A Promise of Fire (30 page)

I frown. “You don’t have to bind me to you with sex.”

Griffin picks me up and carries me to the bed, lying down next to me. “I’ll bind you to me in any way I can. Sex. Children. Love.”

My heart jerks. My lungs suddenly feel too tight. “We’re together. Isn’t that enough?”

He shakes his head. He undresses me, and I let him. “You’re bright like a star. You shine for me now, but the sky turns. Where will you shine tomorrow? Or the day after? I won’t let you go, not without a fight that would make Gods tremble.”

I shiver, rattled by his words. “You’ll regret pledging yourself to me. It will cut your life short.”

“You’re my life now. We’ll live together, or die trying.”

I shiver again, the chills both hot and cold. “You’ve decided, then? For both of us?”

He nods, smoothing his hand down my naked body. His warm fingers come tantalizingly close to where I’m already slick with want.

I shift restlessly. “I should have a say.”

He dips his head and teases my breast with his mouth while his hand inches toward the curls between my thighs. “Then tell me what you want.”

I moan when his finger slides between my folds, gently rubbing. What I say now will have consequences. Words are binding, each one a promise, or a betrayal. He slips a finger inside me, his hot, wide palm putting pressure on my sensitive nub of nerves. I lift my hips and forget all about talking.

“
Agapi mou
?”

Tension builds quickly inside me. My pulse is a liquid beat, throbbing between my legs. One finger turns into two, thrusting firmly. I tilt my head back and grip the sheets. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”

Griffin stops and looks up from my damp nipple. “What do
you
want?”

I want him to go back to touching me so desperately that I might say anything. Luckily, I’m not that stupid. Or rather, I was stupid before. “In case you missed it, I pledged myself to you last night when I accepted your claim and let you spill your life force inside me.”

He doesn’t rise to my baiting tone. “Live together, or die trying?”

It takes a moment to get the words out. I’m worried about Griffin, and the dying part. “Live together, or die trying.”

Griffin’s shoulders relax. He kisses me long and deep, his sword-toughened fingers wonderfully rough against the inside of my thigh. I slip my hands under his tunic and hold him close, pressing my face into his neck and inhaling his subtle, masculine scent.

I kiss his jaw. It’s official—I am an idiot. At least there are two of us now. “Be my Ares and finish what you started. Otherwise, I might just kill you and all of this pledging will be irrelevant.”

He grins. I think he’s going to touch me again, but he doesn’t. He drags his mouth down my body instead. I know where he’s going, and I can’t wait. He nips my hip and then my thigh, nudging my legs apart. Then his mouth begins a slow, delicious torture, his hands holding me steady while I come undone. He takes his time, tasting, teasing, exploring what makes me buck, and finally wringing a staggering release from me, leaving me panting, satiated, and stunned.

Griffin kisses his way back up my stomach and breasts. He stretches out next to me, leaving one heavy hand on my hip. My eyes lock on his fingers, dark against my pale skin. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the easy way he touches me.

“Your name suits you.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, his thick, black lashes partially obscuring the molten silver beneath. “You sound just like a cat, purring and mewling.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, throwing his hand off me.

Griffin looks mildly offended but gets over it when I tug him to the edge of the bed and then take off his shirt. I hop down near the foot of the bed, my feet sinking into the thick rug. I pull him up to standing next to me, undo his belt, and shove his pants down. He steps out of them, already barefoot, and kicks them aside.

My eyes widen at the size of him. His erection still surprises me. And it’s still intimidating. It makes me wonder how wide my jaw opens.

I drop to my knees. I’ve heard men like this.

“Cat!” He pulls me back up. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“You did.”

“That was only to give, and I enjoyed it.
A lot.
I don’t expect this in return.”

I’m getting more nervous by the second. “You’re very giving. It’s nauseating.”

His lips kick up at the corners. He doesn’t seem too perturbed by my pronouncement. “I don’t need to be bad-tempered twenty-four hours a day to prove I’m strong.”

I bite my lip. I probably deserved that. “Don’t worry,” I say, wiggling out of his grasp and sinking back down. “I have no idea what I’m doing. You might hate it.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath above me when I touch my tongue to his arousal. His voice already strained, he says, “There’s no chance of that.”

I lick him again, this time more boldly. I wasn’t lying. I have no idea what I’m doing. I figure there aren’t too many ways to mess this up, though, so I begin at the top. As I get used to his thickness and the taste of his liquid pearling on my tongue, I take him more fully into my mouth and suck a little on the way back up.

“Good Gods!” Griffin mutters, bracing one hand against the bedpost. The other touches the top of my head, curling into my hair. I move up and down, licking and swirling my tongue. I can’t think of anything else to do, so I take the base of his shaft in my hand and squeeze. His hips buck, so I do it again. His breathing turns unsteady. His fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me into a faster rhythm.

Wanting to draw out the pleasure like he did for me, I rock back on my heels and look up. Griffin is watching me, his face rigid with need. There are other feelings there, too, and the stark emotion makes me want to do more than please him. I want him so delirious for me that he’ll forgive me for anything, no matter what I do, or who I am. I understand what he meant now about Ares and Aphrodite. If I can make him want me enough, maybe he’ll never give up on me.

I cup his balls and lick him from base to tip. Griffin follows my every move, and the way he watches me—the dark intensity, the longing in his eyes, how they blaze with raw desire—spreads through me like a drug. Heady pressure builds low in my abdomen. I grow wetter between my thighs.

I sink down again, taking his shaft far into my mouth. A groan rises in Griffin’s throat. His breath comes faster, in harsh pants. I take him deeper, harder, and a shudder rolls through him.

He reaches for my shoulders and tries to pull me up. “If you keep up like this, I’ll come in your mouth.”

I don’t let him move me. I’m not about to reject his life force. Maybe I’ll end up twice as strong as I was before. I sink my nails into his sculpted backside and suck hard.

His breath rattles above me. “Cat…”

I don’t stop despite his warning tone, trying to make up for what I might lack in skill with sheer enthusiasm.

Griffin throws his head back and roars. The rough sound of his release whips up a storm inside me. Fevered need pulses between my legs. I want him inside me, thrusting hard and fast.

His liquid is warm and salty, and there’s a surprising amount. The spasms stop just when I’m afraid I can’t swallow any more without gagging.

Griffin yanks me up, clutching me against his chest, which rises and falls with labored breaths. “You can spit,” he pants, crushing me against him. “Or throw up if you need to.”

I laugh and then choke a little.

“That was amazing.” He sinks his hands into my hair and rains kisses all over my face. “You’re amazing. I love you.”

My heart flips over, and I bury my nose in his chest. “The things men will say for sex,” I mutter against his sweat-slicked skin.

“It’s after the sex.”

My head jerks up, and I frown. “Really? There’s no more?”

The widest, most disarming grin I’ve ever seen spreads across his face, and I lose my heart entirely. Griffin grips my hips and tosses me back onto the bed. Following me, he kisses and touches and licks and nibbles until I’m thrashing and wild. When he finally comes to me, my whole body thrums with needing him. I moan at the fullness and revel in his firm strokes, meeting them with eager, raised hips as Griffin guides us toward a mutual climax that’s even more intense and shattering than before.

After my storm quiets and our heartbeats calm, we lie together, tangled, sweaty, and spent. Griffin eventually gets up to blow out the lamps before coming back and tucking me against his side. I’m way too hot, but I don’t move or push him away because I just don’t want to.

Happiness is a strange, frightening, fragile feeling when you’re not used to it. I turn into him, laying my hand across his chest and draping my bent leg over his thigh. I guess I can get used to the touching.

With a contented sound, Griffin puts his hand over mine. It engulfs mine, twice its size.

I stare at our joined hands for a long time, wondering what tomorrow will bring.

The next evening, Jocasta sends her maid to do my hair. She styles it half up and half down, and I’m careful of the expertly braided coils interwoven with delicate gold rope as I finish dressing for the realm dinner, my nerves in a tangle. Griffin comes in just as I’m strapping on my sandals, and I find him devastatingly handsome in his new dark trousers and snowy white tunic with gold trim. He leans against the wall, folds his arms over his chest, and crosses his legs at the ankles, watching me. He looks relaxed, but his eyes burn, and my temperature rises.

Straightening, I walk to the mirror, feeling wraithlike under the gossamer folds of my new gown. They float around me like layers of soft mist. I’m much too slim, and in my olive-skinned reflection I see a ghost: dark hair, green eyes, hollow cheeks, and haunted eyes. I thought this girl was dead.

Griffin comes up behind me, sweeps my curls to the side, and kisses the back of my neck, making me shiver. “I’ve seen the others. They’re the royals, but it’s you who looks like a queen.”

I shiver again. “I hate queens.”

“You hate Alpha Fisa.” He holds out a thin gold torque, stretches it open, and then pushes it closed around my neck.

I touch the cool, light metal, asking, “What’s this?”

“Decoration.”

He picks up my right hand and slips a ring onto my middle finger. It’s gold with a large, square emerald, light green like my eyes.

My stomach dips wildly. “And this?”

Griffin presses my fingers to his lips. “A gift.”

“From the coffers?”

“From the agora.” He releases my hand. “I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

Emotion mushrooms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Griffin’s smile turns wolfish. “We’ll discuss that gigantic falsehood later tonight.”

Heat swamps me, and I flush until it feels as though even my hair catches fire.

“Come greet the guests,” he says, starting for the door.

I shake my head, resisting the urge to fan myself. “I’ll come down later. I have no official place here. I can’t be in the receiving line.”

His expression hardens. “You’re Beta Sinta’s future wife. I think that’s official enough.”

My mind blanks in shock. Then I sputter, “E-excuse me? When did you decide
that
?”

His eyes turn wary. “What did you think I was going to do with you? Sully you and watch my illegitimate children run around the castle?”

The blood drains from my face so fast I get dizzy. My heart pounds, and my vision wavers. Suddenly seeing it as a betrothal gift, I drag off the jewelry Griffin gave me and toss it back to him. He makes no effort to catch anything, and the torque and the ring bounce off his chest and drop to the rug. “I can’t marry you.”

His tone turns disturbingly neutral. “Why not?”

I stare at him and can’t answer. I’m terrified Andromeda will discover the extent of our relationship and sink her deranged claws into Griffin, but he’ll never accept that, so I don’t say anything.

In the face of my silence, he asks, “Then what are we doing? What are
you
doing? Live together, or die trying. Those weren’t just idle words. I meant them.” He reaches out and touches my chin, making me face him when I try to turn away. “Did you?”

Griffin towers over me. His eyes probe mine. I wish he were raging. Then I could rage, too.

Desperate, crazy, crushing emotion overwhelms me, and I suddenly can’t believe how much he means to me. A sharp pain lances through me, regret and guilt. My eyes find the items on the floor. If he’d thrown gifts back at me, I’d be spitting mad, claws bared, fists flying, and possibly prepared for a lifelong grudge. Thank the Gods one of us is smart enough not to let me ruin the only good thing that’s ever happened to me.

For once, I get over myself and bend down to pick up the jewels. I slide the ring back on my finger and then hold out the torque as a peace offering. Griffin helps me slip the gold band back around my neck without a word of reproach.

I take an unsteady breath. “My notion of right and wrong is mostly self-taught.”

His eyes remain shadowed, his expression even.

I swallow. “It’s clearly a work in progress.”

Some of the tension drains from him, and his face softens.

My hand rises to his chest. I feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, aware of how lucky I am to have him, petrified of all the ways I could lose him. “I want to be with you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Griffin cups my face in his hands. “I want you to be with me, too.”

I feel ill. My heart is beating too fast. My stomach is in knots. “But I can’t marry you.”

His nostrils flare, and he tenses again, squeezing my head a little. “Why not?”

“You don’t even know who I am!”

“So bloody tell me!” he growls, letting me go.

Daphne was right. He
is
blinded—blinded by love and trust I don’t deserve. I’ve done awful things, caused awful things. My future is full of awful things, and Griffin is so
good
. “I’ll never be free,” I whisper.

His face slowly drains of color. “You’re already married.” He sounds strangled. He looks as though he’s been struck.

I laugh. I can’t help it. It sounds a bit off. “No. What did you think? That I was some kind of virgin bride?” I wrap my arms around him and lay my cheek against his chest. Griffin’s hands slide down my back, drawing me closer. He smells like citrus and bright, sunny days, and I want to stay this way forever, never facing anyone, or anything.

“I wasn’t thinking. I just want the truth.” He hooks a knuckle under my chin and lifts my face. “You can trust me. You know that.”

My eyes prick, and I blink. I do trust him, but is that enough? “I’m trying to leave the past where it belongs. I don’t expect to live long. I never have. Can’t we just take the time we have and not think about anything else?”

“No.”

I frown up at him. “
No?
”

“You require an awful lot of sign language.” Griffin lowers his head and kisses me so thoroughly that heat and need flood me in an instant. His lips mold to mine like we’re two pieces of a whole, and my desire sizzles to life on a sudden storm, leaving a rumble of thunder in the air.

He breaks the kiss to speak, his lips still touching mine. “You’re intelligent, brave, skilled, and lethal. You’ve got Poseidon and Hades looking out for you. I don’t believe you’ll die young, and I don’t believe they’d let you. And even if they’re not paying attention, then I am.
I
won’t let you. I told you I was keeping you. I meant it.”

His declaration zings through me. I feel the promise in it, the utter, undeniable truth. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” I warn.

“Then tell me,” he says simply, lifting his head.

He makes it sound so easy.
I’m not who you think I am, and by the way, there’s this prophecy…
Just thinking about that conversation makes me nauseous. “Later.”
Maybe
. “Tonight is about Sinta. Go down. I’ll come soon.”

“Your eye is twitching.”

Damn eye!

“This isn’t over.”

I’ll bet.

Griffin gives me his hard stare. “Soon, or I’ll come back for you.”

I grimace, feeling burned to a crisp already. “I know I have a job to do.”

“It’s not about the lies,” he says sternly. “I need you by my side.”

I nod, pretending there’s not a lump in my throat.

* * *

Invisible, I slip unseen into the crowd of snake-tongued nobles. My insides are about to fry. Melted bones. Roasted organs.
Fabulous.

The guests are all staying in the castle, and unsurprisingly, most of them strut about as if they own the place—or think they should. Before even entering the vast reception room, I’d have bet my magic the more powerful families came here with just that in mind. An overthrow. They’re Magoi. They’re better. They
have
to be. Nothing else could possibly be acceptable. But no matter their prancing and posturing, after two full turns around the brightly lit room, I realize there’s not a single person seriously considering challenging Griffin and his family. They’re all scared witless of him and what he’s accomplished so far.

Sweating and prickly hot from what I’ve already heard, I start a third trip through the swarm of guests, weaving toward people I didn’t come across on the first two circuits. Once again, I hear private conversations and nobles lying to one another for no good reason, providing me with an increasingly pounding headache and instant, indisputable truths.

“They have so little education,” a woman sniffs.
Truth: Alpha Sinta and her sisters are more well-read than I am!

“And all these healing centers everywhere. Can you imagine? It’s unthinkable!” her companion replies with disdain.
Truth: If I’d thought of that, and actually done it, maybe the Hoi Polloi who live around me would have lifted a bucket to help me when my house burned down last summer.

I move on.

An older woman scoffs. “Beta Sinta did
not
kill a Dragon?”
Truth: Beta Sinta killed a Dragon! He killed a Dragon!

The man next to her turns to look at Griffin. “I heard Beta Sinta has a powerful Magoi woman working for him. Maybe she killed the Dragon.” His face pinches. “He can’t possibly be doing all this on his own. Not like
I
could.”
Truth: I could never do this on my own. I need the woman. Can I take her? Buy her? Seduce her? Use her? What would I do with her?

I snort. Silently, of course.

The woman, who must be his mother, grabs his arm. “I know you. Don’t get any ideas. Beta Sinta. The Magoi woman. Whoever. They cut down the previous royal family. They killed a Dragon. You’re no match for them.” Truth.

The man looks irritated. “Of course I am. He’s only Hoi Polloi.”
Truth: What if Beta Sinta’s not just Hoi Polloi? Who is this Magoi woman? Mother’s right. I’m no match for them.

I move toward people of more consequence and magic. People I recognize, if only from descriptions.

Calandra of Mylos catches my eye, not only because she’s young and beautiful, but because of the way she’s watching Griffin. She was watching him earlier, when he was prowling around the room looking ten feet tall and every inch the conqueror he is, and she’s doing it again now while he speaks with a group of guests near an open window. Her eyes are as hot as the reception room. “It was the woman who melted the Tarvans. I heard it came from her mouth, so it must have been Dragon’s Breath.”

“But that’s rare, and creature magic. How could she possibly have that?” the man by her side asks. He’s her husband, but her magic is stronger. I know it, and I can also feel it.

Calandra shrugs. “Does it matter? She’s working for Beta Sinta, which means Beta Sinta has Dragon’s Breath.”

“And who knows what else,” the husband mutters.

Calandra answers, even though it wasn’t much of a question. “He’s impervious to magic. He walked right into the castle and seized it. No one could touch him, not with their power, and not with a sword.”

Her tone matches her eyes, and her husband finally notices Calandra’s patent fascination.

Scowling, the man snaps, “I don’t know what everyone is talking about. Beta Sinta doesn’t look that terrifying or impressive to me.”
Truth: Gods! He’s huge! If that man looks at me the wrong way, I’ll wet myself.

“No,” Calandra agrees.
Truth: He’s gorgeous. I want him in my bed. I wonder if he’d whip me? Chain me? Hold me down? Make me beg?

I grimace, disgusted, annoyed, and irrationally jealous all at once.

“The Magoi woman might turn on him,” the husband says. “Why would a Magoi even work for a Hoi Polloi?”

“No self-respecting Magoi would,” Calandra replies haughtily.
Truth: If he looks at me the right way, I’ll do anything for him.

The need to publicly stake my claim to Griffin burning in my currently invisible chest, I continue circulating. A handsome middle-aged man draws my attention, and I follow him into a secluded alcove where he joins a private conversation. When I see who’s talking there and recognize the people from physical descriptions, I wish I’d found them sooner.

These are people I know—or at least know of. Agatone and Urania are the parents, older, but still extremely powerful and without a doubt the most influential nobles in all of Sinta. Oreste, their only son, is clearly the man who just joined them. I had to brush up on a few Sintan nobles myself before the realm dinner. These Magoi weren’t among them. You don’t forget people who try to buy you for their adult son when you’re only ten. They never saw me. It was all done by messenger, and Andromeda’s response was to send the messenger back without any limbs.

I stare at Oreste, shocked by how healthy and attractive he is. He’s a good deal older than I am, of course, but there’s not even a mean downturn to his mouth, or a pinched look around his eyes. He looks perfectly normal and agreeable, and if Mother wasn’t such a snob, he could have been my fate.

“Well?” Urania asks.

“She’s fine,” Oreste answers. “Resting. She’ll be down later.”

I don’t know who Oreste is talking about. I don’t know of any sister, so maybe he took a wife?

“I didn’t expect to be, but I’m impressed,” Urania says, glancing over her son’s shoulder to take in the buzzing, crowded room. Truth.

Agatone arches a grizzled brow. “Sinta’s in a weak position for the Power Bid with a Hoi Polloi family on the throne.” Truth. At least in his opinion.

“I’m not sure…” his wife answers pensively. “If the rumors circulating are true, maybe we’re better off.” Truth.

“How so?” Oreste asks. He looks distracted. He’s watching the stairs for someone.

“These are unpredictable times. Tarvan royals are obviously up to something. And even though no one has laid the blame for the attack at Ios at their feet, I’m certain it was them.”

Definitely my top theory as well. I think they’ve been behind both attacks since I’ve been with Griffin. They have the money to buy mercenaries. And having Hoi Polloi on the throne next door is practically an invitation to invade. But we thwarted them when they sent the Giant after Griffin, and we beat them again at Ios. Unfortunately, officially blaming the Tarvan royals is also more or less a declaration of war, so it’s best to avoid that—for now.