She laughed. “Okay, if I promise not to touch you or sing to you, will you come over here? You need rest. There’s no telling what we’ll find down there tomorrow, and if you’re right, if Hades has something in store for us, I’ll need you at your best.” She held up her hands. “I promise I’ll be good.”
Her eyes glittered with mischief, but the concern in her voice drew him over. He eased down on the blanket next to her, rested his back against the rocks behind him. Even though they weren’t close enough to touch, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. Could smell the honeysuckle scent of her skin.
“Better?” she asked.
No, not better. Just being close to her made him hard. And when he got hard, he thought of what sex with her had been like. Hot and consuming in that apartment in Washington. Mind-blowingly erotic in that tower at the colony.
They sat in silence for several minutes. In the hot, humid air, he was aware of every breath she took, of the way her breasts rose and fell under her shirt, of the droplet of perspiration running down her neck to disappear beneath her collar.
Man, this wasn’t going to work. He should be plotting strategy for tomorrow. Mapping their route. Not sitting here lusting after the Siren who’d been sent to kill him.
Gods, he was a fool for bringing her here. Why the hell couldn’t he think straight when she was around?
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, her tempting voice cutting through the quiet.
Will you have sex with me again?
Why yes, yes I will. Where do you want me?
His skin grew hot, the air around him stifling.
“What?” he snapped.
“How is it you’re Argonaut, Medean, and daemon? Those three don’t seem to go together.”
Relief rippled over him. As long as the topic steered clear of sex, he was good. “My father was an Argonaut. My mother a Medean witch. They met because he’d heard she and her coven knew where the Orb was hidden in the Aegis Mountains.”
Her gaze strayed to the earth element at his chest. “She’s the one who found it?”
“No. But her coven had found evidence of it. There were stories. He went to investigate.”
“Did they fall in love?”
Orpheus wasn’t sure he knew what love meant. Let alone what it felt like. “I don’t know. They hooked up. I was the result. But he didn’t bind himself to her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Because she was a witch?”
“Most likely. Witches aren’t popular in the human realm, but they’re even less popular in Argolea.”
“So what happened?”
“She raised me in the coven until I was five. Then she died. The other witches didn’t like the idea of an Argonaut’s offspring left to their care, so they sent me to him. But since I didn’t have the Argonaut markings…”
A lump formed in his throat. The same damn lump that always formed when he thought of his relationship with his father.
Except…relationship was too strong a word. They’d been strangers. Two people living in the same big house because of some warped sense of duty, barely speaking. Until the day his father had died.
“That must have been hard.”
Yeah, hard. He nearly scoffed. He was the son his father had never wanted. Gryphon was the son he’d been meant to sire. Orpheus had sure learned about rejection early on. Something that had saved him.
“And the daemon part of you?” she asked.
He shrugged again. “I was born with it. I figure my mother must have been part daemon. I don’t know, as I barely remember her.”
Except for her face. Smooth skin, chocolate eyes, silky brown hair he’d loved to play with. Even now he could conjure up her image if he tried. He couldn’t remember her voice or even the times he knew he’d spent with her, but he remembered her face.
Skyla tucked her legs under her, turned to face him, and eased her head against the rocks. “Daemon hybrids are rare, but they do exist and have for some time. But most we’ve come across have been the result of a human female and a male archdaemon mating. Regular daemons are impotent.”
Yeah, he’d heard that too. Still didn’t explain how or why he’d ended up part daemon. Unless you went with the “cursed” theory, which was the only one that made sense to him.
“Did your father know?” she asked. “About your daemon?”
He stared off into the distance. “No. After the backlash I got for my Medean gifts, I learned to keep that one secret. Gryphon doesn’t even know.”
“And how does Gryphon fit into all this? Is he Medean as well?”
Orpheus stretched his legs out, crossed his arms over his chest. “No. His mother was Argolean. Our father bound himself to her long after I’d moved out of the house. Gryphon’s quite a bit younger than me.”
“The chosen son,” she said softly. “And yet you still love him.”
He frowned at her. “You conjure things that aren’t there. Are you sure you’re not a witch?”