Tempted (22 page)

The knowledge superheated his blood, juiced him to within degrees of boiling. His cock jerked inside her, teased by what was possibly the most erotic moment of his life. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—give in. This was about her. He could grit his teeth and ride it out. And when she finally came around him, he’d pull out before it was too late.

Her hips picked up speed. He watched her ride through heavy-lidded eyes, marveled at how beautiful she was, slicked with sweat and on the verge of orgasm.

He wanted this. He wanted her. He was inside her—finally—and every stroke and glide…it was the most incredible feeling in the world.

“Gods, yes. Ride me,
kardia
. Let me have your mouth.” She answered with a kiss that stole his breath and pushed his hips higher, searching for that spot he knew she needed rubbed most. And when she tensed, when she pulled back and stared into his eyes and he saw she was close, he thrust harder, deeper, until she braced her hands against his chest, cried out her pleasure, and came all around him in a soul-deep tremble he felt everywhere.

“Demetrius…”

That was his name on her lips. That was his body deep inside hers. She was
his
soul mate and the only person in this world or the next that mattered.

The sound of her release, the feel of her tight channel gripping him, pushed him over the edge. His climax slammed into him, raced down his spine, and exploded before he could stop it. Brilliant white light erupted behind his eyes, pierced the center of his chest, until the blackness he lived with every day had nowhere to go but out. In that one moment, he knew what it felt like to be home.

She collapsed against his chest, drew deep, shattering breaths. He kissed her temple, her hair, whatever he could reach, and tried to keep reality at bay.

But the afterglow didn’t last long. Now that his need was slaked, the truth rushed in on a tidal wave. Thanks to his never-ending weakness, nearly two hundred years of doing the right thing had just crashed and burned. And because of Hera’s curse, he’d most likely just given Atalanta exactly what she wanted.

***

Isadora’s heart raced so fast she thought it might sprout wings and fly right out of her chest. Sprawled over Demetrius, she breathed deeply and tried to steady her quaking pulse. “Wow…that was…I had no idea.”

“Let my hands go.”

She smiled, her entire body more relaxed than it had ever been, and pushed up to look down at him. Only when she saw the furrow in his brow and the way he was staring at the ceiling as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her, wariness pushed out the euphoric feeling and replaced it with dread. “What’s wrong?”

“I want my arms back. Now.”

This suddenly wasn’t the same guardian who’d rocked her world only moments before. No, this one looked a whole lot like the Argonaut who’d despised her for years.

You’re letting your insecurities get the best of you. He hasn’t changed. He still wants you.

She brushed aside the worry, gently disengaged, and reached for the spell book on the floor. “I didn’t really think it would work. I’ve never cast a spell before. But Orpheus said my link to the Horae might give me extra abilities.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet he did,” he muttered.

“Here it is.” She found the right page, flipped over onto her knees, and reached for his arms while she chanted the words. Even before she finished the last phrase his arms came down, he rolled away from her, and lurched to his feet.

Torchlight flickered over his toned body. Desire stirred deep in her core as she watched him grab his pants from the floor and wondered how long they had to wait until they could do that again. But then he straightened and the light hit his side just right. And she saw the fine white lines—the scars—all across his hips, his buttocks, and his upper thighs.

She gasped. And the conversation earlier by the fire flashed in her mind.

He pulled up his threadbare pants and buttoned them. “Books, my ass. Just what the hell else has Orpheus been teaching you?”

Her gaze lifted from his legs to his face. And she was startled at the disgust she saw in his features. Features that only moments ago had been flushed with passion and need. “I don’t understand—”

“It’s an easy-ass question, Princess. He’s been teaching you fighting techniques and witchcraft, that much I already know. What have you been giving him in return?”

She gave her head a mental shake, struggled to keep up with him. Earlier he’d used her virginity as an excuse for why he didn’t want her. Now he was insinuating she wasn’t as pure as she was supposed to be? “What’s going on here? I thought—”

“Fucking A.” He raked his hand through his hair. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? You play the virgin exceptionally well.”

Her back came up, and the warm fuzzy feeling she’d been gliding on was yanked out from under her feet. A chill spread down her spine, and suddenly aware of her nakedness she reached for the blanket and pulled it over herself as she stood. “I
was
a virgin.”

“But not untouched, like you’re supposed to be.”

The repulsion got through loud and clear. She swallowed hard, and images of the Underworld—of Hades—threatened to pull her down, but she pushed them away. “What changed all of a sudden? You seemed to enjoy—”

“You really are stupid sometimes, aren’t you?”

Her head snapped back, as sharp as if he’d slapped her. Okay, yeah, he was having regrets now that all was said and done, but that was a low blow, even for him.

He bent down and whisked the spell book from the floor without looking at her. “Did you even bother to
ask
why I’ve been keeping my distance? No, because you’re not that smart. If you had, I would have given you the skinny. That warlock you were shacked up with had his band of merry witches cast a fertility spell over you when you were at Thrace Castle.”

His words didn’t immediately register. But when they finally did, her eyes flew wide. “But I’m not…Argolean females are only fertile once every six months and my cycle ended not that long ago. I can’t be—”

“It’s called a spell,
Princess
. It kinda negates everything else, including biological cycles. And like you proved with your little bondage scene here, spells work pretty damn good.”

No.
It couldn’t be. That’s why he kept pulling away? Because he didn’t want her to wind up—

She could barely even think the word. Her skin grew hot and perspiration dotted her forehead as she swallowed hard and turned a slow circle. She was the heir to the throne, single, and now…

Her mind spun with the ramifications of what they’d just done. But instead of being horrified, something warm burst in the center of her chest. If she did end up pregnant, it solved her father’s problem. There would be a legitimate heir to the throne, one the Council couldn’t overrule. And with Demetrius as the father—one of the strongest bloodlines of all the Argonauts—the Council wouldn’t stand a chance at trying to overthrow her reign. Her father had originally picked Demetrius as her mate himself! Okay, yeah, they weren’t bound yet and that created a problem in their patriarchal society, but only if someone found out about her pregnancy before the official ceremony. And so long as they kept quiet—

That warmth zipped along her nerve endings and the worry and stress of the last year began to dissipate. She turned to tell Demetrius exactly what she was thinking and faltered.

His jaw was a slice of steel beneath his skin, his eyes hard black slabs of coal. There wasn’t a single thing friendly about his face, and the way he watched her with loathing, she knew there was no way he found the possibility she could be pregnant “okay.”

“You don’t want to have a child with me,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

“Why the hell would I?”

She winced. Okay, that stung.

“I thought I made it perfectly clear when your father tried to order me to bind myself to you that I wanted to have nothing to do with it.”

Oh, he had. She remembered clearly the way he’d freaked out that day in her father’s chamber, with all the Argonauts in attendance as witnesses. He’d said he’d rather choose death than be bound to her. And obviously he’d meant it.

A searing ache lit off in her sternum as if he’d taken his blade and stabbed her right through the heart. All the warmth and happiness she’d felt earlier leaked out through that one spot. Her throat grew so thick she wasn’t sure her voice would work, but she had to know. “So this…here…us…It was—”

“One big fucking mistake. Just like I knew it would be.”

The pain slowly dissipated until there was nothing left. No happiness, no excitement, no anger either. She’d given him something she’d considered sacred and he’d warped it into the cruelest moment of her life. And all she could think now was
What
did
you
honestly
expect?

He grabbed his blade from the ground and brushed by her. But was careful, she noticed, not to touch her in the process. “I need some air.”

He left her standing in the middle of the room, the blanket clutched to her chest, the torchlight flickering over her face and the remnants of the first heroes. It had to be close to morning but she didn’t feel awake, energized, revived. She felt dead inside. As dead as she’d felt after she’d been with Hades. Except then she hadn’t known what it was like to be happy. Or semi-happy. Or on the
verge
of happiness. Now she did.

Chapter 17

Isadora swiped at her cheeks, tossed the blanket to the ground, and found her clothes. Her hands shook, but she ignored the quiver and dressed in record time.

Forget fantasies of happily ever after. Forget trying to be what everyone wanted her to be. She’d been telling herself the last few weeks that she was the new Isadora, not the doormat she’d been for so long. Now was the time to prove it.

She moved to the ancient trunks and flipped the lids up one by one. Fatigue settled in and she paused to take a breath. It wasn’t from lack of sleep and too much activity, she told herself. It was being away from Casey that was weighing on her, nothing more. And that was one more reason she was determined to find a way home, today.

Renewed determination rushed through her veins, gave her something solid to focus on. She found a small dagger with a black handle in Jason’s trunk, stuck the tip into the belt loop of her shorts, and moved on to the next. After gathering what few items she thought might come in useful out there and slipping what she could into her pockets, she closed each lid, took another deep breath, and headed for the stairs.

She blocked the glare of the sun with her hand as she pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the great hall. No sound met her ears, so she figured that meant Demetrius wasn’t anywhere close. Which was a good thing. She most definitely didn’t want to talk to him, now or ever, if she could avoid it.

Pebbles pushed into the soles of her bare feet, but after several days on this island walking around barefoot, she was getting used to the pain. Moving onto the front steps of the ruins, she scanned the horizon.
Any
temples
are
going
to
be
built
on
higher
ground, farther inland.
That made sense. Early dwellers would have wanted their temples as close to Olympus as possible, just as Demetrius had said. A sliver of pain sliced through her heart at the thought of him but she pushed it away, pulled up her temper instead. It, if nothing else, was the fuel she needed to get through this day.

She stepped onto the grassy soil and pulled up short when she heard a voice. A vaguely familiar voice, calling from the bottom of the hill.

She squinted. Tried to see through the bright morning sunlight, then gasped when she caught sight of Gryphon climbing the slope steadily toward her.

Gryphon. No. It couldn’t be. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been…

Bare feet forgotten, she took off running down the hillside. The dagger slapped at her hip. The small bag of rocks in her pocket jostled against her thigh as she jumped over stones and twigs sticking out of the ground. Excitement bubbled up in her chest because they weren’t on this island alone after all. Gryphon was here. Gryphon was
alive!

She pulled up short just before she reached him. Breathed deep and smiled wide. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she didn’t want to knock him backward down the hill or shock the hell out of him. He was used to the shy, reserved, docile princess, not the take-charge female she’d become.

Her chest rose and fell as she worked to slow her breathing. She took in his white shirt, not the slightest bit dirty, his crisp pants, and shiny black boots. And her smile faltered when she focused on his face—his windswept blond hair, his clean skin and natural coloring, not tan like Demetrius or sunburned like her. He looked like he’d just stepped off a boat onto the island, wasn’t the least bit worn and frazzled from days stranded here.

“Gryphon,” she said when she found her voice. “What—? How did you—?”

“There you are, Princess. I’ve been looking for you.”

Her eyes narrowed. He sounded the same, looked the same, but something was off. Something she couldn’t quite pin down. A trickle of wariness coursed through her veins. “How did you get here? What happened to—?”

“I came through the portal.”

“Portal? You came through a portal? Onto this island?”

“Yes.” He held out his hand. “Come with me and I will take you there.”

That wariness kicked up a notch. “Why can’t you just open a portal home right here?”

He glanced to his right. “Something about this island…interferes with my abilities.”

Okay, that made sense. Demetrius had said this place was as screwy as the Bermuda Triangle. And considering Demetrius couldn’t open a portal, it made sense Gryphon wouldn’t be able to either. A little of her anxiety eased, but not completely. “How far is it?”

“Not far. Come with me.”

He motioned, and her eyes cut to his hands. Big, strong, guardian hands. They were the same hands he’d used to unchain her from that bar in Thrace Castle where the witches had strung her up, and yet…something still felt off. Her gaze slid to his face. To his eyes. To his blue eyes that seemed brighter than before.

“What the hell…?”

She flinched at the sound of Demetrius’s voice. Her heart rate kicked up and a flutter lit off deep in her chest. But instead of the rush of warmth his voice had elicited the past few days, today all the sound did was blast a hole the size of a crater in her stomach.

She clenched her jaw. Pushed down the humiliation and pulled up her anger. He’d made it more than clear how he felt about her: he didn’t. And she wasn’t about to play the blithering idiot, especially not in front of Gryphon.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m definitely ready to go home, Gryphon. Let’s go.”

But Gryphon was no longer focused on her. His gaze skipped past her to land on Demetrius. And something hard settled in his eyes as he focused on the Argonaut at her back.

“Gryphon,” Demetrius said with what Isadora knew was also a hint of wariness. He stopped just to her right. And it was all she could do not to turn and glare at him. “How the hell did you get here?”

Gryphon’s gaze shifted to her, then back to Demetrius. “I’ve been looking for the princess.”

“You? Where are the others?”

Silence. Then, “Also looking. I came across a daemon who told me where to find her.”

“A daemon?” Isadora asked. That wasn’t right. How would a daemon know they were here? Demetrius had told her some kind of signal had crossed when he’d opened the portal from that field. Instead of taking them home, it had landed them here by mistake.

Gryphon’s bright blue eyes shifted her way, but before he could answer, Demetrius said, “The Argonauts are here? On this island?”

“No,” Gryphon answered, swinging his gaze back to Demetrius. “But I’m sure they will be quite pleased when I return with the princess.”

Demetrius was silent beside Isadora. From the corner of her eye she saw his clenched jaw, his scrutinizing dark eyes. He wasn’t happy Gryphon was here. Was it because he knew she was going to leave with the blond Argonaut and he was upset he wouldn’t have another chance to belittle her? Or was there something else going on?

“Come, Princess,” Gryphon said, holding out his hand to her again. Only this time his eyes never left Demetrius. “The portal is waiting.”

“Isadora—”

Yeah. Like she was about to listen to Demetrius? Not a chance. She stepped toward Gryphon, but she didn’t take his hand. “I’m ready.”

“Isadora,” Demetrius said again. “Wait—”

“No, thank you,” she tossed over her shoulder as she brushed past Gryphon and headed down the hillside. “I’m done waiting. Really done waiting. Especially for you.”

Demetrius didn’t answer. And she didn’t bother to look back to see his expression. But she was almost sure she heard a soft chuckle at her back. One that definitely hadn’t come from Demetrius’s mouth.

***

Something wasn’t right.

Forget the fact Gryphon had been near dead the last time Demetrius had seen him. Forget the fact there was no way Theron would ever have sent him off to search for Isadora alone. Forget even that there was something freakin’ wrong with Gryphon’s eyes and his speech pattern was off, like he was trying too hard to sound normal. What stuck like a burr in Demetrius’s brain was the knowledge there was no way in Hades a daemon would know the location of Pandora, except maybe the archdaemon, Atalanta’s right-hand monster. And he sure as shit wouldn’t give it up unless he was on death’s doorstep.

One Argonaut alone couldn’t overpower the archdaemon. He was too big, too strong, and with enhanced abilities from Atalanta, not a simple grunt that could be easily taken down. Gryphon showed no signs of battle, not even a scratch. And he claimed a daemon had simply
told
him where they’d been sent? Demetrius wasn’t buying it. Not for a minute.

He followed along behind Gryphon, curious and cautious about where they were heading. It was more than coincidence that Gryphon had put Isadora in the lead and placed himself between her and Demetrius, even though she didn’t have a clue where they were heading. With every step they took, Demetrius’s apprehension kicked up and his Argonaut senses went on high alert.

They walked on sunlit paths for at least an hour, deeper into the island’s topography. He knew Isadora was tired, but she didn’t slow her pace. And she didn’t once look at him, didn’t once acknowledge he was there. Then again, why the hell should she? After the way he’d treated her this morning, he was lucky she hadn’t hauled off and stabbed him with that dagger hooked in the waistband of her shorts.

He slapped a tree branch out of his eyes, looked past Gryphon, and focused on her legs. Then her short shorts. Then the round curve of her ass, which flexed and moved under the baggy cotton. Heat rippled through his torso, slid down to his groin. This morning he’d wanted his hands there, right where he was focused now, urging her on and helping her ride. His mind flashed back to the image of her moving over him, the look of sheer pleasure on her face. And that heat went white-hot just that fast.

“
Skata
,” he mumbled. Like he needed that vision now? She hated him again, just as he needed her to. It was stupid and useless to remember any of what had happened early this morning. Even more pathetic to wish things could be different.

Gryphon glanced over his shoulder, but there wasn’t curiosity in the other guardian’s too-bright eyes. There was malice. And very clear hatred.

Oh yeah, something was definitely off. Gryphon was the easygoing Argonaut. Everyone’s pal, the non-shit-stirrer of the group. Though they’d never been best buds, they certainly hadn’t been enemies. But right now? Right now it was crystal clear that’s exactly what they’d become.

They moved out of the trees and headed for a small knoll covered in emerald green grass. As they drew close, Demetrius realized it wasn’t simply the steadily increasing slope of a hillside. There was something underneath all that soil and grass, as if a structure of some kind had been buried long ago. Sure enough, as they moved closer and Gryphon called to Isadora to stop, Demetrius caught sight of an opening in the rocks near the base of the hill that looked like an entrance to some kind of tomb.

“What’s down there?” Isadora asked, eyeing the stairs that disappeared into darkness.

“A temple,” Gryphon answered. “To Demeter.”

Isadora’s gaze swept the landscape. This high there was nothing but hills and grasses as far as the eye could see. They’d moved out of the trees and were now surrounded by open sky. “Out here?”

“Are you implying this location isn’t sufficient for the earth mother?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Good,” Gryphon replied with zero humor. “Because Demeter knows a thing or two about purity. Unlike some people.” He motioned her to follow him. “We go inside. The portal is below.”

Gryphon moved down the steps, rounded a corner, and disappeared from view. A reddish yellow glow erupted in the tunnel, indicating he’d lit some kind of torch, which struck Demetrius as wrong once again. Had he brought matches with him? How would he have known he’d need them?

Isadora took a deep breath and moved toward the opening, but Demetrius caught her by the arm. “Wait.”

She rounded on him so fast, he didn’t expect it. But the sharp point of the dagger pressing into his side registered loud and clear. “Don’t touch me.”

He let go of her arm, held his hands up in surrender. Yeah, still seriously pissed. And could he blame her?