Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6

by Heaton, Felicity

  She looked at Daimon where he leaned against the edge of the hot tub to her left, his face stricken, fear lighting his eyes.

  Fear that turned to relief and then to something darker as he sank forwards.

  “Why did you do something as stupid as following me?” he bit out, his voice dripping with the anger that flared in his eyes.

  Sleep washed over her again, threatening to pull her under as the warmth of the water suffused her. Her eyes slipped shut.

  Gods, she wanted to sleep for days.

  Maybe forever.

  “Stay awake! I won’t lose you.” Daimon shook her.

  She slowly opened her eyes and frowned at him. “I’m here. No need to shout.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured, his white eyebrows furrowing as the anger that had been in his eyes abated, shifting to concern again.

  He lifted his left hand and touched her burning cheeks, and she wanted to close her eyes again to savour the blissful coolness of his skin.

  Cass struggled to keep her eyes open, stared at his face as he worked to warm her, rubbing her hands and her shoulders, scooping the water over her skin. She had never seen him look so afraid. It was strange to see such a strong warrior looking so weak, ruled by fear.

  Fear she had caused.

  “I was looking for you,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, as if she had been screaming. She wanted to lift her hand and rub her throat, but she didn’t have the strength. His pale blue eyes shifted to meet hers. She looked deep into them, drinking her fill of the concern that shimmered in them, the feelings he tried so hard to hide from her, ones that filled her too. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  His white eyebrows met hard.

  “I’m not. Not now. I don’t think I ever will be. I feel sick.” He lowered his eyes to the bubbling water and her heart clenched, the fear she had managed to banish rising again to consume her as it whispered in her ear, taunting her with the fact she had driven him to this, that she was responsible for him wanting pain. His eyes lifted again, colliding with hers. “I need to hear you’ll be all right.”

  It hit her that he hadn’t been talking about his state of mind, but about the state of her.

  That touched her, deeper than he would ever know. It warmed her too, gave her back some strength, enough that she managed to lift her hand from the water and place it over his where it gripped the edge of the tub.

  “I’ll be fine, Daimon. Will you?” Her eyes searched his.

  Surprise claimed her as he briefly tangled his fingers with hers, and then cold blasted through her as he released her hand and pulled away.

  He busied himself with punching some buttons on a panel, doing it with a vengeance, with such force she expected him to poke a hole straight through it.

  The water warmed, deliciously hot.

  He settled back beside her again and slipped his left hand into the water, took hold of hers and inspected it.

  Cass sucked down a breath, and then looked down at her hands, afraid of what she would see. Relief washed through her. They looked better—flushed pink and not blue or black.

  Daimon gently submerged her hands and chunks of ice formed on the surface. “Sorry.”

  He went to take his hand away and she tried to stop him but wasn’t fast enough.

  She rubbed her hands together, sneaking a glance at him as he frowned at the panel again. The blood that had been covering him was gone, but the lacerations in his roll-neck remained, and the long gashes that were visible on his chest, shoulders and arms were angry red and still seeping blood in places.

  “Will you be all right?” she whispered. “The cuts—”

  “Already healing,” he interjected, sending another wave of relief through her, this one so strong that she spoke before considering the consequences.

  “Why did you let them cut you?”

  Guilt danced across his noble features and he turned his cheek to her, and her stomach fell as he all but confirmed she had been right. He had let the daemons hurt him.

  She gathered her courage and lifted her hand. Water sluiced down her bare arm and dripped from her elbow, the sound mingling with the gentle bubbling to fill the thick silence.

  Daimon tensed when she touched his cheek, and then he closed his eyes, frowned and exhaled through his nose as he leaned into her palm.

  “Tell me, please?” she murmured.

  This time, he turned his face the other way, away from her, placing himself beyond her reach. He stood and backed off a step, and fear seized her again.

  “Stay,” she commanded. Her heart lurched into her throat. “Don’t leave me. I need you here. I need to know.”

  “You don’t… and I don’t want to talk about it. Let it go.” He turned and stalked into the house.

  Like hell she would.

  Cass gritted her teeth, gripped the edge of the tub and pushed herself up. The water weighed her down, making her legs tremble beneath her, but it quickly drained noisily into the tub. Her entire body shook as she lifted her left leg, clutching the tub as she laboured for breath. Her muscles cramped and protested, bones burned but she pushed onwards.

  She managed to get her leg over the side of the tub.

  Her foot pressed against the broad white tiles of the terrace.

  Her leg gave out the moment she put all her weight onto it and she shrieked as the flagstones came at her.

  Strong arms banded around her waist and stopped her from hitting it face-first.

  Daimon pulled her onto her feet and set her down, muttering, “Foolish woman.”

  She felt as though she was. She was pursuing a man who wanted nothing to do with her, a man who electrified her and made her feel alive for the first time in her long life. A man she didn’t want to leave.

  She hadn’t been prepared for this—for him.

  Cass looked up at him, her brow furrowed as her eyes locked with his.

  His beauty, the melancholy he wore, the heat that shimmered just beneath his frosty surface, all of it had entranced her.

  Bewitched her.

  Now, she didn’t want to leave him even when he made her feel as if there was no point in her staying.

  More of her strength returned, enough that she could probably cast smaller spells if she dared, maybe even transport herself if she pushed herself hard enough.

  A gasp tore from her lips as he slid the zipper on the side of her corset down and her heart jerked, her hand flying to the front of the garment to keep it against her breasts.

  “Just trying to get you warm. Getting you out of these wet things is a good place to start.” He averted his eyes. “If I didn’t think you’d fall on your arse, I’d let you do it yourself.”

  Cass hesitated, told herself not to read into things and failed dismally.

  “I know how you can warm me.” She looked up into his eyes when he glanced at her. “Kiss me.”

  He glowered at her. “No.”

  “Why not?” She sidled closer, pressing her body to his, and some of the ice in his eyes melted, giving way to heat.

  “I can’t,” he croaked.

  “Sure you can. Just purse your lips.” She tilted her head up and leaned towards him. “Press them to mine.”

  “No.” It was firmer this time and he gripped her shoulders and pushed her back.

  She frowned at him. “Why not?”

  “Because,” he whispered, the sound tortured, distant, carrying so much pain that her temper shifted course, the spike of frustration and anger she had felt giving way to softer feelings. His eyes leaped between hers. “You are… You… can never be mine.”

  Cass blinked.

  That was why he had changed, going from warming towards her to cold and seeking pain? Because he thought she could never be his?

  His hands trembled against her bare shoulders and his breath shook as he stared at her.

  Waiting for an answer.

  “What made you think that?” It wasn’t an answer, but she had to put it out there.

>   He turned his cheek to her. “You’re promised to another.”

  His eyes brightened, dangerous white ringed with black, and he growled. His hands tightened against her shoulders, pain pricking her there in several places. She angled her head and looked at his left hand, at the icy claws that pierced her.

  “Daimon?” She flinched when he snarled and pushed away from her, stalking into the house again. Cass slowly walked after him, not trusting her legs. They were stronger now, but pushing herself would only end with her hitting the ground and she needed to reach Daimon before he did something annoying like teleporting away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the door of the house and found him still inside. “Who am I promised to?”

  She winced as she remembered he had seen the letter. For a wonderful moment, she had forgotten about that.

  He growled over his shoulder at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Well, she did. He had snooped at her things and now he was presuming things about her, things that weren’t true.

  Things that were on the verge of ruining everything.

  She crossed the room, caught his wrist and pulled him to face her, almost falling on her backside in the process. “I’m not promised to anyone.”

  He wrenched free of her. “You are. Someone… I don’t know. The letter said it. You must return to bear a child.”

  A child she didn’t want.

  With a man she didn’t want.

  Words bubbled up her throat, things she had only just realised but still hadn’t thought she would confess to anyone.

  “Daimon.” She reached for him.

  He smacked her hand away. “Don’t!”

  He stormed towards the room with the king-size bed in it.

  Cass transported herself there and regretted it when she landed in front of him, blocking his path as intended.

  And collapsed.

  Daimon was there again, catching her, cradling her to him as he looked her over and softly muttered, “We need to get you out of these wet things.”

  Changeable, beautiful man.

  She couldn’t keep up with him when he was like this, flitting between polar emotions. She wanted him to stay like this, soft with her, taking care of her.

  Letting her be close to him.

  She didn’t want him to remind her of the letter, or the fact her coven were waiting, expecting her to return.

  To do the unthinkable.

  She wanted to stay here, lost in Daimon, caught up in a life that felt like an impossible, but beautiful, dream.

  “Warm me with a kiss,” she whispered.

  He stilled, his eyes hardening again. “No. I couldn’t bear it.”

  If he wouldn’t kiss her…

  She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  He responded in an instant, his cool tongue pushing past the barrier of her lips to brush the length of hers. She melted in his arms as they tightened around her, pinning her to him, leaned back and lured him down with her. Her back hit the mattress and she moaned as his weight settled on top of her and he deepened the kiss, branding his name on her soul.

  Daimon eased back and looked down at her, something shining in his pale blue eyes.

  What was he thinking?

  He swept his right hand through her wet hair, smoothing the tangles, his look softening.

  “You’re beautiful,” he husked, sorrow lacing his voice. “I wish you were mine.”

  So did she.

  She thought it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  She raised both hands and cupped his cheeks, stared deep into his eyes and lost herself in them, drowning in the emotions they contained. There was pain there, locked deep inside.

  What did he want to say but couldn’t?

  Was it the same words she wanted to voice but refused to come?

  “This is pointless,” he muttered instead and pressed his hands to the mattress, pushing himself up.

  Cass tried to pull him back down to her so she could kiss him again.

  He went rigid, his arms locking tight, and she glared at him when she realised she couldn’t move him.

  “Daimon.” She stroked his cheeks. “I don’t want to think about all the tomorrows that await me. Please… just have this moment with me?”

  Pain flickered in his eyes. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Her throat closed up, but she refused to give in to the despair that trickled through her, refused to give up.

  “I need more than this moment.” He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers, his breath washing across her lips.

  Familiar fear ran through her, tried to steal her voice, but this time she didn’t let it, because her heart screamed that she wasn’t the only one who was afraid.

  Daimon was too.

  Cass palmed his cheeks, drew down a steadying breath and closed her eyes as she whispered.

  “So do I, Daimon… So do I. I need you.”

  Chapter 22

  Daimon knew he should find the strength to walk away, that it was the best thing to do.

  But it wasn’t what he wanted.

  It wasn’t what he needed.

  He needed this beautiful, irritating, sorceress who lay beneath him, her pale blue eyes glittering with desire that drummed in his veins too. Fear still had him in its hold, born of a combination of sensing Cass had followed him to Antarctica and discovering her collapsed in a heap, on the verge of death, and the thought of finally giving in to her.

  To himself.

  He wanted Cass, and he was tired of fighting it, was tired of letting thoughts of tomorrow hold him back when he should have been fighting for her instead. He would make her see that he was the one she really needed. He would give her the piece of himself he had been holding back.

  He would make her fall in love with him just as he was falling deeply in love with her.

  He pulled down a steadying breath, lowered his head and captured her lips. They were warm against his, incredibly soft, and tasted sweet. He couldn’t recall the last time he had kissed someone, wasn’t prepared for the way it hit him, rousing fierce hungers inside him and a deep, dark possessiveness.

  Cass was his.

  He angled his head and breached her lips, kissed her deeper and shivered as she moaned and arched up off the mattress to press against him. A groan slipped from his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into contact with her.

  The damp from her clothes soaked into his, had him pulling back even when he didn’t want to and breaking the kiss.

  “Need to get you out of these wet things,” he muttered, his breathing rough as he thought about stripping her.

  Couldn’t remember the last time he had undressed a woman either.

  Nerves rose, trying to get the better of him, but he pushed them back down. This wasn’t his first time, even if it felt like it.

  He reached for the zipper on her corset and paused, glanced into her eyes. “This spell you use to stop me from hurting you, how long will it last?”

  Cass’s nose wrinkled and she shrugged.

  “Maybe thirty minutes more. It’s hard to tell.” She stroked her palms over his shoulders and down his chest, a wicked edge to her smile. “But if you last longer than that, I can renew it after I give you a gold medal.”

  He groaned, his face crumpling at the thought of what was to come as heat washed through him, fire lighting up his veins and stirring his cock. It stiffened painfully in his damp jeans.

  “If you feel even the slightest chill…” He stared deep into her eyes, making sure she understood, that she would do what he was asking.

  “I’ll let you know before it happens.” She skimmed her fingers over his nipples, sending another shiver through him.

  And then warmth.

  He looked down, frowned as the cuts he could see through the slashes in his top began to heal before his eyes, and lifted his gaze to lock with hers again.

  She hiked her
shoulders. “Can’t have you not at your physical peak.”

  He groaned again, wished she would stop reminding him where this was going, because he really wanted to last long enough to at least make it to the silver medal. The way she kept teasing him, making his mind leap forwards to imagine being inside her, was going to have him coming in at bronze if she kept it up.

  Daimon focused on small things, starting with unzipping her black corset the rest of the way. When the two sides of the zipper parted, his heart hitched and his breath trembled, all of his focus shifting to his hands as he eased the front open.

  “Sweet gods,” he muttered, voice scraping low as he stared down at her breasts, transfixed by her dusky nipples as they stiffened, begging for his lips.

  Cass looked down at her breasts and then up at his face. “What are you waiting for?”

  He wasn’t sure.

  He swooped on them, telling himself that he had kissed her without hurting her, had touched her without hurting her. He could do this and so much more without hurting her too.

  His lips closed around her left nipple and he groaned as she moaned and arched her back up, pressing her breast to his face. Her fingers tangled in his hair, twisting it hard as she clutched him to her.

  “Daimon,” she whispered, his name a breathless delicious plea that had his cock kicking against his jeans.

  He sucked and licked her nipple, lavishing it with the attention it deserved, and lowered his hand to his jeans, palmed his length and shifted it into a less painful position.

  Cass only made it harder when she dropped one hand to her other breast and played with her nipple, rolling and tweaking the bud.

  Good gods, he felt sure he had never been with a woman who actively pleasured herself right in front of him. The sight of her teasing her own flesh, stoking her own arousal, had him as hard as steel.

  He wanted to see what she would do if she had access to other parts of herself.

  His hand drifted to her leathers, fumbled with the button and then the zip. They were too damp to push down with one hand so he reluctantly released her and eased back onto his knees.

  He gripped both sides of her trousers and shimmied them down, Cass tormenting him the entire time he wrestled with them. She circled her nipples with her fingers, her gaze hooded and fixed on him.