Enraptured (27 page)

His gaze started at the top of her head, traveled down the length of her body, hovered where their hips were locked together, separated by only his jeans and her pants. “I like this body, I won’t lie. But it’s not what I love about you.”

Her heart tripped, and her voice cracked when she asked, “What you love about me?”

“Yeah, what I love.” His fingers crazed her throat, traced the line of her sternum between her breasts, and hovered over her heart. “Every time I think about the way you cared for my brother…” He swallowed, and tears dampened his eyes. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know you.”

One corner of his mouth curled. “Yeah, and you still cared for him, regardless.”

“Orpheus—”

“No one’s ever cared about me before. No one’s put their life on the line for me. No one even considered it. You did it not only for me, but for my brother. I—I didn’t think anyone could love me.”

Her heart pinched all over again, and she ran her fingers over his stubbly jaw, the cap she’d kept on her emotions for so long finally blowing free
. I loved you before, daemon. It just doesn’t even come close to how much I love you now.
“Then you thought wrong. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the next five hundred or so years proving just how wrong you were.”

His gaze searched her face. “You will?”

“Well…” Her cheeks heated. “If, that is, you want me to. I might have some free time on my hands soon.”

A slow, easy, devilish smile inched its way across his lips, and he pressed that heavenly erection against her mound all over again. “Oh, I want you, Siren. I’ve wanted you since you first set out to seduce me.”

She lost herself in his kiss. Was so light-headed from his lips and teeth and tongue, she barely registered him kicking off his boots, sliding out of his pants, and dragging hers from her legs. But she definitely knew when his fingers brushed her wetness and his thumb circled her clit, sending a current of electricity racing through her body.

“Orpheus…”

“Like that?”

“Mm, yes. More.”

He chuckled as he stroked her, seemed to enjoy it when her whole body quivered. As he slid two fingers deep inside, he continued to tease her clit with his thumb and lowered his head to her breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue until she moaned. She dropped her head back and lifted one leg so she could dig her heel into the mattress, granting him more access. Pleasure gathered beneath his hands, around his talented fingers sliding in and out of her sheath, along her nipples, where his tongue was doing insane things to her breasts. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t ever enough when what she wanted most was so very close.

She hooked a leg over his hip and rolled him to his back, thrilled when she felt the naked, blunt head of his cock brush her aching folds. She wanted to taste it again, take it deep in her mouth like last time, feel his pleasure pulse along her tongue. But the throb between her legs was too great. The heat too intense to stop and readjust.

“Orpheus…” Her mouth was on his again.

“Hold on.” He pushed her back. And she watched in awe as he tore the chain from around his neck and dropped the Orb on the floor along with his clothes.

Hero.
The word revolved in her mind again. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now.

“Now,” he said, his hands sliding to her hips, guiding her, taking charge even though she was the one directing things. “Where were we?”

The head of his cock slid along her folds, pressed against her opening just enough to draw a groan from her chest, then retreated. She tightened her muscles, tried to lower herself down, met the resistance of his strong hands holding her still.

“Um…yeah,” she managed. “I think…right there.”

“There, Siren?”

“Yes.” She kissed him. “Stop tormenting me.”

“Tell me again.” He lifted his head and kissed her long and deep and slow. “Tell me again what you did before.”

She knew what he wanted. The same thing she wanted. “I love you, Orpheus.”

He sat up so fast, a gasp tore from her mouth. But it turned to a groan when he pulled her hips down to his and thrust inside her. Flesh settled against flesh. His erection twitched inside her. He rolled her to her back and whispered, “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did. Groaned again as he pushed in even deeper. He retreated, thrust into her again and again, stoked her already-roaring fire to within degrees of exploding. When it wasn’t enough, he hooked his arms behind her knees, opening her wider, and drove himself one more reaching inch inside.

“Gods, Skyla,” he said against her lips, “I love being inside of you. I don’t even care that you had to seduce me at the start to get us to this point.”

She gripped his face with both hands. “I didn’t seduce you, Orpheus. I didn’t have to. That connection you kept asking me about is real. All I did was fight it. Way longer than I should have. Believe me. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“Ah, gods, Siren.” His eyes darkened and he lowered his mouth and kissed her again, this time as if he couldn’t get enough. His thrusts picked up speed. She lifted her hips to meet him, wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders, slick with sweat and flexing with his movements.

She knew his release was coming. She could feel it growing with every press and slide and groan and thrust and retreat. She lost herself in the feel of him—hard and hot and so very thick. And when he arched his back and his entire body quivered over hers—
inside
hers—she let herself go.

For the first time ever, she let everything she’d worked for, every disappointment and heartache along the way, every long lonely moment in a life that never should have been, finally go. And as he collapsed against her, as his head slid into the crook between her neck and shoulder and his hot breath washed over her flesh to tighten her nipples all over again, she ran her fingers over the damp skin of his shoulders and told herself there was no going back. Not for the order. Not for Athena. Never again for Zeus.

Not even when the King of the Gods sent her sisters to kill her, which she knew he would undoubtedly do soon.

That
connection
you
kept
asking
me
about
is
real.

Images swam behind Orpheus’s closed eyelids as he hovered on the edge of sleep. Images that blended with Skyla’s words and refused to let him rest. Her standing in the chaos of that concert the night he’d been looking for Maelea. Protecting Ghoul Girl with that magical bow and arrow when she thought he was there to harm the girl. The way she’d kissed him after she was pulled from that avalanche. Covered in sweat in the Underworld, comforting his brother. The last few hours alone in this bed, as she’d used her body and voice to enrapture as she had from the start.

His daemon was gone. He didn’t know how, but he couldn’t feel it anymore. Not even a rumble of awareness. Something in the back of his mind said its absence was somehow linked to Skyla, but he didn’t know how that was possible. All he knew was that for so long he’d lived by the push and pull of that daemon. To be free of it…it was like no other feeling in the world.

Save being inside Skyla.

That
connection
you
kept
asking
me
about
is
real.

Her image flickered again behind his eyelids. And though he knew he shouldn’t be this content when his brother lay floors below, haunted by horrors Orpheus didn’t want to imagine, he couldn’t stop feeling alive any more than he could stop the steady thump of his heart.

And yet…

Something niggled at the back of his mind. The images shifted like billowing smoke, taking shape in different forms. Skyla again, only dressed differently. Speaking…more formally. Telling him…Telling him what?

Just as the first time they were together in this room, a kaleidoscope of images, all centered on her, cycled through his mind. Only these were clearer. The sounds growing louder. Playing like scenes from a movie. Until the great climax. And the moment the curtain was parted and the wizard finally revealed.

He jerked out of bed, a reflex of muscle and mind and complete and utter shock, and hit the floor with a thud that echoed through his bones. But the physical pain was fleeting. The emotional pain, the lingering torment, the years of torture, consumed him from the inside out. And betrayal, like a hot, sharp knife, sliced through what he thought had been a heart.

Skyla peered over the side of the bed, her hair rumpled, her eyes sleepy, her lips still swollen from his mouth. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Orpheus breathed through his nostrils to remain calm. But inside a firestorm had erupted and the blaze was consuming him in a flurry of flames for which there was no relief.

“Orpheus?”

“You knew they were coming. You left me there to die.”

“What?”

The past, a past he hadn’t remembered until just now, zipped across his mind. And the why and how and that connection he’d been feeling finally made sense. “We argued and you left. And they came in minutes later. The Sirens.
Your
Sirens. The ones you sent.”

She eased up to sitting, tugged the sheet around her. A wary look passed over her features. Features that were still as beautiful as he remembered. Even now, over two thousand years later.

Two thousand years. Holy
fuck
.

“You’ve obviously had some kind of dream. Why don’t you come back to bed and—”

“
That
wasn’t a dream.” He pushed to his feet, images now on fast-forward in his head, and scrubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead, only it did nothing to erase the pain. And the torment. And the horror. “I knew there was some connection between us. I knew you were lying to me from the start.”

“Orpheus? Okay, just wait—”

The bitter bite of betrayal shoved out all the shock and awe from before. “Why don’t you call me by my other name? The name my father gave me? The name my grandfather and your boss condemned.”

She tightened the sheet around her breasts. In the dim light from the fading fire he saw understanding. And fear. For the first time since he’d met the Siren he saw true fear on her flawless face.

“Say my name, Skyla.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Say it.”

She glanced across the room toward the fire so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

And in that moment, his restraint snapped.

The red rage of betrayal colored everything in his path. He was on the bed before she saw him move, his hand wrapped around her neck, his knee wedged against her side as he pushed her down to the mattress. “Say my name!”

She gasped, let go of the sheet, and grappled for his fingers. But though she was strong and could easily give him a good knock-down, drag-out fight, she didn’t try to tear his hand away, didn’t retaliate in any way. Tears flooded her eyes. Tears that only inflamed his anger because he knew they were nothing more than another form of seduction. Seduction she’d been trained to use to get what she wanted.

“Say my name or I will crush your windpipe,” he growled. “I swear it.”

Tears spilled over her sooty dark lashes. “You weren’t supposed to remem—”

His grip tightened. “Say it!”

“Cynurus,” she choked out beneath his hand. “Your name was Cynurus. Your father named you after the mystical valley Cynuria between Argolis and Laconia, where it’s said the Muses liked to play.”

He let go and stepped back. And as he did he saw the past as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

He was Perseus’s son. Grandson to the King of the Gods. The son who was nothing but a major disappointment to his father. The grandson who’d been pegged as disloyal right from the start. And she was the Siren who’d been sent to kill him, not just once, but twice.

He’d fallen for her both times. Like a love-struck fool. All because somewhere deep inside he’d wanted to believe he deserved something more. That he was meant for things greater than himself. Just like the original heroes.

Stupidity slammed into him. Treachery followed quickly on its heels. And sickness tore through his stomach to weaken his knees.

The “more,” he’d gotten. It just hadn’t been the “more” he’d wanted. Death at the hands of Zeus’s assassins had gifted him two thousand years of “more” trapped in the Underworld. In a never-ending cycle of pain and agony and torture. Where he’d been forgotten. All because of her.

He turned away, because the rage inside was so strong it was either that or kill her. He swiped his pants from the floor where he’d dropped them hours ago. The Orb clanged against the hardwood and lay at his feet, the marking of the Titans staring up at him, the earth element gleaming where he’d slid it into its compartment only hours ago.

“Orpheus…”

Heat radiated from the Orb. Drifted up from his feet, infused him with the strength he lacked now that his daemon was gone. Reminded him what was constant in this world.

Not trust. There was none.

Not honesty. Honesty was a farce.

And definitely not love. Love was the greatest ruse of all. Designed to trap and enslave and ultimately destroy.

He lifted the Orb from the floor, slid the chain around his neck, and felt the power of the Orb surround him.

“Orpheus,” she said in a frantic voice. “Wait. Let me explain.”

He tugged on his dirty jeans, found his boots, shoved his feet inside. Picked up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head as he moved for the door.

She grasped his arm before he could turn the handle. “Wait. Please.”

Her touch stirred what her voice couldn’t. He whipped toward her, knocking her arm away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever think of touching me again.”

“Orpheus.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Tears she was obviously working hard to conjure. She took a step back, gripped the sheet around her breasts with both hands, playing the part of the heartsick female remarkably well. But then she’d had years to perfect that role, hadn’t she? Thousands of years.

“Just…just listen, okay? I didn’t know at first. And by the time I did, I couldn’t tell you. They said you wouldn’t remember and I didn’t want to…Everything…everything from then and now is so muddled. I was trying to figure out the truth about what happened back then and whether you deserved—”

His vision blurred and the red rage of retribution forced his feet forward. She closed her mouth with a snap, took a step back, her eyes wide, white halos all around her amethyst irises. Eyes he now knew he
had
looked into hundreds of times before. A lifetime ago, just as he’d thought.

He slammed his palm against the wall right by her head, a deafening crack that echoed through the entire room.

“Two thousand years, Siren,” he said from between clenched teeth. “In hell. All because of you. Do not speak to me about what is
deserved
. Because right now I’m a hair’s breadth from deciding you deserve to be ripped apart limb by limb and thrown to the fishes in the lake below us.”

He took a step away from her, hating that even now, when he knew it had all been an act on her part, he still wanted her. Still craved her. Was still entranced by her just as he’d always been.

“And take a message to your fucking king while you’re at it,” he added, drawing on the Orb’s strength so he wouldn’t reach for her, wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t ever give in again. “Tell him his grandson’s back from the dead. And this time,
his
fucking days are numbered.”

***

Maelea couldn’t sleep.

A dark energy had infiltrated the colony sometime during the night and she’d been awake since, checking abandoned corridors and balconies, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Drawn to it in a way that made her skin itch and her heart thump with excitement.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs. She slid into the shadows behind a large stone column in the great hall. Orpheus’s boots grew silent as he hesitated at the bottom of the steps, glanced right and left. His hair was mussed, his shirt wrinkled, the jeans he wore stained with…blood? But it was his face that kept drawing her attention. The locked jaw like a slice of steel beneath his skin, the burning eyes, the unnatural energy that radiated from every inch of his rigid body.

She drew a sharp breath. This was not the same man who’d slinked into her room a few nights ago and spoken of loneliness and being forgotten. This was the man who’d kidnapped her from her home, killed those hellhounds as if they were nothing, and put her life in jeopardy.

His eyes narrowed on her hiding place. She held her breath, sure he could see her. Seconds later he turned and headed for the door at the far end of the hall.

Alone, she pressed a hand against her stomach and breathed deeply.

The clock over the fireplace told her it was close to five a.m. She needed to get back to her room before the colony awoke. She took a step for the stairs, then stopped when she heard voices. Female voices. She darted back into the shadows and waited for them to pass.

“Have you checked on Max?” Isadora asked.

The tall auburn-haired female strolling down the corridor with the queen of Argolea rubbed her forehead. “He was studying. Didn’t want to talk to me. He’s always studying.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Callia. He missed out on school during his time with Atalanta.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…”

“What?”

Callia stopped. “I knew the transition wouldn’t be easy. I knew the honeymoon phase would wear off, but lately…I’m having a hard time getting through to him. It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to us anymore. Like he’s turning into himself and his schoolwork.”

“He has a lot of emotions to work though. He spent ten years with her.”

“I know,” Callia said, walking again. “I know he’s angry and confused and trying to adjust to life in Argolea. It’s just—” Her voice caught. “I love him so much. I don’t want to lose him now that he’s finally home.”

Isadora squeezed her hand. “You won’t. You and Zander will help him through this. He’s lucky to have you.”

Callia nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. She stopped in front of the massive fire in the living area, where embers from last night’s fireplace still glowed red.

“How about coffee?” Isadora asked. “That always helps.”

“I think five minutes off my feet might do me better. I need to get back to Gryphon soon.” Callia eased onto the couch. “And only one cup for you. Too much caffeine’s not good for you and that baby.”

The queen sat on the arm of a chair, said something Maelea couldn’t hear, but Maelea barely cared. If the two females didn’t leave soon, there’d be no way for her to reach the stairs without one or both of them seeing her. And while she wasn’t afraid of them, she had no desire to “chat” or get to know anyone better in this place.

The two conversed quietly by the fire for a few minutes, then footsteps echoed from the stairs again and both turned that direction.

Maelea’s gaze shifted to the stairs. Skyla’s boots clanked against the hardwood as she skipped stairs to reach the bottom. She wore the same outfit Maelea had seen her in since the first, but this time the perfectly coiffed Siren was nowhere to be found. Her hair was a wild tangle around her face, her shirt inside out, one boot not zipped all the way to the top. And the panic in her eyes was a dead giveaway something had happened.

Isadora rose from the couch. “Skyla? What’s wrong?”

“Maelea,” the Siren said in a breathy voice as if she’d been running. “I have to find Maelea.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Isadora said. “We’ve been with Gryphon. What’s happened?”

“He took the Orb.” Skyla pressed both hands against her eyes. “He remembered and he took the Orb and now he’s gone. And I have to find him before he does something…”

Callia pushed up from the couch, followed Isadora across the floor to the base of the stairs where Skyla stood. She placed both hands on Skyla’s shoulders, turned her into the light. “Calm down and tell us what happened. You’re talking about Orpheus, right? What did he remember?”