Tempted

Chapter 19

“Isadora!” The force of the explosion shattered the invisible force field holding Demetrius back. He stumbled forward, caught his balance, and immediately began lifting pieces of debris out of the way.

Please, gods. He hurled rocks right and left. “Isadora!”

No sound met his ears. No answer. Great fissures had opened up in the earth, tearing through the grassy hillside, showcasing the mighty stones and pillars that had been hidden below. Jagged edges of rocks and marble ripped through the flesh of his hands as he dug deeper.

“Isadora!”

Sweat slid down his face, dripped onto his chest. The heat of the sun scorched his back as he kept moving massive pieces of stone, one at a time, searching. He’d heard her talking to Lachesis, damn it. Had heard every word they said. She’d been running for the exit when the ground collapsed. She couldn’t be far from the steps that used to be right where he stood now.

Where is she?

Time seemed to drag on. Five minutes? Twenty? An hour? He wasn’t sure how much time passed. All he knew was that she was here. Somewhere close, she was here.

Breathing heavily, his muscles sore from exertion, he stopped digging, wiped his forearm over his brow. A renewed sense of panic gnawed at his belly. Why couldn’t he find her? Why couldn’t he—

His spells. He could lift the rocks away with witchcraft. But which spell? His brain ran blank. He looked down at the amount of debris around him. A spell of this magnitude would drain him not only of physical strength but of mental strength as well. And if he was wrong, if he wasn’t strong enough to cast it, he’d waste precious time he could use searching for Isadora with his bare hands.

Indecision warred as he raked his hands through his hair, grabbed on to the strands, and pulled until pain shot across his scalp.

You’re not weak, Guardian, contrary to what you think. What you fear most may just have the power to save you. But only if you let it.

Lachesis’s words from that night on the cliff—the night he’d taken that first step toward Isadora—ran back through his mind. Where they settled in. He took a deep breath. Then another.

Okay, focus. You can do this.

Closing his eyes, he held out his hands and regulated his breaths as words, phrases, chants tumbled through his mind. Spells he hadn’t uttered in years but once had been as natural as drawing air. One grew stronger in his thoughts, like a beacon dragging him forward, casting shadows and darkness over all the rest.

His lips moved. Words spilled from his mouth. Rock scraped rock as he chanted in the warm, moist air and drew on the power of his ancestors.

His muscles bore the weight of the rocks. He gritted his teeth, lifted, and directed them away from the rubble with the sweep of his hands. One by one he moved broken pieces of marble and granite until his arms and legs screamed in protest. Until he could see the first few steps beneath the rubble.

Sweat poured down his temples. Fatigue settled in as time slipped away. But he fought against both. He had to find her. He wouldn’t give up. He readied himself to start again, only to stop short when his ears registered the slightest sound.

A whisper. A squeak. Coming from somewhere in the rubble. A rasp. A voice?

He dropped to the ground, placed his palms on the warm rocks beneath him, and turned his head to listen closer.

There. He heard it again. It sounded like…

“Isadora?”

The squeak echoed again. So faint he barely heard it. His pulse picking up speed, he cleared away a handful of rocks until his progress was stopped by a large slab of marble that was as long as a car and too heavy to move by sheer force. “Isadora?”

“Here,” a small voice called. “I’m here. Down…here.”

Relief flowed through his veins, as sweet as wine. “Hold on, kardia. I’m going to get you out. Keep talking to me so I know where to dig.”

She did. Mumbling words he couldn’t hear but which vibrated all the way into his chest and gave him the extra strength he needed. Closing his eyes, he focused again, letting the chant flow from his lips at lightning speed while he moved debris away from her voice.

“I’m here.”

His eyes opened at the sound of her voice, clearer now, and he realized enough material had been moved to open a dark hole into the rubble. He rushed to the right of the great marble slab and fell to his knees. Inside the hole, covered in a layer of thin white dust, she looked up at him, blinking into the bright light.

Holy gods. Thank you.

He pulled her out of the hole as carefully as he could, but with a frantic need to make sure she was in one piece. Once she cleared the lip, her weight shifted into his and he stumbled backward, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as he tucked her head under his chin and moved away from the debris.

“I’m okay,” she said against his chest. Her body was warm. Her breath a soothing wind across his overheated skin.

He eased down to sit on the hard earth. Seconds later, a massive crashing sound echoed from the rubble and they both jerked around to see the marble slab she’d been hiding under collapse into the hole.

“Gods.” He pulled her back in tight and just held on.

Seconds passed in silence during which he worked on regulating his rapid-fire pulse. If he’d been any later…If his magick hadn’t worked…If he hadn’t moved those rocks first…

“I’m okay, Demetrius.”

Yeah, but he wasn’t. Not even close.

He pushed back so he could see her face. Dust covered every inch of her skin except where it had rubbed off one cheek that had been pressed against his chest. Her sun-kissed skin shone through to remind him she wasn’t the ghost she appeared to be. She was real, alive, whole.

“I’m not hurt, Demetrius. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible. “What were you thinking?”

Her brow wrinkled to form deep lines in the powder. “What do you mean?”

He swiped at the dust on her forehead, her cheeks, her gently sloped, perfect nose. “Down there. With Hades. Don’t you know what he can do to you?”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “Oh, I know. But I’ve finally wised up. He can’t go against the natural order. When I’m dead, then he can do whatever he wants to me. But not while I’m alive. And he can’t kill me to get me there faster.”

Just the thought of her dead left a hitch in his gut. He motioned to the rubble behind her. “What the hell do you call that?”

She looked over her shoulder, then turned back to him. “A temper tantrum?”

He wasn’t in the mood for jokes. His heart couldn’t take it right now. “Isadora—”

“Okay, yeah,” she said seriously. “He can cause natural disasters and send his minions after me if he wants, but he himself can’t kill me. He can taunt me and show me what he plans to do to me when I cross over, but you know what? I’m not afraid of him, Demetrius. Not anymore.”

“He offered you your soul back. And you said no.”

“You heard that?”

“I heard everything.”

A wary expression passed over her face, but she covered it quickly by glancing down at his chest. “Some souls aren’t worth saving.”

He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Yours is.”

“No one’s is. Not in spite of this.” She lifted her hand, opened her palm. He sucked in a breath at the Titan symbol sparkling up at him.

The power of the earth element radiated from her hand and seeped into his skin even though he didn’t touch it. As she turned the diamond in her palm, the confrontation he’d overheard between her and Hades rushed through his mind all over again. Even when she was trapped she fought. And not just for herself—she fought for her race. For people she didn’t know and would never meet. For her sisters, for her warriors, for him. And sitting there on his lap, covered in a layer of grime from head to toe, she’d never looked more the queen she would one day become.

“Kardia—”

“I thought you didn’t care, Demetrius. That’s what you told me. What you’ve told me more times than I can count. And yet here you are. Whenever I need you, here you are.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Tell me you don’t care.”

His heart picked up speed under her mesmerizing gaze and one by one, though he’d fought it for so long, he felt the last barriers of his restraint shatter and break.

“I do care,” he whispered. “I care too much. That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.”

Her gaze roamed his face so long he tensed. “You hurt me.”

Regret stabbed like a hot, sharp knife. But he deserved it. That and so much more. “I know.”

“Don’t ever do it again.”

He swallowed hard. Didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Just as he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers.

She braced a hand on his shoulder and pushed up to her feet. Warmth gathered beneath her fingers to trail a line of heat straight to his abdomen. He wanted to reach for her, pull her back into the circle of his arms, but stopped himself.

She took a wobbly step, caught herself from going down, and shot him a look before he could jump to her rescue. “I’m fine.”

Not fine. She was weaker every day, and this situation with Hades and Apophis hadn’t helped.

She took several steps down the dirt path, stopped, and looked back. “Dusk will be here soon. Aren’t you coming?”

It took seconds to figure out what she meant. But when he realized she meant back to the ruins, instead of home to Argolea, he glanced at the rubble. At what was, technically, the holy ground they both knew they were looking for.

He had to take her home. It wasn’t even a question. And yet…

And yet she obviously didn’t want him to. And he wasn’t nearly as ready as he thought he’d be. Now that they were faced with reality, he wanted more time. Just one more night to make up for all the shitty things he’d done and said to her over the years. She deserved that much, didn’t she? If he took her home now, he’d never have the chance again.

He glanced back at her and knew the choice he made now would change his life. Once he gave himself to her freely, there was no way he could go back to pretending he didn’t care. Knew also, because of who and what he was, if he made this choice, he was most likely sacrificing any kind of future he had with the Argonauts forever.

He pushed to his feet and stopped when he was inches from her. She craned her neck back to look up at him. “Ready?”

He scooped her into his arms and reveled at the gasp of delight that stole from her lips. “Yeah,” he said as he moved down the path with her in his arms. “Yeah, I’m finally ready.”

The warm sun, the heat of Demetrius’s body, and the gentle rocking motion as he walked the path back to the ruins all coalesced and dragged Isadora toward sleep. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but when she awoke she was back in the Hall of Heroes, lying on the makeshift bed. Groggy, she sat up, rubbed her eyes, then gasped at the hundreds of flickering candles spread out around the room.

Her heart beat slowly at first, then picked up speed. The stone table in the center of the room was covered in a layer of blankets that were folded in half to lie across the middle, overhanging each side. Food was laid out over one end: a collection of fruits and berries of differing shapes and sizes, and more fish. Candles sat on the other end.

She heard footsteps to her right and Demetrius appeared at the bottom of the steps, holding two plastic buckets in each hand.

His face lit when he saw her, a reaction that warmed her deep inside. “You’re awake.”

She couldn’t stop the smile on her lips, didn’t even try. “I must have heard you coming down.” She motioned to the room. “What is all this?”

“Oh.” He looked toward the middle of the room, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw his cheeks turn just the slightest shade of pink. “Trickery, really.” He set the buckets on the end of the table and waved his hand through a nearby trio of candles. The image flickered and faded as his arm moved through, then solidified again when he was gone. He shrugged. “Optical illusion.”

Amazed, she rose on limbs weaker than she wanted to admit and crossed to him, running her hand through the same space he just had. The candles flickered again and then the image reformed. “You can cast illusions? Wow.” She looked up at him. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

He smirked, that easy grin he’d shown her yesterday at the beach, the same one that transformed his face from intimidating to gorgeous in the span of a second. “Party tricks are one of my many talents. I can’t cast a protection spell worth shit, but if you need candles, I’m your guy.”

He reached for the fruit, but her hand on his forearm stopped him. She waited until his eyes ran back to her before she said, “I think you have a lot of talents. And I know without them, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Something soft flickered behind his eyes. Something she wanted to reach out and hold on to forever. But he didn’t close the distance between them, and this time she wasn’t going to make the first move. He’d brought her back here instead of insisting they go home to Argolea. For tonight, at least, she was going to be patient and see where this went.

He cleared his throat and reached for the food again. “You should eat.”

He set a plastic plate of fruit and fish in front of her. She tried not to curl her lip in disgust but knew she wasn’t successful when he chuckled at her side. “When you get home, you can have whatever you want. Here.” His big hands slid around her waist and he lifted her to sit on the table with ease. Warmth gathered beneath his hands and inched its way up and down her rib cage. But his touch was gone way too soon, and he put the plate in her lap and stepped back before she could think of something to say to stop him. “What will you ask the cooks to make for you when you get back?”

She fingered an apple slice on the plate. “A steak. A nice big juicy one.” As she sank her teeth into the apple and chewed, she imagined a rib eye instead. “With Cookie’s good garlic mashed potatoes and a side of asparagus. And chocolate cake for dessert.” She glanced his way. “What will you ask for?”

His lopsided grin faded as she ate. With one arm braced against the table, he looked down at his own food. “I don’t know.”

A strange foreboding trickled through her chest. What wasn’t he telling her?

He ate a few bites, and when he noticed she wasn’t eating much herself, took her plate and set it to the side. Neither of them, obviously, had much of an appetite. Her eyes followed as he moved around the table. “Lie back.”

She glanced down at the blankets beneath her. “Why?”

He lifted the buckets he’d brought in with him when she awakened and said, “I thought you might want to wash your hair. It’s too late to head down to the river, but I heated some water upstairs in case you wanted to clean up.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Candlelight flickered over his bare chest and the angles and planes of his muscular body. He was wearing the same low-slung black pants he’d worn for days, frayed at the edges and ripped in the knees, but he was no longer sweaty and dusty, as he’d been earlier. He’d obviously dunked himself in the river when she was asleep, and then he’d brought more water back here for her.

Tingles erupted in her breasts, in her abdomen, in her thighs as she nodded and swallowed back a rush of emotions. “I…I would. Thank you.”

“Lie back then. And scoot toward the end of the table.”

She did as he said, realizing the blankets were positioned to soften the hard surface. When her feet were hanging off one end and her head off the other, she looked up to see him peering down at her with an intense expression she couldn’t name.

“Close your eyes.”

Warm water flowed over her grimy hair, dripped down to the stone floor at his feet. She closed her eyes as he poured liquid over every strand, then relaxed into his touch as he began to massage suds into her scalp.

“Where did you get shampoo?”

“Same place I found the toothpaste.”

She smiled. “Mm.”

“Like that?”

Yeah, she liked it. So much. His hands were like heaven, rubbing, touching, massaging, and every one of her muscles relaxed as he worked. He poured more water over her hair to rinse away the lather, then carefully dried her short locks with an extra blanket.

“How did you heat the water?” she asked. “All we have are plastic buckets.”

“Achilles’s helmet is metal.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You heated water in his helmet?”

“I don’t think he’s using it. Wish I hadn’t?”

No, she wished that helmet was the size of a hot tub so she could climb into it with him and he could work his magic fingers over the rest of her body.

He set the damp blanket on the table at her side and used his fingers to comb the tangles from her wet hair. Then he slid his hands under her shoulders and pushed her up to sitting.

She brushed the wet hair back from her face and tried to think of something to say. His hands tugging at the hem of her filthy tank top stopped all thought. “Lift your arms.”

Her heart picked up speed but she did as he asked. The tank slid up over her arms and dropped to the ground out of sight. Water sloshed behind her. Anticipation curled in her stomach. Then his hand landed gently on her bare shoulder, followed by a warm damp rag running across her back.

A sponge bath. He was giving her a sponge bath. The erotic implications of that puckered her nipples and arched her back.

“Too hot?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” More than fine. Better than fine. It was…paradise. She closed her eyes as he dragged the rag over her shoulders, down her spine, to the curve of her lower back and up again. Warmth gathered in her center, spread lower until she ached.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said softly.

“Hm?” He slid the rag down her neck, over her left arm. Water dribbled down to her fingers.

“What happened to your mother? We’d been told her party was ambushed.”

Her eyes floated open to focus on a candle on the floor twenty feet away. He continued washing her arms, her back, her sides as her mind drifted. She knew what the Argonauts had been told, what everyone had been told. Thirty years ago, before the war with the daemons had picked up in intensity, her mother had taken a group of chaperones—soldiers from the Executive Guard and her own personal assistants—into the human realm for a “mini-vacation.” A shopping trip, her father had called it. Andromeda had been as fascinated by human culture as the king, and every now and then he’d allowed her to cross over, so long as she was well protected. While there, they’d been overrun by a pack of daemons, and before the Argonauts had even been alerted, it was over. None had survived. But that wasn’t what had really happened. That was simply the lie her father had told to cover up the truth.

“You know about my sisters, so I guess it’s no big secret now. My father was never faithful to my mother. Three hundred years is a long time to be bound to one person, and when that person can’t give you the one thing you want more than any other…” She shrugged, hating that she sounded so bitter but unable to keep it from her voice. “I guess he decided to move on.”

Demetrius moved around to stand in front of her, and though she knew she was naked from the waist up and should be embarrassed, she wasn’t. “A son. That’s what he wanted.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on an inch-long scar under his left pec. “That’s what he’s always wanted. She was pregnant numerous times, but they all ended in either a miscarriage or stillbirth. Except me.”

“What happened to her?”

Isadora sighed. “I think she finally had enough. She must have found out about his affair with Callia’s mother. At the time, I didn’t know who he was seeing, just that it was someone else. It was always someone else. Usually it was a female outside the castle, someone of lower status. But his own personal healer? That would have rocked my mother to her core. Especially since she and Anna were friends.”

She couldn’t help remembering how sad her mother had been the day she left. The way she’d hugged Isadora and said good-bye as if it was forever. “She didn’t go into the human realm on a shopping trip. She didn’t take any chaperones with her. She just disappeared. As if she’d never existed in the first place. And my father never searched for her. He made up that story about her being killed as an excuse to go on with his life, and he never looked back.”

She glanced at her hands. Hands that were petite, just like her mother’s had been. “I thought about looking for her. More than once. But my father…he forbade me from doing so.” Her voice trailed off. Because, yeah, what was she ever going to be able to do? “I look like her. More than I do him. Aside from the fact I’m female and the only one of their children who survived, my nose is too small, my eyes the wrong color, and I’m timid, just like she was. That’s never helped the situation with my father. In fact, I’m sure that’s simply made it worse.”

He didn’t say anything, and she figured that meant her little sponge bath was over. She shifted and reached for the edge of the blanket beneath her legs to cover herself, disappointed she’d gone on in the first place instead of sidestepping his question. Even more disappointed she’d let the hurt get to her all over again.

Why did she let her father do that to her? Especially here?

He pushed the blanket from her hands. Surprised, she looked up into soft, warm eyes as the cloth fell against the table again. “I think your nose is perfect. And your eyes match your determined personality.”

“Determined? No one’s ever called me that.”

A half smile curled his mouth. One that supercharged her blood and brought that ache back tenfold. “How many times have I tried to put distance between us? And how many times have you closed the gap? I’d call that determined.”

Her heart stuttered. And in the silence she knew if she didn’t ask the question, she’d spend the rest of her life wondering. “Is that what you want? Distance? Between us?”

“No.”

She drew in a breath and held it as he twined one arm around her back and tugged her closer to the heat of his body. Her legs opened, sliding around his hips until his sweet male scent surrounded her and he was all she felt.

“And for the record,” he said as he dipped the rag in the bucket at his side and trailed the warm, wet cloth across her collarbone so water dripped down her naked breasts, puckering the nipples to stiff peaks, “I don’t think you’re timid. Not anymore, at least.”

His face was an inch from hers. His breath hot and minty and so intoxicating it left her light-headed. As he brought the rag around her right breast, she tensed, wanting his hand on her skin, his lips on her mouth, his length deep inside her as it had been last night. Except this time she wanted him controlling the pace, the mood, bending her body any way he wanted. “If I’m not, that’s because of you.”

“No, it’s not. It’s because of you.”

She held her breath as his lips met hers. Once. Twice. As gently as if he were touching glass. She moaned as he kissed her again, as his soft and supple lips swept over hers. Bringing her hands up to his chest, she felt the corded muscles beneath his skin, the power, and tilted her head to give him more. He took the invitation and opened, sliding his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers until she went a little mad at the taste of him again.

“Ah, kardia,” he mouthed against her lips.

“I love it when you call me that.”

He dropped the rag, wrapped both arms around her waist, and lifted her from the table. She responded by kissing him more deeply, sliding her legs around his hips and her fingers into his hair as she’d wanted to do from the first moment he stepped into the room. He carried her from the table, across the floor, and laid her out on the pile of blankets in the corner of the room, then peered down at her with eyes that weren’t nearly as soft as she’d thought before.

No, these eyes were shimmering shards of onyx, filled with desire and yearning. And they were staring at her as if she were the only thing in the world he wanted.

She wasn’t sure what had changed between this morning and now, but she wasn’t about to ask.

“I want you to tell me what you like,” he whispered. “What you want.”

She ran her hands up his muscular arms and eased up to kiss him again. “I like you. I just want you.”

He kissed her deeply and eased down into the vee of her body, and her heart filled when the hard length of his shaft pressed through the cloth separating them, right where she wanted it most.

He touched her, first with his fingers, then with his mouth, licking and kissing her most sensitive spots—the skin behind her ear, the base of her throat, the tips of her nipples—until she moaned in pleasure. And then he did it all again until she was panting for more.

His mouth made a slow trek down her stomach, paused at her belly button so he could trace the indentation with his tongue. Her muscles quivered; her body arched in anticipation. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he kissed her lower belly and expertly popped the snap on her shorts with his teeth.

The victorious grin he shot her curled her mouth, but it quickly faded into a moan of pleasure when he slid his hand into her shorts and moved lower to graze his fingers along her slit.

“Mm, Princess. You’re wet for me.”

She wasn’t just wet, she was soaked, and she didn’t want to wait. “Demetrius…”

He pulled his hand free, then tugged the shorts from her hips. Cool air brushed her skin but was quickly replaced with his tantalizing mouth, blowing hot over her naked mound. She arched, groaned. He traced his fingers where he blew, careful only to graze the supercharged flesh. “I love the taste of you. Right here.”

She pushed up on her hands, the erotic sight of him between her legs turning her blood to liquid fire in her veins. He lowered his head and she watched in awe as his talented tongue snaked out and made one long, lingering sweep of her cleft. Oh, gods. Her head fell back in pleasure. Her whole body clenched. She arched her hips to offer more and gave in to the ecstasy.

He flicked her clit, stroked and swirled, brought her close to the edge, then backed off. Sweat beaded her brow, slid down her back to pool at the base of her spine as she twisted and tried to show him just where she wanted more. But he knew how to tempt her. Knew just how to tease her into a maddening frenzy. And no matter what she did, the climax she needed hovered just beyond her grasp.

“Demetrius, oh, gods, I need you.”

He lifted his head, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and flipped her onto her stomach so fast she gasped. Cloth rustled behind her, and then his hands slid under her torso, cupped her waist, and lifted. His warm, hard chest pressed into her spine, his strong bare thighs met the backs of her legs. One hand slid down her front and into her folds to tease her all over again. And his mouth, those sweet and tempting lips and that insanely erotic tongue, caught her earlobe and suckled.

“Should I bind your hands, like you did mine last night?”

Bind her? Oh, yes…His hot breath trailing her neck sent a shiver of delight through her whole body. His fingers teasing her flesh pushed her hips forward and back. His hard length pressing against her ass drew a moan from her lips. “Yes. Oh, yes, I don’t care what you do. I just need…”

“What?” He nipped her earlobe with his teeth. But it didn’t hurt. If anything, the bite felt…electric, amping her need higher still. His fingers slid lower, deeper, inside, and she moaned as he filled her. He teased her breast with his other hand until her nipples turned into stiff aching peaks. “Gods, you’re so tight. Need what, kardia? Tell me.”

“You,” she managed. She found his strong thigh with her hand and squeezed. “I need you. Now. Right now.”

His fingers left her sheath. He tilted her forward, and she gasped as her body shifted, but the arm of steel wrapped around her torso kept her from falling. And then his cock was sliding along her slippery folds and she didn’t care about anything anymore. He could put her in any position he wanted, do whatever he needed to her body. As long as he found his way inside her, that was all that mattered.

He pressed against her opening. Pushed inside just an inch. Slid back out. “Is this what you need?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Say it.”

Her body quivered. “I need you, Demetrius. Fill me. I want to feel you.”

He did, in one powerful thrust. Unlike last night, this time it didn’t hurt. It was the most exquisite feeling in the world. As if her body was made just for his. He was hard where she was soft, strong where she was fragile, and with every deep plunge, her climax barreled closer.

With one hand she gripped the arm wrapped tightly around her waist; with the other she clamped on to his thigh as he moved inside her. She moaned with every rock of his hips, with every drag and pull. Turning her head to his, she kissed him deeply, moving with him, against him, then nearly came apart when his fingers found her clit and he flicked in time with his thrusts.

“Yes, yes,” she mouthed against his lips.

“Here?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“You like me fucking you here?”

“Yes.” Oh, gods, his voice, telling her what he was doing to her in such a basic way, was so damn erotic. No one ever talked to her that way. No one ever dared. “Yes. Please…don’t stop.”

Her climax steamrolled its way toward her, but just as she reached the peak, he pulled out, twisted her around again so she fell against the blankets on her back. She groaned her frustration, but he captured it with his mouth, and then he filled her all over again in one mighty thrust. And she forgot everything but this, here with him, right now. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his back, and held on as he drove harder, deeper, as he kissed her as though he couldn’t possibly get enough. Not ever.

“Now, kardia,” he whispered. “Come for me now.”

She was powerless to do anything else. Her climax slammed into her with a force that stole her breath. Her whole body arched as spirals of light and electricity rippled through every cell, dragging his name from her lips. He thrust again and again, faster, longer, and grew impossibly hard inside her. She heard his own cry of release and marveled at the way every muscle in his body turned to stone beneath her hands, against her skin, inside her body.

Seconds passed in silence as if they were frozen in time. Finally, he dropped his head against her shoulder and dragged air into his lungs. “I…oh, man…”

A smile twined its way across her lips as she ran her fingers through his hair and tried to regulate her own breathing. She pressed a kiss against his temple. “Me too.”

He pushed up on one hand and looked down as if judging her words for honesty, and in that moment, with his hair mussed, his face relaxed, and his body sated, he didn’t look a thing like the cruel, unfeeling guardian she’d known most of her life. Here, now, like this, he was simply the ándras she’d fallen in love with.

His gaze slid from her face to her breasts, and heat built in her veins all over again under the searing look. And then his gaze moved lower, to her abdomen, where it hovered. He pushed up. “Hold still.”

The heat of his body was gone before she could stop him. He crossed the floor, his nakedness reflecting the flickering candlelight as if he were a statue carved from marble. He reached for the rag from the table.

Isadora looked down at her belly and saw the evidence of his release all over her skin.

“Here.” He knelt by her side and used the rag to wipe away the remnants of his pleasure, then tossed it back across the room and eased down onto his side, tucking his arm under his head and pulling her into the curve of his body. “That’s better.”

Isadora wasn’t so sure. Confused as to why he hadn’t finished inside her, she ran through their lovemaking in her head, searching for something she’d done wrong. But she couldn’t find a single moment that hinted of him not wanting her, not needing her as much as she’d needed him. Then she thought back to his infuriated reaction this morning. After she’d ridden them both to a blistering climax. After he’d finished inside her, then realized what he’d done.

You don’t want to have a child with me.

Why would I?

She swallowed hard, and a shiver of doubt gnawed at her greatest fear. All this time she’d thought his coming back here tonight was a sign he was ready to take a step forward with her. Start anew. Make the greatest leap of faith there was. But she was wrong. This wasn’t a beginning. It was an ending. The sweetest, most painful ending she’d probably ever experience.

Misreading her reaction, he reached for a blanket from the edge of the pallet and tossed it over their naked bodies. But he didn’t pull away, and he never once let go of her, as if he couldn’t bear the thought. He stroked her arm, her side, her stomach with his soft fingers and whispered the sweetest words in her ear, ones that, considering what she now knew, brought tears to her eyes.

“Sleep, kardia. You need your strength for the morning. We both do.”

She closed her eyes tight. But she didn’t sleep. She worked simply to keep from crying. Because her heart, which moments before had been so full, felt as if it were now leaking from a pinprick deep inside her chest.

Tomorrow she did need her strength. She was going home to Argolea. Finally. But somehow, instinctively, she knew he wasn’t going with her.