Red Mortal (23 page)

Read Red Mortal Online

Authors: Deidre Knight

Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary

BOOK: Red Mortal
12.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
He scowled, not making any headway with the stone. In exasperation, she slapped his hands out of the way, taking hold of the hoof. “Geez Louise, let me, will you?” She worked at the stone. “And you think I’m a hot mess? Always getting into trouble? What about you, huh? Mister I-Don’t-Need-Anyone. Mister I-Won’t-Let-You-Brush-Me,” she huffed, surprised at the bubbling anger she suddenly felt toward him. “You’re too stubborn to ever willingly accept help, not for the simplest problems. You wonder why I forced my healing on you all those times. Because you’d have died before letting anyone else take care of you, especially me.”
She picked the rock right out of the center of his hoof and hurled it toward the trees irately.
He stood taller now, clearly taken aback. After a moment he said, “You are not yourself.”
She glared up at him, her eyes wide and accusing. Very slowly, she slid a palm right over her chest in imitation of his earlier pledge. Reminding him, telling him like it was. Their eyes locked for one burning moment. “I saw you,” she said. “You know that I did.”
He instantly glanced past her shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You always prattle on about so many useless things.”
The resentment built inside of her; all the frustration about their past months, all his denials and mixed messages. “You really are such a liar, and I’m sick to death of it.”
“I’m a demon
,
Sophie.” His tone was shockingly gentle. “Whatever else did you expect?”
She swatted him hard on the chest. “Never for you to use me. Duh. For you to be honest about your motives, at least. Liar! God, such a liar!”
“I . . . used you?” He searched her face, his confusion obvious. She didn’t even have the energy to try for an empath’s reading. Her shoulders slumped and all the life went out of her.
“You wanted in on the meeting. And now? Suddenly the tables have turned, nothing’s the same . . .
you’re
not yourself, either, I can see it in your eyes.” And she could, the way he kept glancing about, seeming jumpy and nervous.
“My vision is not demon-red, Sophie. I don’t know what you mean.”
She flung her hands out in exasperation. “No, your eyes are still blue. But you won’t look at me.”
He slid his gaze to hers forcefully, but something still wasn’t right. She couldn’t say what it was, couldn’t pinpoint it. But just like earlier, she could feel the conflict in him; it was radiating toward her like a heavy, drowning tide. “Doubt,” she began, counting off on her fingers. “Guilt . . . despair.” She gave him a sad glance, unable to fight the sense that he was doing something wrong here. “That’s what I see in you. Tell me, Sable—should I warn Ari and Nik? They’re my friends, you know. I care about them. So if this is a trap, if that’s why you’re so conflicted—”
He seized her by the arms. “Sophie, I’m about to lead the Spartans into the midst of my fellow demons, some of whom are former associates of mine. Of course I have mixed feelings! And . . . I kissed you for the first time today. Twice.” His grip on her gentled, but he didn’t let go.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, kissing me was apparently such a hardship that now you’re in a state of despair. And you feel guilty about it because you took advantage of me, a woman you consider a fool and an idiot. And you have doubt . . . let’s see why, why, why?” She tapped her chin melodramatically. “Oh! Because you actually liked the kiss, so you’re questioning your own sanity. So that covers all three emotions I was reading off you. Riiiight.”
His breathing was heavy and he had her close against his body, still holding tight to her. His chest rose and fell with desperate gulps of air, his light blue eyes filled with pain. “You may be an empath, Sophie,” he ground out, “but you’re not reading my emotions nearly as well as you think.”
He seemed to be challenging her, gripping her so hard and close that her high-tops tangled with his hooves. She splayed both palms flat against his warm chest, right over his heart, and for once, he didn’t push her away. She pressed further into his spirit, ferreting, trying to gauge his emotions with fine-tuned accuracy. And she discovered something new, an intense emotion that she’d not noticed before: an absolute siren-blast’s worth of fear.
“What are you afraid of?” she whispered. “This Caesar Vaella? That’s not like you. You don’t ever fear a thing. Why now?”
“He’s very dangerous. He all but killed Juliana, drove her to suicide in 1893.” Sable stared upward into the dark treetops as he spoke, perhaps because his eyes suddenly had assumed the beady glow of a dark demon, and he didn’t want her to see?
“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
 
D
aphne 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.

Other books

Ties That Bind by Debbie White
Leave Me Love by Alex Lux
Barcelona Shadows by Marc Pastor
Dragon Rose by Pope, Christine
Dark Tales Of Lost Civilizations by Eric J. Guignard (Editor)