Authors: Deidre Knight
Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary
Red Mortal (4 page)
“Virtue seems of little interest to you,” she commented, barely managing to keep a straight face. “You neglect him in favor of me.”
“There is greater virtue in tasting you, my lady, than attending to my mount. Although,” he added lazily, “mounting is certainly of keen interest to me at the moment.”
She flushed at the innuendo, visualizing Leonidas lying with her in the field, his heavy, solid body atop her own.
Mounting
. . . ah, it was a wicked, sublime image. They’d never come that close to making love before, and she flushed at the thought. His mighty body nude in the grass; he would be splendid, natural as he claimed her in the open meadow.
Mounting
. . . ah, it was a wicked, sublime image. They’d never come that close to making love before, and she flushed at the thought. His mighty body nude in the grass; he would be splendid, natural as he claimed her in the open meadow.
“Yes,” she half moaned, the word escaping before she could stop it.
Yes, I want you atop me. Yes, I want to feel you between my legs, deep inside me. To hold you in my very center until we can only inhale each other’s souls and thoughts and desires.
She whimpered just imagining it. “Ah, please, Leonidas . . .
yes
.”
yes
.”
“So you’re ready for me to take you, my Daphne? Right here in the open, where any of my warriors might see?” He thumbed the metal zipper of her jeans suggestively. “Where the Highest God himself would certainly spy us during such a joining?” He growled a low exhalation against her nape and half whispered, “My lady, Daphne, many lonely nights I’ve imagined holding you just that way, with no barriers at all between our bodies.”
Her eyes slid shut, and she bit back the words that tumbled to mind: begging words, pleading words. Cries of desperation and desire that she’d been swallowing for months now—and for all the thousand years that she’d watched him, invisible and unknown to the man she loved in silence.
He clearly sensed her need and frustration. Bending forward, he brushed his mouth along her cheek, nuzzling her wavy hair out of the way. His warm lips made contact with that sensitive skin, and she could feel the roughness of his scarred lower lip. The intimacy caused her body to tighten, and she trembled slightly.
Leo’s own body swelled in reaction, the hard muscles of his thighs squeezing around her. And his equally hardened manhood pressed solidly against her buttocks, protruding against her softer flesh without apology. In fact, she’d have sworn he strained his hips forward even more, utterly eager for her to feel his erection—almost as if he yearned to make love to her while they were astride Virtue together.
“Leo,” she gasped, unable to find other words. It wasn’t as if she objected. Oh, no, she wanted this man so desperately, her body burned at just the thought of him touching her. But despite her near pleading, despite his offer of sweet, sensual heaven, she knew the truth: they should never consummate this relationship. In fact, she was fairly certain that if Leo ever did claim her physically that her brother Ares would end his life with swift and final vengeance.
She went back and forth when it came to Ares’s threats against her beloved. Poor Leo, he’d been a victim of mixed signals from her for almost a year. At the moment, he had her at a disadvantage, where her passion and love for him were winning the battle against her need to protect him. Yet, always, always, the truth was out there on the far horizon: Ares’s hatred of her beautiful king.
You should’ve stayed away,
she told herself.
she told herself.
The problem was, the rational part of her mind could never win this battle, couldn’t withstand the torrent of feelings she had for Leonidas. Every time she was in his presence, it was as if her restraint unraveled, and she lost more of her will out of her sheer love for the man. So she always came back to him eventually . . . and she knew that every time she left, each new separation wounded him more than the last. But that was better than his dying because of her, because of how Ares planned to destroy him.
It was difficult to accept fully what her brother claimed to have done—that he’d revoked Leo’s immortality and was going to age him, swiftly. Months ago, from the first moments of that threat, she’d noticed silver in Leo’s beard. Only a few curling strands, but they’d appeared there nonetheless. The next time she came to her king, she’d seen a few more. She’d even managed to pluck a few as they kissed, masking the action by tugging on his beard in a torrent of passion.
Still, she knew the truth, and had seen the evidence quite clearly—Ares intended to make good on his threat to kill Leonidas, one mortal year at a time. And for a man who had lived an ageless span of more than twenty-five hundred years? She had no doubt that becoming mortal would prove quickly lethal, just as her brother promised.
So she’d forced herself to keep her distance, praying that Ares would relent. And most of the time she remained strong enough, able to protect the king by her own absence. As a result, on the few occasions when she
had
returned to Leonidas, she’d gained a bit of hope because he’d not seemed to age any more since Ares had begun his transformation. No new silver or gray appeared in his curly dark hair or beard, no additional lines in his face. He remained startlingly handsome, forever appearing to be roughly the thirty-five years old he’d been at Thermopylae.
had
returned to Leonidas, she’d gained a bit of hope because he’d not seemed to age any more since Ares had begun his transformation. No new silver or gray appeared in his curly dark hair or beard, no additional lines in his face. He remained startlingly handsome, forever appearing to be roughly the thirty-five years old he’d been at Thermopylae.
Perhaps Ares had decided to be merciful after all. That’s what she kept trying to convince herself. True, he was hatefully jealous of her love for Leonidas, but surely her half brother realized that he’d never have her for himself. Not in the unnatural, debased way he clearly yearned for. It was hardly as if Leonidas had taken her from him, but envy and vengefulness pumped in Ares’s veins as surely as goodness and nobility did in Leonidas’s.
“Daphne,” Leo murmured against her ear, pulling her back to the moment. “You’re so quiet. I’ve not left you dumbstruck, have I? I’m not overwhelming you with my . . . attentions?” As if he needed to make the point, he slid a palm over her left breast, cupping it firmly.
She shook her head wordlessly, swallowing hard as he rolled the breast in his hand and then squeezed her nipple between his fingertips, stroking it tenderly with his thumb.
Their bodies locked together, moved together, and all she wanted was for every separation between them to fall away. She longed to be in the grass just as he’d suggested, his gorgeous body naked and glorious . . . and still youthful. Oh, but she
had
to believe that Ares had relented; otherwise, she needed to leave right now.
had
to believe that Ares had relented; otherwise, she needed to leave right now.
“My Oracle, speak your mind. Moments ago, you wanted me. Now I swear I feel your body growing chill, your desire waning.”
She shook her head, pressing her eyes tightly shut. “No . . . no, but—but why bother with the pretense of a leisurely ride at all?” she stammered, struggling to blot out the image of the two of them, naked in the field, finally as one.
Leo exhibited no such hesitation. “You know what I want,” he rumbled in her ear. “You know what I brought you here for. Two months you’ve left me hungry and aching for you. Two months you’ve abandoned me after promising that you’d
never
leave me again.” His voice was raw, agonized, and she felt her eyes burn with sudden tears.
never
leave me again.” His voice was raw, agonized, and she felt her eyes burn with sudden tears.
It took all her willpower not to blurt the true reason she’d kept her distance, but she knew full well that there might be consequences if she revealed her brother’s threat to destroy him. Consequences that could translate to Ares striking Leo down far more swiftly and violently than the incremental, wicked destruction he’d promised a few months earlier.
Leo slid a large, rough hand beneath her T-shirt, stroking her abdomen with tantalizing lightness. He lingered at the waistband of her jeans, rubbing his thumb in a circular motion just below her naval, then slid a little lower, tracing the zipper of her jeans. With a wordless growl, he flicked open her fly and began tugging at that zipper.
“My lord,” she gasped as Leonidas forced open the front of her jeans. Cool spring air kissed her bare belly, causing gooseflesh to rise across her skin. “Despite what I want . . . you must not . . .”
“I have never wanted—or waited—for any woman like I have for you,” he said with quiet strength. The restrained anger in his words was obvious, and his hold on her body grew tense. “Tell me, Daphne, why must you torment me so?”
She shook her head, blinking blindly at her unshed tears. “You know about my brother. How he despises you.” It was a feeble, flimsy explanation; Leo deserved much better. “I . . . we can’t . . .”
“You told me that none of that mattered anymore!” he declared fiercely. “You said we belonged together. That you would no longer fear your brother or his reprisal.” Leo leaned forward and grasped her face in his palm, forcing her to look at him over her shoulder. She ducked away from him, and he moaned in anguish. “You said you would be mine, Daphne. Those were
your
words.”
your
words.”
Yes, he spoke true; she had indeed said that very thing almost six months ago. But then she’d seen the visible signs that he was starting to age. That was when she’d realized that Ares truly did plan to rob Leonidas of his youth and vitality. Of his very life.
All these months, she’d choked on the truth and her own lies, and she couldn’t stand the deception any longer. “My king,” she tried, her voice trembling slightly. “I should tell you. . . .”
Except, just as every other time when she’d almost blurted the truth, her throat closed up on her. He was such a stubborn man, he’d probably vow to fight Ares, and she shuddered to imagine that outcome.
“Tell me what, Daphne?”
She stared out across the horizon. She’d fallen as in love with the Low Country as she had with Leo: the moody sway of live oaks and Spanish moss beguiling her, making her love affair with the king seem even more romantic and beautiful.
At the moment, the sun slid low over the creek, creating an impressionistic painting of pinks and reds and golds that could’ve made Olympus itself envious. The grass and earth around them still held the spring day’s warmth, but a slight chill rose in the air—a definite contrast to the heat radiating from Leonidas’s body.
In the distance, she saw the stables, and noticed River leading in one of the horses, murmuring some words of affection, no doubt. Likewise, back toward the house, Kalias and Aristos were hauling weaponry off to the armory. These scenes were part of the daily cycle here among the cadre, comforting images of predictability and safety. Images that Daphne knew she couldn’t afford to take for granted. Not with the life-threatening danger that Leonidas possibly still faced.
“Tell you . . . that I love it here, riding with you in the field, on your farm.” She cringed internally, cursing herself a coward. “Your land is beautiful.”
Just like you, my dearest king.
“Then stay this time,” he begged, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Don’t leave me, not again. Not alone, aching for you, burning for you.”
She had no such promises to offer—even as he wound his hand beneath the hem of her panties, twining his fingers into her light curls. “
Stay
,” he growled, and anyone else might’ve thought it a command. Daphne knew better because she heard the desperation in his tone.
Stay
,” he growled, and anyone else might’ve thought it a command. Daphne knew better because she heard the desperation in his tone.
When she remained silent, he laughed, attempting to lighten his tone—as if she’d not heard his brokenness in that one small word.
Stay.
Stay.
“I shall even recite poetry, if it means I gain my way with things,” he offered playfully, then leaning forward, whispered in her ear, “
For in place of steel comes the beauty of the lyre
.”
For in place of steel comes the beauty of the lyre
.”
“You’re quoting Alcman.”
“A fine Spartan poet for my fine Greek lady.” He stroked her cheek with rough fingertips. “A lady that I am indeed determined to ravish . . . and not next week or next month, Daphne. Today the lyre calls us both.”
Leonidas was fully experienced in matters of physical intimacy. He’d been married, perhaps even taken lovers throughout the centuries, although she’d never glimpsed any—and she’d never dared ask. He certainly knew a great deal about the act of lovemaking. She, on the other hand, had never been touched intimately . . . except by the man who held her now, and they’d certainly never made love.
“You don’t like Alcman? Perhaps he’s not romantic enough for my Oracle. Not tempestuous or sensual . . .”
“He was before your time,” she hedged.
“Before my time? After? What matter? I am more than a mere brute, sweet Daphne. I’m an educated man. And obviously most wise, which is why I recognized your beauty the moment I first spied you when we made our bargain in Hades . . . and again when you appeared thousands of years later on my moors.”
Daphne felt something unfamiliar tug at her heart, a long forgotten memory bubbling to the surface, unbidden. Leonidas, lost to her after that moment by the River Styx when he’d gazed upon her, smiling as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And then he’d begun to appear confused, glancing around as if she’d vanished from his sight.
Ares had grabbed hold of her arm, wrenching her away from the warriors. “They cannot see you,” he’d announced coldly. “Only Ajax. You may speak your words to him. None of the others will hear or see you, sister.”
She closed her eyes against the recollection. “Oh, Leo, I kept hoping you’d be able to see me again, like Ajax. For so many years I kept coming to you, praying you’d know I was there,” she confessed, unable to conceal the pain that memory brought forth. “I couldn’t forget the way you’d looked in Hades. How I’d felt when you gazed into my eyes, that one moment. You . . . you were stunning.”
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