Page 25 of Witches and Wine
I stroked my beard, mulling over Hermes’ words. What if Chelsea and I were mates in the shifter sense? I did, after all, have the capability to shift into a more beast-like form. “That still doesn’t answer my question on how we would know.”
“What is she, anyway?” Bruce asked, snatching a cocktail straw to gnaw on like a goat.
“A witch,” I responded, my dick getting hard at the memory of the brightened look on her face when she’d told me. It was like the revelation breathed new life into her.
Hermes stood on the rung of his stool and shoved my shoulder, a wide-ass grin on his face. “Well, hot damn, bro. Has she shown any powers yet?”
Grabbing the towel again, I wiped down the liquor bottles. “Not really. Only some bright white tendrils when she ca—” I stopped and glared at them. “Not really.”
“You should take her to talk to the Crone,” Bruce suggested, nodding his head as if he had all the witchy answers.
Hermes slapped a hand over his face. “I highly doubt she prefers to be called that, Bruce.”
“Why wouldn’t she? Thatiswhat she is. Because she certainly ain’t no Maiden or Mother.” Bruce gave an exaggerated shrug before waving us off and moving the straw to the other side of his mouth.
Hermes sighed. “He’s referring to the High Priestess, Cressida, Dion. And despite the satyr’s insane disregard for manners, it’s not a bad idea.”
It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about it. Everyone in the Cove knew who to go to with any questions or concerns involving witches.
“I will, but Chelsea wants to come into her own, and I don’t blame her. I think it’s best if she discovers her powers first, whatever that might be.” Throwing the towel at Hermes’ chest, annoyed when he snatched it from mid-air with lightning speed, I added, “That’s why I invited her here tonight. To get her to unwind. She’s so high-strung it stressesmeout at times. It’s gotta be holding her back.”
Bruce showed us his ass, making his bushy satyr tail sway. “Get her to unwind. Rail her in the backroom. We know where you’re going with this.”
I grabbed the towel and hurled it at Bruce, making it land on his horns and covering his face.
“What youshoulddo is take her to the VIP room,” Hermes suggested with a wicked smile, nudging his head at the black door with gold lettering labeled VIP Only.
The VIP area at Bacchus wasn’t like your typical champagne room with lounging, ordering liquor by the bottle, and private dancers. Here, it led to my ancient sanctuary in the forest where the real festivities took place—dancing around a bonfire, usually naked, potential orgies, music from wind instruments, and drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.
Blowing out a breath, I grabbed the bar top’s edge. “I’m not sure if she’s ready for that.”
Fucking Olympus, how I wished she was, though. To witness her in complete abandon, to make her feel like the flaming seductress she was—I adjusted my pants and cleared my throat.
“By Valhalla, is that you, Dion?” An all-too-familiar baritone voice boomed from the other side of the mostly vacant space.
He strolled closer, his tall, wide form hovering above mine by several inches, which always irritated the Tartarus out of me. Half of his long, red hair was pulled into a bun at the center of his skull, and his fiery orange eyes landed on me with a brightened smile.
“Thor. Fancy seeing you here. It’s been, what? A hundred damn years?” Smirking, I offered him a forearm that he shook.
“At least. But believe it or not, I got bored on Asgard and thought I’d see why you Greeks preferred a life of disguise over rubbing elbows and drinking wine in the clouds of Olympus.” Thor combed a hand through his long beard and surveyed the club.
Hermes turned in his stool, seemingly unimpressed by the Norse god, and leaned back on his elbows. “Don’t you have giants to fight off?”
“Not sure we’ve met.” Thor offered his forearm to Hermes.
Hermes narrowed his eyes at the god of thunder as if sizing him up while locking arms with him. “Hermes.”
“Ah, yes. You’re the one that can run really, really fast, right?” Thor pantomimed quick legs in the air with two fingers and let out a hearty chuckle.
Laughing for only a moment, I clapped Hermes on the back. “He’s also the only god any of the others trust with important messages. ‘Ol Herm here has saved my ass a time or two, I’ll tell ya that much.”
Hermes elbowed me in the ribs, and grinning, shook his head. “Don’t get soft on me, Dion, just because you’ve finally got a crush on a female.”
“Oh?” Thor propped against one of several ionic columns that bordered the dance floor. He folded his arms, making theblack shirt he wore tighten on his biceps, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Bruce’s hooves clacked on the tile floor as he walked to Thor. “Pardon me, good sir, but might I trouble you to see your hammer?”
Thor glanced down at the satyr before turning his gaze to me, silently confirming if my friend was serious. I shrugged. “You would need one of my iron gloves to hold Mjölnir, satyr, and I don’t think they’d uh—” He eyed Bruce’s petite hands. “—fit.”
