“Yeah.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. As if it were a fact every other day of his life. And in the silence that followed she knew he was thinking the same thing as she. That something was changing right here between them. And if one of them didn’t put a stop to it, their relationship would never be the same again.
“You rescued me,” she said softly.
His black-as-night gaze roamed her face, but he didn’t answer. And he didn’t touch her, though deep inside she felt he wanted to. He just didn’t know how to bridge the gap.
“Maybe,” she said softly, hoping to bridge it herself, just a touch, “maybe one day I can return the favor.”
“You can’t save me,” he whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because some things aren’t worth the effort.”
Her heart went out to him right then and there. As firelight flickered over his chiseled features, she saw secrets brewing in his eyes. Secrets that fed something dark in his past that kept him closed off from the world. For years she’d thought he didn’t have a soul, but as she stared into his eyes now, she knew she’d been wrong. He hurt, just as she did. And he longed, the same as she. While she’d curled into herself over the years, letting her father and everyone else make her decisions for her, he’d gone the other way, pushing every single person away until they all thought he was nothing but a cold, evil shell.
How wrong she’d been. How utterly hateful and horrid she’d been to him. As they stared at each other, she didn’t see him as an Argonaut. Didn’t see him as a fighter or even a hero, really. She saw him as a man. With the same humanity the gods both hated and envied. With the same frailties and faults she possessed.
She moved into him fast, burying her cheek against his chest and wrapping one arm around his waist while the other held the blanket closed at her front. He sucked in a surprised breath, but she didn’t let go. Against her skin he was alive and warm, and her body jumped to life everywhere they touched.
Gods, this felt good. This contact. With him. Right here and now. How long had it been since she’d touched anyone like this? Since she’d let anyone get close?
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Something I should have done days ago,” she murmured against him, sinking in deeper. “I’m thanking you.”
Chapter 13
Heat pricked every inch of Demetrius’s skin. Against his chest, Isadora was warm and soft and so damn tempting, it was all he could do to keep his hands at his sides and his eyes focused on the wall across the room.
She snuggled closer, and when the tips of her breasts brushed his chest, his heart rate skyrocketed. Shards of electricity shot from his chest to his stomach, then lower. And ah, gods, this was too damn good for words and the one thing he’d wanted to avoid. He sucked in a breath and held it, afraid if he moved she’d slide even closer and he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
She stood on the second step, not quite at eye level, but he felt her gaze boring into him when she looked up. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“Your teeth are clenched.”
Were they? Skata. He relaxed his jaw. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Sweat popped out on his brow. “No.”
The corner of her kiss-me mouth curled, just a touch, and he couldn’t help it. His gaze shifted from the wall to her face. To her molten-chocolate eyes—as warm as the torchlight behind her, rimmed all in gold—to her small nose, her creamy skin, to the tiny mole on the right side of her succulent lips. Heat flared in his abdomen as his gaze ran over her face, and that part of him that had kept his distance for so long whispered, Give in, just once.
Her gaze settled on his mouth. And though indecision brewed in her eyes, the tip of her small tongue snaked out to lick her lips in a way that was so damn sexy he knew she couldn’t have planned it. Even before she pushed up on her toes he knew what she was going to do. Just as he knew he should stop her.
He tensed as her mouth met his, tentatively at first. Soft as satin. But his reaction would have been the same if she’d slammed her lips against his and knocked him to the ground. Sparks lit off inside him, around him, everywhere, like fireworks exploding in the sky, blinding and consuming all at the same time. Until she was all he could feel, see, sense, know. Until nothing else mattered but her.
She broke the kiss way too soon. Uncertainty creased her forehead. She took a quick step back up the platform. “I…I’m sorry. I—”
The loss of her heat shifted his body into immediate action. He closed the distance between them, snagged her around the waist, lifted her off the ground, and drew her back against him. And then he lowered his head and kissed her. The way he’d wanted to kiss her for far too long. The way he should never ever kiss her. Especially now.
Her hand landed against his shoulder. She let go of the blanket, pressed tight between them, and moved her other hand to his chest. Electricity hummed where skin met skin, supercharged his blood, pushed the little bit of rational thought to the back of his brain. A sound came out of her as he licked the seam of her lips—a gasp, a groan, a sigh—and then she opened, drawing him deeper into something he wasn’t sure he could climb free from.
Her tongue snaked out, hesitantly slid against his. As her fingers inched into the hair at the nape of his neck and she explored his mouth with her own, he had the distinct impression she’d never been kissed before. That she’d definitely never been manhandled. That he was getting the first taste of something sacred. And just the thought turned his pulse to a roar in his ears and sent desire careening through his veins.
He changed the angle of the kiss, delved deeper, wanting more. More of her sweetness, more of her warmth. More of this. He walked her backward until she hit the stone table, then brushed the clothes off and lifted to set her on the smooth hard surface.
She didn’t let go of him. Not when he eased back and the blanket fell free of her breasts to land at her waist. Not when he pushed his way between her legs. Not when the hard length of his arousal brushed the juncture between her thighs.
A short gasp slipped from her lips as her fingers grazed the stubble on his jaw, then she kissed him back with ardor, picking up confidence with every stroke and lick and nip and sigh. He let her take the lead, told himself this was new for her and he needed to slow things down. But when her hands inched their way down his torso, settled on his hips and tugged him closer, he lost all ability to think.
He cupped the back of her head, pushed her back to lie against the table, then nipped his way across her jaw to her ear, where he drew her lobe into his mouth and bit down just hard enough to feel her shudder beneath him.
His lips found her neck, the soft column of her throat, back up again to that sensitive spot behind her ear. Her hair was silky against his face, her arms around his shoulders warm and encompassing. And the heat between her thighs where he pressed into her was enough to drive him mad.
“Oh…”
The sound of her voice trickled through his conscience, dimmed the roar just enough so he didn’t take her right there and then. Realizing he was mauling her and that she might not be enjoying this as much as he was, he pushed up on his hands and gazed down at her.
Torchlight flickered over her features, made her hair look darker, her skin richer. Her lips were swollen from his mouth, her cheeks flushed and rosy. But her eyes…they were the key. He’d always been able to read her emotions through her eyes—fear, anger, despair, those were the things he saw when he looked at her—which was how he’d always known just what to say or do to get under her skin. But her eyes now weren’t afraid. They didn’t look upset. There was trust there. And behind it, the flare of desire that sent his libido into overdrive and his cock straining for release.
Her fingers drifted to his cheek, so soft and warm against his rough skin, it sent a shiver down his spine. But it was her whispered word that really did him in. “Demetrius.”
How had this
happened? How had she come to be lying here beneath him, looking up with those lust-filled eyes, whispering his name in the dark? Somewhere along the way he’d made one fateful, horrible mistake that was going to ruin everything, but even knowing that, he couldn’t seem to pull away.
His gaze shifted to the long slender column of her throat, to the hollow at the base of her neck, to the fine bones of her shoulders and chest. Then lower, to the luminous skin stretched tight over her succulent breasts, just the size and shape to fit into his hand, his mouth, tempting him to take one sinful taste.
It was his fault she was here in this room naked right now. His fault she wasn’t home safe in Argolea, where she should be. Every time he thought about what could have happened to her earlier with that Hydra…
“Demetrius,” she whispered again.
“Tell me to stop,” he managed. The fingers of his left hand skimmed where his eyes had just traveled—over her neck, to her collarbone, lower to trace the line of her sternum between her lush breasts.
She shuddered, drew in a breath as his hand drifted to her nipple, traced the outline of the areola, then gently brushed the tip. But she didn’t pull away, didn’t show any sign of fear. Curious, he looked back at her face and watched with rapt attention as her eyes slid closed and her back arched off the table. When she moaned in pure pleasure, he lowered his head and breathed against her ear, “Tell me to stop.”
“No,” she said on a breathy sigh that supercharged his blood. “No, don’t stop. I like your hands.”
“You shouldn’t.” His hand crept to her other breast. Her nipple puckered beneath his fingers. “You shouldn’t like anything about me.”
Her eyes fluttered open to focus on his face. “There’s a lot I like about you. You just never let me see it before.”
“You’re seeing something that’s not there. It’s called trauma. Once you go home you’ll remember why you hate me so much.”
Her delicate fingers drifted to his lips, ran over the sensitive flesh until he wanted to sink his teeth into her skin and feast on her. “I don’t hate you, Demetrius. I never did. I just didn’t understand you.”
“You don’t now.” You never will.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
His heart stuttered, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to give in, wasn’t about to let Atalanta have what she wanted. But a hundred years of denial left him too weak to put a stop to this as he should. And he was dying to know what she tasted like.
He dropped his head and breathed hot against her left nipple. “Tell me to stop.”
“No stopping,” she whispered again. “I want this. I want you.”
Three little words snapped his restraint. He stroked his tongue over her nipple, felt the tremor run through her body, then drew her into his mouth. She moaned in approval, kicked her head back against the hard stone table, and raked her fingers through his hair.
He didn’t ease up, moved to the other breast and repeated the action, drawing out her pleasure one suck, one lick at a time. When her back arched and her skin quivered, he let go and trailed a line of hot wet kisses down to her belly button, paused to run his tongue around the small circle, then continued his path downward, pushing the blanket aside as he went. Stopping only when the soft cotton fell away to leave her bare for his eyes only.
Gods, she was more beautiful than he’d imagined. Pert breasts, small waist, trim hips, fine blond hair that formed a perfect vee drawing his gaze toward her sex. He remembered what he’d watched her do this morning, and unable to stop, he reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth, and sucked her first two fingers until they were coated with his saliva.
Her eyes fluttered open. Confusion marred her brow as she gazed down at him. He pushed her wet fingers back to her nipple and said, “Touch yourself.”
Those brown eyes darkened to a rich chocolate. Hesitantly, her fingers grazed her nipple, traced the small circle, slid over and around as her eyes remained locked on his face. As she teased her breasts into stiff peaks, he ran his fingers up her inner thigh, over the winged omega marking on her leg, to her mound and into her downy curls.
She gasped but didn’t push his hand away, and her eyes, so intense and focused on his, screamed Touch me.
“Just like that,” he whispered, watching her face. “Don’t stop.”
She didn’t, and neither did he. His fingers slid into her folds to find her warm and wet and willing. He groaned at the slick feel of her, circled and swirled until he found her clit, then applied just enough pressure to make her moan.
Her eyes, wide and lust-filled and so intently focused, left him light-headed. Achy. Burning with desire. He rested his thumb on her clit, searched lower, and slid one finger deep inside.
Gods, she was so tight. His cock throbbed. Her head dropped back, her eyes drifted shut. She brought her other hand up to massage her neglected breast while he stroked, searching for her sweetest spot. And when she arched her back and groaned long and low, he knew he’d found it.
The buzz between his ears overrode every rational thought. Lowering his head, he made one long, lingering sweep up her cleft, first with the tip of his tongue, then with the flat. Her entire body nearly burst off the table.
He held her down, did it again. And again. Taking her closer to the edge with every lick. She lifted her hips, moaned his name. He answered by stroking deeper with his finger, flicking her swollen nub with his tongue and finally suckling until she came in his mouth.
“Demetrius…” Her whole body trembled with her release and she grew impossibly tight around his finger. But the only thing he could focus on was the roar in his head screaming Home.
That one word echoed in his gray matter, settled in the center of his chest, and clamped on with the ferocity of a lion until he couldn’t breathe. She reached for him. Desire built all over again, slammed into him at the speed of light, and swept him under.
He dragged her up against his body, closed his mouth over hers, kissed her hard and deep. She answered by moaning into his mouth, twisting her fingers into his hair, and pulling hard.
He needed her now, had to get inside of her. Couldn’t think of anything else. But not here, not on this table. There were just enough synapses firing to remind him she was a virgin. At least there were for now.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, used the other to hook her legs around his hips. Her hot, throbbing sex rubbed against his cock, tightening it to painful levels. He groaned, squeezed her sweet little ass, and snagged the blanket from the table just before he carried her to the sheepskin rug he’d taken from Jason’s trunk and covered with blankets in the corner of the room.
She kissed him harder, deeper, like a woman starved. Her nipples rubbing against his bare chest was the most erotic feeling. Her hot sex straining against his fly had him seeing stars. Frantic to get inside her, he laid her out on the blankets, kissed her again and again, and pressed his hips into hers until they were both breathless and sweaty.
“Oh, gods, Demetrius.”
The sound of her voice cut through the screaming need. He eased back just enough to stare down at her. At her swollen lips, her cheeks rubbed raw by his whiskers, her straining nipples, her heaving chest, her naked hips pressed against his, and finally her sex poised to take him deep into her body.
Him. Atalanta’s son. The enemy.
She stared up at him with soft, trusting eyes. Eyes that didn’t see the real him. Eyes that would be horrified if they ever did.
Sickness pushed up the center of his chest. And reality, harsh and way too real, pressed in until he couldn’t breathe.
This couldn’t happen. This could never happen. He had to get away from her. He never should have touched her. Never should have tasted her. Holy Hades, what had he been thinking?
He jerked to his feet, rubbed a hand down his face. Tried to quell the panic roaring in with the force of a jackhammer, but couldn’t.
“Wh-where are you going?”
“Out. I got
ta go…out.”
She pushed up on her elbows. “But I thought—”
His mind spun with excuses. Latched on to one coherent thought. “That’s your problem, Princess. You think too much. I changed my mind.”
“But—”
He had to twist the knife. It was the only way he was going to break free. It was the only way he was going to guarantee she never let him near her again. And he knew the one way to do it, even if the thought sent bile sliding up his chest.
“Look, I figured you had a little more experience, but apparently I was wrong. I’m really not into the whole virgin thing. More work than it’s worth.”
Shock ran across her perfect face, followed by disbelief, then abject mortification. Her cheeks turned bright red and she drew the blanket up to her chin with fingers that shook just enough to tell him he’d done exactly what he intended to do. He’d made her feel as shitty as he did.
His chest squeezed so hard it was all he could do not to drop to his knees and tell her he didn’t mean it. Instead he turned for the stairs and forced himself not to look back.
He didn’t have to. He already knew what was on her face. The image of her pleasure was now branded into his brain along with the horror of what he’d just said to her. And it would stay with him for a long time. As long, probably, as the knowledge that his suspicions over the years had been right. One taste had confirmed it.
Isadora really was his soul mate.
***
Casey stood in the center of Demetrius’s flat in the rundown Tenedos region of Tiyrns and turned a slow circle on the stained carpet as she looked from the barren table and chairs to the threadbare couch across the room.
The fact that Demetrius, one of the Argonauts, lived here surprised her. Especially when she contrasted this to the massive wood and glass house she and Theron shared in the forests outside the city. But what shocked her more than anything was the garbage that lined the cobblestone streets outside, the busted-out shop windows, and the abandoned belongings. And mostly, the ragged people she and the others had passed as they’d come here, watching them with wary eyes as if they were the villains in a B movie.