Enslaved

Chapter Eighteen

Maelea’s stomach churned with so much force, she was afraid she was going to be sick.

She stared at Gryphon across the granite island where he stood behind the couch, his eyes hard, cold, light blue orbs, so like the icy eyes she’d looked into from the first. Dead. Haunted. Not a bit like the soft, caring eyes she’d peered into this last week as they’d sat together in front of the fireplace, played on the beach, teased each other in the kitchen, and made love in her bed upstairs.

I won’t do to you what was done to me.

His words from the motel, before they took that shower together, when he’d convinced her he wouldn’t hurt her, came back with a vengeance.

He was telling the truth. She could see it in his hard face. Bile rushed up her throat. She swallowed hard to keep it down.

“Wh-who?” she managed to ask. “Who did that to you?”

“Krónos.”

Oh gods. Oh gods. The King of the Elder Gods. The most horrific god imaginable. Trapped in the bowels of Tartarus for all eternity by her father, Zeus. And thanks to her twisted family tree, technically, her grandfather. She gripped the edge of the counter. “Y-you saw Krónos?”

“Atalanta took me to him.” His voice was callous, unfeeling, as cold as the ice suddenly rushing through her veins. “She knew the Argonauts were going to try to rescue me, and she was desperate for a way out of the prison Orpheus and Demetrius had locked her in with their witchcraft. So she asked Krónos to tether us together. And he did. Gifted me with the darkness of the Underworld so she could call on me whenever she fucking wanted.”

As Maelea’s stomach churned again, everything—all his twitching and wild eyes and paranoia and haunted looks—finally made sense.

“He made her a deal,” he said when Maelea finally looked up. “Gave her six months to find the Orb of Krónos or he’d bring her back to the Underworld. Bring me back.”

Her pulse picked up speed. His jaw hardened until it was nothing but a slice of steel beneath his skin, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest. Knew she had to.

“And then,” he said in that same emotionless tone, “he sealed the deal by having his way with both of us.”

Shock rippled through her. But it was quickly followed by a wave of emotion that rolled like thunder through her blood. Her heart went out to him right there, in the middle of her kitchen. She’d suffered over the long years of her life, but it didn’t even come close to what he’d been through. What he must be reliving every single day. She wanted to cry for him. Wanted to hold him. Wanted to do anything to take that haunted, dead look out of his eyes.

She stepped out from behind the counter. “Gryphon—”

“You think that’s bad?” Her feet stilled at the rage in his eyes. “If you go after Zagreus, it’ll be a thousand times worse, I guarantee it. He’s as sick as his grandfather, and Hades has unleashed him on the human realm to do whatever the fuck he wants. And he will fuck you, Maelea. Make no mistake. If you get near him, he’ll fuck you and he’ll kill you. In whatever twisted, gruesome, new way he can. You won’t even last a day.”

She reached for him. “Gryphon—”

He jerked out of her hand and stepped away, putting the coffee table between them. “Don’t touch me.”

Her heart raced. He didn’t think she wanted him anymore. He couldn’t possibly know she wanted him more. “Gryphon, just let me—”

“Don’t you get it?” he said with such venom, she drew up short. “I agreed to it. I agreed to be Atalanta’s slave to stop the torture. I did every vile thing she asked me to do, just to save my ass. And I didn’t fight. Not when she took me to see Krónos, not when she traded away my freedom, not even when he put his hands on me.”

“Y-you did what you had to do to stay alive,” she said.

“I was already dead,” he snapped.

She took a step closer. “It wasn’t your fault, Gryphon.”

He scrambled backward, around a chair. “The others…they wouldn’t have agreed to any deal. They would have fought.”

He was talking about the Argonauts. And as she stared at him, she realized where the dead look came from. It was shame. That he hadn’t lived up to his guardian class, to his kin. That somehow, he’d failed them.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, that eventually she’d get hurt because he wasn’t ageless like her, her heart filled. She took a step around the chair. “You’re wrong.”

He moved back again. Hit the wall. Panic filled his eyes when he realized he was trapped. Panic and fear that speared her heart.

“They would have done whatever they had to in order to stay sane, too, Gryphon.”

He pressed his hands against the wall. Looked toward the door as if judging the distance to freedom. “Don’t touch me,” he said in a strangled voice. “Just…don’t.”

Her heart broke all over again for him. She didn’t want to push, but she needed to touch him. Needed to show him just how much he meant to her. Needed him to believe it.

She moved in close, slid her hands up his chest. Every muscle in his body tensed as he drew in a ragged breath. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gryphon. I would never hurt you.”

“Ah, gods,” he whispered, pressing himself even farther into the wall. His head hit the drywall. “Please don’t. Not right now.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, eased up on her toes, was just about to brush her lips against his stubbled jaw when his head snapped her way.

“Didn’t you hear a fucking thing I told you?”

She stilled, because there was such rage in his eyes. But she wasn’t afraid, because she knew no matter what, he’d never harm her. “I heard everything. Every word you said. And if you think any of it makes me love you any less than I already do, then you really are insane. Which I know you are definitely not.”

“You what?” Disbelief widened his eyes. “No, you don’t. You can’t. What…what the hell is wrong with you?”

A weak smile curled her lips. “Where do you want me to start? I could come up with a whole list.”

He stared at her so long her skin tingled. She couldn’t read him. Didn’t know what he was thinking. Feared she’d just put herself out on the ledge again, taken a chance on loving someone, even knowing how bad it was going to hurt in the end, all for nothing. But he needed to know, needed to understand that what he’d been through didn’t change how she felt. It never could.

“You should be running from me. You should be repulsed by me. You shouldn’t want to be in the same room with me. You should be—”

“I should be kissing you.” She brushed her hand against his jaw, eased up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He froze. A strangled sound echoed from his throat as he closed his eyes. As he whispered, “Maelea—”

She kissed his temple, ran her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. “I love that you watched me from your window. I love that you protected me in those caves. I love that you were willing to let me go when those daemons found us, even knowing you might die in the process. I love that you did whatever you had to in the Underworld in order to survive so you could be here with me now. That you’re willing to do whatever you can to keep me safe, even share this horror with me. Because that’s what it is, Gryphon. It’s horrible, awful, wretched, and vile what they did to you. And it wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, one she captured with her lips. One laced with pain and heartache she felt all the way to the depths of her soul. “And if you think, for even one second, that you aren’t brave enough, aren’t strong enough, aren’t everything any woman would want and need, then you’re wrong. You’re so very wrong. I want you. I need you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Gryphon.”

His arms closed around her with such force, it drew a gasp from her lips. He buried his head against her neck while she wrapped one arm around his shoulder, the other around the back of his head, and held him close, sifting her fingers through his hair, feeling the beat of his heart against her own. He didn’t make a sound, but she felt the tears on her skin, felt his big, strong body shake with the power of so many pent-up emotions. And in the silence between them, she closed her eyes and just held on while he let them out. While she gave him what strength there was inside her.

All her life she’d been alone. Even the few times she’d been in love, she’d still been alone, because she’d never opened herself all the way. She’d never admitted who she really was, never confessed her hopes and dreams, never shared her soul. This time, she would. This time, everything was different.

“I won’t go after Zagreus,” she whispered. “I’ll go wherever you want me to go. Do whatever you need me to do. All I want is you, Gryphon. For a few years, for as long as we’ve got together. If, that is, you want me too.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder. Tear streaks ran down his cheeks. His eyes were damp and bloodshot. But the haunted look, the dead look, was finally gone. In its place were the softest, bluest, sweetest eyes she’d ever seen.

“Sotiria,” he whispered, framing her face with his hands, brushing his thumb over her own tear to wipe it away. “I used to dream of you. Of the one person who would touch my heart and make me whole. I just didn’t expect her to show up when I was half the man I used to be. Orpheus may have saved my soul from the Underworld, but you…you saved me from myself. I will always, always just want you.”

His mouth closed over hers before she could draw another breath. And though he kissed her with those sweet and tempting lips just as he had before, she felt the hesitation, felt the worry lingering beneath.

She needed to show him nothing had changed. She needed to prove to him just how much everything he’d told her only made her love him more.

Her hands slid down to his arms, then gently she eased away from his mouth, moved out of his grasp, and stepped back toward the couch, the whole time keeping her eyes locked on his.

He watched her with longing and fear. A fear she wanted to erase forever.

She gripped her long-sleeved T-shirt at the hem, pulled it over her head, dropped it on the floor at her feet. Then she flicked the button of her jeans, slid down the zipper, pushed them partway down her hips.

Desire flared in his damp eyes. A desire she wanted to stoke to a full-blown flame.

She turned, bent over at the waist, shimmied out of her jeans so he had a nice, clear view of her backside. They hit the floor near her shirt. Then she unclasped her bra, let it fall in her hands, looked over her shoulder as she held it out so he could see, and dropped it as well. His eyes were locked right where she wanted them—on her body. His face was flushed with desire and need. She slid her fingers into the lace at her hips, started to push them down. His gruff voice stopped her.

“Don’t.”

Her heart pounded hard as he moved close. His gaze ran over her, from the top of her head, down her back, hovered on her ass. But she couldn’t read his expression from this angle. Didn’t know what he was thinking. He barely moved, barely breathed as he continued to study her in the firelight.

“Gryphon…”

He slid to his knees. Pushed her hands away from her hips. Finally whispered, “Let me.”

Relief rippled through every cell in her body. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breaths as he ran his palm down her right buttock. As he trailed the fingers of his other hand across her lower back. As he hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong and slowly pulled it down.

This close he could smell her—jasmine and need and hunger. And all of it—the way she felt, the scent of her arousal, the things she’d said—it all coalesced to leave him light-headed.

She loved him. No one had ever loved him. After the Underworld, he didn’t think anyone ever could.

His heart—a heart she had reawakened—filled as he brushed his fingers against her inner thigh. As she trembled all over again. “Put your knee on the couch. And lean forward.”

She hesitated the briefest of seconds, then stepped out of her panties, braced one knee on the couch, and rested her elbows on the arm of the sofa. He pressed against her other leg, telling her without words to widen her stance. And as she slowly opened herself to him, his heart pounded hard against his ribs.

She trusted him. Not just with her heart, but with her body too. The impact of that nearly stole his breath.

“You are gorgeous,” he whispered.

She shuddered. And before she could turn and look at him, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over her clit. She sucked in a breath. He slid between her folds, then finally found the opening of her sex and tasted all of her.

She groaned, dropped her head against the armrest. Gods, he loved the sounds she made. Loved the way she tasted. He slid his tongue back down to her swollen clit, circled the tight knot, flicked it again and again, delighted in the way she moved against him. Sweat broke out on his skin as he listened to her moan, as she pushed back against him. He wanted to slide inside her, to take what she was so obviously offering, but this wasn’t about him. This was about her. About showing her how much what she’d said meant to him.

How much she meant to him.

She dug her fingers into the fabric of the couch. “Gryphon, I—”

She gasped again, then moaned when his finger slid down her backside and finally into her sex.

“Oh, gods.” She tightened around him.

He pushed deep, drew back out, thrust in again. She was so wet. Wet and hot and perfect. She moved against him while he pumped into her sex, while he licked her. Tried to force him deeper. Tried to urge him faster.

He knew she was close. Needed to make her go over. Wanted to taste her release. He closed his lips over her clit and suckled. And was rewarded with a tremor that shook her whole body.

“Gryphon,” she gasped. Her arm gave out and her face hit the sofa as her orgasm consumed her. She tightened around his fingers, and his dick twitched in response, as if the same electrical shots rushing through her body were exploding in his.

He’d never known giving pleasure could be enjoyable until her. Hadn’t realized what he was missing in life these last few months. Not just sex in general but…love. Her love, her trust, her faith in him…together it sealed the hole in his chest he’d been living with since the Underworld. It brought back the man he once was.

No, that wasn’t right. It made him into the man he’d always wanted to be.

He continued to tease her, continued to caress from the inside, slower with each stroke until the aftershocks left her body. Then he squeezed her right cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to her left.

She breathed deep, seemed to have trouble focusing. As she blinked several times and stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace, a thrill rushed through him at the knowledge he’d done that to her. He’d left her breathless and foggy. As breathless and foggy as he’d been since the first moment he touched her.

She turned quickly, found her footing, gripped his shoulders, and pulled him to his feet.

“Maelea—”

Then she closed her lips over his, licked into his mouth, ripped open his jeans, and pushed them down his hips.

Desire rushed through his body, so much more insistent than ever before. He groaned, pulled her close.

She tore her mouth from his. “Sit.”

The cushions dipped under his weight as she pushed him down. She immediately dropped to her knees, tugged the jeans the rest of the way down his legs, and dropped them on the floor. She stripped him of his shirt, and when she had him naked, when he was so hard he hurt, she finally bent and took him into her mouth.

Ah, gods. He dropped his head back against the couch. Threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair as her lips closed around his shaft and her tongue ran along the underside his cock. After a week alone together, she knew exactly what he liked. Which strokes made him shiver. How much suction could leave him weak. Just how deep he liked to press into her mouth.

She took him as deep as she’d ever done, cupped his balls, raked her nails across the sensitive flesh until the wicked sensations erupted in every inch of his skin. He groaned again, thrust up to meet her. And just when the first twitch of his orgasm barreled close, she let go with her mouth, climbed over him, straddled his hips and slowly lowered.

They both groaned as he filled her. His eyes opened, locked on hers. He closed his arms around her hips as she took him as deep as possible. “Maelea—”

She leaned forward until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and flexed her hips, rocking slowly on his lap, grinding against him until he saw stars. “I love you, Gryphon. Nothing else matters to me. Nothing from before can change that. This…you and me together now…this is all that matters.”

Emotions overwhelmed him. So many he couldn’t speak. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, closed his mouth over hers, kissed her with all the urgency inside him.

A groan fell from her lips as his tongue swept into her mouth. And when his other arm tightened around her waist, when he turned her on the couch and pushed her to her back, then braced one knee on the floor, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, kissed him as if she couldn’t get enough.

“Maelea…”

He wanted to tell her what was in his heart. Couldn’t seem to get the words out. His thrusts picked up speed. His fingers gripped her thigh and hip. And his cock grew even longer and thicker inside her.

She pushed up on her hands, thrust back against him, and tightened everything. “Take me, Gryphon. I’m yours. Only yours.”

His release consumed him, overwhelmed him, shook his body so hard he gasped. She shuddered with her own release, and before he realized what was happening, electricity shot down his spine and exploded in his hips as he came all over again. Something he never thought he could do so soon.

Electrical shocks still rippled through his cells as he groaned and fell against her. She wrapped her arms around his sweaty shoulders, kissed his temple, ran her fingers through his hair, and just held on.

Love—her love—was more than he’d ever expected. More than he’d dreamed of. More than he deserved. But he wasn’t about to waste it.

Long minutes passed before his muscles came back to life, but when they did, he lifted his head, looked up at her dark, mesmerizing eyes, at her face flushed from her orgasm, at her skin slick with sweat. And knew from the bottom of his heart that even if she wasn’t his soul mate, she was worth living for. She was everything he was fighting for.

He brushed a lock of hair away from her face then skimmed his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Gryph—”

“But I want you,” he said before she could protest. “I’ll always want you. You are the heart that beats inside my chest. That gives me life.” His throat grew thick. “I love you too, Maelea. Without you, I am nothing.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she kissed him. His lips, his nose, his cheeks. “Show me,” she whispered, lifting her hips and drawing him deep all over again. “One more time.”

With lips that devoured hers, he did.

Hades knew how to bide his time. He was a patient god. One who’d spent thousands of years waiting for his moment to shine. This, like so many others, was just one more step along the road to ultimate control.

He waited in the trees outside the city of Tiyrns in the Argolean realm. Because he wasn’t an Olympian, he could cross into the blessed realm, wasn’t limited to the same rules Zeus had saddled the other Olympians with. Which was lucky for him.

Unlucky for him, though, was the fact he couldn’t enter the queen’s castle. Some power there kept him out. Even when he used his cap of invisibility. Life would be so much easier if people didn’t fuck with the laws of nature.

Of course, then it might not be as fun.

Twigs cracked, and he looked through the dark trees toward the sound. Silently rejoiced when he saw the source. The boy was just as Hades’s spies had told him. Young, naïve, as blond as his father, and with those Argonaut markings on his forearms, the perfect prey.

He waited until young Maximus grew closer. Then finally called out, “Do they know you’re out here alone?”

Max’s head darted up, and his silver eyes narrowed. “Wh-who’s there?”

Hades smiled. Any of the Argonauts would know him for who he was, but young Maximus was too green. He might sense power, but because his father, in an attempt to protect the youth, had yet to begin his Argonaut training, he couldn’t distinguish one god from another. And thanks to Hades’s very clever disguise, that was another point in Hades’s favor.

“I think you know exactly who I am,” Hades said without rising.

Max stepped through the trees, his eyes widening. “Oh my gods, you’re a Fate.”

Hades smiled, and a sick thrill rushed through him at this little ruse. “Call me”—the bitch—“Lachesis.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you, boy. I know why you wander in these trees alone. Why you don’t tell your mother where you’ve gone. Why you distance yourself from others your age. I know about your time in the Underworld.”

Sickness spread over the boy’s face. He looked down at his feet, kicked a twig with his sneaker.

“I also know,” Hades went on, “that your parents don’t understand you. That they think you’re nothing but a weak child.”

Max’s head darted up, and his eyes flashed a stormy gray. “I’m not weak. And I’m not a child.”

Oh, he was, though. Only eleven, maybe twelve. And though he had powers yet untapped, he was still nothing but an inexperienced, albeit haunted, child.

Hades’s smile widened, the diaphanous robe like the one Lachesis normally wore all but glowing around him. “There is a way to prove them wrong.”

“How?” Max asked with curiosity.

“Oh, I think you know, child. Whom do they protect you from? Whom do they think you’re not strong enough to face? Who holds power over you, even here?”

Max’s eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched under his smooth skin. “Atalanta,” he whispered.

Children were so fucking predictable.

“So face her,” Hades said, fighting the smile. “Prove yourself to them.”

“I—I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

“You were strong enough to escape. You were strong enough to stay alive. How did you do that, if you were nothing but weak?”

Max stared at the base of a tree, and Hades could practically see the wheels turning in his blond head. “The Orb of Krónos.”

Bingo.

Hades smiled, careful not to give too much away. “With it you can do anything.”

“But how—?”

A little nudge was all the kid needed. Hades faded into nothing. “Good luck, child.”

Back in the Underworld, Hades grinned from ear to ear. Take that, you fucking Fate.

He looked down at the inventory list on his desk that he’d put off too long. He had to keep close tabs on which souls went where. His father, Krónos, was continuously sucking souls into Sin City, promising them things he could never follow through on. If he ever got out…

Hades’s jaw clenched at that thought. Krónos could never get out. No matter what. Which was all the more reason it was so important he got his hands on the Orb. If one of the other gods—if Atalanta, that bitch—released Krónos, then not only the human realm but the Underworld as well would forever be altered.

Altered? Forget that. It’d be fucking ruined.

No, Krónos would not get out. Because Hades was absolutely sure the boy—Max—would do exactly what he wanted him to do. Within a matter of days, the Orb would belong to Hades for good.

A shuffling sound echoed from the hall. Feeling better than he had in days, Hades turned from the desk and called, “Orcus! Just the troll I’ve been looking for. Where’s the stain?”

Now that he had one issue dealt with, it was time to refocus on another.

Orcus dragged his limp leg into the room, his pointy ears twitching forward and back. “I—I bring news, my lord. About the stain.”

“And?”

Orcus rang his scaly green hands together. “She—the hellhounds picked up her scent. Somewhere on Vancouver Island.”

“Well then, have them kill her,” Hades said between clenched teeth, trying not to let Orcus’s incompetence ruin his good mood.

“There’s a problem, my lord.”

“What problem?”

“They…they can’t find her. It’s like she disappeared. Even though her scent is still strong.”

Hades looked out the open window to the swirling red sky beyond. So Maelea was using the therillium to hide after all, thinking it would protect her. “How many pieces of ore did that kobalos say they took from the tunnels?”

“He thinks only one, my lord.”

One…

“And how long has she had it?”

“A week. Slightly more.”

Depending on the size of the piece, its power could begin to drain or it could last several more weeks. Until she either came out of hiding or the ore finally failed, she’d be invisible.

He turned back to Orcus. “Send hellhounds to the area her scent is strongest. She can’t stay hidden forever. As soon as she shows herself, have her killed. And the Argonaut, if he’s still with her.”

Orcus bowed and backed out of the room. “Yes, my lord.”

Things were finally starting to go his way. As he rocked back on his heels and enjoyed the view, Hades clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. He couldn’t wait until his wife returned from Olympus. Couldn’t wait to tell her he’d finally killed that fucking stain of hers and that he had the Orb.

Couldn’t wait to enjoy her reaction.

Morning light streamed over Gryphon where he lay with his head propped against the headboard, one leg kicked out of the covers, the other pinned to the mattress. He hadn’t slept. His chest still vibrated with too many emotions, his head with a thousand thoughts and memories. Some he didn’t want to remember. Some he wanted to experience all over again.

He glanced down at Maelea tucked tight to his side, sound asleep, her legs intertwined with his under the blanket. Her head lay pillowed on his chest, her warm breath heating his skin. Her features were relaxed, her dark hair a fall of black silk around her face. In the hazy light, her skin all but glowed, so soft, so perfect, like the smoothest porcelain. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the way she’d held him yesterday. The things she’d said. He still couldn’t believe, after everything he’d told her, that she wanted to be with him.

He wanted to roll her over, wake her up with his mouth, with his hands, with his body. Knew he wouldn’t, because he’d worn her out last night making love to her and she needed to rest. But it didn’t stop him from wanting, from needing, from dreaming about forever with her.

All I want is you, Gryphon. For a few years, for as long as we’ve got together.

He intended to give her more than a few years. He planned to give her at least five hundred. He’d leave the Argonauts. They could settle anywhere. As long as they were together, that was all that mattered. But first he had to deal with Atalanta.

He tipped his head back against the headboard, closed his eyes. His heart pinched at the thought of leaving her so soon after this bond they’d created had solidified. But he didn’t have another option. He was running out of time. He’d already wasted two months at the colony trying to get his head to work right, a week and a half tucked away in this house here with her. He’d never wanted the Argonauts to know his shame, which is why he’d never told any of them—even Orpheus—about his tie to Atalanta. But now that he was stronger, now that he knew he could fight her voice, he was confident he could find the demigod and destroy her before Krónos’s allotted six months were up. And when he had, when that tie between them was severed for good, then he could come back here. He and Maelea could pick up where they left off. His life could finally start.

He ignored the tingle of doubt that rushed over his spine. Told himself he could handle it. That he’d win. There wasn’t another option. Not when he finally had something to live for.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, slipped out from under her, and made his way to the shower. Floorboards creaked under his feet. He flipped on the water to heat, then looked in the mirror.

For months he’d avoided his reflection. Couldn’t stand to see that dead look in his eyes. But this morning…it was like looking at the old him. Before the Underworld. Before all the pain and suffering and hopelessness. This morning, he looked like himself again. All thanks to Maelea.

The water was warm and invigorating. And strength seeped back into his bones. A strength he’d lacked these last few months. He showered, dressed, and was surprised when he stepped into the bedroom to see the bed empty.

He moved to the curtains, pulled them back, and looked out over the beach. Maelea stood ankle deep in the surf, wearing a thin white robe, staring out at the water while her hair floated behind her in the gentle breeze. And watching her in the early morning sunlight, that heart she’d resurrected warmed in his chest, sending tendrils of energy all through his body.

He jogged down the stairs, caught the scent of coffee brewing. When he reached the kitchen, he saw the coffee was only half-done, which meant she hadn’t been up that long. He decided not to wait for it, bypassed the therillium glowing orange under the heat lamp in the corner of the kitchen, and pushed the screen door open.

Night and water. Those were two things he’d learned she loved. Wherever they ended up, it had to be on a beach like this. So she could have the water. So she could spend time out here at night. So they could make love under the stars with the waves rolling gently against the shore.

Cool water brushed over his bare feet as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzled her neck. “Good morning.”

She reached for his arms at her waist, tipped her head to give him more room. “Mmm…good morning to you.”

He kissed her cheek, then her mouth when she turned. He loved the way she tasted, loved the way she smelled, loved that she didn’t shy away from him. She shifted in his arms, ran her hands up around his neck. Opened to him when the tip of his tongue slid along her bottom lip. Moaned just the slightest bit as he dipped inside for a taste.

When he eased back, her eyes had that sleepy, dreamy look to them. The one he loved to see.

“You’re up early this morning,” she said as she rested her cheek against his chest and he tightened his arms around her back. “I heard the shower running.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” Her lips curled against him. “As long as you let me sleep at least a little later.”

His chest tightened. “Maelea, I need to talk to you about later.”

She eased back and looked up with a furrow between her perfect eyebrows. “Why doesn’t that sound all sweet and sexy like I want it to sound?”

Because she was smart. He let go of her when she stepped back. “I told you yesterday that I only have six months to find Atalanta.”

“I remember.”

“I’m running out of time. If I don’t go now I could find myself in trouble.”

Understanding dawned immediately in her eyes. “I’ll go pack.” She took a step around him. “How long should I—?”

He snagged her arm, turned her back to him, awed by the fact she didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“What?”

He reached for her other hand, laced his fingers with hers. Tried like hell to find the right words and knew he never could, so he just said what he’d already decided. “I don’t want you to come with me.”

Confusion crossed her face. “Why not? I thought you needed me? I thought last night we decided—”

He tightened his grip on her hands. “I do need you. More than you will ever know. Which is why you have to stay here.”

“Gryphon—”

“Just listen to me. I used you. At first it was to get out of the colony. And then when I realized how you calmed me, I used you so I could think clearly. I was even willing to use you in spite of what might happen to you along the way, but not anymore. All that time at the colony, after Orpheus brought me back, when he’d lost Skyla…I didn’t understand what he was going through, how he could hurt so bad after just finding her. But now I do. I can’t lose you like that, Maelea. I won’t put you at risk.”

“But you need me if you’re—”

“I need you alive. I need to know you’re safe. If Atalanta has any idea what you mean to me, she’ll use you against me. She’ll hurt you, and I can’t—won’t—let that happen.”

Worry filled her eyes. “But—”

“This is not about you not being strong, sotiria. You’re the strongest woman I know. The bravest too, to face down not only me, but daemons and hellhounds and, skata, my brother.” He tried to smile, knew from her worried expression it didn’t help. “This is about knowing that when I’m finally free, I have you to come back to.”

“But how will you be able to focus without me there to block the darkness?”

“Look in my eyes, Maelea. They’re clear. For the first time in months. I’m not going to lose that when I’m gone. Not if I know I’ve got you to come back to. If I’m going to find Atalanta, I have to let the darkness pull me toward her.” He brushed his thumb across her smooth cheek. “But I’m not afraid of it anymore. I know I can fight it now. Thanks to you.”

She stared at his T-shirt, her expression so filled with worry and dread, he let go of her hand, threaded his fingers in her hair, stepped close, and tipped her face up to his. “I’m coming back. I promise you that. This is real. This is everything to me. Now that I know what I have to live for, I’m not about to lose it.”

Her eyes slid closed. And when he brushed his lips over hers, she gripped his elbows and kissed him back, telling him with her mouth what he already knew in his heart.

She was his. For better or worse, for however long they had together. She was his alone.

He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. Her hands slid up his back. Her fingers gripped his shoulder blades as she turned her head against his chest and he rested his cheek on her hair.

“Will you wait for me?” he asked.

“That depends,” she said with a hitch to her voice. “How long do you plan to be gone?”

He smiled and hugged her closer because he recognized the teasing in her words. And the heartache. “As short as possible.”

She pushed back again. “How will you get to her? She has daemons all around her. What will you—?”

He placed his fingers over her lips. “Don’t think about it. I don’t want you to worry.”

“But—”

“I know how she thinks. I spent three months with her. I’ll find a way.”

Her gaze raked his face. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Only feeling. She hated this. She was scared. She didn’t want him to go.

“I’m coming back, Maelea. I promise. My heart beats because of you. It will always find its way back to you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She pulled him close again, held on tight. So tight, he felt her everywhere. And as the waves washed against their feet, he knew no matter what happened, this was the best moment of his life. He was loved. Not because of his title. Not because of what he could do. Even in spite of everything he’d done in the Underworld. He was loved simply for who he was.

“Come inside and help me gather my things?”

She eased out of his arms when he let go, swiped at her cheeks. “You go ahead. I need a minute.”

She was hurting. He knew he’d sprung this on her without warning. He could give her a few minutes. He kissed her cheek, knowing he was going to remember that jasmine scent of hers wherever he went. That just the memory would give him strength. “Don’t be long.”

The weight of what lay ahead hung heavy on his shoulders, but for the first time in months—ever, really—his heart felt light. Alive. As if it had wings. It felt…right.

The screen slapped behind him when he stepped into the house. He wiped the sand from his feet on the rug, then crossed to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. As he headed up the stairs, he tried to remember where he’d put the sword he’d picked up in that cave. He’d have to get new weapons, knew Maelea would have money for him to buy more. Calculated—

His feet stilled halfway up the steps when he realized the therillium hadn’t been glowing orange under the heat lamp the way it had the whole time they’d been here.

He headed back into the kitchen, set his cup on the counter, wound around the island to look at the ore. The heat lamp was still on, but the ore definitely wasn’t glowing. It was nothing but a hard, solid, greenish-black glob. It wasn’t even glowing green, as it had been in the water of that underground river.

Tendrils of unease rushed over his spine, and his pulse picked up speed. Carefully, he touched it. The rock was cold and hard, and not an inkling of energy or power radiated from its surface.

A growl echoed from outside.

His head darted up. And his heart lurched into his throat just before Maelea screamed.