South of Surrender (Hearts of the Anemoi)

by Laura Kaye

  “O-okay. Um, it’s hard to think.”

  He scraped his teeth on her neck again. “Good.”

  “Well, I…I wonder if you went down on me, if I could touch your hair.” She moaned louder, her movements becoming faster, less even. “Your hair is soft. It makes me want to fist my hands in it. So I just need to know if I could do that.”

  He loved the contrast between his sweet Laney and the no-holds-barred Laney who came out during sex. “You think about pulling my hair while I’m eating your pussy?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Come. Come right now.”

  Her hips jerked and pressed against the jetting water. Her walls tightened and clenched, and then she was crying out and milking him until he was biting the inside of his cheek to fight back his own orgasm. “That was fucking phenomenal. More.”

  Breathing hard, she sagged against the tub’s edge. “I can’t. I think I’m gonna pass out.”

  He pulled her up, setting her hips in front of the jet again. “Maybe you will, but not yet. I’m not done with you. Tell me more.”

  He stroked her clit as the water pounded, using his fingers to open her lips to the pulsing water. She shrieked and writhed and shook against him.

  Laney slipped the hand he wasn’t holding behind her back and slid her middle finger to the top of her crack. “I…I…was thinking about when you touched me here.”

  Each admission was more sensually devastating than the last. “You liked that?” She nodded, panting hard. “Has anyone ever touched you there? Has anyone ever taken you there?”

  “Nooo,” she moaned, thrusting against the jet.

  “Would you like to be touched there?” She nodded again. “Now?”

  “Please.”

  The need in that one word nearly had him emptying his balls. She was the sweetest fucking temptation he’d ever encountered, and though he wasn’t ready to confront how she really made him feel, he wasn’t obtuse enough to think she wasn’t very, very special to him. And always would be.

  “Hand back on the wall,” he growled. The speed of her compliance put another nail in the coffin of his restraint. Standing behind her, he kept his strokes slow and dragged his hand from her front around to her back. He squeezed her beautiful ass, separating the cheeks and revealing her rear opening. He stroked two fingers over the tight pucker, reveling in the moan the light caresses unleashed, and then he pushed one finger in, just a little.

  “Oh, my God.” Her hips jerked, almost dislodging him from her pussy.

  Chrys held the tip of his finger still, giving her a chance to get used to the feel of his intimate invasion there. Suddenly, she pushed back, impaling herself on his dick in her pussy and his finger in her ass.

  In her arousal, her actions, her words, she was so honest and open and just fucking fearless. He found it sexy and appealing and admirable. He pushed his finger in further and then withdrew, fucking her with his finger while he—

  “Omigod, I’m coming.” Her passages went tight, tight, tighter, and then she was spasming around him and moaning and crying his name.

  It was all he could take.

  He pulled his finger free, gripped her hips, and said, “Hold on tight.”

  Every ounce of desire let loose as Chrys came at her with a series of hard, fast, shallow strokes.

  “I shouldn’t come in you because we don’t have protection,” he growled. “But I fucking want to.” And he did. He really did. And damn if that desire didn’t warrant some close consideration. But not now.

  She unleashed an answering moan. “Come on me.”

  “Oh, gods, Laney.” His brain shorted as the orgasm hit him in the back.

  Suddenly, she pulled away and spun on the bench. Chrys almost lost his balance but then she grabbed his ass, hauled him up to her, and claimed his cock with her mouth right at the bubbling waterline.

  He buried his hands in her hair and lost himself. Absolutely lost himself to this mortal woman. She sucked and licked and moaned around him as he came until he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. The only thing he knew, the only thing he could feel, was his Laney holding him up, drinking him down, and accepting him in every single way.

  Their connection—the way they fit together, the way they complemented one another, the fundamental feeling of rightness he felt when he was with her—he couldn’t deny it any longer.

  Whatever happened. Whatever was right or wrong. Whether the world woke up in the morning or was going to bed for the very last time. He loved Laney Summerlyn to the very center of his being.

  The fierceness of the feeling simply wouldn’t be denied.

  Gently, she dropped him from her mouth and sat back in the bench. She peered up at him with the most ridiculously adorable innocent smile. “Hey, this jet works good on the back, too,” she said.

  He burst out in laughter, full-out belly laughter like he hadn’t felt in, gods, months. At least. Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he leaned down and kissed her. He pulled back but kept his face close. “You know, you only asked about touching my cock, not my ass.”

  Her face was already flush from the sex and the steam, but he would’ve bet money that she’d blushed, too.

  “I improvised. Sorry.”

  He grinned. “I’m not.”

  She smirked. “Good. Me, neither.”

  He kissed her again, a soft, lingering pulling of lips. “Thank you. The words aren’t nearly enough, but I need you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And I wanted to say—”

  Divine energy appeared nearby. A throat cleared.

  Chrys growled. “Z, get the hell out of here.”

  Laney squeaked and sank lower in the water.

  “I’m sorry, Chrys. For real. But we have to talk.”

  Seriously? Just when he’d resolved to tell her how he felt? “It can wait.”

  “It can’t.”

  “Z—”

  “Chrys, it’s Apheliotes. He’s dead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rage a living monster coursing through his veins, Chrys guided Laney into Owen’s living room. The pair of them were still dripping wet, having flown over after Chrys manifested them clothes. But none of that mattered. Aphel was dead. And Chrys had sent him right into the lion’s den. Destruction and devastation. His fault. Again.

  But not his alone.

  No question that Chrys’s existence had negatively impacted Eurus’s when they were children. But enough was enough was e-fucking-nough. The child Chrys had been was not responsible—could never have been responsible—for the heinous evil that had become his brother’s M.O. Once and for all, Eurus had to pay. Too many injustices had racked up. Thunder rumbled long and low overhead.

  He surveyed the crowded room. His father, his brothers, most of the ordinal and inter-ordinal Anemoi. Owen had Megan and Teddy tucked under his arm. Boreas and Owen’s neighbor, Tabitha, stood close together, whispering to each other. Without thinking about it, Chrys pulled Laney closer and wrapped his hand around hers.

  Her touch felt natural, soothing, necessary. A small shining joy among the dark chaos.

  Chrys turned to Zeph. “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know the specifics. We haven’t found the body. I took Ella to stay with Mars until this passes. On the way back, the pall of divine death was suddenly palpable throughout the Realm of the Gods—the aching emptiness of it just made it feel like it was someone close, someone in the family. We were near Father’s compound so we went to the Hall of the Winds. The light of the Southeast Wind was out.”

  Chrys pictured the enormous compass rose built into the floor of the ceremonial hall. Each of the sixteen points was tipped with a built-in lantern that contained the divine energy of the god who served as that wind’s master. That any of the lights had been put out killed him. That it was one of his men, a god who’d served him true and faithfully for eons, was a blow to the heart. Chrys glanced at Laney. Was this the same light she s
aw surrounding the Anemoi? He shook his head and scanned his gaze over the group. “Hear me now. I will avenge Apheliotes.” Whatever it took. However long it took.

  Approving murmurs echoed around the room.

  Aeolus stepped forward. “We are all expendable. It is not the god, but the wind he serves, that matters. So I ask each of you now. Are you prepared to stand and fight?”

  The gods offered solemn agreement.

  Aeolus moved to the center of the room. Anger and determination carved hard angles into his face. Thunder and lightning split the sky. “I say again. Are you prepared to stand and fight?”

  A loud, fierce cheer of approval and commitment shook the room. Teddy fussed but didn’t cry, as if even his divine energy understood the threat they faced.

  “Make no mistake. We are at war. We will not all come out of it alive. Sacrifices will be made.” He held up his maimed hand. “And you must understand the full extent of what you are up against. Eurus possesses the firestone ring. He has power over the winds, over each of you. This is my fault. I fully acknowledge it. And I stand ready to sacrifice myself to set this right.” Murmurs sounded from around the room.

  This…this was the resignation he’d seen on Aeolus’s face. As many grievances as Chrys could voice against his father, he would fight to the last to prevent any of his family from dying. They’d lost enough. Had enough turmoil. For several lifetimes.

  Aeolus continued. “Together, we are strong. He cannot take us all at once. We must fight. To avenge the death of one of our own who has fallen this night. To avenge wrongs against others of our numbers in recent days, weeks, and months. To preserve and protect the human realm, as is our duty and purpose.”

  Boreas pushed off the wall and stood tall. “In the name of the North Wind, I stand ready to fight.”

  Zeph nodded. “In the name of the West Wind, I, too, stand ready to fight.”

  “In the name of the South Wind, and in the name of vengeance for the Southeast Wind, I stand ready to kick some ass,” Chrys said. “So what’s our plan?”

  Zeph’s eyes flared deep blue light. “Take out Devlin.”

  Chrys held out his hands. “Wait. What? I thought—”

  “He was standing on the cliffs,” Boreas interrupted. “When we were attacked. It appears he led Eurus right to us.”

  Devlin was the cloaked figure he saw on Gibraltar? How the hell had he missed that newsflash? Chrys glared at Aeolus. “Sonofabitch. I told you.”

  “And I’ll tell you what I told your brothers. There has to be another explanation. Devlin would not—”

  “But he did,” Zeph growled. “We all saw him there. Did he help Boreas? Did he intercede in the attack on our behalf?” He left the answers to the questions hanging there.

  Boreas glanced at Megan and Teddy, then to Tabitha. He held her gaze for a long moment, then turned to face their father. “We can discuss Devlin further. A higher priority is getting out of the human realm before this fight breaks loose. We must take the war to the Realm of the Gods. If it happens here it will unleash unseen devastation.”

  Aeolus gave a tight nod. “Agreed.” He looked from Chrys to Laney, then from Boreas to Owen’s family. “We will go within the half hour.”

  Chrys heard his father’s unspoken command: say your good-byes.

  Aeolus began issuing orders to the lesser Anemoi, who resumed their sentinel duties in and around the house. Zeph and Boreas turned to Owen and Megan. Chrys couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the looks on the couple’s faces told him everything he needed to know.

  Some of us aren’t coming out of this alive. And everyone knew it.

  Laney squeezed his hand. “Chrys?”

  He turned to her and met her gaze. I love you, he thought. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Had it really only been a half hour ago that he’d nearly given voice to the words?

  How could he possibly say them now?

  How could he do anything to put Laney in any more danger? If he revealed his true feelings, she would throw herself more fiercely into protecting him and become an even bigger target.

  The best thing he could do for her was stay away. Once and for all. The decision cut him deep, like a thousand icy shards filled his chest. He heaved a deep breath. “I regret it’s not safe to take you home now.”

  “I’m not. I want to do something to help.” She peered up at him, expectant.

  Her willingness to help, to risk herself, was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? It was why he admired her so completely and feared for her safety. He could never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Part of him would literally die.

  He shook his head. “There’s no place for you here.” It’s too dangerous. But he didn’t voice those words, because he didn’t want her to latch on to his concern as his reason for sending her away. He needed her to believe…oh gods…something it killed him for her to believe. That he didn’t want her.

  “But…” Hurt washed over her expression. Laney tried to mask it, she really did. “But I…” She shrugged. “My place is with you.”

  “No. Your place is your farm. Your human life, with the horses you love, and your friends. As soon as I can, I will take you back.” The words were like crushed glass coming out of his throat. “I’ve enjoyed you, but I can’t take care of you, Laney.” He waved his hand at the room. “Not with all this going on, you know?”

  Blue eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I love you.”

  The declaration pierced straight through him. He bit down onto his tongue until the taste of copper filled his mouth. “I told you I’m not the guy who sticks around. I’m sorry.”

  Laney’s hands whipped to her throat. She tugged at the cord around her neck. “Here,” she said, pulling it over her head.

  He caught her hands. “I want you to have it.”

  A hard, fast shake of her head. “You said it has protective abilities. You should wear it. You’re the one in danger.” She pressed it into his palm. “Please, Chrys.”

  Even now, as he was breaking her heart, she thought of him first. The woman humbled him beyond all imagination.

  Tears shimmered in her beautiful eyes. She pushed by, grabbed the molding to the kitchen doorway, and slowly walked into the next room. Away from him. His heart went with her, leaving a gaping, raw, empty place in his chest.

  “Sure that’s what you wanted to do, little brother?”

  Chrys looked up into Zeph’s concerned face. He stood where Laney had a moment before. Shaking his head, he said, “If you’d met Ella at this precise moment, would you have pursued her? Would you have drawn her further into this mess?”

  Zeph’s gaze bored into him.

  “That’s what I thought,” Chrys said.

  Over his brother’s shoulder, Boreas caught Chrys’s attention. Tabitha kissed his cheek, her worry and confusion apparent. The show of affection apparently caught him off guard, judging by the almost comical surprise the god wore on his face. But then Boreas cupped her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips.

  Zeph’s gaze followed Chrys’s. “It’s good to see, isn’t it? It’s like he’s come back to life.”

  “Yes,” Chrys said. And it was so true. Except for his white hair, which had spontaneously lost its brown color upon receiving the shocking news of Ori’s death, Boreas was more his old self than Chrys had ever expected to see from him again.

  Chrys couldn’t have been happier to know that Boreas had found happiness again, that he might even be in the midst of finding love. Although why he’d open himself up to that now, of all times, he couldn’t fathom. He looked away.

  The hole where his own heart had been throbbed in empty agony.

  But that was just his heart.

  Nothing compared to what would happen if Laney died because of him. He’d lose his very soul.

  …

  Laney stood at the back door, staring at the great black nothingness, a combination of the dark and her night blindness. She
couldn’t be in the same room with Chrys. Not now. Not when she was so close to breaking down in tears, or begging him to love her back.

  There’s no place for you here. She hugged herself against the evening air.

  The words echoed in her head until they ached a throbbing beat against her temples and behind her eyes.

  In a short time, he’d take her back to Summerlyn and leave. And then, what? Was she supposed to pretend he wasn’t out there somewhere? Was she supposed to forget that she knew this world—the one of gods and multiple planes of existence and divine wars—existed?

  She’d feared that the brief return of her sight after they’d been in the elements would make it hard to go back to her blindness. But she already knew—it was going to be much, much harder to go back to her old life without Chrys than it would be if she could never see a single thing again.

  Seth. What time was it? And where was he? Ever since the Anemoi had appeared out of thin air and she’d learned Chrys was hurt, the night had been a complete and total blur. In between realizing she was in love and getting dumped, she’d forgotten about the problem of explaining everything to her best friend. Now, there was nothing left to explain. Wasn’t that convenient.

  She retraced her steps into the kitchen and, after a few moments looking, found the handset to the cordless phone on the counter and dialed Seth’s cell number.

  “Hello,” he barked.

  “Where are you?”

  “About two hours out. Trapped in stopped-dead traffic on 66. Accident. You okay?”

  No. “Yeah. I was just getting worried about you.”

  “I figured with rush hour traffic, it would take me three or four hours to get to you, but this is ridiculous. This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen.”

  If only he knew. “Just take your time and be safe. I’ll be here when you get here. You still have the address?”

  “Yes.” He blew out a long breath. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Yeah. Yours, too.” She swallowed a knot that formed in her throat. “See you soon.”

  They hung up and Laney sagged against the counter. She wanted nothing more than for Seth to get here. She didn’t want to stay where she wasn’t wanted, and Chrys had better things to be worrying about anyway.