***
Demetrius skidded to a stop just outside the arched doorway that led into the room where he’d left Isadora sleeping. Heart pounding, he dropped the bundle of blankets he’d brought with him and reached for the parazonium at his back, then inched over to glance around the corner.
Across the moonlit space Isadora leaned against the corner of the room. Her eyes were tightly shut, her head flailed from side to side as if she were in pain, but the thwacking he’d heard from the hallway was nothing more than the splint on her lower leg hitting the wall as she moved. There was no one else in the room with her. No Harpies or boars or a hundred other threats he’d imagined on his sprint up here.
He let go of his weapon, stooped to pick up a blanket, and crossed the floor quietly so as not to wake her. It wasn’t comfort, he told himself as he dropped to his knees next to her and laid the blanket over her trembling body. It was…survival. If she broke her leg again, she’d be another few days of dead weight. And he needed her healed so they could get their asses off this damn island. An Argonaut could open a portal into their realm wherever he chose, but since Atalanta had bound his ability, that left everything up to Isadora. Regular Argoleans needed holy ground to open a portal. And that meant he needed her in walking shape so they could scout out that holy ground sooner rather than later.
“Stop fidgeting.”
She kicked out with her good leg, tossed her head his way. “No. Don’t…”
Definitely having a nightmare. Probably about Apophis and his gnarled minions. She flinched before his hand caught the edge of the blanket. “Don’t touch me. Don’t…”
He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want to waste more of his energy on healing spells when he knew he’d possibly need that energy for other, more important spells tomorrow. Gritting his teeth, he leaned over her, hooked his arm around her blanket-covered thigh to pin her bad leg in place so she couldn’t swing out and whack it against the stone wall. “Dammit, Isadora. I said hold still.”
What his voice didn’t impact, his touch did. Her body went still beneath his, and just as he was taking a breath of relief, she shifted into him, rolled her weight onto his, and pushed him back so he was pinned against the wall.
His head hit the stones with a crack and he cringed as pain lit off behind his eyes. But the throb only briefly registered because in the split second he was caught off guard, she slid her leg up along his thigh and shifted her torso over his so her face fit in the hollow between his shoulder and throat. And then the only thing he felt was heat.
He tensed. Braced his hands against the cold stone floor and had a moment of What the bloody hell do I do now?
She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, her entire body relaxing into his with the movement. Her hand landed against his bare chest, her bad leg draped over his, trapping him in place. But it was the blood humming in her veins and the beating of her heart right against his that really did him in.
Sweat broke out on his forehead. His heart kicked up to the beat of a marching band. He thought through his options, but every single one involved waking her up and he definitely didn’t want to do that. He chanced a look down at her face tucked into his shoulder and caught his breath.
Smooth porcelain skin stretched tight over exceptional bone structure. Light brown eyelashes feathering delicate cheekbones, and a mole next to her sweet, tender mouth.
His heart tattooed a blinding rhythm against his ribs as he stared at her. The thousands of reasons he’d avoided her over the years hit full force. He needed to push her off him, to get up and run far, far away before he did something he’d regret later. He needed—
“Softer than Hades,” she mumbled.
Was she awake?
“Not bony,” she mumbled. “And warm. Hades…so cold.”
A shudder ran through her and she burrowed closer. No, the Isadora he knew would most definitely not huddle this close to him. He shifted his shoulder against the wall at his back.
“Stay,” she murmured, tensing. “Don’t wanna go back to him. Hate going back to him.”
His chest tightened when he realized she’d been dreaming about Hades, not Apophis. Casey’s revelation that Isadora had traded her soul to Hades to save Casey’s life ran back through his mind. And with it a whole host of images of what could have been and probably was done to her when she’d been in the perverse god’s realm.
Just what had she been thinking? Didn’t she realize a deal with Hades was forever? What kind of idiot made that sort of transaction without weighing the consequences? Especially for someone she didn’t even know?
Anger creasing his brow, he opened his mouth to ask just that, then stilled when she drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. Even through the thin blanket he felt the tips of her nipples brush his chest. His skin tingled with awareness and blood pooled hard in his groin, bringing every one of his senses to attention. And when she shifted her leg higher so it grazed his inner thigh, electricity coiled tight in each of his nerve endings.
Oh, man. That felt good. Way too fucking good.
Bad idea. Wrong person. Get the hell away before she wakes up.
The only problem was, his body wasn’t responding to his brain’s commands, and suddenly the only things he could think of were a host of erotic images that involved her, him, and all kinds of sinful positions he’d never let himself imagine before.
Which, if he wasn’t careful, would lead him exactly where he couldn’t go.
Chapter 10
She was hot and achy and couldn’t seem to get comfortable.
Isadora groaned, shifted to her stomach, flipped to her back. Heat pulsed along her ribs, spread to her abdomen. The tips of her nipples tightened to painful levels and her breasts grew heavy and stiff.
When the ache spread lower and she couldn’t find a position that eased the throb, she pulled her eyes open and stared up at the ceiling that wasn’t really a ceiling after all.
Yesterday wasn’t a nightmare. Her spirits dropped as her eyes skipped over the weathered stone that made up the walls of the ruins.
She pushed up and swung around to ease her head back against the cool stones. A blanket covered her; another had been pillowed beneath her head. Before she could figure out where they’d come from, the ache returned, stronger than ever.
Something was wrong with her. Perspiration beaded her forehead. Her skin grew hot. She pulled the shirt away from her chest and tried to cool herself down. It didn’t work. If anything, she felt worse than before, achier, and ugh…now she couldn’t get comfortable at all.
She scooted closer to the windows to let the cool air wash over her. Her gaze strayed down the bluff toward the beach on the north side of the island to where Demetrius appeared to be maneuvering what looked like huge wooden crates around on the sand.
Sunlight glinted off his tanned skin. He was at least two hundred yards away but she could still see the way the wind ruffled his hair, the flex of muscle beneath his skin, the way the light caught his toned abs and that dark dusting of hair on his chest that circled his navel and dropped beneath the waistband of his pants.
Heat exploded in her veins, pulsed everywhere. Groaning, she shifted away from the window and closed her eyes, breathing through the heavy throb now settled between her thighs and gathering in her breasts.
Why did looking at him make the ache stronger? She reached up with both hands to squeeze her breasts, but instead of killing the ache like she’d hoped, a tingling sensation erupted in her nipples and shot shards of pleasure straight to her core.
She moaned, eased back farther against the stones. Her legs dropped open as waves of pulsing heat gathered between her thighs. She saw Demetrius as he’d been on the beach yesterday when she’d awakened—hot, sweaty, dark, and dangerous. She saw the flare of heat in his eyes when he’d healed her shin and his gaze had traveled over her naked thigh. She felt the warmth of his body against hers as he’d carried her to the ruins. In her hip. In her ribs. In the si
de of her breast pressed tightly against his muscular chest.
Oh, gods. She squeezed her breast with one hand, dropped the other to her thigh. Her fingers ran over her Horae marking, then higher, pushing the long shirt she wore out of her way. The pressure between her legs was almost too much to bear, and every time she pictured Demetrius it grew by explosive levels.
She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed relief. She needed something to ease the pain. She popped the top two buttons on her shirt, reached inside to squeeze her breast tighter, and passed the fingers of her other hand over the curls between her legs.
Pleasure arced at the first touch. She sucked in a breath, moved her hand lower. As her heart rate picked up speed, she pressed against her wet, sensitive folds and saw Demetrius’s face in her mind. His dark eyes, his square jaw, the tiny dent in his chin. She imagined him kneeling in front of her, pictured his hands touching her naked flesh, cradling her tender breast. Felt his hot breath on her skin, and moaned all over again.
She drew her knees closer, tipped her head back, circled until she found the source of her ache. With her other hand she flicked and tweaked her nipple. Each stroke eased and amplified the throb all at the same time. Her skin grew hotter, her body tighter.
And then she heard his voice. Just like in her dream. One word.
Kardia.
Pleasure radiated outward from her very center, ignited a rush of tingles that spread all along her nerve endings and exploded in a blinding glare behind her eyes. Every muscle in her body tightened, tearing a groan from her chest that left her limp and gasping for air.
She slumped back against the wall, sweaty, breathless, but still craving something she didn’t understand. Her cheeks grew warm all over again when she imagined Demetrius standing outside the ruins, watching her touch herself as she’d just done.
Why him? Why now? And dear gods, what was she going to do about it?
***
Holy fuuuuuuck.
No, don’t think about fucking. Whatever you do, do not think about fucking.
Demetrius whipped away from the arched stone doorway where he’d spent the last minute frozen in place and hoped like hell he moved out as soundlessly as he’d moved in.
No way he’d just witnessed what he thought he had. No way he’d just seen Isadora pleasure herself in the middle of the ruins in broad daylight.
Heat and liquid fire erupted in flames that licked at every part of him. Stopping on the wide front steps, he dropped the bundle of supplies he’d brought up from the beach, stepped over the scattered mess, and headed around the building as fast as he could move.
His dick was a rod of steel, his balls tight as a drum, and he couldn’t see shit where he was going, because the only thing he could see right now was Isadora on the floor in that room, her knees open, one hand squeezing her breast, the other moving beneath the hem of her—shit, his—shirt.
He stopped at the edge of the bluff, blew out a long breath, rubbed a hand down his face. Good gods, if she’d done that last night when he’d been sitting with her…
Okay, yeah, so think of something else. Daemons. Right. That was good. Think about slicing and dicing the motherfuckers. Not sexy. Not hot. Not the most erotic thing he’d ever fucking witnessed.
Shit. This wasn’t working. Thinking about daemons made him picture Isadora in that field outside the half-breed colony, standing up to the monsters with that puny knife in her hand. Wearing that slinky black negligee thing that showed off the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the soft indent of her belly button, and her toned abs that led lower to the tiny treasure between…
“Holy fuck.” He grabbed two handfuls of his hair and pulled until his scalp burned.
Beach. Supplies. He needed to get back down to the crates and dunk himself in the ocean about fifteen times so he could cool his ass off.
Before he could change his mind he stalked back to the ruins and stomped as hard as he could so she’d hear him. He picked up the supplies, moved inside, and dumped them on the ground in her room without looking at her.
“Demetrius,” she said in a surprised voice. Cloth rustled. “When did you get here? I thought…I thought you were on the beach.”
Yeah, no shit. I should have stayed on that fucking beach.
“About time you woke up.”
Cloth rustled again, as if she was moving around, then a thwack resounded and she let out a yelp.
He glanced up to see her lips compressed in pain, her hand braced against her lower leg. One look down at the splint and he swore under his breath.
“Graceful as ever, I see.” He crossed the floor and dropped to one knee by her feet.
Focus, breathe, stay in control. He could be professional about this. He’d just forget what the hell he’d seen earlier.
“That’s probably healed by now.” His fingers made quick work of the ties on her splint. From the corner of his eye he noticed the Horae marking on her inner thigh and his blood warmed all over again. Skata. “Do you mind covering yourself?”
Her cheeks turned pink. She pulled the blanket over her lap. Was she thinking about what she’d done moments before? He gave his head a swift shake—Focus, dammit—and went back to untying the last knot.
Several moments passed before she asked, “What time is it?”
“After noon.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You obviously needed sleep.” Though in retrospect, maybe he should have woken her. Holy Hades, did she wake up horny every morning? If so, he was fucked. And not in the way he wanted right now. He removed the splint and pressed his fingers along her shin, probably harder than he needed. “Does that hurt?”
“Um, no. It feels…good.”
He let that go, told himself not to overthink the word good. He felt all around her lower leg and when he didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary, he shrugged. “I guess we’ll see when you stand. You need to get up anyway. Daylight only lasts so long.”
Happy to get away from her, he pushed to his feet. Instinct had him holding out his hand before he thought better of it.
She slid her fingers into his palm. The same fingers that had just touched and squeezed her naked breast. Electricity zinged up his arm and heated his skin all over again.
He let go quickly. “Try walking around.”
She reached out to the wall and tentatively took a step with her bad leg. Slowly she made her way down the length of the wall.
“How is it?”
She turned at the corner and made her way back. “Okay. Whatever spell you cast seems to have worked. For now.”
“Well, I am a half witch, Princess. Maybe you’ll luck out and it’ll break all over again.”
A hurt look rushed across her face. She glanced to the side, crossed her arms under her breasts. “What’s all that?”
He wasn’t going to feel guilty. “Supplies.”
“From where?”
“Crates that washed up on the beach from some sort of shipwreck.”
He moved for the blankets and tossed a small box her way. She caught it with two hands. “The most I could find was junk food and some toiletries. But it’s better than nothing.”
She looked down at the box, turned it, and read the word Crest on the side. “Toothpaste? You found toothpaste?” She ripped the box open and rubbed the minty paste all over her teeth, then moaned as if she’d just eaten the most decadent dessert or experienced the most pleasurable orgasm.
The image of her head kicked back in pleasure rushed into his mind. And just that fast his cock jumped to alert.
Damn. Time to refocus. Again.
He turned away and pointed off toward the trees. “There’s a stream through there. We’re going to need water. I brought up some plastic buckets I found.”
“What about those creatures?”
He grabbed the buckets and headed out toward the front of the ruins. “We’re safe in the daylight. The creatures on this island are nocturnal.”
> She struggled to keep up, but he didn’t slow his pace. The more distance he put between them right now the better.
“What do you mean, nocturnal?” she asked at his back. “That harpy came out into the sun. So did that boar.”
“I didn’t say they were vampires who couldn’t go out in the sun. I said they’re nocturnal. They rest during the day, hunt at night. I need to run back down to the beach and gather the rest of what we’ll need.”
She trailed along behind. “I’ll go with you.”
No way. He needed to be alone right now. “I’ll take you to the river, help you fill the buckets. You should be able to carry them back on your own. While you do that I’ll go to the beach and get the rest of the supplies.”
She didn’t argue, which was the first thing she’d done all morning that didn’t amp him up. But after five minutes of her slowly picking her way around rocks and limbs and anything that might send her off balance, he realized that at this rate it was going to take them an hour to reach the stream.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” He turned back and swooped her up in his arms. Then regretted it, because white-hot heat erupted everywhere their bodies touched. He ground his teeth together.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fucking fantastic.”
“You don’t look fantastic.”
His face burned. It was all he could do to keep his eyes off her and on the path in front of them. “I’ll be better when I’m back on the beach.” And away from you. And your body. And oh, shit, stop thinking about her hot little body.
She was silent a moment, then asked, “Um…so how do you know those crates are from a shipwreck?”
Finally, a topic not related to sex. “Know much about Pandora?”
“Obviously not. Before yesterday I thought it was mostly myth.”
“Pandora exists in the human realm, but no one’s ever been able to find it.”
“That’s a little convenient, don’t you think?”