She watched Orpheus carefully as they made their way down the jagged rocks. The scowl he’d taken on when they’d crossed the threshold into Hades’s realm had deepened with every passing hour. Athena had told Skyla he didn’t remember his past life, but she couldn’t be sure he didn’t remember the Underworld. More than once over the last day she’d seen the look of déjà vu on his face as he’d turned a slow circle and taken it all in.
For the first time, she thought of telling him about his past. About who he was, how they’d met, why she was with him now. But then she dismissed it. It would do no good. He wouldn’t remember, and what was the point of bringing it all up now, when they were close to finding his brother?
Maybe if—when—they got out of this, she’d find a way to tell him. But even as the thought hit, something in her chest pinched. A warning that no good could come from a truth that was nothing but ancient history. He was not the same man he’d been then, even if the soul was similar.
They stopped at the base of the mountain, where rolling hills of death and decay lay before them like grass on a knoll. She took a deep drink of her water, passed it to Orpheus. He sipped, then handed the bottle back to her. Their fingers brushed and heat raced over her skin. But when she looked at his face, he showed no response.
She capped the water and replaced it in her pack. “Where to now?”
He rested his hands on his hips where his jeans hung low, looked out in the distance. A layer of sweat glistened on his bare chest, ran down to his strong six-pack abs. The earth element lay against his heart, the mark of the Titans stamped deeply into the diamond, but it wasn’t the element that captured her attention. With the hot air rushing past his face to ruffle his hair and the determined look in his gray eyes, all she could think was that he looked like a god. Like a sexy, muscular, all-powerful god. The only thing he lacked was cruelty.
“A hero’s soul is valuable, right?” he asked, eyes fixed on the far off marshes. “I’m guessing Hades will have sent him for the cruelest sort of punishment. Close to the heart of the Underworld, where he can draw the most energy from Gryphon’s suffering. I say we head there and see what we find.”
Her heart expanded. When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
The thump, thump, thump against her ribs echoed in her ears. And his revelation from last night—that he didn’t have a soul—revolved in her mind.
Second chances.
Athena had told her he’d been given a second chance. That a Fate had made a deal with Hades for him to come back. What if his daemon was part of that deal? A way to ensure he wouldn’t redeem himself? Except…except his daemon was fading. She was certain now he could no longer shift, and his eyes didn’t even change anymore when he was irritated. Every time he did something good, like protect Maelea or help those people on that train or come to Skyla’s rescue, his daemon seemed to grow weaker. And he did have a soul. She was sure of that. A soulless being would never do the things he’d done. A soulless being wouldn’t care. Which meant…if the daemon inside him was nearly gone, that soul he was so sure he didn’t have might be taking its place.
She stepped to him, brushed her hand against his granite jaw, let her gaze skip over his features. His tanned and weathered skin, the long slope of his nose she knew now really was linked to royalty, the deep gray depths of his eyes, and his dark eyebrows, cinched low as he stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. Then to his lips. Masculine. Hard. Yet so soft when they pressed against hers, when they opened to take her in.
She eased up on her toes.
He sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
His eyes grew wide. “Why?”
“Because, silly daemon, you are irresistible.”
She grazed her mouth against his, just the slightest breath of skin against skin, heat against heat. He didn’t move. Didn’t reach for her. And as she slid her hands over his muscular shoulders and ran her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, then tipped her head to kiss him again, she smiled. Smiled because the circumstances of who they were and why and how they’d come to be here together in the middle of hell didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was him.
Orpheus…
Ironic that Orpheus the legendary musician had been the one to tame the Sirens with his lyre when he’d sailed with the Argonauts on Jason’s quest for the Golden Fleece. Though this Orpheus was no musician, he’d tamed her just the same. Awakened her. Shown her there was life beyond the order. Cynurus had stirred the need for a home, a family, a future inside her, but Orpheus was the one who’d stoked those cold embers and brought them back to life.
She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, coaxing him to let her in. Used her strength to draw her body close until they were chest to chest, hip to hip, soul to soul. His hands settled at her hips. His fingers fisted in the damp fabric of her shirt. And just when she was sure he was going to let her in, he pushed back from her mouth and frowned down at her.