Actually, he had never seen anything less like a couple of strippers. The two women were bedraggled. One was positively drooping. They both wore black habits with headdresses framing their faces. The droopy one appeared to be around thirty with a pale, thin face and scared eyes. The other looked younger, though she also seemed to be the one in charge, squaring up to Graham and speaking rapidly.
Slightly below medium height, she looked well filled out, though it was hard to tell whether she was straight up and down or there were curves beneath the shapeless robe. Piers focused in on her face—broad at the cheekbones, pointed at the chin—which had a dimple in the center. She had flawless creamy skin, big brown eyes, and a rosebud mouth held in a tight line.
She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and waved it at Graham. Then she bit her lip and stepped back as Graham replied. Piers got the distinct impression of impatience—a mother superior in the making, no doubt. He’d gone through a nun phase once, but that was back in the Middle Ages. He’d found seducing them a challenge—it had been fun for a while.
Graham still held the phone to his ear. “What do you want me to do with them?” he asked. “They say they have a message for you.”
“Well, you’d better bring them down here then.”
He closed off the call and turned to Christian, who was now leaning against the wall, arms folded, a small frown playing across his face.
“I thought you were leaving,” Piers said.
“I’ll stick around.”
Piers raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can handle two nuns?”
“Hell, I know you can handle them.”
“But?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be handling nuns.”
Piers frowned. “Don’t worry. I’ll wipe their memories afterwards. They won’t remember a thing.”
“There are enough willing volunteers about. You don’t need unwilling ones. They’re nuns, for Christ’s sake.”
Piers narrowed his eyes on the other man. “Has anyone told you that you’re absolutely no fun anymore? Not that you ever were much fun.”
“Yeah. You.”
Finally, Piers shrugged. “Okay, I’ll be good. But I have to admit that I’m a little intrigued as to what brings a couple of nuns here.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s find out then.”
There was a light tap on the door and Graham poked his head around. “Your visitors.” Stepping to the side, he gestured for the two women to enter. “This is Sister Maria and Sister Rosa from the Little Sisters of Mercy.”
As the younger nun came through the door, a faint waft of sweet air followed her into the room.
Fae?
He glanced at Christian, whose brows were drawn together as though he sensed it as well. He must have become familiar with the scent after living with Tara for six months.
The fae liked to believe they’d wiped out all humans with mixed blood, but the truth was there were many who still held a trace. Some more than a trace, like Jonas, their resident warlock. And strangely, or maybe not so strangely, those humans with fae blood often turned to the church and became priests and nuns. As though they could somehow sense there was more to the world than what was immediately obvious, and God was the answer.
He studied her for a moment, but other than that faint, sweet perfume, she appeared wholly human. The scent filled his nostrils, and the hunger rose inside him. He licked his lips.
“Piers,” Christian said softly.
He turned his head so the others wouldn’t hear. “I’m good,” he murmured. “But you have to admit she smells delicious.”
Christian shook his head and stepped forward. “Sister Maria, Sister Rosa, I’m Christian Roth.”
The older one hung back. Up close, Piers could see the signs of exhaustion mixed with pain. The younger nun stepped forward. She wasn’t beautiful—Piers had known a lot of beautiful woman—but she was pretty. Even through the obvious fatigue, she was full of life, her face holding an innocence he seldom encountered. He ran his eyes over her figure, wishing he could see beneath those all-encompassing black robes. She was a good foot shorter than he was and peering down, he could make out the definite form of a pair of full, womanly breasts. All at once, it wasn’t only his hunger that was rising. He shifted, his leather pants suddenly way too tight, and Christian flashed him a dirty glance. Piers grinned; Christian wasn’t in charge here. He was.
“Good evening, Mr. Roth. But we’re here to see a Piers Lamont.” She had a low, sweet voice as well, that caressed his ears and sent prickles down his spine.
Her gaze had been downcast, but now she gave them both a swift glance, revealing eyes like dark chocolate. Her gaze shifted warily from Christian to him and widened slightly.
Great, she liked him. Well, she’d noticed him, anyway.
Piers elbowed his friend out of the way. “Welcome to the Order of the Shadow Accords. I’m Piers Lamont—how can I help you?”
…
Roz quickly lowered her lashes so no one would see her shock.
Holy crap.