“I worry that he’s targeting all the Daughters now. You included,” he admitted thickly. “Especially you.”
He was worried about her? She reviewed the emotions that she’d sensed in him: fear, doubt, despair. All of those could be explained away by his concerns for her safety.
Except one.
“But that doesn’t explain guilt.”
“I thought you trusted me.” He switched his long silky tail in agitation. “You . . . have always believed in my potential.” He lowered his voice, staring at the house beyond them. Anywhere, it seemed but at her. “You’ve always believed in us.”
“Please, Sable . . . just look at me.” If he’d do that, her own doubts might be assuaged.
Very slowly, his beautiful blue eyes, the color of summer sky, fixed on her. Not a glimmer of beady-demon-red in the house. Maybe she really was losing it. After all, it was late, and they’d had all sorts of shocks today—not to mention that she’d worn herself out during the prophesying.
She had always believed in him, in the visions she’d seen of their future, of the deep down goodness she’d glimpsed in his transforming soul. Raking a hand through her curls, she suddenly felt like a paranoid jerk. She’d spent all these months trying to convince him that she had faith in him . . . and then tanked in two minutes’ time.
She leaned into him, sliding both arms about his back. Shockingly, he didn’t become skittish, didn’t bolt away. She could feel the lightly prickling hair of his withers beneath her hands as she held on to him. “I believe you. It’s hard to be empathic, you know. You get all these cross-wired signals, and sometimes you’re not sure what to believe. You find yourself reading the subtlest facial expressions . . .” Lightly she massaged his back, amazed that he didn’t pull away.
In fact, he didn’t resist at all. Very gingerly, his warm arms came about her, too, as he held her against his bare chest. Not dodging her, not raging—cradling her so very close. “Do me a favor, Sophie,” he said. “Don’t read me all the time.”
“You don’t give me enough to go on otherwise. You’re hardly honest with me about anything you feel.”
“I’m honest about this.” He reached for her chin, and bending low, brushed a light, gentle kiss across her lips. “The truth? I hate leaving you now because I worry that some harm might come to you . . . that I won’t be here to stop it. To watch over you and protect you. It is absolutely killing me to go.” He kissed her once again, his warm, full mouth remaining against hers. “Honest enough, Sophie Lowery? Damningly honest enough?”
She nodded, swallowing. For once, she had nothing to say, especially when he stroked her cheek, looking deep into her eyes.
“Please,” he said seriously, “try to stay out of your usual whirlwind of danger. For me?”
She leaned her cheek against his bare chest. “My demon is begging me to keep safe. I think I might faint. Or swoon.”
“Just promise me you’ll be cautious.” He growled and took a step back, but not before he ran his fingers through her curls like a lover would. That was the first time she noticed—his claws were gone. When had that happened? How had she missed the change? They must’ve disappeared just like his horns had, all but permanently vanishing as he’d turned light.
He threaded his very human-seeming fingers together with hers, but before she could ask about his claws, Aristos and Nik came barreling down the steps. He released her, trotting in their direction, and for one stupid minute, she actually wondered which vehicle the three of them would go in. Unless they had a horse trailer hidden somewhere nearby, this would be a teleportation scenario.
Sable cast her one last look, and mouthed the words, “Promise me.”
She flushed a little, then gave him an obedient salute, but he never saw it because he was already joining the others.
Promise me, too, Sable. Promise me you’ll be safe . . . and stay light.
Chapter 17
Daphne felt like a wildcat. Whatever magic had been in that bowl of wine raced through her veins, and she had to fight the urge to strip out of her gown before she’d even reached the pool’s edge—even with Eros trailing behind her fast steps.
Her nephew had absolutely dosed her! And Leo, as well, it seemed, gauging by the heated look in her Spartan’s eyes, the sensual way he kept glancing at her, his lashes lowered to half-mast. Eros had a devilish streak, for sure, and she knew that he took pleasure in seeing others fall sway beneath his gifts. But in this particular instance, she suspected that the god hoped to strengthen Leo by unleashing his power—at least for a bit longer, if not for eternity.
They reached the pool, and Eros stepped into her path, blocking her. “Daphne, darling, wait just one moment.” He turned, addressing Leo. “Sir, I can make no promises about these waters’ effect upon you—as you well know. But I will say that you should be prepared for, ah, participating in the process. You see, my pool’s power is most effective . . . when making love. I sense that you’ve not sealed your union.” He cast a quick glance at Daphne, who must’ve turned the shade of all the rose petals floating in the pool. Good grief, there were some things you didn’t want to discuss with your family members, even if this one happened to be the God of Love.
Leo coughed. “We’ve . . . not yet taken that step, Lord Eros. But we are ready. We . . . I . . .” Leo stammered, falling to silence. He scraped a hand across his beard, clearly searching for exactly the right words.
“You want it,” Eros finished for him. “You both do.”
Daphne’s blush—if you could call an inferno blast on your skin a blush—deepened even more. “Eros . . . must we talk about this? You’re my nephew.”
“I had to be clear. You must join by making love within the waters, if there’s any hope of breaking my father’s curse.” He waved a regal hand toward the pool. “Disrobe, avail yourself now,” he encouraged, but didn’t make a move to leave.
She pushed at his chest in mortified exasperation. “Please?”
Eros threw his head back, laughing. “I was only teasing with you, dearest.” He turned away toward the lounging chairs, and at once, a matching pair of crimson towels appeared. “There, for drying after.” Eros gave them a slight bow, becoming much more somber. “King Leonidas, whatever happens—whatever result—know that I am on your side. I will do everything in my power to assist you in defeating my father. My dear ones,” Eros proclaimed, “love well today!”
Finally alone with Leo, Daphne turned toward him, hardly understanding the raw lust she felt humming in her body. Yes, it was Eros’s lovespelling, but it was far more than that. Leonidas was stunning, with his rugged features and dusky skin—and that athletic, bearlike body that she so adored. He was broad through the chest, thick through the thighs, all of it pure, granite muscle, earned from years of fighting and training. His physique was the very definition of perfection, and never could’ve been earned in the sterile confines of a gym.
He’d worked his body, hard. Taken it to the limits of what it could endure, and yet now—with his trademark gentleness—he was going to work her body, too. But in such a splendid, erotic way.
She clutched at the front of her gown, bunching it in her hands—wanting him more desperately than she ever had, yet feeling strangely shy to strip naked before him, even though she’d done so earlier.
His shirt came over his head—he glanced at her wordlessly. He stripped his pants off, and she received another silent look from her king, one that begged her. Pleaded, even, for her to do likewise so he might gaze upon her, with her as naked as he was. The only word he uttered was her name, said with such raw urgency that she immediately stepped out of the simple gown. He finished undressing by tossing his military watch onto the ottoman, and that action gave her a splendid eyeful of his large, muscular buttocks. Leo was thick and strong all over, possessing the body of a bull. She now saw—with perfect clarity—that his rear was no exception.
Perfect. She giggled to herself. Shay would’ve commented bluntly on the view
. Daphne stifled the urge to do the same. Then chucked the hesitation.
“Leonidas, fine king of Sparta,” she called out to him, “you have one fabulous ass.” As soon as she said it, she squeaked in embarrassment. “Sorry! No disrespect intended at all, my lord,” she apologized, clamping a hand over her mouth.
He turned to her, laughing . . . beaming. “First of all, I’m your lover now, not your king.”
“My lover,” she repeated, feeling her whole body awaken.
“Second, I understand the importance of a fine ass . . . uh, asset.” His eyes crinkled at the edges, the lines deeper than they used to be. “I’ve often thought mine almost too . . . big. Muscular, you know?”
“Oh, God no!” she blurted. “It’s just like the rest of your body—which is perfect, perfect, by the way.”
His smile deepened, the scar along his lower lip becoming more pronounced. With his more mature look, the thin white scar stood out starkly against his olive skin. The effect was downright sinful, what it did to her. “You look like a pirate,” she said, touching her own lips. “A very sexy, ravaging Greek pirate.”
He clearly loved that she found him handsome—it lit him up as nothing else ever did or could. Stripped down to his bare body, standing there, eager for her, waiting, she’d never found him more deliciously lovely. His proud erection jutted out, thick and ready, and as her gaze drifted to it appreciatively, it gave a slight jerking bounce. All of Leo was ready for their joining.
That’s when it really hit her: He was going to be inside her . . . in a matter of moments. That beautiful cock, the one she’d taken in her mouth earlier—what felt like a lifetime ago, now that they were here on Olympus—was going to penetrate her completely.
“Get in the pool, Daphne,” he commanded in a guttural voice. “I can’t wait, not now.”
She nodded, stepping onto the slick rocks that led into the waters. Instantly, warmth like she’d never known suffused her body—this pool was life. It was filled with it, brimming with it . . . surely Leo would experience some benefit.
She watched as he climbed down the steps, more slowly than she had, favoring his knee. But then he slid right into the pool, his big body sending water surging up against the sides. He moved toward her, and even here in the water, it was as if she were being stalked by a hungry lion. In matters of intimacy, it was becoming clear that his leonine manner was an absolute part of who he was.
He pulled her into his arms with a rough growl. “I’ve never wanted you like this . . . it’s a frenzied feeling. I’m tight . . . hungry. Daphne, I . . . can’t wait,” he repeated, trembling almost as much as she was.
She felt the surging of his heart against her body, his pectorals rising and falling with huffing breaths. Daphne swallowed, licking her lips. It was nearly impossible to restrain herself from Leo, whose hard-on was now sliding against her belly as he cradled her close. All she wanted was to take hold of that erection, to stroke it, then guide it between her thighs.
The rocks were apparently an intentional part of the pool’s design. They provided a splendid altar for lovemaking. With Leo’s knee throbbing so badly, he couldn’t kneel or lever himself atop Daphne, but that was probably just as well. This, her first time, he needed to be gentle; he also needed to give up some control.
He sprawled backward on the stone seat, submerged in the warm, erotic waters, and pulled Daphne astride his lap. “This way,” he explained, “you can direct the pressure.”
He hated thinking of her experiencing any pain at all. But would a demigoddess have some remedy, perhaps—some way to ward off the lancing sting that ordinary virgins experienced?
“Can you . . .” He tried to find the right words, fumbling. “Daphne, for a human female, the first time is painful.”
She settled atop his lap, digging fingers into his shoulders. “I can work my magic,” she told him huskily, grasping his meaning. “The pain won’t impact me.”
He leaned back against the smooth rocks, studying her with lust-filled eyes. “How do you do that?”
She bent down, kissing him. “Like this,” she said, snapping her fingers. “But I didn’t, even though I could. Because I want to experience everything about our first time, even the pain. All the reality. All of what it means to become your lover.”
Leo cupped her cheek. “Can you do that with emotions, as well? Protect yourself against a moment of extreme pain?”
She clearly saw where his reasoning was headed. “Leo, you are not going to die. And, no, I can’t do it with emotions . . . if I lose you, I’ll grieve for the rest of my days.”
This was not the conversation he wanted to be having now. In fact, he didn’t want to talk at all—he wanted to have his Daphne, at last. She opened her mouth to say more, but he kissed her before she could speak. And not an ordinary kiss, either—it was the most erotic kiss he’d ever experienced, or given to any female.
He began by clasping her face; it was almost even with his for once because she sat astride him. He pulled her toward him, reclining more fully against the rocks. She climbed up his body, following the kiss, and he plumbed the inside of her mouth with his tongue. As she surged with him, his erection poked her in the lower abdomen. Then, without breaking the kiss, he did what he’d craved for so long.
He moved his manhood between her thighs, brushing it against her intimate place. Even in the water, he could feel how slick she was for him—a thrilling sign of how much she wanted him. She did. Somehow, the fact that Daphne genuinely longed for him was still such a welcome surprise. His body no longer young now, his hair silvering—and his face as unattractive as it had ever been—still, she loved him. Yearned for him.
The kiss grew hotter then, she digging her fingers into his scalp, he seizing hold of her nape so he could kiss her even more deeply.
Gods of Olympus, he had to be inside her. He ached for it, needed it. Every instinct in his body—from his natural human ones, to the part of him that was still, at the deepest level, a hawk warrior—screamed for him to claim her as his own. If Ares hadn’t taken away his shape-shifting abilities, Leo had no doubt that, submerged in water or not, his hawk nature would have come screeching and clawing to the surface, territorial to the extreme.
In this instance, perhaps it was a good thing that he’d been robbed of his transformation, he thought, pressing upward between Daphne’s legs. He felt the slick warmth again; she was as ready as he was, and it was time. He couldn’t endure the wait any longer, not with the surging supernatural energy of the waters—and whatever extra dose Eros had added. The combination had Leo aching, his sacs drawn tight like wire, his seed bursting for release.
Daphne broke their kiss and sat up tall, straddling him, her thighs locked about his hips. He was half reclined and half sitting himself, and the position gave her all the power. Even that aroused him, the idea of his petite Oracle, mastering him sexually, or perhaps it was simply the thought of her taking him all the way inside her.
She smiled slowly at him, and then rose up onto her knees, adjusting his tip against her opening. And then, never taking her eyes off him, she lowered herself onto his hardened cock. Her expression changed, emotions moving like wildfire across her face—and for a moment as he hit that one point of resistance, he braced to see pain. It was the last thing he wanted, but she hadn’t wanted to mute any part of the experience.
He surged upward with a cry, pulling on her hips at that same moment. He drove all the way inside of her then, and her eyes went wide, wild blue, welling with tears of pain, he thought at first. But the beaming smile on her lovely face told him otherwise.
She caught her breath, leaning forward for one moment. “You’re inside me. All the way inside,” she murmured wondrously.
Oh, just you wait, my darling. Just you wait, he thought, grinning at her like the very devil. Seizing hold of her small waist, he helped her establish the rhythm, moving her atop him even as he worked his way in and out. The wide-eyed wonder was instantly replaced with some
thing much more wanton: Daphne tossed her head back, riding him shamelessly, their thrusts and movements urgent. In unison. Frantic.
She cried his name, moaned it, groaned it; each time a discovery as he slid to the outer edge of her entry then plunged deep inside anew.
His groin seized forcefully, drawing his balls upward. The pressure was immense; he was right on the crest of release. He imagined his seed, thick and hot, spurting inside of her, and a primal need overtook him. She was his—he was marking her, branding her. His seed would complete that fact.
At once, he felt her tighten about him, a tensing as she sped her friction and motion against him. Up and down her hips moved as pistons, and she cried out loudly. “Oh, Leonidas . . . my Leo . . . oh gods . . .” She dug her fingernails into his pectorals, arching her back. The sight of her orgasming for him, her wet hair wild and plastered against her cheeks, was the most beautiful thing he’d glimpsed in all his immortal years. And the sexiest. It was his absolute undoing.
A sharp sensation in his groin answered her, and he spurted jets of his seed deep inside her.
He dragged her down for another kiss. “You are mine,” he told her fiercely, capturing her mouth. The primal, territorial cry rose up like a wave inside of him.
He would never let Ares part them. He would not allow that jealous god to touch his Daphne . . . if it took his dying breath, he’d make sure that the god understood one thing. He might rob Leo of his life, might steal away his youth—even revoke his hawk nature. He could do all of that, and still, one truth would shine from the top of Olympus to heaven itself.
Daphne of Delphi completely, thoroughly, belonged to only one man in the universe: Leonidas of Sparta.
Daphne traced her fingertips over Leo’s strong chest, feeling the matted hairs so damp with water. They were sprawled together against the side of the waterfall, each of them sated and breathless in the other’s arms.
Leo had flung his thick arm along the pool’s edge, and cradled her against his side. His breathing was still heavy, and her body hummed with the joy of what they’d done. She never wanted the moment to end, wanted to stay here, making love to Leo forever because she feared looking up into his eyes. When she did, they’d learn whether the pool’s healing properties had helped him—or not. And the Highest God knew she didn’t have the heart to see him unchanged.
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