Then she stared down at him again, studying the way Leo’s long, dark lashes lay against his weathered cheeks. His eyes had always been the most erotic and sexy aspect of his appearance, sometimes hooded and full of natural sensuality—other times so sharply intelligent and filled with suggestion that she was aroused just by gazing up at him. She loved everything about Leo’s appearance, even the short-trimmed beard along his jaw and the way it curled slightly like the hair atop his head. It was strange, to watch that beard faintly change hues before her very eyes, a few strands already silvering. She wondered if the bracketing lines she noticed at the edges of his lips had always been there, concealed by the beard, or if they too were part of Ares’s handiwork.
She pressed her lips against that mouth again, savoring the warm, vital feel of it. With her fingertips, she outlined the familiar length of his aquiline nose, which had always been somewhat inelegant because of how many times it had been broken in battle. But now, as she kissed him and felt the soft exhalation of his breath, she blinked back tears knowing that soon—any day, perhaps—she might never see his imperfect nose again. Or touch him, feel his lips against hers.
Closing her eyes, she kissed his hooked nose—right on the awkward bump in the middle—then fluttered soft kisses down to his lips. He moaned low, stirring beneath her, and one sleepy hand came about her waist, securing her atop him before she could move.
“What’re you doing atop me, my lady?” he asked, his voice rough and groggy. He sounded still half-unconscious, even as his body sprang to life beneath hers. Immediately she felt him grow hard against her belly.
“My silly king, did you think to play Sleeping Beauty?” she teased, even though her heart was heavy.
Leo pulled her all the way down atop his chest, burrowing his face against the crown of her head. “You smell nice. Peaches . . . always like peaches,” he observed drowsily. “That’s why I planted a grove of them in the side pasture . . . so I’d always sense you near me.” He inhaled her scent again, and she never wanted the moment to end. She wished to stay here, suspended in reality—Leo so sleepy and dreamily romantic, the truth obviously forgotten for one heartbreaking moment.
He grunted, shifting beneath her stiffly. “I feel as if I’ve been drugged . . . or have taken a great blow to the head. And why are my shoulders so very sore?” He tried to sit up, but Daphne pressed a staying palm against his chest.
“Not so fast, my lord,” she cautioned, urging him to lie back down. “You should take it a little more slowly.”
“What happened? My whole body aches. . . . I feel as if I’ve battled for days.” He glanced about the room in confusion. “We were in the meadow . . . weren’t we? How did we come to be in my study?”
She rubbed her thumb against his bearded jaw, soothing him. “You must rest, darling. You’re not feeling well.”
He gave her a bleary-eyed glance, and then gazed out of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room. “It’s almost nightfall. I’ve lost time.”
She sat up, poised on the edge of the sofa and stared into her beloved’s dark eyes. “My brother came to us. Do you not remember?”
Leo’s head sank heavily into the pillows. “Bastard. Of course, now I recall.” Then he laughed darkly. “Don’t worry. He’s not made me senile just yet. But he worked dark magic on my body . . . I feel horribly hung over. And that cloak of his has left my shoulders bloody sore.”
“Let me give you a massage.” She tried to urge him to roll over, but he caught both of her wrists in one hand.
He leveled her with a serious stare. “We must talk, Daphne. About all your brother’s revelations in the field.”
“First, let me tend to you. I know that you’re in pain.” She babbled quickly, hoping that Leo wouldn’t ask her the one question he poised next.
Softly he said, “You knew about Ares’s plans for me?”
So he did remember everything—including her brother’s statement that she’d kept the truth a secret.
He kept her wrists in his hands, and for one long moment rubbed his thumbs across the pulse points. “Your heart is racing, I can feel it.” He fixed her with a weighty stare. “Daphne, we’ve never concealed anything from each other before.”
She sighed, staring at her lap. “I wanted to believe he would change his mind,” she admitted quietly.
“How long did you know?”
She closed her eyes, bracing for his reaction. “Months, several.”
“How many months?” His tone was chilly and he squeezed her wrists in his hands.
She shook her head, blinking at tears. “I don’t know . . . six or so? Since October.”
Leo released his hold on her sharply. “Six long months and yet you said nothing?” His ordinarily quiet voice grew even softer, lethally so. His gaze became desperate, beseeching. Looking into his eyes was like staring into a sweltering furnace, knowing fully that if you moved any closer, you might be consumed and turned to ash. “The few times you’ve come to me, you should’ve warned me, given me a fighting chance. Why would you keep Ares’s secret? Why would you betray me this way?”
“Leo! How can you even say that?” She grasped for his hands, but he yanked them out of her reach.
He shook his head. “If you’d told me the truth, perhaps I’d have been given an advantage—not been overrun by your foul brother.” The words spilled out of him, harsher than any she’d ever heard him use before. He delivered the accusations without ever raising his voice, which only made them all the more painful.
She could only look away, feeling as betrayed as he claimed to be. Every choice, every decision regarding Ares had been to safeguard her king.
With a jerk, she disengaged her body from his, bounding to her feet. She began pacing the hardwood floor, back and forth, agitated. “If you think me capable of such treachery, I can’t imagine how we could ever have a future together.” She strode to the far side of his study, staring out the window at the setting sun. She turned back to face him. “You obviously don’t know my heart if you’d believe me disloyal and deceiving.”
His dark eyes filled with bleakness, a stark pain she’d never seen in his expression before. He looked up at her suddenly. “Were you protecting him? Was that it?”
Daphne stared at him, aghast. Speechless. And Leo didn’t rush to fill the silence.
“I honestly cannot believe that you’d even suggest such a thing. That I’d be in league with Ares or try and . . . that I’d choose him over you.”
Leo gave a single nod. “I grant that it was a ridiculous accusation. I’m simply trying to understand why you’d have kept the truth from the man you love.”
“I do love you!” Daphne stifled a sob, wiping her eyes with the back of her arm. She wished to hide there, to fade to nothing—be removed from her beloved’s sight. “You know how much I love you,” she moaned.
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “I do.”
And then he said nothing more. He simply sat there on the sofa, watching her, waiting for some explanation of her rationale during the past months. Never could he understand the level of control and fear her brother had exercised over her, throughout her immortal years. She knew more than anyone ever could exactly what Ares was capable of.
She held her hands out imploringly. “I was protecting you. Ares might have sped up the process if I’d warned you. And you’ve stayed young! Until today, you’ve been as youthful as ever. Why should I have troubled you or placed you in any greater danger?”
Leo stood, clasping her by the shoulders. “But I have aged, you know it. You’ve noticed, during these recent months.”
She said nothing, blinking back tears.
He squeezed her shoulders, his touch gentle again, loving. “Have you seen?” His hushed voice was like the low rumble of a distant, very threatening storm.
She had no idea how to answer, not without making matters far worse. She also knew that Leo, like any man, had his moments of vanity.
“And so
you have.” His tone was grim, resolved. “As I said, perhaps if you’d warned me, the progression might have been stopped or slowed.”
She gaped at him, teary-eyed, feeling as if he’d just slapped her. This man whom she had loved for so long, a paragon of calm strength and quiet patience, had never lashed out at her or been cruel. Until now.
“Well, it seems that I’ve failed you in every regard, my lord,” she said stiffly, trying to gain control of her quavering voice. She moved away from him and began summoning her power. She couldn’t stay, had to find higher, safer ground—emotionally. Leo believed that she’d betrayed him, and perhaps he was correct. Perhaps her actions had been unforgiveable.
Leo strode after her, his heavy footsteps swift and certain behind her. “I’m sorry for speaking so callously. I simply want to understand.” He took hold of her arm, forcing her to face him again. He searched her face, apology and regret in his almost black eyes. He opened his mouth and then closed it, squeezing her arm in reassurance. “I . . . I should not . . . I did not mean to say . . .”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Oh, but you did. Or you wouldn’t have said it, would you? And you’re right. I should’ve done more, told you or warned you. But I’m not like you, Leonidas of Sparta. I’m no brave warrior . . . when it comes to the thought of losing you, I’m a coward.”
She lifted her hands, preparing to teleport, but Leo lunged toward her. “No!” he howled. “Don’t leave, no!”
But it was for the best this time. She’d hurt him, deeply—and perhaps placed a death sentence upon his head. She had to go.
A whirlwind began in Leo’s study. She lifted her hands higher. Leo wrapped his arms about her, holding on as if his next breath depended on it, trying to anchor her to his world.
“Daphne! Talk to me. Don’t leave, not like this.”
“I’ll return . . .” she reassured him. But she did not say when, or make empty promises.
His cries and pleas began to sound like distant voices at the end of a tunnel, but they did not stop her from leaving. As she moved away from Savannah and into the dimensions, the last sound in her ears was Leonidas crying her name.
Chapter 5
What a fool. Leo had gotten Daphne back and managed to lose her again in the space of an hour. Yes, he’d felt betrayed, but he never should have lashed out or blamed her. There was no way Daphne could ever betray him, not to anyone, least of all her wicked brother. Yet what had Leo done with his asinine accusations? Driven her to leave him this time; ensured her abandonment. And he’d done so now of all times, right when they were running out of time together.
“Here, drink this.” Ajax plunked a heavy goblet full of uncut red wine in front of Leonidas. “Always helps me with problems of the female persuasion.”
Leo propped both elbows on the dining table and stared miserably into the glass. Naturally, Ajax thought to cure his ills with alcohol. His best friend had indulged in near-constant drink prior to meeting his wife, Shay, a year ago, attempting to douse his loneliness with booze.
Unfortunately, Leo’s predicament had nothing to do with “the female persuasion” in general and everything with one gorgeous, petite Oracle in particular. Yes, she’d promised to return, but when?
In two more months? Three, perhaps? Leo groaned, burying his face in both hands. He might well be dead by then, borne to his grave upon his bronze shield as befit any fallen Spartan—without ever having held Daphne again. There was no way of knowing what the exact expiration date on his life would be.
He groaned again, rubbing the top of his head, which felt like it might split open at any moment. Ajax nudged his arm, and Leo glanced sideways at his friend, feeling sick to his stomach.
“Go on, man.” Ajax pushed the full goblet a few inches closer.
Jax straddled the empty chair beside him, rotating it backward and resting his chin on the frame. It was obvious the warrior wouldn’t be satisfied until Leonidas partook of at least a few sips of the wine.
He reached for the goblet, his hands shaking so badly that the crimson liquid sloshed onto the tablecloth. Leo stared as two deep red stains soaked into the snow-colored fabric, seeping into it like blood from a battle wound. The image caused his tremors to increase; they seemed a horrible premonition of the fate Ares had prescribed to him.
Lifting the wine to his lips, Leo consumed several inelegant gulps. Shots of whiskey would’ve been easier, more merciful—he needed to take the edge off, Spartan discipline be damned.
He couldn’t stand the thought of Daphne seeing him this way, and yet he couldn’t help praying that she would return immediately anyway.
“I need to get my head on straight.” Leo drained the rest of the wine from the glass. “Before Daphne comes back.”
Jax dropped his voice low. “What exactly happened on that ride? Why did she leave? And . . . are you all right, my lord?”
Leo looked up sharply. “Do I not look well?” Perhaps the change was overtaking him faster than he’d imagined. He studied Jax’s reaction, trying to gauge how much the warrior had already surmised. How much he might see now, written plainly on Leo’s aging features.
Jax reached for his own glass of wine. Perhaps avoiding the topic, perhaps unaware. “You seem awfully spooked,” was all the Spartan said.
Leo shook his head. “No, Jax, not spooked.” Leo rubbed his shoulders, still sore from the weight of Ares’s unearthly cloak. “It’s what he did to me . . . he . . .”
“He?”
“Ares. He was here at the compound. In the field,” Leo admitted, surprised by how gravelly his voice sounded. Was that yet another sign of the transformation occurring inside his body?
Jax sat upright in the chair, dark eyes growing shrewd and intense.
“He has plans for me,” Leo confessed.
Leonidas could feel Jax’s piercing gaze on his face, and felt the weight of that stare—but if his friend saw signs of transformation, he said nothing.
Leo stared into the near-empty glass, sloshing the dregs of the wine. “It tastes better from a wooden bowl. Cut with water.” The old ways, the ways of his father and his father’s father. He’d kept them all these centuries; his own men were yielding to modern practices, losing something sacred. “One day, you’ll have sons with Shay, no doubt. And daughters. Be sure to teach them the traditions,” Leo said, swirling the red liquid again. Perhaps, if he stared long enough, he’d receive a vision from the depths of his glass.
“Leonidas. You’re not going anywhere.” Jax laughed and slugged him on the shoulder. “You’ll be with us, leading us, for ages to come. Just as you’ve always been.”
Leo cocked an eyebrow. “Almost sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that fact, adelphos.” Brother.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Jax repeated, his Greek accent becoming thicker, always a sign of his strong emotions. Then in their ancient tongue, added, “Yes, you are my adelphos, brother of the heart. I won’t let you leave us.”
The expression in Jax’s eyes changed, too, becoming less certain. It also seemed that his gaze roved about Leo’s face, studying it curiously, searching for something.
Or maybe noticing the changes that Ares had promised.
Leo touched his beard self-consciously. “Jax, friend, what do you see?”
“My king. My commander. My dearest friend.” Ajax kept his gaze steady, but it appeared to require some effort, and after a moment, he reached for the wine bottle.
Leo sat upright. “Bring me a looking glass. A mirror of any sort.”
Ajax blinked back at him, seeming confused by such an extraordinary request from his commander.
“Surely you have something,” Leo pressed sharply. “A well-polished pot, anything which will capture my reflection.”
“My lord, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
So Ajax did know; the transformation was already becoming apparent.
Leo rose wordlessly, not waiting or arguing further, and hurried towa
rd the long hall, feeling weightless. The guest bathroom held a massive floor-length mirror, one that would not lie or distort the truth. The familiar photographs and paintings on the walls were nothing more than a blur of color and nonsensical imagery as he forced himself to move along the wood-floored corridor. He held the target in his sights, knowing that once he entered that bathroom, he might never view himself the same way again.
What would he see in the room’s colossal mirror? Would his visage be shocking, revealed as the true reason Daphne had fled in such frenzy, and that Ajax had refused to supply him with a looking glass? Or would it somehow be soothing to discover himself finally mortal again, after so many eons?
“Leonidas, wait!” Ajax called out from behind him in the hallway. His steps were hurried, as if he hoped to keep Leonidas from a grave mistake. “What are you . . . ?”
Leo entered the bathroom, slamming and locking the door decisively behind him. Flicking on the light, he slowly pivoted and faced himself in the mirror.
The reflection that greeted him, however, took several much longer moments to comprehend fully. At last, with reality staring him starkly in the eye, Leonidas squared his shoulders. Bending over the sink, he went about his regular life, the mundane sort of daily rituals that made him feel as if he might never die.
He methodically washed his hands, and then methodically dried them. He straightened the hand towel, making it appear untouched. Strength and stoicism under duress were his hallmark qualities. Now, if only he could summon a pithy joke or two, then he could open the damn bathroom door and face his men. His friends. And maybe, crazy long shot that it was, the woman he loved. If she ever returned, that was.
Red Mortal Page 5