Enslaved (34 page)

His heart pinched so hard, pain lanced through every cell in his body. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Even confess his darkest, most gruesome secrets. At this point, that was the only choice he had left.

“You wanna know what happened?” he said in a low voice. “Really know?”

She nodded slowly. Didn’t dare look away from him.

He narrowed his eyes. And steeled himself against her reaction. A reaction that was going to change their relationship forever. And likely break him for good in the process.

“I fucked her,” he said, watching the shock and repulsion rush across her smooth, perfect features. “And I got fucked. By something a thousand times worse than her. But since I’d agreed to be her
doulas
, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about either one. At least not until now.”

Chapter Eighteen

Maelea’s stomach churned with so much force, she was afraid she was going to be sick.

She stared at Gryphon across the granite island where he stood behind the couch, his eyes hard, cold, light blue orbs, so like the icy eyes she’d looked into from the first. Dead. Haunted. Not a bit like the soft, caring eyes she’d peered into this last week as they’d sat together in front of the fireplace, played on the beach, teased each other in the kitchen, and made love in her bed upstairs.

I
won’t do to you what was done to me.

His words from the motel, before they took that shower together, when he’d convinced her he wouldn’t hurt her, came back with a vengeance.

He was telling the truth. She could see it in his hard face. Bile rushed up her throat. She swallowed hard to keep it down.

“Wh-who?” she managed to ask. “Who did that to you?”

“Krónos.”

Oh gods.
Oh
gods.
The King of the Elder Gods. The most horrific god imaginable. Trapped in the bowels of Tartarus for all eternity by her father, Zeus. And thanks to her twisted family tree, technically, her grandfather. She gripped the edge of the counter. “Y-you saw Krónos?”

“Atalanta took me to him.” His voice was callous, unfeeling, as cold as the ice suddenly rushing through her veins. “She knew the Argonauts were going to try to rescue me, and she was desperate for a way out of the prison Orpheus and Demetrius had locked her in with their witchcraft. So she asked Krónos to tether us together. And he did. Gifted me with the darkness of the Underworld so she could call on me whenever she fucking wanted.”

As Maelea’s stomach churned again, everything—all his twitching and wild eyes and paranoia and haunted looks—finally made sense.

“He made her a deal,” he said when Maelea finally looked up. “Gave her six months to find the Orb of Krónos or he’d bring her back to the Underworld. Bring me back.”

Her pulse picked up speed. His jaw hardened until it was nothing but a slice of steel beneath his skin, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest. Knew she had to.

“And then,” he said in that same emotionless tone, “he sealed the deal by having his way with both of us.”

Shock rippled through her. But it was quickly followed by a wave of emotion that rolled like thunder through her blood. Her heart went out to him right there, in the middle of her kitchen. She’d suffered over the long years of her life, but it didn’t even come close to what he’d been through. What he must be reliving every single day. She wanted to cry for him. Wanted to hold him. Wanted to do anything to take that haunted, dead look out of his eyes.

She stepped out from behind the counter. “Gryphon—”

“You think that’s bad?” Her feet stilled at the rage in his eyes. “If you go after Zagreus, it’ll be a thousand times worse, I guarantee it. He’s as sick as his grandfather, and Hades has unleashed him on the human realm to do whatever the fuck he wants. And he will fuck you, Maelea. Make no mistake. If you get near him, he’ll fuck you and he’ll kill you. In whatever twisted, gruesome, new way he can. You won’t even last a day.”

She reached for him. “Gryphon—”

He jerked out of her hand and stepped away, putting the coffee table between them. “Don’t touch me.”

Her heart raced. He didn’t think she wanted him anymore. He couldn’t possibly know she wanted him more. “Gryphon, just let me—”

“Don’t you get it?” he said with such venom, she drew up short. “I agreed to it. I agreed to be Atalanta’s slave to stop the torture. I did every vile thing she asked me to do, just to save my ass. And I didn’t fight. Not when she took me to see Krónos, not when she traded away my freedom, not even when he put his hands on me.”

“Y-you did what you had to do to stay alive,” she said.

“I was already dead,” he snapped.

She took a step closer. “It wasn’t your fault, Gryphon.”

He scrambled backward, around a chair. “The others…they wouldn’t have agreed to any deal. They would have fought.”

He was talking about the Argonauts. And as she stared at him, she realized where the dead look came from. It was shame. That he hadn’t lived up to his guardian class, to his kin. That somehow, he’d failed them.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, that eventually she’d get hurt because he wasn’t ageless like her, her heart filled. She took a step around the chair. “You’re wrong.”

He moved back again. Hit the wall. Panic filled his eyes when he realized he was trapped. Panic and fear that speared her heart.

“They would have done whatever they had to in order to stay sane, too, Gryphon.”

He pressed his hands against the wall. Looked toward the door as if judging the distance to freedom. “Don’t touch me,” he said in a strangled voice. “Just…don’t.”

Her heart broke all over again for him. She didn’t want to push, but she needed to touch him. Needed to show him just how much he meant to her. Needed him to believe it.

She moved in close, slid her hands up his chest. Every muscle in his body tensed as he drew in a ragged breath. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gryphon. I would never hurt you.”

“Ah, gods,” he whispered, pressing himself even farther into the wall. His head hit the drywall. “Please don’t. Not right now.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, eased up on her toes, was just about to brush her lips against his stubbled jaw when his head snapped her way.

“Didn’t you hear a fucking thing I told you?”

She stilled, because there was such rage in his eyes. But she wasn’t afraid, because she knew no matter what, he’d never harm her. “I heard everything. Every word you said. And if you think any of it makes me love you any less than I already do, then you really are insane. Which I know you are definitely not.”

“You
what
?” Disbelief widened his eyes. “No, you don’t. You can’t. What…what the hell is
wrong
with you?”

A weak smile curled her lips. “Where do you want me to start? I could come up with a whole list.”

He stared at her so long her skin tingled. She couldn’t read him. Didn’t know what he was thinking. Feared she’d just put herself out on the ledge again, taken a chance on loving someone, even knowing how bad it was going to hurt in the end, all for nothing. But he needed to know, needed to understand that what he’d been through didn’t change how she felt. It never could.

“You should be running from me. You should be repulsed by me. You shouldn’t want to be in the same room with me. You should be—”

“I should be kissing you.” She brushed her hand against his jaw, eased up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

He froze. A strangled sound echoed from his throat as he closed his eyes. As he whispered, “Maelea—”

She kissed his temple, ran her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. “I love that you watched me from your window. I love that you protected me in those caves. I love that you were willing to let me go when those daemons found us, even knowing you might die in the process. I love that you did whatever you had to in the Underworld in order to survive so you could be here with me now. That you’re willing to do whatever you can to keep me safe, even share this horror with me. Because that’s what it is, Gryphon. It’s horrible, awful, wretched, and vile what they did to you. And it wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, one she captured with her lips. One laced with pain and heartache she felt all the way to the depths of her soul. “And if you think, for even one second, that you aren’t brave enough, aren’t strong enough, aren’t everything any woman would want and need, then you’re wrong. You’re so very wrong. I want you. I need you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Gryphon.”

His arms closed around her with such force, it drew a gasp from her lips. He buried his head against her neck while she wrapped one arm around his shoulder, the other around the back of his head, and held him close, sifting her fingers through his hair, feeling the beat of his heart against her own. He didn’t make a sound, but she felt the tears on her skin, felt his big, strong body shake with the power of so many pent-up emotions. And in the silence between them, she closed her eyes and just held on while he let them out. While she gave him what strength there was inside her.

All her life she’d been alone. Even the few times she’d been in love, she’d still been alone, because she’d never opened herself all the way. She’d never admitted who she really was, never confessed her hopes and dreams, never shared her soul. This time, she would. This time, everything was different.

“I won’t go after Zagreus,” she whispered. “I’ll go wherever you want me to go. Do whatever you need me to do. All I want is you, Gryphon. For a few years, for as long as we’ve got together. If, that is, you want me too.”

He lifted his head from her shoulder. Tear streaks ran down his cheeks. His eyes were damp and bloodshot. But the haunted look, the dead look, was finally gone. In its place were the softest, bluest, sweetest eyes she’d ever seen.

“
Sotiria
,” he whispered, framing her face with his hands, brushing his thumb over her own tear to wipe it away. “I used to dream of you. Of the one person who would touch my heart and make me whole. I just didn’t expect her to show up when I was half the man I used to be. Orpheus may have saved my soul from the Underworld, but you…you saved me from myself. I will always,
always
just want you.”

His mouth closed over hers before she could draw another breath. And though he kissed her with those sweet and tempting lips just as he had before, she felt the hesitation, felt the worry lingering beneath.

She needed to
show
him nothing had changed. She needed to prove to him just how much everything he’d told her only made her love him more.

Her hands slid down to his arms, then gently she eased away from his mouth, moved out of his grasp, and stepped back toward the couch, the whole time keeping her eyes locked on his.

He watched her with longing and fear. A fear she wanted to erase forever.

She gripped her long-sleeved T-shirt at the hem, pulled it over her head, dropped it on the floor at her feet. Then she flicked the button of her jeans, slid down the zipper, pushed them partway down her hips.

Desire flared in his damp eyes. A desire she wanted to stoke to a full-blown flame.

She turned, bent over at the waist, shimmied out of her jeans so he had a nice, clear view of her backside. They hit the floor near her shirt. Then she unclasped her bra, let it fall in her hands, looked over her shoulder as she held it out so he could see, and dropped it as well. His eyes were locked right where she wanted them—on her body. His face was flushed with desire and need. She slid her fingers into the lace at her hips, started to push them down. His gruff voice stopped her.

“Don’t.”

Her heart pounded hard as he moved close. His gaze ran over her, from the top of her head, down her back, hovered on her ass. But she couldn’t read his expression from this angle. Didn’t know what he was thinking. He barely moved, barely breathed as he continued to study her in the firelight.

“Gryphon…”

He slid to his knees. Pushed her hands away from her hips. Finally whispered, “Let me.”

Relief rippled through every cell in her body. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breaths as he ran his palm down her right buttock. As he trailed the fingers of his other hand across her lower back. As he hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong and slowly pulled it down.

This close he could smell her—jasmine and need and hunger. And all of it—the way she felt, the scent of her arousal, the things she’d said—it all coalesced to leave him light-headed.

She loved him. No one had ever loved him. After the Underworld, he didn’t think anyone ever could.

His heart—a heart she had reawakened—filled as he brushed his fingers against her inner thigh. As she trembled all over again. “Put your knee on the couch. And lean forward.”

She hesitated the briefest of seconds, then stepped out of her panties, braced one knee on the couch, and rested her elbows on the arm of the sofa. He pressed against her other leg, telling her without words to widen her stance. And as she slowly opened herself to him, his heart pounded hard against his ribs.