still felt unclean. Unable to shake the mental feeling of Qetesh invading him, trying to smother and control him. Anger all but causing his entire body to vibrate. Knowing that if Gigi DeWitt chose to walk more than ten feet away from him, then Qetesh’s presence would descend over him, like a suffocating blanket. Making it hard to think. And the feelings that would swamp him, they wouldn’t be his. Dark yearnings. Blinkered desire at the exclusion of all else for her, Qetesh. A woman he neither liked nor admired. A manipulator. A bully.
And he’d knelt to her, not completely, not all the way. But he’d been teetering. If the kiss had gone on longer, would he have capitulated? Turned into one of her blank eyed golden slaves?
Tipping his head back Nico released a huffing breath. Allowing the water to clear away the shampoo. Bloody Hell, he needed to stop thinking about the what ifs. He was still him, for the moment. What he needed was a distraction in the worse way.
Thankfully there was one available less than five feet away. Gigi. Naked. Soapy. Wet.
The claw-foot bathtub situated behind a low retaining wall off to the shower’s left. Only Gigi’s barefoot visible, poking out of the bubbles, tapping along in time to some silent rhythm.
Gritting his teeth Nico wrenched the cold tap on full blast. Saint Medard, that was icy. Turning off the shower completely he grabbed a towel, rubbing himself down briskly, trying to get the blood flowing again.
He would not look over, absolutely not. Seeing Gigi reclining in bubbles, soaping herself up, that would undo all the good work the icy blast had achieved.
Just outside the bathroom was a walk-in wardrobe. Hurriedly Nico dressed in a waiting pair of dark sweatpants and a thin black sweater. Towelling his hair dry absently he checked his phone. No response yet from Elijah.
Upon arriving at the third floor terraced apartment that belonged to a Great-Aunt and Uncle of Gigi’s - relatives who routinely spent the Australian winters holidaying in Florence taking in the art and culture - they’d immediately called Elijah. Putting him on speakerphone. First enquiring about Brynn and Chase, who’d thankfully been recovered from the atoll no worse for wear. Before proceeding to update Elijah regarding Qetesh, Hathor, Sek and Mot, Vaia, the Fate, and the fact that Hathor wanted to get her hands on Nell and Drum’s yet to be born baby daughter.
They’d also related everything they knew about Nico being referred to as fire touched and that the God, Kuat, had been referenced. Elijah had taken all the information down. Advising he would request Aunt Patricia conduct some research, but for the moment the two of them should hole up, clean up, rest, and wait until he got back to them with instructions on how they should play this out.
Once the phone call was over Gigi had Canary lick the lock on the manacles around their ankles. Gigi muttering something about pickle cocktails, though he didn’t think he heard that right. All that mattered was three seconds after the bunny nibbled at them the shackles parted, dropping away.
Hanging up the damp towel on a nearby hook Nico ran his fingers through his hair. There, he felt somewhat human again, though he was assailed by a strong urge to check the back of his hand for any sign of lingering gold glitter. He was just lifting it to look when the bathroom door opened and a pink cheeked Gigi stepped out, her wet hair pushed back, currently a dark gold in colour, a large blue towel her only covering.
“Oh. Hey. Just give me a minute to get dressed, then we can raid the kitchen. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She eyed him, a little puzzled. Oh, yes, she’d asked a question and he was just standing there, staring like a gormless perve.
Swinging about, presenting his back to her, Nico managed to unclench his teeth. “Yeah, I could eat.” Wow, suave.
Two minutes later she tapped him on the shoulder. Gigi had managed to find a long sleeve purple top and black leggings amongst her Great-Aunt’s things. And on her feet were fluffy cream socks. She’d run a brush through her short hair, the very ends already drying out and turning a white blonde. Damn, if she didn’t look cute.
“Kitchen is that way.”
Oh, yes. Nico followed her out of the wardrobe, into the adjoining bedroom, do not, for the love of all the Saints, look at the one and only big ass wrought iron bed. The living room light and airy, lots of creams with touches of mustard yellow and blue to keep it from feeling sterile.
