Piper

 

The next morning, I was determined to wake up early in order to make the most of the day.

But when my eyes opened onto a brilliantly sunlit room, I sighed and grabbed Balt’s phone. It was almost nine. And I could have fallen right back to sleep.

Propping myself up, I looked over at Balt, who didn’t look like he was waking up anytime soon. If I had to be honest, a repeat of yesterday wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world…

But I also wanted to do dumb, touristy stuff with Balt. Buy cheap knickknacks. Get Kai a goofy hat he’d wear to death. Maybe get Isla and Soraya each one of those pretty sundresses I saw hanging everywhere. Or shirts. Of course, my dad would want some books. And then there was my aunt and uncle, my cousins…

Oh boy, how are they going to react to me and Balt?!

Pulling the blankets closer, my entire body seemed to flush as I tried not to think about that. Closing my eyes, I tried to go back to sleep, but a nervous energy was filling me. Restless, I rolled over and considered waking up Balt. But he looked so peaceful.

Instead, I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. Struggling to keep my family out of my thoughts, I stepped into the shower, flicked it on and nearly yelped when the cold water hit me.

Balt had shown me how to work this yesterday, yet now I seemed to keep twisting it the wrong way. Finally, when the water was warm, I stepped back in and sighed in content.

My brain, however, refused to slow down. How obnoxious is Kai going to be – never mind Soraya and Auntie Tisha. I shook my head. I hope Dad is okay with it. I mean, he loves Balt. But maybe not like that…

Suddenly the shower door popped open and Balt stepped in. Before I could say a word, he’d pinned my wrists and captured my mouth, kissing every other thought into oblivion. His thigh slid between my legs and I squirmed against him, a soft moan escaping my throat.

The water rushing across our intertwining forms was stoking the heat that lived deep in my belly – the one only Balt could wake up.

Never mind instantly whip into a frenzy, too.

When he broke away, I was smiling dreamily up at him. But Balt didn’t let go of my wrists, only raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“You didn’t wake me up,” he said in an accusing, gravelly tone.

"I wanted to let you sleep!" I protested as he locked both of my wrists with one hand and tilted my chin up with the other. "That’s called being considerate.”

Balt ignored me. “No more separate showers. What were we thinking yesterday?”

“I don’t – ah!” I arched up against him as he gripped my ass and hauled me towards his hips. He was already hard and I shivered as his length teased my entrance. My eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. “Balt, mm, yes,” I murmured.

But then he stepped back and traced his fingers up and down my stomach. Opening my eyes, I watched his gaze trace up and down, causing my body to quiver all over.

With only a look, Balt had me melting in his hands and he smirked.

Grabbing my knee, he guided my leg around his waist and then brought up the other. Holding only my waist, Balt thrust forward and I arched up, our bodies entirely joined together.

Another moan was silenced with a hard kiss as he started moving with a deliberate, steady speed. Toes curling, the heat drenched me. We slipped and slid, muscles stretching and contracting.

Then, as though unable to take it, he let go of my hands and our pace became frantic. With a gasp, we broke apart and my head fell back. Balt was tracing kisses up and down my neck, while I cried out his name over and over again. All I could do was hold onto his warm, muscular body as pleasure now flooded both of us.

We shattered at the same time, Balt’s face buried in my neck as he gasped out my name.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Slowly he pulled back and I looked at him. Leaning in, Balt gave me a tender kiss and slowly let me down, his hands moving up and down my arms.

Turning, I pressed my back against him and his hands now drifted up my torso to my breasts. Then I was being pushed forward as my legs were nudged apart. Pressing my hands flat on the wall, I let out a whimper as I was filled once again.

Balt was right. I thought. No more separate showers.

 

Later, as I was getting dressed, even more tired, but utterly content, I glanced over to see Balt lounging on the bed, still with a towel slung around his waist.

“You don’t want to stay in?” he asked, grinning at me.

Walking over in my bra and panties, I lightly kicked his ankle. “As tempting as that sounds, I want to go out today. See the sights! Make some memories.”

Balt sat up and his hands teased the back of my thighs. I shivered, my hands playing with his thick, dark hair, soaking my fingertips. He leaned forward and kissed my stomach. “Are you saying I’m not memorable?”

“Balt,” I said in a shaky voice, gripping his shoulders. “Of course not.”

He stopped and smiled at me. “I’ll get dressed.”

“Thank you,” I said, stepping back as he stood up.

Balt’s hands suddenly shot out and he kissed my neck. “I did warn you, though,” he whispered in my ear. “So, you’re going to have to make this up to me sooner or later.”

Laughing, I swatted him away. “Get dressed already.”

Finally, we were walking along the streets, heading to the Monastiraki, a neighborhood filled with shops. The air was warm and fragrant with flowers and eucalyptus. Occasionally, too, it was filled with the burning scent of bread, spices, and meat as we passed by restaurants and vendors, causing my stomach to rumble painfully and Balt to laugh.

Balt gallantly bought us koulouri – bread stuffed with olives from a vendor – the man delighted as Balt talked rapidly in Greek. Then the vendor’s eyes landed on me and he winked.

“Found yourself a pretty American, boy? You better treat her good. Lots of koulouri.”

“Don’t worry,” I responded in Greek. “He treats me far too well.”

The vendor’s jaw dropped, then he roared with laughter, giving us each an extra piece of bread and bidding us to come back anytime.

"I like Greece," I said as we walked along. "And I like you." Then I sighed. "Balt, tomorrow, for real, though – we have to get back to training. In London, it was so sporadic and in France, we did nothing. Now we're eating this, while delicious yes, but I’m not going to fit into my clothes.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Balt said with a wicked grin. “We’ve gotten plenty of exercise the last two nights.”

I almost choked on my koulouri. “Balt!” I exclaimed, flustered to find myself blushing again.

He roared with laughter. “I’m sorry. I can’t resist teasing you, Pipla. You’re so adorable.”

Seeing Balt like this made my heart overflow. Hugging his arm, I shook my head and smiled as we continued to walk. He was talking in Greek now, pointing out things he remembered and how much things had changed. But when we arrived in the Monastiraki, he let out a startled noise.

“What?” I asked.

“I recognize that store,” he said slowly, pointing to a building bursting with color. A heavyset man with thick white hair was in the shade in front of the store, his hands folded over a cane and a gentle smile on his face. Balt walked over and the man nodded hello.

“Mr. Sarantos?” Balt asked and I laid a hand on his arm as the man started and did a double take. “I’m sorry, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

Mr. Sarantos blinked up in amazement and mild terror. “Nilos?” he asked, raising a shaking hand to his forehead. “Or has the sun cooked my brains?”

Balt went rigid under my touch and I stepped closer, squeezing his arm. The man gave me a confused look and then looked back at Balt.

“Nilos – he was my father,” Balt said in a husky voice.

“Baltsaros,” Mr. Sarantos breathed. “Of course!” Jumping to his feet, the man threw out his arms and embraced Balt. I stepped back and smiled as Balt looked down at him in confusion. “I see you take after your father – big as a mountain! Look at you, my boy. How are you?”

“I-I’m well,” Balt said as Mr. Sarantos seized his hand and pumped it. He introduced me, then answered a few more of Mr. Sarantos’s questions, before the man ushered us inside and got us cold drinks. I poked around the store, brimming with everything from groceries to hats to shoes, listening to the two men talk. A half-hour later, we emerged back into the sunshine and a far busier street. Mr. Sarantos was still beaming at Balt.

“You haven’t had any visits from any other Kazans lately, have you?” Balt asked in a low voice after we said goodbye.

The man’s smile vanished and he looked troubled. “No. Not in a long time. So much the better that you went to America.” He studied Balt. “You’re not here to visit – her?”

My hackles went up as Balt shook his head slowly. “No, I was just wondering.”

Mr. Sarantos sat heavily in his chair. “Good. There have been rumors. Your father and Kyros wanted you far away from that family.” He made a face and shrugged. “But, Athens, eh – I suppose that is far away enough. I know you must have missed your home country, Balt.”

Balt glanced away and nodded as my heart squeezed. After another round of goodbyes, we walked down the street and I squeezed Balt’s arm.

“You okay?” I asked, wishing I could do more.

“It was strange to see him,” Balt said. “Although he doesn’t look that different – whiter hair, maybe and more wrinkles. But dad always said the Sarantos didn’t believe in aging.” It was so rare Balt spoke of his father, my grip tightened and he smiled over at me. “Pipla, I’m alright. It was good to see him. Though it’s strange what he said about–” Balt fell quiet as I dug my nails into his arm.

An instinct that had been niggling at me since we left the store was now demanding my full attention. Hair rising on the back of my neck, we kept walking, though slightly slower.

We were being watched.

Inclining my head, we started walking again and I casually brushed the corner of my eye with two of my fingers. Balt’s gaze hardened and I knew he could now sense it, too.

As we rounded a corner, both of us stopped, ducking into a shadowed corner. In another minute, a lanky man puffed around the corner, swinging his head from side to side. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses and a hat pulled low, along with dark, nondescript clothes.

Gotcha, mole.

But instead of continuing on as I’d expected, the man seemed to realize something was amiss and took off running the way he came.

I exploded into Shifters of Anubis mode, off and running behind him without a second thought. Balt let out a shout, but I kept moving, streaking along behind the man in the hat.

Hearing my steps, the mole glanced back and started running faster, weaving expertly through the crowds and the narrow streets. Dammit, he might get away.

Try as I might, too, I couldn’t catch his scent. There were too many people, too many places selling food and animals underfoot. With a growl, I ran faster, my gladiator sandals cutting into my toes and slapping against the ground loudly. What I wouldn’t have given for sneakers just then.

It wasn’t that the man was faster than me but that he knew the market better. More than once he vanished from sight. Then I almost lost him completely as he darted down an alley ahead and clambered up over a wall.

Glad I wore long, loose harem pants and a crop top, I vaulted easily over it. The mole was standing there, panting and glanced up at me in shock, clearly thinking he got away. Without another thought, I swung a roundhouse kick at the man’s torso, sending him flying.

He hit the wall with a crunch, sliding to the ground. His glasses and hat had spun off in different directions. I prowled forward and glared down at him. Shaking his head, the man flattened himself into the wall and held up his hands.

“Take my money, take my money,” he said in quick Greek.

“You know I don’t want your money!” I snapped. “Why were you following us?”

At that moment Balt landed next to me and folded his arms. “A little warning next time,” he hissed between his teeth.

“You’ve known me for how long?” I muttered back.

To my surprise, Balt chuckled. “Touché. Who’s this?”

“Gregor Makris, sir,” the man said, wilting even further. I noticed his eyes latched onto Balt’s arm and he tried to straighten. “Anything you need – please, please ask.”

“Answer her question,” Balt said.

Gregor wrung his hands. “Well, I-uh, I heard the name Kazan back there. I work for them.” Balt and I glanced at each other, then back to Gregor who cringed. “Yes, I know – I shouldn’t be bothering you – I was just confused. I thought all of the Kazan family was supposed to be at the estate and then I thought maybe I missed something. I was worried, sir.”

“Hm, I see,” Balt said thoughtfully. “Well, that does show your dedication to my family, Gregor. I appreciate your work ethic.”

Adoration lit up the man’s lean face. “You won’t tell Kyría?” he asked.

Kyría. Lady or mistress. I raised an eyebrow.

“Sure. So long as you don’t tell her that you saw me, either,” Balt said, his voice slightly harder now. “Understand, Gregor?”

Nodding, the man stood up slowly and Balt stepped forward, brushing off his dirty shoulders. “Thank you,” Gregor said, glancing between me and Balt. “You do know Kyría doesn’t care for Americans, right?”

Balt stifled a sigh and nodded. “Oh, I know. Now, Gregor – will you be in the city long?”

“Till the end of next week, sir,” Gregor replied.

“Alright. Well if I have need of you – how can I get in contact with you?” Balt asked.

“You don’t have my number?” Gregor looked puzzled and faintly suspicious.

“I don’t have my usual phone – left it behind to avoid trouble,” Balt replied innocently.

“Oh, of course,” Gregor muttered and then dug around in his pockets. “Here.”

Handing a card to Balt, I saw Gregor's name and number were listed.

“So, Gregor, what brings you to the city – what is the Kyría having you run around for now?” Balt asked in a confidential, bored kind of tone. “Errands and the like?”

The man shook his head, wearied. “I’m waiting on a damn Frenchman. I dealt with him last week and he was supposed to get back to the family by now via courier. Yet there has been no courier, no letters – not even a messenger pigeon. I hate to return empty-handed, but short of going to France, I don’t know what else to do.” He paused. “I heard a rumor he was dead. Now I wonder if it’s not a rumor. Ah, I don’t know. Maybe he’ll show up.”

Balt nodded. “I’m sure Kyría will understand. She likes the French almost as much as Americans.”

Gregor let out a laugh, then looked abashed. Clearing his throat, he said, “If that’s all…”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Gregor," Balt said and the man took off. Both of us were silent for a moment before he heaved a sigh and asked, “Okay, Piper, what’s that look?”

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “That was masterfully done, sir Kazan.”

“Good thing that fool didn’t realize I’m the long-lost son,” Balt said with a wry twist to his mouth. “I don’t want word getting back to my family that I’m here. God knows what they’d do.”

“Hm,” I murmured and began walking out of the alley.

“Pipla,” Balt said in a wheedling tone. “Out with it.”

“Fine,” I said, turning around with my hands on my hips. “Who is Kyría?”

“Kyría Kazan.” Cocking his head, Balt smiled a little. “It’s not what you think.”

My lips pursed. “I’m not thinking anything. So, who is she?”

With a cold edge to his smile Balt said, “My grandmother.”