"Irresistible Schemer"
Copyright 2005 Penn O'Hara

 

F13

Usual disclaimers apply.

Follows immediately after "Wicked Schemer".

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"That's enough!"

Zankou bit back a laugh at how opportune Piper chose to be, materializing into the room at the moment when he had Paige's complete capitulation on his bed beneath him.  Piper had to have been listening in to arrive with such timing.

"Paige!  Get off that bed," the elder witch commanded.  "What do you think you are doing?"

Wriggling from under him, Paige spluttered, "I… I was… I had… ointment for his cuts."  She straightened her clothes and brushed past Piper to stand slightly behind her.

Zankou rolled over to the middle of the bed, propped himself on an elbow and lifted one knee, burrowing his hip into the soft mattress.  He looked Piper up and down and bent his free arm up behind his neck, giving the witch the full effect of his bare chest and shoulders.

"Put away your ego, Zankou," Piper said, disgust heavy in her voice.  "I can smell its stench from here."

Zankou lifted his chin to the insult, allowing it to glance from him.  Easing himself from the bed, he moved slowly toward her.  Paige took a step backward, but Piper remained where she was. 

"You were meant to, Piper," he said. 

Zankou had to be careful with this one.  He and Phoenix were in agreement that sex appeal wouldn't work on Piper.  Instead she had to be challenged, her power questioned and her control jeopardized. 

"You see, your efforts are feeble compared to what I can do," Zankou boasted.  "And you know it."  He moved his body in on her but she didn't give an inch.  That didn't bother him because he knew it would make her more uncomfortable.  Staring her down, he smiled evilly.  "You're seething right now, because you're stuck with me and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."  He watched the fight smoulder and bloom in her eyes.  They stood so close that when her fingers clenched at her side, he felt their stroke against his thigh.  "And you hate being so helpless."

"You think I'm helpless?"  Piper raised her arms but before she could invoke her magic, Zankou grabbed her wrists and held. 

"You don't want to take me on, Piper," Zankou warned.  "You'll lose and then Leo will be without a wife and your children without a mother.  Is that what you want?"

Her eyes battled with his.  "I don't–"

"You don't believe me?  Do you really want to take that chance?  Goad me enough and I'll wipe the floor with you, Nexus or no Nexus."

"I pity your wife," Piper gritted.  

Zankou felt the fight leave her and he was almost sorry.  Their verbal strutting was intoxicating and he wanted more. 

"If I were her," Piper continued,  "I would have had you castrated, not incarcerated.  There's still time yet."

"But what a waste," Zankou said, feeding his own self-worth.  "Phoenix has no intention of cutting off her supply, so why should you fight it?"  He laughed, then released her arms and watched her rub her wrists absently.  "Be strong then, Piper.  My ego can stand it.  I have Paige, after all."

"You stay away from her!"

Zankou flicked a brow at Paige.  "Don't you think you should be having this conversation with your sister?  The dilemma will be preventing her from coming to me, I'm afraid."

"We'll see about that!"  Piper wheeled where she stood, pushing Paige ahead of her out the door. 

Zankou chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his chin with a finger, thinking hard.  Piper should be ready to drag Phoebe back into the throng in an attempt to cohere their strength, so he could expect a visit soon from the highly desirable middle witch.  Her seduction wouldn't be as easy as Paige's.  Phoebe was liberated and bold.  He'd need different tactics.

Pushing himself from the bed, Zankou walked over to the full-length mirror fixed to the large wardrobe.  The satin trousers disappeared from his frame to be replaced by black sweat pants and a loose sleeveless black tee.  He released the cord on the sweats so they barely gripped his hips, then checked out his feet.  Runners were unnecessary so he kept his feet bare, flexing an ankle in the mirror, confident his feet looked long and athletic on their own. 

Glancing around the small room he found a six-foot square space in which he materialized a press bench, complete with barbells.  Adding the final touch of a cream towel to the set-up, Zankou padded over to the bench and made himself comfortable on his back.  Bending his arms at the elbow, he tapped his fingers on his chest as he waited for Phoebe to arrive.

oOo

"Where is he?" Phoebe asked, snapping out the words.  She was happier waiting out Zankou's unwanted stay at her friend's place across town and didn't appreciate being hauled back to the Manor's kitchen by Piper.   "Why is he still here?"

"We left him in the guest room," Piper said, settling down on a chair to sample a bowl of oatmeal that Leo had placed on the kitchen table. "Use less salt next time, Leo."  She looked up at Phoebe.  "I can only hope he's got out and is never coming back, but I doubt we're that lucky.  Leo, Paige and I are at our wits' end figuring out how to get rid of him."

"According to Zankou," Paige said, her elbows on the table, linked fingers supporting her chin, "if we convince his wife we have no designs on him, she'll take him back."

"Is she that stupid?" Leo asked.  He turned back to the stove, tasting the pot of oatmeal he had prepared.  "This tastes fine to me, Piper."

Piper frowned.  "As far as I can tell, Phoenix is very intelligent.  Just blinded by the lure of an unprincipled rake.  Now that we're all here," she handed Leo the bowl of oatmeal, "I'll head back to her publishing house and bring Phoenix here and we can try and reason with her.  Paige, you can come with me."  Piper tapped the bowl.  "Leo, it is too salty."

"But I'd rather stay–" Paige began.

"You're coming where I can keep an eye on you," Piper said firmly.  "Which reminds me, Phoebe, if you decide to go visiting our unwanted guest, make sure you knock on the door first." 

Piper and Paige disappeared leaving Phoebe looking a query at Leo.  He merely shrugged.  "I'll go get the boys organized for breakfast," he said.  "I suggest you wait here until your sisters get back." 

Phoebe watched Leo leave the room then looked up at the ceiling, considering what Zankou might be up to in the guest room.  She knew with a certainty that it was no good and she had to know – what he was doing, what he was planning.  She headed out of the kitchen for the second floor, turning left at the top of the stairs where Leo had turned right toward the boys' room.

Approaching the guest room, Phoebe wondered about Piper's warning.  She stopped at the door and listened.  Hearing nothing, she raised a hand to the wood, clenched and unclenched her fist in hesitation, then, caution losing to curiosity, grasped and turned the doorknob and pushed.

Her senses were assaulted by the picture of Zankou flat on his back on a bench press, straining against a set of weights, his tee shirt damp against his skin, muscles bunching and a look of intent concentration on his face.  Sweat glistened on his brow and his jaw tremored under his beard, that sensuous lower lip thrust forward and Phoebe felt an irresistible urge to–

She mentally pulled back from the image of her nibbling that lip with her teeth and said the first thing that came into her head. 

"What are you doing?" 

Immediately regretting the inane question, Phoebe took a few more steps into the room, braving out her vulnerability to the sight of him.

Zankou blew a sharp breath through his teeth and replaced the weights carefully.  Sitting up, he braced his hands on his bent knees and fixed Phoebe with a laden gaze that created a lump in her throat and made her tongue feel paper-dry.

"No one knocks in this house," Zankou lamented, shaking his head.  "How do you function like that?"

Phoebe licked her lips.  "I guess… I guess we took a page from your book.  I recall you rarely knocked before you invited yourself to our house."

"But never your bedroom.  Maybe that was my mistake?  I should have bedded you all and had you eating out of my hand, instead of all this foolhardy resistance."   

Phoebe's lip curled at his supreme conceit.  "What makes you think you would have succeeded?"

"Ah…"  Zankou folded his arms across his chest and Phoebe's eyes were drawn again to the ripple of muscle.  "Piper hasn't told you."

"Told me?  Told me what?" 

"Sorry, that would be kissing and telling," Zankou chuckled, and Phoebe felt her blood roil at his deliberate evasiveness.  "Ask them if you really want to know," he said.  "Speaking of which, where are your delectable sisters?"

"They've gone to get your wife," Phoebe said, riddled with disgust.

Zankou glanced at the clock on the bedside table.  "They won't find her this early.  She's still at home with the children."

Phoebe snorted.  "How many do you have again?"

"Seven, I believe."

"Why do keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Having so many children?"

"Phoebe!  I didn't realize how naive you were.  We keep having children because we fu–"

"You know very well I mean birth control," Phoebe said, jerking her hands in front of her face, then quickly folded them across her chest, realising her uneasiness was showing.  "Even demons have heard of it."

"If Phoenix chooses not to use it, then I can't make her.  Besides, I like children."

"So you can turn them into demons."

"So I can teach them how to have fun with the pompous do-gooders."  He smiled at her, completely unrepentant.

Phoebe opened her mouth then shut it again, thinking hard about something Zankou said.  "Why did you say, 'seven, I believe?'  Don't you know?"

Zankou closed his eyes briefly, as if recovering from an inner thought.  "There are always so many underfoot," he explained, "I lose count sometimes."  He smiled lazily.  "I didn't realize you were hanging on my every word."

"I'm not.  I guess I'm just bored waiting for the others to get back."

Phoebe watched, startled, as Zankou unfolded his body from the bench press and glided toward her.  His movements were fluid and sensuous, and her eyes were drawn to the roll of his hips.  Her heart started to pound as she noticed the beginning line of fine hair bared by the low waistband of his sweats and wrenched her eyes away. 

"I can give you something to do," he said.  Phoebe's body shivered at the seductive quality of his words.  "Something for us both to do."

"Back off, Zankou!  I have no interest in you."

Zankou swept a hand toward the mini-gym.  "I simply meant a work-out, Phoebe.  What did you think?  The kind of work-out we could do on that bed?"

Phoebe looked at the bed before realizing what she was doing, then snapped her eyes back to Zankou, but his attention had shifted to the barbells on the bench press.  Lifting them from their cradle, he began swinging them upward with bent elbows. Phoebe watched his biceps lock and release in a smooth repetitive rhythm that was mesmerizing.  Realizing she was staring, she dragged her gaze away from the sight of his skin rippling over taut sinew and eyed the padded seat.  She considered using the press, if only to keep her mind from his body.

"The bench is all yours, Phoebe," Zankou said.  "You look like you could iron out a few kinks."

Was he making fun of her?  She glanced back at him but his face was serious, concentrating once more on his exercising.  Walking tentatively toward the bench, Phoebe made up her mind and sat down, kicking off her shoes.  Lying back, she reached for the weights and a gasp caught in her throat as she looked up into Zankou's black eyes a foot above her, gleaming and alive with mischief.  He was panting softly, his lips parted and Phoebe's muscles locked ready to bolt before she realized he was merely holding the weights for her.  Lowering them carefully into her outstretched hands, Zankou retrieved his barbells and moved away.

They worked in silence, Phoebe's nerves tautening with the strain of his being so close.  "How often do you work out?" she asked, thinking it would be easier if she struck up a conversation.

"Depends on how often Phoenix feels horny.  Lately she's been–"

"Don't you think of anything else?" Phoebe snapped.

"Around a beautiful woman, no."  He sighed.  "But otherwise, yes.  Taking over the world, ridding the world of do-gooders, obliterating anyone who annoys me.  Take your pick."

Phoebe seethed, accepting his compliment but wishing he were more… tolerable.  If he weren't such a down and out creep, she could easily fall for him.  Her eyes widened with horror.  He's a married man, she told herself.  A demon!  A thorn in their side.  The list of reasons why she shouldn't be attracted to him was endless.

"I'm disturbing you," Zankou said smoothly.  "I'm sure you're an emancipated woman who won't mind if the man has the first shower, so I'll leave you to your work-out."  He wrapped a towel around his neck.  "See you around."

Phoebe watched him walk out of the room and bit her lip at the inexplicable feeling of loss of the stimulation of having him in the same room. 

"Get over it!" she told herself as she pumped the weights, pushing her body through a bruising fifteen minutes of exercise before she gave up.  She was still tied into a frustrated knot. 

Replacing the weights, Phoebe sat up and looked for something to staunch the perspiration on her skin but found nothing.  Zankou had taken the only towel, the rest of them being in the linen closet in the bathroom he was now using.  Poking her head out the bedroom door, she saw no one on the landing and heard no movement or sound from downstairs.  She padded toward the second floor bathroom, stopped outside the closed door, and listened to the sound of running water.

Without giving herself time to think of the wisdom of her actions, Phoebe pushed open the door and breezed in, chattering glibly as she went.  "Sorry to disturb you, but I need a towel and you took the only one in your room and there's a closet full of them in here and I hope you don't mind, but–"

She left the rest unsaid, going straight to the closet's stockpile and helping herself.  Patting her skin dry with a clean towel, Phoebe couldn't resist sneaking a peek at the shower cubicle.  The glass doors were misted with steam and fine rivulets of water but Phoebe could still make out the tall tanned nude form of Zankou within.  She wet her lips with her tongue, feeling her heart jerk, then hammer on in an internal race that shortened her breath.

She should retreat, but her legs wouldn't move and her eyes wouldn't unlock from his silhouette.  To cover her awkwardness, Phoebe searched for something to say, something to keep her there, to permit her staying and… staring.

"What did you mean about Piper and Paige earlier, Zankou?"  She rushed the words, not giving herself time to lose courage.  "About not kissing and telling.  They are my sisters.  I need to know.  I have the right to know if they need my protection."  She made it sound like an accusation, giving her confrontation of him more weight than it warranted.

Zankou stilled but didn't answer and Phoebe wondered if he was going to either ignore her or demand that she leave.

"Piper caught me dishabille," he finally said, continuing to soap his body.

Phoebe's eyes widened.  "How dishabille?"

Zankou froze.  "I sleep in the raw.  I woke up this morning and got out of bed and went to the window to enjoy the morning air, then turned around and Piper was in the room.  I had no idea she was there."

"I see," Phoebe said uncertainly, hardly believing him.  "And Paige?"

He started washing himself again, and Phoebe's eyes followed his hands circling his body.  She patted fresh sweat from her brow. 

"Paige was more my fault," he said brashly.  "But she was a willing participant.  If she is honest, she will admit that."

"Willing?  Willing at what?  How far did you go?"

Zankou turned off the shower.  "We were interrupted.  By Piper."

Phoebe said nothing, imagining her little sister and Zankou together, and not liking it.  Not because Paige had been taken advantage of, but because she was sampling the same forbidden fruit that Phoebe had experienced in his office the other day. 

"I've finished my shower," Zankou said.

Phoebe cruelly twisted the towel in her hands. 

"I’m coming out now," he warned.

Phoebe felt a mixture of envy and curiosity blend with the recklessness of her nature.  "Fine.  Come on out," she said.  "That's okay with me if it's okay with you, and it must be because you've obliged both my sisters.  Why not me?"

For a moment, he didn't move and Phoebe felt again that uncanny sensation that the world stood still.  Then the shower door opened and Zankou stepped out.  Phoebe thrust the towel she had been using at him.  Holding her gaze, he reached out to accept it, placing it under his nose and inhaling deeply, his eyes closing.  Lowering the towel, he slowly wrapped it around his waist, but not before Phoebe saw the male beauty of his wet, nude state.  Her heart was in her throat and her body strained, reaching out to his magnetism.

"What do you want, Phoebe?  Why are you still here?" he asked, his voice gentler than she had ever heard it.

Temptation dictated her actions and Phoebe had to fight it, but her body just wasn't in the battle.   She boldly looked him up and down. 

"Does my being here make you uncomfortable?" she asked, daring him.

"Not at all.  I just want to know why, when you are so dead set against me."

"If you're not uncomfortable and I'm not uncomfortable, who needs a reason?"  Phoebe was running on bravado and very little common sense, but she didn't care.

"Tell me what you want, Phoebe," he said, his voice low and without challenge.

"I want–"  She took a deep breath.  "I want to… experience you, Zankou, for want of a better word.  I want to… touch you and feel..."  Phoebe held her breath to see what he would do.

"That wouldn't be wise, Phoebe."

She gasped.  "You're rejecting me?"

"I'm rejecting doing something we'll both regret."

Phoebe lifted her chin.  "Since when did you grow a conscience, Zankou?"

His brow quirked.  "Since when did you decide you want me here after all?"

"Since…"  Her voice trailed off as her eyes travelled his body again.  "You may be bad, Zankou, but you look damned good."

"You'll never reform me," he warned.

"Maybe I don't want to."  Phoebe was amazed with herself: that she was saying this, doing this.  Wanting this.

"Then do it."

"Do it?"

"Touch me."

Phoebe reined back from throwing herself at him, appalled at how eager she was to comply.  Instead, she closed the gap between them with deliberate, slow steps.  She would just stroke him and find out what that smooth skin feels like.  See if he is more warm flesh than bad heart and discover if she could bring him to his knees with a woman's touch.

Holding his gaze with hers, she raised her hands to his shoulders, surprised by the instant heat that coursed through her palms.  She pulled back, her eyes widening.  Venturing forward more tentatively, her fingertips strayed across his collarbone and down his upper arms, delighting in the satiny fire of his wet skin.  Her head started throbbing and her breath became quick little pants.  Licking moisture from her top lip, Phoebe smoothed her hands upward again and behind his neck, then down his back.  Her body arched into his, instinctively seeking more contact. 

She touched her lips to his collarbone and dragged her mouth across, the tip of her tongue lapping the moisture from his skin's tautness and tasting the soap lingering there.  Her hands travelled down his spine, pushed under the towel across his waist and grasped his tight flanks.  She moaned as, without will, her body pressed into his hips.  Phoebe rubbed her cheek against his chest then pulled back slightly to encircle a hard nipple with her lips, experimenting with the different textures of him.  She felt light-headed as hot pulses coursed through her body, draining her of energy.  Diamond-pricks of light were bursting behind her closed eyelids and the hands that had caressed him, now grabbed his hips for support.

Despite the folly of feeling this way, Phoebe wanted more.  Needed more.  Her hands pushed the towel from his body and strayed between their interlocked hips.  She gasped as her fingers became entangled in coarse curls and her palms encountered a hard pulsating heat.

Zankou didn't move, neither hindering nor helping her and Phoebe's sigh was frustrated and tortured.  "Dammit," she said, pulling her head back to look at him.  His eyes were closed and his mouth set in a grim line.  "Do something!"

"Phoenix is here," he said, opening eyes that looked pained and disappointed.

Phoebe pulled away from him, her chest tight and head throbbing.  She had forgotten Phoenix, forgotten that Zankou was married and Phoebe had no right to be here, with him like this or planning to seduce him.  She wrapped a hand around her middle, her stomach churning.

"My God!" she said, her voice raw.  "What was I thinking?"  She took another step back, looking at him in horror.  "I never should have–  I'm no better than you!"

Phoebe wheeled around, wrenched open the bathroom door and ran for her own room.

oOo

More Schemer to come.