Skye fingered the beautiful fabric of the dress as she walked into the sumptuous living area. The garment was so silky. And far tighter than her usual clothes.

The color was gorgeous. A bright blue that had a slight shimmer. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the large mirror on the wall. With her damp hair pulled back, her face was on full display, as were all her curves. She looked…pretty.

The scrape of metal on stone made her look away. Soren had changed and was stoking the fire he’d lit in the large marble fireplace. He stood, but his shoulders stayed stooped. He started to pace, his fingertips massaging his temples.

Power emanated off him, but she felt the suffering entwined with it. Greed was wrapping its grasping hands around him again.

She knew that back in the bedroom she’d had the perfect opportunity to seduce him. Her belly fluttered at the memory. He’d wanted to watch her change…but she just hadn’t been able to do it. Hadn’t wanted to trick him.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

A quick shake of his head. “No.” The hand by his side clenched, released, clenched.

“I can sing for you again.”

He paused, his head slowly rising. “Yes. I want you to sing.”

Skye sank into a large armchair and curled her feet up under her. She sang an old Aurae song in Italian. A song about the Warriors of the Wind and the seasonal breezes that soothed and lightened their burden.

She kept her gaze on Soren. One of his hands gripped the back of the couch, but as she sang, he relaxed his hold and his eyes closed. Soon, he moved closer and sat on the armchair beside hers.

When the song was over, gentle silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the occasional pop and crackle of the flames from the fireplace.

His gray gaze was locked on her. “That song…”

“It’s about the Warriors of the Wind.”

A line scored his brow. “I’m a Warrior.”

“Yes. You obviously know you control the wind, the East Wind. You’re one of five brothers born to a long line who have protected the world from the evil Tempest Winds.”

His frown deepened. “When you were singing, the greed backed away. I could almost remember who I was.” His shoulders slumped. “Now it’s gone.”

“It’ll come back. We’ll keep trying.”

“Maybe I don’t want my memory back.” He shot to his feet. “What if I discover I’m always greedy, always wanting more and more?” He strode to the windows. “I want to believe I’m not always like this.”

Skye smiled sadly. “Sometimes we just have to accept ourselves, flaws and all. I’m always scared, and timid, and too shy to tell anyone what I want.”

He spun around. “Someone hurt you.”

She looked away. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.”

She looked back, thankful he wasn’t going to push. Memory or no memory, she had a suspicion that Soren Venti liked getting his own way.

“Would you like to play a game?” he asked, waving a hand.

She spied the gorgeous silver chess set on a small side table. “Chess? Cards?”

“How about poker?”

“I’m not very good, but sure.”

He moved closer, a glint in his eyes. “Strip poker.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I enjoyed watching you take your clothes off. It’s mesmerizing.”

“You didn’t watch me—” she narrowed her eyes “—I was behind the screen.”

A tiny smile played on his lips. “Si, you were.”

She sat up straighter. “I am not playing strip poker.”

“We can skip the game and go straight to the part where you kiss me.”

Her heart gave a huge leap in her chest. “You’re crazy.”

“That’s likely.” He moved even closer, until he was kneeling in front of her chair, crowding her in. “Something about you calls to me, Skye, and I seem helpless to resist.”

He was so big and heat emanated off him in waves. That lean face was more compelling than anything she’d ever seen. He gripped the armrests, caging her in.

“Have you ever kissed a man, Skye?”

Dark memories closed in, choking her. “I…I—”

“No.” Soren’s hands cupped her cheeks and forced her gaze to meet his. “I mean have you ever made the decision? If something was stolen from you, that isn’t your fault. Have you ever chosen to put your lips on another’s because all you can think of is tasting them? Because it’s all you think about?”

“No.” A whisper. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Perfectly shaped and ridiculously full for a man.

“Do you want to make that choice?”

* * *

Soren watched Skye nibble on her bottom lip. He wanted her to choose him.

The constant whispers were silent—a reprieve he was thankful for. With them in his head, they’d demand he take what he wanted from her. But for some reason, her choosing him was important.

She licked her lips and he swallowed a groan.

“Yes, I want to kiss you, Soren.”

He scooped her out of the chair and sat with her in his lap. She went stiff for a second, but then relaxed. “This is all you, cara. Whatever you want.” He touched her hair. Now it was drying and it was once again an angelic shade of gold. “Whenever you want it.”

She lifted a hand and traced his face.

Then her hands cupped his cheeks and she leaned forward. She paused, took a deep breath, and pressed her lips to his.

For a second, neither of them moved. Soren’s hands tightened on the armrests and he forced himself not to take what he wanted.

Her mouth moved over his, gentle and hesitant. Then a tiny moan escaped her and she deepened the kiss. Soren parted his lips, and felt her hands slide into his hair. He tried to keep some control on the desire roaring through him. Easy. Easy. He slid his tongue against hers.

She moaned again, pressing into him. Her breasts felt so good against his chest and his cock was so hard it hurt. He was so turned on and wanted her so much, but he forced himself to take it easy. With great difficulty, he pulled back. “How was that?”

Her eyes were a little unfocused, her hands still clenched in his hair. “Wonderful.” Her voice was breathless.

He disengaged her hands and sat back in the chair. She watched him with a tempting look of confusion and frustration on her face.

“I want you to sing for me again,” he said.

“What?” She frowned, shifting in his lap. “You’re ordering me to sing?”

“A request.”

She sighed, and started to move from his lap.

He gripped her arm. “Stay. If you want.”

She hesitated, but then relaxed against him. Then she sang.

As her lilting voice filled the room, Soren settled back against the chair. As the song filtered through him, he watched her face and all the emotion crossing it. It intrigued him, entranced him. He wanted to feel everything she did. More than just the driving greed consuming him.

A memory burst into his head. Watching four, dark-haired boys running ahead of him. Shouts, teasing taunts, the oldest boy with blue eyes holding out a hand to Soren to pull him up.

The sound of clapping filled the room. “Bravo.”

Skye’s voice faltered and cut off. Soren pushed to his feet, setting her aside. The doors to the terrace were open and a man stood just outside, partly hidden by the shadows of the dying day.

He was tall, with wide shoulders, a shaved head, and golden eyes. He was smiling, but it didn’t show in those burnished eyes.

“A pretty little songbird you have, Venti. I hope you’ll share.”

Skye made a tight noise in her throat.

Soren gripped her arm and squeezed, but never took his gaze off the man. “Who are you?”

The man’s smile sharpened. “Oh, you must be very, very far gone to have forgotten everything. You’re so close to joining me and embracing the greed.”

“Who are you?” Soren repeated.

“Apeliotus,” Skye said. “He’s one of the Tempest Winds.”

Soren scanned the intruder. He was powerfully built and Soren sensed the raw power in him.

Skye straightened. “He’s the Southeast wind and revels in its vice of greed.” She looked up at Soren. “He wants you to join him.”

Apeliotus stepped inside. “Together we’d be unstoppable. We could have everything we wanted.”

Soren felt his gut tighten.

“We can amass a fortune like no one has seen before.” Apeliotus lifted a hand, his face lit with greed. “We can take every little thing we want. No one could stop us.”

Soren’s pulse quickened. The Tempest Wind’s voice was compelling, and he promised everything the deep, dark desires crouching within Soren wanted.

“You wouldn’t need a woman like her.” The man waved a dismissive hand at Skye. “You could have a harem of willing women far more clever and beautiful.”

Soren frowned. Skye was beautiful, and clever, and kind.

“Buxom brunettes, svelte redheads, leggy blondes. Whatever you wanted, Warrior, we’d find them and take them.”

Soren liked blonde hair. Hair that looked like champagne. “I want you gone. Now.”

Apeliotus frowned. “Riches. Women. Power. Isn’t that what you want?”

Si. No. Soren looked at Skye, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pale. He hated that she was afraid.

“What I want is for you to get out of my house.” Soren lifted his hands.

The East Wind rushed into the room in a chaotic, humid swirl. It pushed at the Tempest Wind, knocking him back several steps.

“It’s her,” Apeliotus hissed. “She clouds your mind and drowns your vice.” He shot her a venomous look. “Meddling Aurae.”

He raised his own hands and the Southeast wind rose up, tangling with Soren’s wind.

Soren pushed back harder, but so did Apeliotus. A huge blast of wind caught Soren off guard. It knocked him off his feet and he slammed into a table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor in a shatter of glass.

Then he heard Skye scream.

Soren leaped up, just in time to see the Tempest Wind carrying a struggling Skye toward the terrace doors. She was kicking and flailing, but no match for the bigger man.

“No!” Soren charged forward, but Apeliotus broke into a sprint and carried Skye out onto the terrace.

“Let me go.” Skye slammed a punch into the man’s head. He let out a low growl and spun around.

His gold eyes crashed into Soren’s.

“Let her go,” Soren said.

“I will let nothing get in the way of you joining me, Warrior.”

The Tempest Wind launched into the air, pushed up by his wind. Skye’s screams grew louder.

Soren sprinted across the terrace, desperate to reach her.

Apeliotus flew up above the gray, churning lake. Then, in a sharp change of direction, he sped downward, diving into the cold waters.

Taking Skye with him.