by Jamie Wyman
I closed my eyes and saw pictures of his words, fat, juicy explosions of purple, black, and gold.
“You hold on to it so that you might know her entirely, for this may be your only opportunity.”
I swallowed, the wine sliding down my throat in warm tendrils of languid joy.
“Even after the drink, the wine is still being experienced. It becomes part of you. A blush to your cheeks, a warm breath on your skin.”
I opened my eyes lazily.
“That, my dear, is how you drink wine.”
Marius brought the glass to his lips and stole a fleeting but practiced sip. Watching the colors of his skin and eyes deepen and the candlelight dance over the black silk of his hair, I felt the wine settle somewhere just south of my stomach. Desire stirred with a feline stretch. As I’d taken a few moments to just enjoy the wine, I spared an extra moment savoring the sight of Marius. I wondered if I’d ever just appreciated the angular slant of his jaw or the fullness of his lips. My gaze slipped over his hands, those long fingers holding the crystal with little more than a whisper. The same careful touch of his hand that had been on my waist that morning.
I shivered with the remembered closeness, the ignited desire. For a moment longer, I entertained all the things that might be if it weren’t for Marius’s impairment.
“You certainly do know about pleasure, don’t you?”
He passed me a weak smile. When he spoke, his voice was almost raw with… Was it bitterness? Sadness? Or did he just need another drink? “It’s in the blood.”
The mention of blood led me to thoughts of his lineage, of the things Hephaestus had revealed about the Sileni. Turning my attentions back to dinner, I said, “Marius, what if you don’t need a bigger fish to help get you out of this mess?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your bloodline. Grandpa was a god, right? Can’t you make something of that?”
He dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin. “Who’ve you been talking to, Catherine?”
I wrinkled my face at him. “Seriously?”
“You’ve no poker face. You cannot lie to me or even try to squeeze something past. You’ve got something specific in mind, so just come out with it.”
Caught, I rolled my eyes. “Hephaestus. Your dad, too.”
“Ah. And what did they have to say on the matter, then?”
“They both think you should go to the Sileni.”
Marius pressed his lips together as if biting back anger. “Do they? And when they offered these opinions, did either Hephaestus or my father educate you about just who the Sileni are?”
I nodded. “Satyrs without a god, essentially.”
“More like a Catholic church without a pope. They are corrupt. They are greedy and power hungry. But they want someone at the center, someone of the old line to serve as some sort of conduit. Their avarice drove my grandfather to weariness. As far as I’m concerned, they are the reason Pan is dead. They pushed him. Pulled at him until he had nothing of himself left.”
“But if they can help you—”
“They might not even know I exist. And I’m happy to keep it that way. I’ve not been to the Temple since before Zeus’s judgment. I don’t know that I can go back.”
He looked away, eyes falling to the candle’s flickering flame. I thought of what he’d told me the night before, of the area near Pan’s temple being his soul’s own home.
“You must miss it.”
“So much,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.
My heart broke for him. How long had Marius dreamed of going back to his grandfather’s temple? To the pool with its waterfall? But as much joy as it might bring to go home, how awful would it be to go only to feel nothing? I could understand why Marius stayed away.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I shouldn’t push.”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “You mean well. I just don’t… I don’t think I can. If the Sileni are still hungry for an avatar, they will bleed that soul dry. I’d rather not put myself on their altar if it can be avoided. Can that be the last we speak of it?” he added, eyes pleading.
“Sure.”
Guilt twisted in my belly. I took another drink of wine in hopes that I might drown it. The music shifted from a sultry tango to something old, crackly with vinyl. A lovestruck guitar played by a slow hand. I looked up to find Marius’s ivy-green stare fixing me with a question.
“Shall we stop talking for a bit?”
He pushed away from the table and offered me his hand. With a smile, I took it and let him lead me away from the table. We stood in a shadowy, bare space on the veranda—the perfect size for two people to dance. The sun had slipped beneath the lip of the crater, twilight hanging low over Santorini. The only light came from Marius’s candles, the glow of the hot tub, and the waking stars.
Without a word, Marius slipped one arm around my back. I curled a hand around his shoulder, while the other remained safely in his gentle grip. Slow and languid, like reeds on the breeze, Marius and I swayed together. As he traced up and down my spine, temptation flowed through my blood, and I let my head fall against his chest.
As we fell into a comfortable rhythm, his arm tightened around me. He brought our entwined hands up to his lips and laid hints of kisses on my fingers. I smiled, soaking in bliss. As much as the truth of it terrified me, I understood that this was my home. This space in the curve of Marius’s arm where I could hear the tender beat of his heart, feel the warmth of him all around me—that was my place of peace.
Lulled by the gentle rocking of our dance, by the silky touch of his hand against my back, my mind wandered into dreams of waking in his arms as I had just the day before. Skin to skin, safe and vulnerable. I craved another morning like that…every morning. My thoughts drifted to what it would be like to enjoy Marius, to not just bask in his embrace but dive into his passion. To be the object of his desires when there were no curses between us, no barriers or fears. Just the moment.
But we wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t. And if we didn’t find an out for him soon, his trouble would only grow deeper.
I sighed, willing away the cold realities and exchanging them for warm fantasies.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said softly.
My eyes fluttered open, and I looked up to find him staring down at me with mild amusement. Embarrassment rose to my cheeks, prickling over my skin. “Nothing,” I lied.
“Nothing? Again, Catherine, you are rotten at fibbing.”
I buried my face in his chest, hoping to hide the fresh wave of heat and fickle shame flooding my features. He playfully rocked me faster, letting go of my hand and looping both arms around me.
“You blush spectacularly. Some people just redden a little, but you get this soft glow about you that is really quite fetching.”
The compliment only fanned the flames. “Stop it,” I said, avoiding his eyes. I looked out to the ocean, the smile on my face betraying everything.
“What is the wine telling you? She’s singing to you, isn’t she?”
“A siren song,” I admitted.
“Really?” he asked with interest. “Do tell.”
“I’m not listening.”
“Pity, that. If you’d give it half a chance, you might find that you like the tune.”
“Oh, I like the tune.”
“Then why not listen and let yourself enjoy the chorus?”
I chewed on my lip. Couldn’t he understand? Didn’t he know better than anyone why I—we—couldn’t just enjoy this? I opened my mouth to explain, but the words caught in my throat.
Understanding dawned on him, and his eyes widened. “You’re scared.”
I dipped my chin, unable to meet his gaze. Of course I’m scared! You’re every bad decision I’ve made embodied in one person, but you make me feel like I’m finally home!
When I dared to bring my eyes back to his, the expression on his face stopped me cold. The wrinkles at his eyes deepened as he gape
d at me. His lips quivered with subtle astonishment.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“You’re scared,” he repeated. “Afraid that if you let go you will be vulnerable. Weak.”
My heart pounded against his chest as he read me like a neon sign.
“Terrified,” he continued. “Worried that if you let the moment swallow you up, you will disappear into it wholly, completely giving up all that you are for one taste. Afraid you will drown in that one, blazing moment.”
I nodded mutely.
“Everything you’ve ever believed screams at you to turn the other way and run. Just ignore the luscious song and all the promise it offers. Run and remain free. And yet…”
We stopped moving with the music and stood, just peering into each other as if all the answers could be read in the other’s eyes. My nerves strung as tightly as a damned violin, I waited, aching for completion, for the next note.
“Yet?” I prodded.
His hand glided up my spine and sent waves of sweet torment through my body. I gasped and quivered beneath his touch. He stroked my cheek. “And yet you jump in headlong,” he purred. “Even though you know the fall is going to hurt like hell.”
His thumb tipped my chin up as he brought his lips down to mine. I drew in a breath—the gasp before the plunge—and opened my mouth to his. Ecstasy—dark, silken, and rich—poured through me. He tasted of sweet wine and fire as his tongue glided over mine. Sparks shot through my core, and I gripped Marius with need, grinding against him.
As his hands roamed, I arched to meet him, desire escaping me with an urging growl. His fingers twisted in my hair, held me close as his mouth explored my throat. I hissed, another bolt of need rocking me as his teeth nipped at my skin. Heat flared over my flesh, my pulse raced, and delicious shudders exploded through me.
He moaned, my name burst out on his breath, flashing hot against my neck. I relished the velvety sensation of his kisses as they glided down my throat, over my collarbones only to land on the spot above and between my breasts. Marius hesitated over the bullet’s mark, but not for long. He took my back in both hands and pressed himself to the scar, tonguing it lightly. A chill bit into my blood, and my nipples shot to attention. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs flicking at a tantalizing angle.
Boiling with desire, I ran my fingers into his mane and guided those smoldering kisses up, up, back to my lips where I could devour him. Savoring the taste of him as I had the wine, I wrapped my arms around him, stroked through the luxury of his hair.
My satyr, I thought. Mine.
Like a grain of sand, the name of his nature burrowed beneath my passion. Marius wasn’t like me. He was something other. A satyr with divine lineage. Though I tightened my grip around him, doubt swirled in my mind. A list started to form, a long list of all the reasons why this couldn’t be happening, why I couldn’t throw myself into Marius without looking. Hadn’t I done that before? Hadn’t it ended in a glorious train wreck that cost me everything?
Reality crashed over me in a cold, sickening wave.
Nothing good could come of this.
Though my body screamed and ached for pleasure—for Marius—I pulled back on the reins of my desire. Drawing away from his lips was like trying to pry myself out of the sweetest of dreams. As my fantasies dissolved, I stared at my satyr, trying to come back to the world. His lips brushed mine. Face blotchy with color, pupils dilated, he fixed me with a drunken gaze. The horns on his brow glowed in the wan light.
“Yes?” he asked breathlessly.
Those full, luscious lips beckoned me. Just one more taste.
And then what, Cat? I snarked to myself. Back to dinner? Every cell in my body craved him with a thirst that could not be slaked.
If I fell, if I let myself get caught up in this raging tide, I would drown in Marius’s kisses. But no more could come of us. His curse. His past. His tenuous future. That path held only madness and heartache.
“I…I need…” I said.
His forehead burned like a fever against mine. I could feel his pulse racing in a sympathetic rhythm to my own.
“What, Catherine?” he rasped. “Tell me what you need.”
If I finished that sentence with the truth, I’d be sucked under. I chose the lie. “I need to go.”
I broke the circle of his arms but not the spell of his kisses. Drowsy, burning with this deep, throbbing ache for him, I moved sluggishly back into the room and picked up my key. Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened the door.
I heard him call my name as I moved down the path. I sped up, the world blurring past me as I practically teleported back to my room. I had done the right thing. I had to believe that or I would fall to pieces.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Is This Love?”
I slammed the door to my bungalow with a little too much force. The fire in my blood that only moments ago had been singing for Marius turned into anger, bitter and ballistic. I tore off the dress and tossed it to the floor where it resumed its smoky, glittering formlessness. What next? Would the room turn to a pumpkin at midnight? I yanked the clip from my head and let my hair fall around my face like a furious mop of flames. Gripping the cuff, I slipped it off my wrist. When I hurled it across the room, the metal elongated, lashing away from me like a long, silver tongue. The whip struck the phone and sent pieces of plastic flying all over the room.
Again.
I gaped for a brief moment. Frustration won out over curiosity, and I just shouted, “God dammit!”
I pulled on pajamas and stomped out to the patio. Seething, hands gripping the side of the hot tub, I closed my eyes and tried to count away my anger. I pushed the boiling tension out through my fingers. The water began to bubble and gurgle as if I’d turned on the jets. And shit, maybe I had with my particular skill set. But no. This was different. I stared at the churning water, dumbstruck and curious. Remembering how I’d called the ocean to douse Eris the night before, I reached out a hand and lifted it through the air. I whispered my will into it as I would when calling electricity to my control. A column of water rose from the hot tub.
I gasped and let go of the energy. The pillar collapsed, and the choppy water slowly ebbed to a sullen froth.
Backing away, I retreated into the hotel room, just staring at the water. I’d never worked elemental magic. How was I suddenly doing this? Furthermore, I had punched through a phone like it had been tissue paper earlier that morning, and my own technological powers were coming more easily. What was happening to me?
I snatched up my cell phone and plopped onto the bed, dialing the one person I thought might have some answers. Besides, I needed a friend at the moment.
Karma picked up on the second ring. “Oh my god, girl, why didn’t you call me sooner? I’ve been dying to hear what happened the other night!”
“Things have gotten a little…crazy. Tonight’s the first time I’ve felt like I could breathe. Maybe.”
“Tonight? Where are you?”
“Greece,” I answered sheepishly.
“What the hell are you doing in Greece?”
“It’s a long story. Look, I need to talk to you about your implants.”
“They are not implants,” she said hotly. “They are natural. And fabulous, I might add.”
I snickered despite myself. “Ha. Yes, they are. But that’s not the point. Anyway…” I gave my fellow technomage a quick and dirty rundown of the past few days up to when Flynn had to use one of Karma’s cybernetic devices to bring me back from the dead.
“Damn, girl,” she said heavily. “I’m glad it worked. You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Grand. Better than okay. And that’s what’s got me freaked out.”
I imagined her forehead wrinkling during her pensive pause. “Why?”
I explained the changes in my strength, my ability to manipulate water. “So, these implants,” I pressed. “No reason I should have superstrength or suddenly be a goddamn water bender?”
> “Nope. Well, not because of the implant itself,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“My piece is made to take the blood of one person and use the life energy in it to heal another. That’s it. But the blood used might affect you in some way. If the donor had magic powers, you might be getting something that way, but I’m not sure.”
That wasn’t much help. Nor was the fact that my thoughts kept drifting back to kissing Marius.
“Christ, Karma, it’s just been so nuts. And the date with Marius sure as shit didn’t change that any.”
“Whoa!” I could hear the record scratch in her thought process. “Wait. What?”
“Yeah, I— Look, the past few days have been really full. I’ve died, seen Pandora’s box, been in three different countries in as many days. It’s been fucking crazy, okay?”
“Crazy enough that you went on a date? With Marius?”
“Just now, actually.”
She sputtered on the other end of the line. “Holy shitballs, Cat! Dish. Now!”
I rolled my eyes but was grateful for the chance to talk to someone in the know about my issues dating nonhumans. I fell back against the pillows on my bed and spilled my guts, babbling like I was back in junior high. I told her about how he’d gone to the trouble to make dinner, how amazing it was. The music, the candlelight, the view. Heat flared through me, and I felt my limbs go rubbery just at the memory of his lips.
“And shit, Karma, the kiss…”
“Why the fuck did you leave?” she shouted at me.
“Because! This is Marius! You know I don’t date nonhumans. Not since Dahlia.”
“You’re full of shit, Cat.”
I rocked back as if she’d smacked me. Stunned, I said, “Excuse me?”
“This whole hang-up of yours is total bullshit. And you know it,” she added pointedly. “Seriously, you don’t have some righteous mad-on for anything non-vanilla-mortal. If you did, would we be friends?”
“That’s different.”
“How ’bout Flynn? He’s— Well, he’s different, too.” I started to protest, but she cut me off. “Or Loki? You’re pretty chummy with him.”