A Message For Iris : (Gods of Olympus Book 3)

by elda lore

  “You go any lower and we aren’t leaving,” I warned. She laughed as she stood and finally agreed I could pick her up when she finished working. My heart raced with new images of her mouth on me, and mine on hers, and all the things after that foreplay that I wanted to occur.

  While she went to work, I returned to Cash’s condo. Something nagged at my memory when I thought of her answering her letters. That gnawing feeling called me to my bottom dresser drawer. I searched for the manila envelope from Henny’s parents. I knew the contents included her returned engagement ring, but something hinted that I’d seen the purple stationary of Dear Iris before. Shifting through the contents of the envelope, I found my answer. I stared at the distinctive envelope before opening the flap.

  Dear Henny,

  It’s hard to imagine the split your heart must feel as you love two men at once. The heart is designed to be whole, not halved, and therefore, I suggest you must choose one to complete you. While traditional advice is to make a list of pros and cons—a very logical way of looking at things—in matters of the heart, it’s better to listen to it. Who is your heart beating for?

  You mention one man is perfect except for his vile temper and alcohol abuse. Can he seek counseling? Will this improve your desire for him? As you’re tempted by another already, perhaps this says something more about you. Did you seek the other or did he find you? The second man sounds like a dream. Money. Family. Future. If those are the measure of your heart, I’d say choose him.

  What holds you back, Henny? Why can’t you make the choice? If you think you will break the first man’s heart, think again, as you will only hurt him worse if you marry him when you don’t love him. If you love the second man, but don’t select him as your match, you’ve hurt him as well. But most important in this triangle of hearts is your own. You must be true to yourself first before you can be happy.

  Let your heart decide.

  Love in peace,

  Dear Iris

  The letter was meant to torture me. I should have burned it when I first received it. I’d never opened it, knowing it held a truth I didn’t want to read. Obviously, her parents gave it to me as a reminder that their daughter didn’t want me. Their hurt was worse than mine, as I had killed her. Her heart was gone forever, while mine continued to beat.

  Funny how Fate has a way of reminding you of things better left forgotten. I stared at the letter a second longer. My hands trembled with Henny’s memory, but the hurt was worst under present circumstances. My eyes reread the closing.

  Let your heart decide.

  Love in peace.

  Dear Iris.

  How I needed that very advice myself, but then it struck me—she’d suggested Henny find the strength to leave me. Was it a blessing? Not when it resulted in Henny’s death. Was it a curse? Did the goddess of messages do that kind of thing?

  Anger coiled under my skin as I entered the back office. Agitation surged at the thought Iris had been the one to advise Henny to pick another man over me. I don’t know why it upset me so much. I hadn’t loved Henny like she needed to be loved. Maybe it was her unnecessary death that set my violent mood into action. For that, I had only myself to blame.

  I slapped the papers down on the desk, startling Iris. The original lavender letter rested under a second letter never sent. I stared at the handwriting a second longer, calling forth someone I wished to forget, but wouldn’t allow myself the forgiveness.

  “Charlie?” Iris questioned.

  “You won’t need to answer this one.” My hands trembled as I struggled to read.

  “Dear Iris,” I began, venom dripping from my tone.

  “I accepted the engagement offered to me by Charlie. It all happened in a blur, and I think he only asked because he sensed he’d lose me. He drinks too much. He’s unhappy, and I didn’t want to be one more thing to displease him. He’s settled for a life I don’t think he wants to lead. However, his unhappiness has brought me down with him. Listen to my heart, you say? I can’t satisfy him. I can’t make him change. I’m not what he needs. I’ve met someone who understands me. He loves me for me. Charlie only loves me for the commitment I’ll fulfill, the dream his parents demand he makes his own, due to a weak heart and a strong disposition for drinking. I’m being selfish, Iris, but I want a heart that beats for me, and I think another choice is the answer for me. He’s the one my heart beats for. Ben makes my heart soar. With those thoughts, I’ve decided I must leave Charlie.

  Following my heart,

  Hensley Conrad”

  “You won’t need to answer this one,” I repeated, my hands shaking so fiercely the paper crinkled. “She’s dead.”

  9

  Iris

  I stared at him in disbelief. What were the chances? Bottle Beach was a permanent location. Before that, letters just seemed to follow me. I’d open a postal box wherever I went, and there the letters would be. We never personally knew those who wrote to us, as our inner circle was small. I read each letter objectively, never considering I’d cross the path of someone in reality.

  Charlie didn’t give me the chance to ask how he knew her. He threw the paper on the table and left as abruptly as he entered. The door to the office swung open, but he didn’t bother to close it behind him. I heard the rear exit door slam. My body flinched at the sound.

  I had watched as his eyes clouded while he read, the anger rolling off him in waves. Rejection was a painful emotion. I reached for the discarded paper, now crumbled on the table. Skimming over the letter, I noted the name. Based on his reaction, I’d venture to say he was the Charlie, but who was Ben? A faint stab at my heart reminded me that I’d been left behind for another woman by a man with the same name. I understood how Charlie felt. He must have loved her deeply.

  Find the one whose heart dances with the rain. Let love be his forgiveness. I’d been pondering this puzzling message when Charlie startled me. I gathered the papers and collected the pens. My hand ached from writing and a need to touch Charlie. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. When he slid inside me, my hands clawed at the firm globes of his ass, pressing him harder, trying to pull him deeper. I wanted to surround him with color like he asked. His demeanor hinted at darkness, as he often jested, but if he knew the woman of this letter, I finally had some answers. She loved two men, Charlie being one of them. They had been engaged when she broke his heart.

  What advice could I give to her? It no longer mattered if she was dead. What I needed to do was find the man she’d harmed and deliver a message to him, instead. I turned off the light and locked the office door. Exiting the back, I noticed Charlie’s truck. I returned to the narrow alleyway dividing my shop from the Chinese trinket place and noticed Charlie standing across the street on the ocean’s edge.

  Under dim street lamps, I crossed Front Street. The only activity this late was down three blocks near the bars. The rush of the ocean beat against the breakwall near the park. Whale-sighting tour boats rocked in the marina, tethered for the night, rolling softly with the incoming tide. Charlie’s frame was outlined against the inky blackness of the sea, his hands on his hips, his feet spread wide. He looked like a troubled man, even from behind.

  “Charlie,” I called out as I approached. He didn’t turn to me, focusing on the rough curl and collision of the waves. He remained silent for a moment as I came to stand next to him, then began to speak.

  “She’d told me. It was the night of our engagement party. She’d accepted my proposal and taken my mother’s ring. That night we had a fight. I’d been drinking, and it just blurted out of her.” He sighed, letting his long bangs whip in the wind. “She had met someone, long before the party, long enough to question if she loved me. She took my proposal out of guilt. She wanted to help me.” He snorted. “There was nothing she could do, though. My life was out of control.”

  Charlie turned to look at me.

  “Do you ever feel that way, Iris? Like your life isn’t your own?”

  I sighed in response,
letting a short breath escape me. I’d been beckoned to run errands and messages the whole of my existence, and while I didn’t mind the responsibility, it got in the way of leading a normal life. It ruined my relationship with Ben. But I paused at that thought. It wasn’t exactly true. Ben ruined our relationship by not standing up for me. I hadn’t answered, and Charlie continued.

  “All my life I’d been considered weak. Weak heart, weak Charlie. Don’t let him run. Don’t let him be free. Control and medications and pity. In my twenties, I’d had enough. I said fuck it and began to drink. I mean, if I was going to die from weakness, let me enjoy my time. I felt different—better—despite the weakness in me. I believed I was strong. Then I didn’t make the heart transplant list because of the alcohol. It pushed me over the edge to act out and do what I wanted.”

  “It was stupid, so stupid, to ask her to marry me. What would she gain by being with me? But my parents wanted to see me married. My brother, Cash, could do nothing wrong, and giving them this concession seemed the way to get them to stop hero-worshipping him.” His fingers rubbed his temples.

  “I was so angry. Just fucking pissed off. And I was an idiot. For as much as I drank, I knew better than to drive.” His shaky fingers wound into his hair, and he held back the long bangs in a fist.

  “Henny was crying, and I was so mad I couldn’t speak. She’d already slept with him. She didn’t have to tell me, but I knew. I just knew.” He shivered in disgust. “As we neared her home, I took the corner too fast, and we collided with another vehicle. The toxicology report pointed to me, even though he didn’t have the right of way.”

  “I didn’t know it was him.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath. “She had been texting him as I drove like a madman. I just wanted to get her home and away from me. I should have left her behind, but she followed me. As I left the party, she begged me to let her be with me, when I didn’t want her anywhere near me.” His voice faltered, and the wind picked up around us. I wanted to reach for him, but I was afraid he didn’t want my touch, too lost in the memory of someone important giving her touch to another man. Someone he loved had loved someone else.

  “After the accident, as I was rushed to the hospital, I crashed. My heart was already a weak vessel. I hadn’t made the list for a transplant, another reason Henny felt sorry for me. She thought I wouldn’t be able to take the truth because of a stupid heart, as if the organ literally ruled me,” he hissed sarcastically. “I missed the list after being arrested for fights and written up for public intoxication. I reapplied. It helped to have parents on the medical board. It didn’t matter to me, though. I wanted to die. The emergency doctor was determined I wouldn’t.” He choked. “That night, her guy died, and by some miracle I survived, even though my heart momentarily flatlined. The doctor made a split-second decision—they had a perfect match. I don’t even know if it was ethical.”

  Charlie’s hand covered his chest, palm flat for a moment before curling into a tight fist. Knocking at it once, he continued.

  “And my flawed heart was replaced by his strong one.” He pounded his chest again. “The man she loved died, instead of me.” He rapped at his chest even harder. “His heart, that beat for her, now keeps me alive, and I hate it.” His face twisted and his palm flattened again against his breastbone.

  “Charlie,” I whispered. “You’re not at fault for that heart. It’s not your fault that you lived.” His eyes closed. There was no way to explain, no way to forgive, and I saw it in his expression under the darkness of the rapidly clouding sky.

  “I am at fault. She didn’t make it, either.”

  Shaky fingers covered my mouth, holding in the horror I felt. There was no question this story was messed up and the circumstances unimaginable. My other hand reached for Charlie, a need to connect with him physically in some manner. He didn’t flinch from my fingers but closed his eyes, instead. We stood for a long moment, the wind whipping around us, and the sound of crashing waves on the shore, both drowned out by the silence of a beating heart inside a broken man who was filled to the rim with guilt.

  He finally let me tug him back toward the studio.

  “Come home with me,” I whispered, and his head nodded. We drove in silence, my thoughts racing but my voice hesitant to ask all the questions I had. I sensed Charlie didn’t want to talk, so I chewed my lip the few blocks we rode before he followed me inside.

  “Want something to drink?” I offered, cringing with the question, knowing he didn’t drink.

  “I do, but I won’t. I promised myself. New heart or not, I won’t touch the stuff again. I don’t trust myself.” The sadness in his voice stripped me bare. I couldn’t stand to see him so beaten, and yet I imagined what I witnessed was only one-tenth of what he’d been through. The loss of his fiancée to death after the disparaging news of her betrayal to their future was a heavy weight. In addition, I was curious about his weak heart and the transplant that transformed him, but curiosity would have to wait.

  It felt like a lifetime had passed since we’d been on my couch. The pillows were still haphazard, and I moved to step away from him when he reached for my wrist.

  “You’re nothing like her,” he said, and my head tilted in question. He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly over mine, seeking, pleading, asking permission, but desperate. He wanted to lose himself in other thoughts, and my hand slipped to his. Tugging gently on his fingers, I led him up the stairs to my bedroom. Done in bright yellow, a color I loved, I didn’t turn on the light, as the moon offered the perfect illumination. Clouds still swirled over it, and I felt the call of rain, but for a little while I’d ignore my duty and give my attention to someone in need.

  I spun to face him. His hands came to my hips in that way he had, where he pulled me to him and squeezed lightly. His palm flattened and his fingers wrapped around my flesh, the tips applying pressure to move me toward him. It was possessive and pleasurable, and I liked the way he wanted me to be his.

  “It’s been a long time, Iris, and the other night—”

  “Shhh,” I whispered, lifting a single finger to his lips. He kissed it briefly but spoke around it.

  “I took what I wanted, because I want you, only you. I just need—”

  “I know,” I sighed, lifting my lips to his. Within seconds, the connection heated from soft sympathy to ravenous rapture. We climbed a mountain of desire as fast as our lips could move. This was the way Charlie kissed me, as if he couldn’t get to the top fast enough, afraid he’d lose me when he did. The feverish climb and potential retreat drove me wild. My tongue swirled over his, lapping at him like the ice cream he teasingly swiped on my knee. He was playful and flirtatious, and I hated that someone else didn’t enjoy these things about him.

  “Don’t think of her,” he muttered, and I smiled half-heartedly against his lips, wondering how he knew my thoughts.

  “It’s only you, Iris,” he stated, reassuring me. Our connection was just that—ours, and he wanted no one else in the room. The tugging of my skirt brought my attention back to him. I didn’t want any clothes as barriers either, and I reached behind myself to unhook the catch and lower the zipper. Charlie pulled back to watch as the material fell to the floor. His hands reached for my bare hips, tugging me tightly against him again.

  “My God, you’re perfect.” He exhaled as his eyes roamed over his fingers gripping my hips. Instantly, his mouth returned to mine, but we still had too much clothing in the way. I pulled up his T-shirt, and we broke for a moment. I sucked in a breath as my hands roved over the chiseled dips and black ink of his abdomen. I’d touched his bare chest before, but I couldn’t get enough of his cool skin. He melted under my touch, his heart racing as he drew deep breaths. I loved this reaction in him. It was as if he were familiar to me, filling the hole in my heart since Ben.

  I slipped my flat palms over his shoulders and tugged myself to him, crushing my mouth to his. He groaned, and the vibration was a current that shot straight to my needy core.


  “Charlie,” I muttered, twisting us so my back was toward the bed. He walked us to it and tugged off my shirt before guiding us down to the soft bedding.

  “I want tonight to go slow, but I also feel like I can’t get inside you fast enough.” My heart leapt at the rawness of his need, recalling too well the aggressive thrust of him as he pinned me to the wall. I hadn’t ever done it like that, despite Ben’s joke of taking someone against a bookshelf. We were never that adventurous. With Charlie, everything was new, refreshing.

  “Maybe round one can be quick and round two a bit slower,” I teased, hoping my encouragement would let him know I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. A thick hand palmed my breast, and I fell back as he massaged over a tight nipple, peaked with the pleasure he offered. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger causing me to moan. My legs spread wide, allowing him to crawl between them. He pressed forward, his fingers pulling down the cup of my bra, his mouth following seconds later.

  “Gods above,” I whimpered, my fingers delving into his hair, holding him latched on to me, twisting my head side to side with the thrill of his tongue circling my nipple and his teeth taking a nibble. His searching mouth opened, filling with the heaviness of my breast before moving quickly to the other. A continuous prickle of need crept up my thighs, settling low in my belly, and threatening to burst.

  “Don’t come without me,” he pleaded, recognizing already how close I was. His hand slipped to my back and snapped off my bra. Mine reached for his jeans, fumbling with his belt. He sat back, removing my bra with his fingers, and reaching for his belt himself. Stripping quickly, he returned to hover over me.

  “I should use protection.” His statement was a question. We hadn’t the other night, and I sensed it had been as long for Charlie as it had been for me.