Oriel felt him stiffen.
‘What about Yolanda?’
‘I understand that the time wasn’t right when you were young but you’re free now, and she’s a great diva, loved by the islanders … and it’s obvious she’s crazy about you.’
Damian stared at the ground for a few moments before looking up again. ‘All that is in the past, agápi mou. You must believe me,’ he said finally, his voice trembling a little.
Though she couldn’t see his eyes, Oriel guessed they were filled with pain. She took a long breath. ‘She came to see me at the staff house and told me you’re still lovers. That even if you stray from time to time, you will always go back to her.’
With a raise of an eyebrow, his mouth curled in a bitter smile. ‘Trust is a fragile thing. Once broken, it can never be fixed. Yolanda knows that full well.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My love for Yolanda died when she—’ Damian broke off abruptly, then whispered hoarsely, ‘Why do you want stir up the ashes of the past, Oriel? Isn’t it enough that I assure you that I love you … that I will always love you … that I loved you from the first minute I laid eyes on you? But back then when we met it seemed an impossible love, and because I wanted to have children, I married Cassandra. We say in Greece, M kheíron béltiston, the least bad choice is the best. Apparently I would have done better staying on my own.’
Oriel sat looking into the fire, saying nothing. Damian was hurting, she knew him well enough to tell. She could have gone to him, put her arms around him and told him how much she loved him, but she was tongue-tied, fearing he would mistake her loving impulse for a sign of compassion or even pity.
‘Does that satisfy you?’
She nodded silently. Inside, though, she felt the questions still had to be answered: what exactly had Yolanda done? What was the thread that tied the pair? What bond did they share?
* * *
Damian sat above the shore, looking out to sea without seeing it. The night was warm and he’d pulled on his denim shorts but hadn’t bothered with his shirt so he could let the faint breeze soothe his skin. His eyes were full of the scene in a recurrent dream that had haunted his nights for a long time but had left him alone these past years … until tonight. A shiver shot through him and he smothered the choking sob rising in his throat.
In his nightmare, a newborn child was lying in a beautiful blue cradle. It was dusk and the room was full of shadows. Through the wide-open window he could hear the faint whisper of the sea that was as smooth as a sheet of silk. There was an eerie calm in the atmosphere; the air was still and not a bird was in the sky.
Suddenly Yolanda was in the room and a line of clouds had ominously appeared on the horizon. She was arguing with him about her career and the baby, and it was as if she had gone raving mad. All at once, like a wild beast, she leapt on the child in the cradle and before Damian could stop her, she had thrown their little boy from the window into the sea. Immediately there was thunder and lightning, but his baby’s scream as he flew through the air topped the explosive noise of the storm and, like seashells that retain the sound of the ocean, the cry remained in Damian’s ears even after he’d woken up.
Yolanda had placed a knife at the core of their love. Although he had found a way to get along with her, his feelings for her were dead. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t think of the child; the ache never left him. Did that tiny beating heart know what was happening to him? Had he felt unloved? Had he suffered any pain? The boy would be almost nine today; what would he be like? Each time Damian came across a child of that age, a knot would form deep in his bowels and the hurt would resurface as acutely as the first day.
And now he felt two arms around him. He looked up into Oriel’s beautiful eyes, filled with alarm but still dazed with sleep. She was there; his fair angel, her body sleek, her hair that drove him mad with desire tumbling all about her.
‘Damian, what’s wrong? Can’t you sleep? I heard you shout out.’ She dropped suddenly to her knees before him and put her arm around his neck.
But he looked away and gritted his teeth to stop the tightness rising again in his throat, almost suffocating him. Feeling Oriel against him so soft, so sweet and so loving was bringing up emotions that alarmed him. He must control himself.
‘Tell me what’s wrong, my love,’ she whispered.
He looked up, staring at her starkly, searching her features. He was silent for a moment then began to speak. ‘Before my twenty-fifth birthday, when I was supposed to take possession of my inheritance, Yolanda became pregnant. I had a big row with my whole family, including my uncle Cyrus. He was my guardian and running Helios at the time. I told them all I would marry Yolanda, whether they liked it or not. There was no choice now anyway. We were quietly engaged so as not to provoke gossip, and Cyrus sent both of us to Athens.
‘After a couple of years we planned to return when no one would ask questions but five months later Yolanda received an offer of a recording contract. There was talk of a Hollywood film … it was an opportunity, she said, that would never come again.’ His jaw tensed and he turned his gaze to the dark waves hissing at the nearby shoreline.
‘I told her she had to turn it down, pleaded with her, if not for the sake of our love, at least for the child. But Yolanda flatly refused to listen to reason. She flew to America to sign the contract behind my back. She found someone to give her an abortion, a backstreet affair. She was already four months pregnant.’
‘Oh my love.’ Oriel cupped his face with both her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. Her tenderness was too much for Damian and uncontrollable tears ran down his cheeks. ‘She killed my child,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘She killed my baby.’
‘Hush, my love … hush. If you want, we’ll make plenty of babies. I know it’ll not be the same child but it will be a part of you and a part of me, a consecration of our love.’
‘What are you saying, Oriel?’ He looked at her, unable to tear his eyes away from hers – so liquid, so beautiful, so mesmerizing – and they gazed at each other without speaking for a moment.
‘I’m saying I’ve been a fool and that I do love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment you appeared to me out of the sea, like one of your Greek gods. Oh, Damian, hold me …’
‘Agápi mou!’ Damian reached for her, drawing her against his naked chest. He felt the thunder in her heart, felt the fullness of her breasts, the torment of her nipples grazing across his flesh under her thin nightdress. He’d been aching to hold her and now she was finally in his arms.
His fingertips ran lightly along Oriel’s cheek as if committing her face to memory, much as a blind person does when they seek to know another by touch. It was as though merely seeing her was not enough: he wanted all the knowledge of her that his senses could give him. The very sound of her voice went through him like a strange, thrilling whisper.
He brushed Oriel’s lips with his, covered them, engulfed them – softly at first, then demandingly, enjoying the way her mouth opened against his and her fingers splayed against his bare chest. He recognized the flicker of desire in her eyes – the same craving that was running unchecked through his own body – and the ache within him deepened.
‘Sas thélo tóso polý agápi mou, I want you so much, my darling,’ he whispered as his mouth touched the very delicate vein of Oriel’s throat, his hands covering her breasts and encircling them, the pad of his thumbs rolling over the taut, tender buds of her nipples beneath the cotton. And then, dipping his head, he pushed the loose neckline to one side and tasted the tip of one with his tongue, cherishing its fullness with fiery, liquid caresses.
‘I want you too, my love,’ she murmured softly, her fingers digging into his hair.
‘Come,’ Damian breathed huskily in her ear, sweeping her up into his arms, his mouth moving back to hers as he carried her to his sleeping bag, which he had spread open on the ground earlier, and laid her gently on the soft bedding.
D
amian watched as, stretched out before him, Oriel unbuttoned the rest of her flimsy cotton nightdress, through which he could glimpse the curves of her body, and let it fall from her shoulders. Standing straddling her, heart beating, he stared over her slim, shapely, perfect length. The soft glow of the moon reflected on her creamy skin and the firm swell of her breasts as her tender pink nipples ripened beneath his gaze and her stomach fluttered slightly in anticipation. Damian let his eyes slowly drift downwards over its peach-smooth curve to linger over the soft mound of pale curls that crowned her slim thighs.
But Oriel was not lying there inert. As he was lowering himself down, she stopped him, lifting herself up to his crotch with the graceful movements of a sylph, her green eyes intense with desire, fixing him with an unambiguous message that sent a hot stab of heat and hardness within him as he waited, desperate for her touch.
But he could see that she was playing him at his own game, making him wait as she knelt against him. He unzipped his shorts and let them slip to the ground. His mouth went dry. Her lips, teeth and fingers followed the curve of his body, moving sensually over the muscled flesh of his thighs and hips, stroking his groin, telling him how much she loved tasting him.
When Oriel finally cupped him delicately in her palms and began fondling him, Damian let out a gruff gasp as the shattering sensation filled him like lightning. He groaned aloud all the while her hands, her mouth and her tongue played havoc with his nerve ends. The volcano erupted, the world exploded and he cried out her name as he poured into her hands, his body shaking with a fit of convulsions such as he had never before experienced.
CHAPTER 13
Oriel and Damian woke with the dawn and the sky was still all pinks and oranges as they made their way back to the boat. They had slept in each other’s arms under the starlit sky after hours of passionate lovemaking that had swept them once more into a mindless world of delirious sensations and ecstatic pleasure until, their sanity lost, they had finally collapsed and fallen asleep, satiated and at peace.
As they went below deck, Damian pulled Oriel against him. ‘Let’s have a shower together.’
‘We’ll have that tonight but this morning shouldn’t we drop in on the French team? Besides, any more of these frenzied orgasms and I’ll be like a zombie all day!’ She gave him a kiss on the lips, grabbed a towel and disappeared into the tiny shower cubicle.
Oriel stood motionless for a few seconds, grateful for the hot water, letting it trickle down her face and body. For the first time in her life she felt calm, happy and secure. Oh yes, she loved Damian, and she had no doubt now that he loved her too.
He was what she wanted, she knew that now … from the very beginning, ever since that electrifying moment when he’d audaciously barred her passage on the shore of Aegina. While it had infuriated her, it had also made her want him. His arrogance made him seem all the more virile; his determination and courage showing him to be a born leader of men, with those broad shoulders to carry out his responsibilities. And if from time to time he overstepped the mark, she would make allowances.
The proud blood of generations of Greek rulers ran in his veins, already making him an extraordinary man, but on Helios it seemed to brand him a god among men. Life would be a challenge there, having to cope with Helena, Yolanda and who knew how many other snakes that lurked in the shadows of that beautiful, primitive island, but Oriel didn’t care: she’d make a go of it, she had little doubt of that.
Oriel gasped aloud as the shower curtain was suddenly pulled back. She turned to find a naked Damian standing behind her, his silver eyes sparkling with dangerous intent. His dark head came down and he took her mouth with his.
‘Don’t do this to me,’ she whispered between kisses as the deliciously warm water cascaded over them. ‘I won’t be able to talk coherently to the French team later, let alone work.’
‘You don’t need to, agápi mou. I will work for both of us.’
‘Oh no, you won’t! I’m not going to be left out.’
Damian chuckled. ‘Always the professional, Calypso. François isn’t expecting us at any particular time. Look at me, I only have to be near you and my control is shot to pieces,’ he said and pointed to the evidence of his words. ‘Are you going to be heartless and leave me like this?’
Oriel felt desire flood her and she soon found herself breathless as both Damian’s touch and the water started to arouse her to a peak. With brimming hunger, she pulled him against her with a moan. But Damian pushed her back against the wall. Hands on her hips, he lifted her, bringing her against his rigid shaft, urging her to wrap her legs around him. ‘Take me inside you,’ he said, his mouth on hers, hot, wet and delicious, his tongue licking up the water that trickled down her face and throat. He had awakened in her such a heightened sensitivity that as he kissed her it was as though a fire leapt across her heart.
Oriel put her arms around his neck and squeezed her thighs against his hips, dizzy with the sweet sensation of his burning kisses and of his stiff velvet tip pushing against her, stroking, caressing and sliding relentlessly against where she was already slick with desire. A soft moan escaped her lips as he suddenly thrust, swift and hard, into her, again and again, driving her wild, the speed and movement creating a storm that burst inside her.
Pure primitive pleasure seized Oriel. As before he stripped away all her inhibitions – everything but love. This was no civilized lovemaking, it was a savage act of consummate possession; he was her adored pagan god and she surrendered completely to him. Her fingernails bit into his back as his teeth grazed her satiny shoulders and their bodies locked together, moving as one.
Still clasped to Oriel, Damian barely paused, only enough to carry her to the bed and lie her down. She was still straddling him, her knees grasping his waist, and his movements inside her resumed, becoming stronger and more forceful. Her hands slowly ran over his flat midriff and slid below, between their bodies, to find the smooth pouches hiding in the rough-haired expanse of his crotch. Damian made a deep harsh sound as she stroked them lightly and she felt the clench of his taut muscles under her caress. The more he responded, the more Oriel gave in to her impulses, intensifying her own pleasure.
As the waves of pleasure built up in her, Oriel forced her eyes open to look at Damian. His pupils were dilated, his lips parted in a gasping breath, the taut mask of frenzied desire that had spread over his features making him look even more wildly attractive to her – Damian was hers in those moments, all hers. She could feel his heart beating out of control under her fingers.
When it finally came, her release ripped through her like a tornado. Damian joined her seconds later with a long, thick groan, his breath rasping through his throat, his eyes enormous and glittering, trembling and crying out her name, which had never sounded so beautiful to Oriel’s ears. She felt his warmth flood her, making her peak again and again, leaving her shuddering, dazed and shaken. And as she drifted back to earth it was like freefalling through the air. All the need and loneliness of the past few years had exploded now into this moment, like imprisoned birds released into the endless blue sky.
Although they knew they should get up, they lay there for a long while, bodies entwined, the languor too deep, too somnolent for them to raise themselves.
Oriel woke after a short dreamless sleep to see Damian pulling on a T-shirt and shorts. He turned his head, conscious of her stirring, concerned that he had woken her. ‘Go back to sleep, agápi mou,’ he told her tenderly. ‘I’m just going to check the engine’s in good order for later, no need to get up.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m awake now,’ she said, sliding out of bed, suddenly shy as she became aware of her naked body under Damian’s hungry scrutiny. ‘You go on up,’ she added. ‘I’ll join you in the cockpit.’
A few minutes later she made her way to where he stood at the wheel. He was bent over the ship’s radio, speaking with a quiet urgency, his face pale, jaw set in a grim line. When he had finished speaking, Oriel went to him, concern
etched on her face. ‘What is it, Damian?’
‘That was Stavros. We’ve had a fire at the factory.’
She looked at him, horrified. ‘Oh no! Is anybody hurt?’
‘I don’t think so. They’ve put most of it out but there’s been a lot of damage. You’d better go and pack your bag. I’ll call François, let him know we won’t be seeing him. Stavros is flying down in my plane and he’ll be here in an hour.’
The Oracle! Oriel thought, but she decided not to say anything. Damian was upset enough without her adding superstition to his troubles. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help admitting to herself that it was an uncanny coincidence. ‘When did this happen?’
He looked pensive. ‘Last night. Stavros was surprised I hadn’t heard from Yorgos yet.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll bring the fire under control. What’s going to happen to the boat?’
‘Stavros will sail it back and I’ll fly you home.’
‘I’m glad you’re not going to be on your own,’ she said. ‘It must have been a terrible shock for you.’
Damian stroked Oriel’s cheek. ‘Né ksehro, you don’t realize the difference that makes to me. With you, I can conquer any disaster.’
‘Hush, darling. It’s probably not as bad as you think. I’ll go and get packed.’
* * *
They were back by twelve. The hot noonday sun bearing down on Helios was a blinding glare, and the world shimmered hazily as Damian dropped Oriel off at the staff house in the Jeep. He told her that she might as well spend the morning exploring the island while he went to the factory to take stock of the damage. Handing her a car key, he explained where the Volkswagen cabriolet was parked behind the building. Oriel wanted to accompany him but he gently rejected her offer; he’d be more focused without her there, he added with a smile. He would meet her at six o’clock at the staff house to take her back to Heliades.
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