Enraptured

by Elisabeth Naughton

  “Whatever you want, Gryph.” Orpheus’s throat closed around the words. As he squeezed his brother’s shoulder, he caught Demetrius’s gaze in the front seat. The guardian nodded once in silent commune, then looked out the dark windshield again.

  The trip through the tunnels seemed shorter than when Orpheus had brought Skyla and Maelea through. Had that been only days ago? Gods, it felt like years. So much had happened since then.

  Nick met them in the vast cavern where various tunnels took off in a variety of directions and led them to the elevator. Gryphon seemed to have mellowed now that he was on his feet and walking on his own. Skyla left with Demetrius to fill the others in on what had happened while Nick took Orpheus and Gryphon up to find a room on the fifth floor of the castle.

  Orpheus had the impression of pale blue walls and furnishings, but his focus was on his brother. He helped Gryphon into the room, settled him into a chair. After speaking quietly with Nick at the door, he learned all the Argonauts were here, eager to see Gryphon. He made sure Nick understood that might not be a good idea just yet.

  Nick eyed Gryphon warily over Orpheus’s shoulder. “You sure he’s okay?”

  “Would you be okay after three months in the Underworld?”

  “No. That’s why I’m worried.”

  “I’ll stay with him.”

  Nick nodded but didn’t look reassured. “Pick up the phone if you need anything. It runs to a central line.”

  As Nick’s boots clicked down the hall, Orpheus closed the door and turned back to the room. Gryphon sat unmoving in the chair, staring off into space.

  His body looked the same as always. Muscular, strong, healthy, albeit a little on the thin side. But the dead look in his eyes and the exhaustion lines on his face spoke of the strain on his soul.

  Orpheus crossed the floor, helped Gryphon out of the chair by grasping his arm and pulling him up. “Let’s get you into a shower. The water will feel good.”

  Gryphon didn’t fight him as he maneuvered them into the bathroom, with its wide glass shower and mirror that ran the length of the double vanity. But when Orpheus reached for his shirt, Gryphon swatted his hands. “I can do it myself.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I was dead, not stupid,” Gryphon murmured, turning away. He pulled the shirt over his head, dropped it on the floor. Tugged the chain from around his neck and dropped that too. The chain that held the Orb of Krónos.

  He hesitated before unbuttoning his pants. “Do you mind? I’d like some privacy.”

  “Sure. Yeah. I’ll just be in the other room if you need me.”

  Orpheus eyed the Orb, lying on the floor at his brother’s feet. His fingers itched to pick it up, but he fought back the urge. It wasn’t going anywhere. As he stepped out and closed the door, he listened to make sure Gryphon didn’t melt again. Long seconds passed with no sound, then the toilet flushed, followed by the shower turning on.

  Orpheus moved away from the bathroom door and was just about to call down to see what Skyla was up to when a knock sounded to his right.

  Before he could answer, the female he’d just been thinking of poked her head into the room. “Is it okay if I come in?”

  Warmth spread through his chest. Warmth followed by worry. Would she try to take the Orb now? “Yeah. He’s in the shower.”

  She stepped in, looking all long-legged and gorgeous with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, just like always. “How is he?”

  “Better.” Orpheus glanced at the bathroom door, then back again. “I think maybe the worst is behind us.”

  “I hope so.” She crossed her arms, looked around the room. “Not bad. Better than pink. That’s the color they gave Maelea.”

  Orpheus had nearly forgotten about Ghoul Girl. He pressed two fingers against his right temple. “How is she?”

  “Fine. The same. And the last thing you need to worry about right now.”

  Why did she care about him so much? Where was the kick-ass Siren who’d been sent by Zeus to kill him? Orpheus scrubbed both hands over his face. Confusion mixed with the exhaustion finally hitting him now that his adrenaline was waning. He dropped into the chair Gryphon had been sitting in earlier. “The Argonauts are here?”

  “Yes. And the queen and her sisters.”

  “Fantastic.” Another party. “Gryphon doesn’t want—”

  “Demetrius already told them. They’re hanging out downstairs for now.”

  “That’s gotta please Nick.”

  Skyla eased onto the armrest of his chair, her thigh inches from his hand. “Thrills him,” she said sarcastically. “What’s the story there? Between him and them?”

  “He’s Demetrius’s brother.”

  She frowned, a pouty little look that made him itch to kiss it from her face. “I figured that out already, daemon.”

  “His half brother, smart-ass. Nick was persecuted by the monarchy because of his lineage.”

  “Which is?”

  “He’s an original hero. Sired from a human and a god.”

  Skyla sat silent for several seconds, then said, “Cool.”

  Orpheus chuckled. What was it about this female that tugged at him? Even now, when he knew he couldn’t be anywhere but right here with Gryphon, when logic told him she was seconds away from snatching the Orb, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and drag her across the hall into an abandoned bedroom suite. Then find out all over again what it felt like to slide inside her body and get lost in her scent.

  Him. A daemon who didn’t form attachments. A witch who’d learned long ago to keep to himself. A male who never spent more than one night with any female.

  And her. A Siren. Sent to seduce, steal, then take him down.

  He eyed her leg. Ached to reach for her. To touch her. To let her remind him he was alive. To prove that he hadn’t been forgotten.

  He blew out a long breath and glanced toward the bathroom door. The shower was still running. “Maybe I should check on him.”

  Moment of truth. What would she do?

  “Okay,” she said as he pushed to his feet. “Are you hungry? I could call down and have something brought up.”

  He frowned. “Are you always this motherly, Siren?”

  “Always,” she mocked, crossing her shapely legs and leaning forward to bat her long dark lashes his way. “After beheading ogres all day long, I serve on the PTA board at night.”

  “You on a PTA board. Now that I’d like to see.” He knocked on the bathroom door. Drew up his defenses, just in case. “Gryph? You okay in there?”

  Nothing but the sound of running water met his ears.

  Orpheus knocked again. Got no response. He tried the handle and found it locked. A shot of panic rushed through him.

  Skyla’s boots clicked as she pushed off the chair. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Orpheus jiggled the knob again. “Gryphon? Answer me.”

  Nothing.

  “Skata.” Orpheus stepped back from the door, centered himself, and called up a simple spell to free the lock. A click resounded. He turned the knob.

  Steam enveloped the room, fogged the mirror. Through the frosted glass he could see Gryphon standing naked under the spray, scrubbing at the skin on his arms. “Gryph? Are you okay? I knocked and knocked and you didn’t answer.”

  “Can’t get clean,” Gryphon murmured. “Have to get it off. Just a little more.” He stopped scrubbing, slammed both hands over his ears. “Stop!”

  Gryphon shook his head violently, then went back to scrubbing at his skin again, murmuring faster, “Can’t get clean. Can’t get clean…”

  Shit. He wasn’t better. He was getting worse. That panic morphed to all-out dread as it pushed its way back up Orpheus’s chest. “Come on, Gryphon. That’s enough. Let’s get you out.”

  Orpheus was aware Skyla was standing in the doorway as he reached for a towel and grasped the shower door, that the Orb was in plain view on the floor. But he didn’t care. The only thing that matter
ed right now was his brother.

  Orpheus pulled the door open. Then froze. “Holy gods…”

  Blood ran like rivers from Gryphon’s arms, his legs, his face and torso. His fingers were bloody stumps where he’d dug into his skin over and over, scrubbing harder with each pass.

  “Gryphon, stop!” Orpheus threw the towel around Gryphon’s shoulders and hauled him out of the shower. Gryphon hollered and hurled his weight into Orpheus, knocking them both to the ground with a crack. They grappled across the bathroom tiles until Orpheus got behind Gryphon, closed one arm across his brother’s head, used the other to immobilize his arms, then hooked Gryphon’s legs so he couldn’t break free.

  Gryphon struggled once, twice more, then collapsed against Orpheus and broke down, his entire body shaking with soul-rattling sobs. Water and blood ran from Gryphon’s skin into Orpheus’s clothes, dripped onto the floor around him. “I can’t get it off,” he cried. “It’s all over me. Inside me. I just want it to go away. I just…oh, gods, make it go away.”

  His body convulsed in Orpheus’s arms, and the sobs turned to full-body trembles Orpheus felt all the way to his very core.

  Orpheus caught Skyla’s horror-filled gaze in the doorway, where she stood still as stone. And his heart—the heart he thought he didn’t have—contracted beneath the earth element still resting against his chest. “Get help,” he whispered. “Find someone who can help my brother.”

  ***

  It was hours later when Skyla peeked her head back into Gryphon’s room. Though it was quiet, there were several people taking up space. Callia, Queen Isadora’s personal healer, held Gryphon’s wrist on the far side of the bed and glanced at the clock high on the wall. Theron conversed quietly with Isadora near the window. Skyla knew from her conversations downstairs that several other Argonauts had come and gone through the night, but Orpheus remained, sitting in a chair next to Gryphon, his elbows leaning on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him while he watched his brother sleep.

  The image of the big Argonaut clawing at his flesh wouldn’t leave her head. Neither would the blood that had covered him and the floor and Orpheus when Orpheus had tackled Gryphon in the bathroom. Every time she thought of what he’d been through in the Underworld, her mind skipped to Orpheus and the years and years he’d been trapped there himself. The gruesome things he must have endured. The fact that—thankfully—he couldn’t remember them.

  She’d considered telling Orpheus the truth about their relationship so many times. Had pondered what it would do to him to learn who and what he really was. But after seeing Gryphon, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t about her or what she’d be losing. She didn’t want to hurt Orpheus. And bringing up the past would do only that. It would dredge up something that was better off dead and buried.

  Heads turned. Orpheus looked over his shoulder, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But they brightened just a touch when they caught sight of her, and warmth flooded her belly in response.

  He rose from the chair, all corded muscle and restrained strength. Though someone had given him a new shirt, his jeans were still stained with Gryphon’s blood. As he crossed the floor toward her, the guardian markings on his forearms stood out in stark relief to the rest of his skin. Markings that technically shouldn’t be there anymore, now that his brother was back.

  He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, his tired eyes and the stubble on his square jaw making him look sexier than she’d ever seen him. He stopped a foot from her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, was careful to keep his voice low. “Hey.”

  “Is he doing better?”

  The agony Skyla saw in Orpheus’s eyes tugged at her chest. “He’s out. Callia gave him a sedative. Said he needed rest to let the”—he swallowed, faced her again—“wounds heal.”

  The wounds. Those crazed eyes. And Gryphon’s voice. I can’t get it off. It’s all over me. Inside me. I just…oh, gods, make it go away.

  She reached for Orpheus’s hand, pulled it from his pocket, and squeezed her fingers around his, hoping to take the haunted look from his eyes. The one that said he remembered every detail as clearly as she did. “Come with me for a few minutes.”

  “I can’t leave him.”

  “You’ll be no good to him if he wakes and you’re falling over from exhaustion.”

  “No. He needs me here.” He pulled back from her hand.

  “She’s right, O,” Theron said. “You need some rest. Callia and I will come find you if anything changes.”

  “He’ll be out for at least another twenty-four hours,” Callia added from the other side of the bed.

  Isadora crossed the room, her ballet-style flats barely making a sound on the floor as she came to stand next to him. Beside the queen, Orpheus looked huge. She laid a hand on his forearm, right over the Argonaut markings, and not for the first time Skyla had the impression these two had some special bond. Not sexual, but…a friendship. “Go with Skyla, Orpheus. I promise when Gryphon wakes, we’ll come find you. Everything will seem better after you’ve both gotten some sleep.”

  The frown on Orpheus’s face said he didn’t agree, but he finally nodded. Skyla stepped toward the door. A little of her worry eased when Orpheus followed.

  In the long hallway his boots echoed like drumbeats as they moved toward the elevator. When they were inside the small car, Orpheus shot her a frown. “Since when do Theron and Isadora side with a Siren?”

  She punched a button. “Since Demetrius explained what happened after we left the Argonauts on Crete. Apparently, you help one Argonaut, the rest are friends for life. Even if you are a Siren.”

  Orpheus didn’t answer, but his scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his muscular chest.

  “Speaking of,” she said, “I notice you still have the markings.”

  “I know.”

  He didn’t say more, and she sensed he wasn’t happy about that fact. Not wanting to push things, she let the topic drop as the elevator came to a stop and the door opened.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Skyla,” he sighed, “I’m really tired. One of the rooms across from Gryphon’s would probably be bet—”

  She took his hand and tugged him down the long empty two-story hall with its wall of black windows before he could dig his heels in. “Just humor me for a few minutes, would you? If you want to go back down and find a room closer to Gryphon after you see the surprise, I’ll take you.”

  He scowled again, but let her pull him along. When they reached the double doors at the end of the hall, she pushed them open. Chilled air cut to her spine. She continued to pull him after her, heading for the curved stairs off to the right.

  “I don’t think it’s snowed since the last time we were up here,” he said at her back as they started up the steps.

  She shot him a smile. Though she knew the events of the last few days weighed heavily on that soul he didn’t think he had, she was happy that at least a little sarcasm was back in his voice. “Contrary to what you think, I’m not wild about snow.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he muttered.

  And oh yeah, the hero she’d come to care for was still in there. Hidden beneath a layer of pain she hoped to alleviate.

  “Fooling you isn’t as fun as it used to be, daemon.” She tugged him to the upper balcony. “Okay, close your eyes.”

  He frowned but did as she asked. “If I get a snowball in the face, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  She grinned. “Will you spank me?”

  “I’ll do more than that.”

  Heat flooded her veins. That was the guardian she wanted to find again.

  Her free hand closed around the door handle. She pulled him into the glass room behind her, shut the door. Warmth from the fireplace to the right dampened the chill, and the orange glow from the embers lit the room just enough.

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  Orpheus’s lashes lifted. And his eyebro
ws immediately dropped low as he turned a slow circle. “Where’s all the stuff?”

  For the first time since she’d hatched this crazy plan, a sliver of unease slid through Skyla. “In storage somewhere else.”

  She watched as he took it all in. The couch and chairs positioned near the fireplace, the bookshelves on the far side of the room that were empty but for a few leather tomes, then past the dark windows to the other side of the room and the king-size bed with its blue comforter and mountain of pillows.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  Skyla’s stomach tightened with doubt. “Your room. Well, if you want it, I mean.”

  When he slanted her a confused look, that unease pushed its way up her chest. She hated that she felt anything but confident. As a Siren, confidence was part of who and what she was. But ever since she’d met Orpheus, that confidence had been wavering. Because his was the first opinion that mattered. “Isadora suggested it, actually. A room of your own. She didn’t think you’d be leaving Gryphon and going back to Argolea anytime soon.”

  Her voice trailed off because the whole idea suddenly sounded…lame.

  “You did all this?” he asked, looking around again.

  “Yes. Well, no, not all of it,” she corrected. “Nick had a couple of his guys help me move boxes and chairs and haul furniture up here.”

  “You got Nick to agree to let me stay here?”

  “Isadora did.”

  He turned to face her, but she couldn’t read his expression. Was he impressed? Angry no one had asked him what he wanted?

  He didn’t answer her unasked questions. Instead he crossed the floor, stepped past the bed, and pushed the door on the far wall open. After flipping on the light and glancing around the fancy bathroom she’d been surprised to find behind the door, he switched off the light, then came back and stared at the bed. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you do this?”

  “Because you need a place to unwind.”

  “No, why this?” He motioned to the whole room, accentuated by warm burgundy throw rugs and leather furnishings instead of the cold cardboard boxes that had dominated it before. “Why this room?”