West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi)

by Laura Kaye

  Aeolus heaved a sigh. “Normally, that would be the case.”

  Zeph growled, “So it’s true then. And you knew. For how long?”

  “Zephyros—”

  “How long?” The booming shout of his voice echoed against the colored murals.

  “Since her father brought the child to Eurus. It’s why you’ve never met him. You would’ve felt the power of spring within him.”

  The room spun. Gods, would the betrayals never stop piling up at his feet?

  Chrys huffed a breath. “Look, I know I’m supposed to keep my trap shut, but if you’re seriously entertaining a proposal to foist an unwanted heir on Zephyros, that affects me, too. Why the big rush with this?”

  Zeph dragged his gaze back to their father, who spoke to Chrys but kept his eyes on Zeph. “Given your proclivities, you likely have a dozen heirs already.”

  “That’s not—”

  Aeolus’s blazing green eyes cut to Chrys and halted his protest. “The same is not true for Zephyros. Nor does that seem likely to change, particularly as I’ve already been apprised that the woman with whom he now consorts cannot even bear a child.”

  Zeph broke position and braced his hands on his hips. “And I have no say in the matter? Several of the Ordinal Anemoi would make superior candidates. As the god of the Northwest, Skiron especially could—”

  Aeolus held up a hand and commanded Zeph to cease. “I will take all viable possibilities into consideration.”

  Rage seethed under Zeph’s skin until it became difficult to remain still. But not once did any part of him even consider choosing another woman, one whose fertility would solve this dilemma. What he’d said to Ella earlier had been the truth. The possibility of being with her far overshadowed these issues of succession. Besides, Zeph had no plans to go anywhere. He’d stick around just to spite all their asses.

  Not to mention he wanted every second he could have with Ella.

  Assuming she agreed to give him another chance.

  His stomach plummeted. The thought she might say no was far more devastating than Aeolus’s pronouncements about…all of this. And didn’t that tell him everything he needed to know about what was important in the world.

  Zephyros resumed his position, feet spread and arms behind his back, and glared at his father.

  With a troubled sigh, Aeolus opened his palm and a rolled parchment appeared out of thin air. He unrolled the scroll and read. “Zephyros Martius, Supreme God of the West Wind, son of Aeolus, God of Storms and Ruler of the Winds, you are charged with three counts of unlawful use of divine magic in the form of healings, unlawful revelation of your divinity, and endangering the Realm of the Gods with reckless use of divine magic in the human realm.”

  Chrys cursed under his breath. “Why is Zephyros here alone when Eurus’s infractions were the same or worse?”

  Zeph ground his teeth and hoped Chrys would say no more. While he appreciated the thought, Zeph didn’t need his father thinking of Eurus while administering his punishment. And, honestly, after the previous conversation, he wasn’t nearly as surprised or troubled by the charges, although the last one seemed a bit kitchen sink to him. He wasn’t certain what it referred to. Maybe dematerializing in a public place? Who knew.

  Aeolus glared at Chrys. “I will deal with Eurus.” His eyes were blazing when they cut back to Zeph. “Now, what say you?”

  “Guilty on the face of it, my lord. But my actions were just.”

  “Is that so? Continue.”

  “The injuries I healed were the result of my own actions, thus I deemed no sacrifice necessary.”

  “You deemed it so?” Aeolus nodded, his face the picture of skepticism. “So, what you’re saying is there were multiple counts of reckless use of divine magic.”

  Chrys spat an ancient expletive into the ringing silence between them.

  Zeph recognized his mistake, but in point of fact it was a more accurate charge. “Yes, my lord.”

  Aeolus sighed. “You acquiesce too easily, Zephyros.”

  “If a sacrifice is required, I am prepared to make it. That is all.” He had no more debate left in him.

  “So be it. The additional charges are added.” Two things happened—the room went pitch black, then candles flared in sconces only used for high ceremonies. The punishment of a god apparently counted. “Your sentence is seven lashes, one for each charge, on the bare back well laid. Additionally, you will not take the healing waters of the Acheron.”

  “Father—” Chrys interrupted.

  “Silence!” A warm wind, charged with latent electrical energy, whipped through the room, telling Zeph of things to come. “You will watch in silence or not at all. Which is it?”

  “I will stand witness,” came Chrys’s embittered voice.

  Aeolus nodded, turned his fierce green gaze to Zeph. “Disrobe and receive your punishment.”

  Never dropping his eyes, Zeph removed the cloak, let it fall to the floor. He unclipped the pins at his shoulder. They pinged against the marble. The wool tunic fell loose, and he unwound it from his body until he stood as his god had made him.

  Without waiting to be told, Zephyros turned. Chrys’s eyes burned such an intense gold they were hard to meet, but Zeph tried to communicate strength and thanks in a look. Then he offered Aeolus his back and dropped to his knees.

  Zephyros embraced Ella’s image in his mind. Closed his eyes and blocked everything else out. In just a few short days, she’d given him more happy memories than he’d accumulated in years, decades, more. She could get him through this if anything could.

  Energy rippled through the room and accumulated behind him, accompanied by a great flickering yellow glow he could still perceive through closed eyes. As a storm god, Aeolus had command over rain, wind, thunder…and lightning. Zeph had seen this before, long ago. His father meting out punishment at the end of a lash of harnessed electricity.

  “It pains me to do this, Zephyros,” came his father’s quiet voice. “But balance must be restored.” Zeph didn’t respond, he braced. And rightly so.

  The lightning landed diagonally across his back and flayed his skin, the scent of charred flesh filling the air. Zeph’s muscles seized and strained as his body absorbed the impact. Blood flowed in his mouth from where teeth tore into tongue, cheek. As was his nature, his power, his body set to restoring the wounded tissue.

  And the second stroke fell, igniting the conflagration all over again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Where are you?” Ella murmured to herself as she sat at the kitchen table, staring down the clock and willing the hands to go faster. The morning was almost over. Eleven-fifteen had the day knocking on afternoon. And Zephyros still wasn’t back.

  Brilliant sun dappled through the tree behind the house and brightened the kitchen. Absolutely gorgeous outside, it was the first spring day where warmth truly infused the air. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed. People emerged from winter’s hibernation.

  But without Zephyros, she could find enjoyment in none of it.

  Yesterday had been a total roller coaster. The heartache at watching Zeph leave. The knee-jerk reaction that she wasn’t enough. The loneliness of the house—even with Owen here, doing his darnedest to keep her good company. Even after Marcus died, the house hadn’t felt so empty, and that was saying something. By midnight, she’d crawled into bed, disappointment that he hadn’t returned a rock in her stomach. She sat propped up against the pillows trying not to fall asleep, just in case he might yet arrive. At three, she woke up with drool down her cheek and a kink in her neck. She ditched the pillows and turned over. It took her a long time to fall back asleep.

  At seven, she instantly came wide awake. Still in her pajamas, she ran downstairs. When she entered the living room, Owen’s eyes eased open and he shook his head. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. Right then, Ella knew.

  She loved Zephyros.

  She wanted him.

  She should’ve never sent him away.

&
nbsp; Amazing how fear and panic and want made things that had seemed so complicated so very plain and clear. True, what happened the night before last had scared the shit out of her. Not just…Eurus—she could barely say his name—but the depth of Zeph’s mistrust. Though, really, wasn’t she doing the same thing to him?

  Her biggest hang-up was her infertility, and whether the lack of an heir would harm Zeph in some way she didn’t understand. He said it wouldn’t, or that something could be worked out. But she hadn’t believed him, had she? That was the crux of it.

  She’d sent him away because she didn’t trust him to tell her the truth.

  And, now, oh God, now, what if he didn’t return?

  She pushed up from the table and debated another cup of coffee, but she’d already had four. Wandering into the living room, she paused to make sure Owen wasn’t on the phone with his wife again. He wasn’t. But she’d walked in on him earlier, and it had been hard to listen to the depth of devotion in his voice. Would she ever have that? Oh, Zeph, where are you?

  “You need anything, Owen? I feel bad keeping you here away from your family.”

  “I’m glad to be here, it’s not a problem,” he said with a genuine smile. “But, uh, any chance you have some ice cream? I have the munchies.”

  Ella smiled. “I think I have ice cream sandwiches. Want one?”

  “Aw, yeah.”

  She pulled two from the freezer and plunked down in the armchair next to the sofa. “Here you go.” Ella opened hers and let it rest on the wrapper.

  Owen moaned as he took a big bite. He frowned at her ice cream. After he swallowed, he asked, “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

  “Yeah, but I’m letting it melt.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s really good when the ice cream’s soft.” She grinned, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Does the snow god disapprove?”

  Owen smiled around another big bite. “Seems to defeat the purpose.”

  Ella chuckled. “Maybe.” She glanced sideways at the television. He had a movie on, but the volume was so low he couldn’t have really been watching it. The colorful bouquet on the coffee table drew her gaze. Still pristine the last time she’d noticed them, out of nowhere they’d started to wilt. The full blooms sagged on their stems and the edges of the petals browned and curled.

  And all at once, Ella knew. How she hadn’t put it together earlier, she couldn’t imagine. But they were clearly from Zeph, of Zeph. And they were wilting. Her heart lodged in her throat. “Owen?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked, wondering what kind of “touching base on family business” required twenty-four hours. Maybe she was reading too much into the flowers, but something just felt…wrong to her. She couldn’t explain it any other way.

  He glanced at the television and shook his head, long strands of black falling over those interesting eyes. “I can’t say.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  Owen released a deep breath. “I can’t.”

  Her stomach dropped and her scalp prickled. “So you do know?”

  He stared at her a long minute, then nodded.

  “Is he okay?” She wasn’t sure why she asked, except her intuition demanded it.

  “He will be.”

  “God, Owen. Please?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ella. But he shouldn’t be long.”

  “He’s late.”

  “He’ll come.” He tugged a hand through his hair. “I am sorry.”

  Fidgety, she reached out for her ice cream, but pushed it away. “You can have it if you want,” she said.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” She nodded, so he grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. “Hey, that is kinda good.”

  She gave a small smile. “Told ya.”

  “You should eat something, you know,” Owen said, frowning.

  “I will. Later.”

  Owen’s frown deepened, but she couldn’t have eaten if she wanted to. Her stomach was all knotted up. She sank back into the cushion on a long sigh.

  A thump sounded upstairs. Another.

  Ella flew out of the chair and across the room.

  Arms lashed around her waist before she hit the bottom of the steps. “Wait, Ella. Just wait,” Owen whispered.

  “He’s here,” she said. “I heard—”

  Owen put his fingers to Ella’s lips. “Someone’s here. You don’t know who. Let me check it out.”

  She gasped and her already racing heart went thunderous. Eurus. She never even considered…

  “Oh honey, we’re home,” came Chrysander’s voice.

  Ella about sank to her knees in relief. And, honestly, it appeared Owen was on the same wavelength. Well, maybe not the falling-to-the-knees part, but relief washed off him in palpable waves.

  The men—the gods—appeared at the top of the steps.

  Adrenaline left Ella shaky, and she could barely stand still as Zeph and Chrys came down the steps. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he was standing in front of her again.

  She gave in to the days’-old urge to bury herself in his chest. Up against him, she breathed in his clean, male scent, felt the reassuring pound of his heart under her hand, and about melted when his arms came around her. “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi,” he said, voice gravelly.

  “I was worried about you.”

  His breathing hitched. “Thank you.”

  Zeph squeezed her again, then tucked her under his arm. The other he extended to Owen. “Thank you for being here, for taking time away from your family. Straight up, I owe you.”

  They shook, and Owen gave Zeph a stare she didn’t understand. “You or Ella need me again, just ask.”

  Zeph nodded.

  “Well, I don’t know about you, Owen, but I need some chow,” Chrys said.

  Owen’s eyebrows shot up. “I could definitely eat.”

  Ella chuckled, laughter coming easier now that Zeph was in her arms. “You just had two ice cream sandwiches.”

  He scoffed. “They were small.”

  Chrys clapped him on the shoulder. “Besides, this boy can eat ice cream like nobody’s business.”

  Owen frowned at Chrys then shrugged. “Actually, that’s true.”

  She and Zeph walked them to the door. The round of good-byes was noisy and full of commotion, mostly due to Chrysander’s antics. She wondered if she would get to see these guys again. How she hoped.

  But when they were gone and the quiet returned, she was glad down to the bottom of her toes to be alone with Zeph.

  As the front door closed behind the two gods, she and Zeph both spoke at once.

  “Zephyros—”

  “Ella—”

  They chuckled, the sound dissolving into a bit of awkwardness Ella hated. Grasping his thick biceps for support, she pushed up on tiptoes and paused just a breath away from his lips. He closed the gap with a groan.

  Oh, God, the taste of him in her mouth. The kiss wasn’t aggressive, but it wasn’t gentle, either. Their tongues curled and stroked, lips pulled and sucked. Zeph buried his hands in her hair and guided the kiss until she was dizzy. It might’ve gone on for minutes or hours. She had no way of knowing, she was so completely lost in him. And it was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  The truth of that rang out of every cell of her being. Abruptly, she pulled away from the kiss. Zeph frowned, his brow furrowing over flaring eyes that made dark promises she yearned to make good on. But now, in this moment, there was something more important.

  “So, I did some thinking,” she said, panting.

  He released a deep breath. “And?”

  She nodded, tears blooming across her vision but not falling. “I love you and I want this, Zeph.”

  “And your concerns?”

  “They’re not completely gone. But I trust you to help me work through them. I trust us to be able to work it out.”

  Expression solemn, he gav
e a single nod. “So do I.” His hands cupped her face as a smile brightened his face. “Thank the gods. I love you so fucking much it hurts.”

  Her heart swelled in her chest until it was hard to breathe, but it was the most miraculous feeling she’d ever experienced. And the look on his face told her he felt it, too.

  He leaned down as she stretched up. His arms anchored around her lower back, hauling her up against him. She held tight to his neck as their lips and tongues explored one another anew. As close as it was, it wasn’t enough. Ella writhed against him, rocked her hips into him, loving how hard he was, wanting to feel that skin-to-skin.

  Her body went hot and wet as she readied for him. She whimpered into his mouth, needing him like she’d never needed—or wanted—any man before.

  Jesus, she might come just from kissing him, feeling his need, sharing his desire. Her hands slid up, grasping his head and pulling him in tighter to the kiss.

  He groaned low in his throat, his mouth turning against hers, kissing, licking, sucking until they were both breathless.

  Ella stumbled, pushing them back, and they both laughed around a kiss. She snaked her hands between them and yanked up his shirt. Zeph sucked in a breath, then moaned as her fingers traced over the ridges of muscle covering his abdomen. Tugging the shirt up higher, Ella teased his nipples until his one hand fisted in her hair.

  Drunk on lust, Ella pushed him back and brought her mouth to his nipple. In great, flat strokes of her tongue, she tasted him, teased him. He never let go of her hair, and his hand made sure she didn’t stop. She switched nipples and they stumbled again. Zeph backed into the foyer wall.

  He gasped and his whole body flexed.

  Ella glanced up to find his face a mask of pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Zeph bowed off the wall, his teeth aching from how hard he clenched them. Staying in the Realm of the Gods longer than he’d intended sped his recovery, and his back was better, but not fully healed. In his want for her, he’d momentarily forgotten. Just being in her presence made everything better.