Pulling her up so that she lay over his chest like a blanket, he kissed her lips and savored the sensation of her wet body sliding against his. He dipped his fingers down in the water so that he could stroke her and delve deep into her velvety softness.
She sucked her breath in sharply.
“You’ve shown me Katateros, Thia. How can I ever be content with Kalosis now?”
Her smile was radiant as she gripped the sides of the tub and slid herself onto his cock. His head spinning, Urian let out a deep, satisfied breath as she slowly began to ride him again.
Leaning his head back against the lip of the bronze tub, he watched her through hooded eyes while he toyed with her perfect breasts. Water splashed over her body, and against the sides, more spilling over the edges. But she paid it no heed as she moved even faster against him.
“Warrior you may be, kyrios, but tonight I think I’m the one who has conquered you.”
Urian wrinkled his nose in denial of something he knew was impossible. “Nay, m’edera.” He used her favorite endearment that meant precious baby. “Not conquered. Merely tamed me a bit.” He nipped at her neck to take a small snack.
Gasping, she clung to him while he fed a bit more.
Until he glanced down and saw something that turned his stomach.
Urian pulled back to frown at the fresh bite marks on her arms that he knew didn’t belong to him. Anger flared deep at the sight of them there.
“Thia? Who do these belong to?”
She glanced down, then cast him a taunting grin. “Are you jealous?”
He tightened his grip.
“Urian, you’re hurting me and you’ve no right to even question me on this subject.”
He released her immediately. She was right. He didn’t. But that didn’t stop the brutal sting of betrayal. Nor did it change the fact that he couldn’t stand the thought of another man feeding with her. The mere thought of it moved him to homicide.
Glaring at him, she rubbed her arm. “If you must know, it’s from my children.” She held her arm out. “Look closely and you’ll see the sizes are small. Child-sized.”
With a frown, he fingered them much more gently. Then he felt horrible over his actions and even worse for the malicious thoughts he blamed his brothers for. Because they were faithless, it didn’t mean everyone else was. “You’re right. I’m an ass.”
“Aye, you are.”
Kissing her arm, he allowed her to dunk his head beneath the bathwater.
He came up sputtering. “Can you forgive me?”
“Maybe.”
Urian wiped the water from his eyes. “Then will you marry me?”
She froze. “Pardon?”
He brushed his hair back from his face to grin at her. “Not the most romantic proposal, granted. But most sincere.” He moved closer to her until he had her pinned against the opposite edge. “I want to be your only source of nourishment, mi kyria. Let me protect you and your children.”
She bit her lip in indecision. “And what is your intent for the future?”
A most important and dire question for all Apollites given the brevity of their lives and what all of them would have to decide on their twenty-seventh birthday. If one partner went Daimon, then he or she could no longer feed the other. It would force the other spouse to either go Daimon with them or choose infidelity to eat, as to feed from a Daimon would instantly cause an Apollite to turn into one, too.
“I plan to go Daimon before my twenty-seventh birthday. But you are older than I am. So the choice on that falls to you first. For myself … better the predator than the prey. Always.”
Her features softened. “Then I will marry you, Urian Kleopas. And I shall accept your protection, for myself and my children.”
How strange that those words left him with a peculiar hollowness inside. He should be elated. He’d finally found someone who would feed him. A beautiful woman of good reputation who’d allowed him inside her body.
Yet for all the ecstasy and physical pleasure, he felt as if there should be something more.
You don’t love her.
He knew it in that instant. This wasn’t what the great poets wrote about. It definitely wasn’t the insane passion that had driven Paris to give up the luxury of their father’s home to live in squalor with Davyn.
It wasn’t the friendship he had with Xyn.
And perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps it was all the cursed grandson of Apollo deserved or could hope for.
Either way, it was a necessity that he no longer had to worry over.
You should be relieved.
Instead, what he felt was more akin to a stomach illness. And he had a peculiar urge to run to Xyn and hide there.
But that was ridiculous. So what if he was settling? At least he had someone who would feed him. He should be grateful beyond measure. It wasn’t like women were lining up to offer themselves to him.
Like they’d done for Paris and his other brothers.
No one wants you. They never have.
Not wanting to think about that, Urian cleared his throat. “I should go and let my solren know. He’ll need time to prepare our wedding celebration.”
“When are you thinking we should marry?”
“We’re Apollites. Sooner rather than later, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
“A fortnight hence, then?”
Xanthia choked. “You’re serious?”
“I’m already quite old for marriage, and your daughter will be nearing a marriageable age before much longer. As the granddaughter of my father, she’ll have a far greater standing in our community the longer we’re married at the time you begin seeking husbands for her.”
“I can’t argue with any of that.” She smiled. “Very well. A fortnight hence.”
Kissing her, Urian climbed from the tub and dressed. Then he went to Apollymi first to tell her of his coming marriage.
Urian hesitated outside her dark garden. Especially since he could hear her light sobs through the doors. He hated whenever she sat alone at her mirror, with her small black pillow in her lap, weeping for her son she could never hold.
He ached for her lonely pain. The goddess of destruction wasn’t without a deep-seated misery that the world had carved into her heart. No one should hurt this much. Especially not alone.
Not even a goddess.
She didn’t deserve what had been done to her. Not once, but twice. They had taken everything from her. Both her sons—Monakribos and Apostolos. And the only man she’d ever loved. Kissare.
They had duped her into believing Archon was Kissare reincarnated. A cruel, cruel prank that had crushed her to the core of her being once she learned that it had only been a power play made by Archon so that he could have authority at her expense.
As alone as he felt, it was nothing compared to Apollymi’s pain. Her betrayal.
For all she’d given to the world, she truly had nothing and no one.
Not even the Daimons and Apollites she’d saved gave her her due. They quickly forgot the debt they owed this great lady who had spared them the worst fate imaginable. But for her, none of them would be alive now. Or have any hope for the future.
How soon people forgot the kindnesses shown to them, no matter how great they were or the sacrifices made. What they owed to another. Yet they never let go of any grudge, no matter how petty. Nor any wrong ever done them, no matter how inadvertently.
“Akra?” he called lightly through the doors.
She drew a ragged breath and instantly composed herself so that he wouldn’t see her misery.
Yet he knew. He always saw what she kept hidden. That was his gift.
And his curse.
“Enter.”
He used his powers to open her doors and walked slowly toward her perch. Xedrix narrowed his glowing gaze at Urian, but Sabine ignored him as the Charonte female always did. Yet she watched him with an alertness that said she wouldn’t mind adding him to her menu should he do anything that displeased her mistress.
Apollymi placed her red sfora down on the pillow and turned to meet Urian’s gaze. “What can I do for you, ormourpido?”
“I have a favor I should like to beg of you, akra.”
That caused one brow to arch. “If you ask me about freeing that dragon one more time—”