Now? Good gods. The sexual heat the two had been throwing off could be felt all the way inside Isadora’s room—even with the door closed.
Was that how Theron reacted to other gynaíkes? Is that what she could expect once they were married? Him flirting and making plans with other females? She knew there was no chance she could ever satisfy the guardian. In fact, what if he was off with another gynaíka right now?
Surprisingly, the thought didn’t upset Isadora. If anything, it gave her hope. Because if there was someone else out there for him, perhaps there was still a chance he wouldn’t want to marry her after all.
Frowning, she glanced at the door. And thought back to the way Gryphon had touched that girl outside. She’d seen that lust-filled look on a man’s face before. When she’d been in that human strip club looking for her sister.
Her skin tingled as she thought back to the patrons of the seedy establishment. What kind of man went there? There’d been plenty of roughnecks, a few higher-class individuals, and a whole lot of young men—college kids?—who’d obviously been out for a good time. But the one man her brain kept skipping back to, and the one that had shocked her more than any other, was the scarred blond behemoth Acacia had talked with briefly that night.
Who was he? How did they know each other? And why had he been staring at Acacia so intently?
The tapping at her window again brought her head around. She stared toward the dark glass, didn’t see anything, then nearly came out of her skin when something hard hit the pane.
Rising slowly from her chair, she rubbed her hands down her thighs and stepped toward the darkness. Her reflection peered back at her, thin and pale. She ignored the image and looked beyond. To the twinkling lights from the city below shimmering in the distance. Narrowing her eyes, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Red’s a good color on you, Isa.”
Isadora whipped around so fast, she nearly lost her balance.
From the middle of the room, Orpheus laughed. “Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me.”
Isadora pressed a hand against her stomach. “You startled me, that’s all. You know I hate it when you poof in like that.”
Orpheus shrugged, his light brown hair falling into his eyes in the process. “Some ándres can lift tall buildings. I simply poof through them. There are worse powers to have.”
Yeah, she could think of something worse. Like not having any powers at all anymore.
She pushed that lovely thought aside as her gaze swept over Orpheus. He was built like the Argonauts, so tall she had to crane her neck to look up at him. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, roped muscles. As he hailed from Perseus’s line, he could have served with the guardians, had he not been passed over in favor of his younger and stronger brother, Gryphon.
And wasn’t it just convenient Gryphon was standing outside her room right now? Good thing Orpheus had poofed in here after all. The last thing Isadora needed was a hand-to-hand in the middle of her sitting room.
His sandy brown hair was longer in the front, falling over his eyes, and shorter in the back; he wore a black T-shirt, low-slung black jeans, clunker military boots and a long black leather trench coat. She, like every other Argolean—maybe more than other Argoleans—was fascinated with human styles and peeked through the portal just to see what they were doing and wearing. But unlike other Argoleans, Orpheus made a habit of bouncing back and forth from world to world unnoticed to satisfy his deviant pleasures, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. That was obvious in his speech and dress. And in the way he carried himself as if ready to pounce on anyone who looked at him sideways. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wind up dead from it.
Orpheus tipped his head to the side. “You don’t look so well, Isa. Don’t tell me you’re pining for your Argonaut. Word on the street is he ditched you.”
Isadora glared. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Theron’s taking care of Argonaut business before our…binding ceremony.”
A ghost of a smile curled Orpheus’s mouth, and Isadora cursed herself for the stammer that proved just how freaked-out she was by the whole marriage thing. Showing weakness in front of Orpheus was a bad idea.
“Sounds exciting. Both the business at this important time and the binding ceremony he’s not bothering to prep for. You’ll forgive me if I don’t attend. I figure if the groom can’t make it a priority and all that, why should I?” He flopped onto a plush white sitting chair across the room while Isadora clenched her jaw. “I mean, let’s get real, Isa. If the big, bad stud were here now taking care of family business, I wouldn’t be, would I?”
“You are an ass.”