Immortal Heat (8 page)

 She pushed the drape off his shoulder and he pulled his arm free. Her fingers trailed through the hair on his chest while her lips and tongue worked frantically with his, as if she too wanted to devour and consume him.

 He placed kisses down to the curve where neck and shoulder met and along the ridge of bone to the swell of breast. Generously, he wet each rosy tip, swirling his tongue until they were taut peaks and her breathing was heavy.

 Sitting back on his heels, he sprinkled sand on her dampened nipples, then his thumbs massaged the grit against them. Aglaia gasped, her body writhing beneath him, her hips surging in invitation.

 He wanted to plunge into her, but he was so near to bursting, he knew he would only manage a few strokes before going over the edge. He tried to temper his arousal, but as his hands ran along her body, down her luscious curves and the flare of her hips, and through the tangle of flame red curls where her legs spread apart, he only grew harder.

 He slipped a finger into her warm honey, and her hips rose until his thumb rested on the swollen nub. He felt her shudder with pleasure as he swirled his thumb and pushed another finger deeper into her heat.

 She moaned, eyes closed, head tossing back and forth. Her hands couldn't remain still and she ran them over her breasts and down her ribs and back again. He watched her repeat the fondling again and again as he continued the swirling of his thumb and the pumping of his fingers.

 "Please, Hephaestus, now..."

 Her plea was his last link to sanity. He merely pushed aside his underlinen and, raising her hips, slid into her incredibly hot, wet cleft.

 The first backstroke nearly undid him. He drove in again and paused as she pulled at him. A few more strokes, pressing his hips hard against her, he felt her ripple around him and her back arched, her hands clenching clumps of grass as a shudder passed through her. Then he was gone, unaware of anything except roaring into the flames of eternity.

 Their sweat-slicked skin, coated with a fine dusting of sand, gritted together as he fell on his side. Aglaia moved with him, her limbs tangling with his. Their greaves clanged together, and she laughed, breathless, flushed with the afterglow of the passion he had stirred in her. She swept back her hair, resting her cheek on his chest, and his arm went around her, holding her close. Their breathing evened.

 Hephaestus rubbed his chin against her bright hair. He could now admit that with Aglaia in his arms he was happier than he had ever been.

 * * * * *

 Phlius scaled the craggy rocks and stopped near the top to rest. He scavenged many stretches of shore on the island, but he'd rarely been to this isolated cove. It was out of the way and hard to reach, but scavenging was a poor business these days. Sometimes the sea could wash up interesting treasures, but lately it seemed to give up nothing worthwhile. He wondered if he'd offended Poseidon in some way. He would have to make a special sacrifice to the god of the sea, just in case.

 Time to get up and move along. The day wasn't getting any younger and neither was he. He climbed to the top and instinctively became as still as the rocks around him when he saw movement below on the sand. His ability to blend into his surroundings had saved him more than once.

 A man who looked as tall as Croco, but not quite as broad, carried a woman across the stretch of sand. Phlius swallowed hard. She looked like the woman he and Croco had tossed into the sea at the queen's command a few days ago. He never forgot a face, and his eyesight was excellent. But even if he might be mistaken, he would never forget the fiery red color of her hair. The man stopped to kiss her and it lasted an extraordinarily long time. Phlius took his chance and dropped to the rocks behind him, skinning his knees and bruising an elbow, but not caring as he scrambled down and away.

 Part of him was relieved the lady lived, but the more he thought about it the less he liked it. She knew his name and what he looked like. There was nowhere to hide on an island, and he had nowhere else to run. The lady wouldn't go to the queen, but she might know others just as important. Or the big man might have even bigger friends.

 Phlius had to find Croco and get to the queen. She would want to know...and might pay for the information. Or she might get angry that he and Croco hadn't done their jobs properly, even though she was watching when they tossed the lady over.

 As Phlius scrambled along the path to the nearest village to find Croco, he had a bad feeling about the whole thing. He was afraid the queen would want them to come back here and finish the job they'd started. He didn't look forward to facing the big man on the shore.

 * * * * *

 Passion!

 Aglaia had certainly found an impassioned lover in Hephaestus. She couldn't have imagined a more glorious union if she tried. She couldn't keep her eyes from him as they shook sand from the clothing they hadn't taken the time to remove. Rippling shoulder muscles enticed her as he straightened his underlinen. She tingled all over, growing warm again, just thinking about sharing his bed with him.

 When Hephaestus swept her up into his strong arms, she protested. "You don't have to carry me. I can walk."

 He kissed her. "I don't want you tired out before we reach my bed."

 Pleased, Aglaia rubbed her cheek against his. The short beard was softer than she expected, not at all bristly. She brushed her mouth over his, raking her tongue along his lip.

 Hephaestus stopped in his tracks and responded hungrily, as if he hadn't made incredible love to her moments before. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensations he aroused, from the ache of her breasts to the gathering of heat in her womanhood.

 "If we keep this up, we'll never reach the bed," he said when they parted.

 Aglaia opened her eyes, but a movement on the cliff caught her attention. By the time she tilted her head to get a better look, nothing was there.

 Hephaestus turned his head to follow her gaze.

 "What's wrong?

 Aglaia shook her head. "I thought I saw something on the cliff, but there's nothing now. It must have been a falling rock or the wind."

 Hephaestus scanned the rocks above. "Maybe I should have a look."

 "Oh, no, you don't!" Aglaia grabbed his chin and pulled him round to look at her. She kissed him deeply and thoroughly to remind him of what they were doing.

 "I'll have Talos stand watch in the vestibule," he said, his voice husky with desire. He started toward the cave entrance once more.

 "A wonderful idea," Aglaia agreed and nuzzled his cheek again.

 He swung her around to go through the entryway, and the little tripod bolted from the wall ready to follow them.

 "And the tripod can assist him," Hephaestus added with a nod toward the stool.

 "Yes, that's a good idea, too," Aglaia said and giggled.

 As he carried her down the long passageways, she thought it would have been much easier if he'd aetherized them into the bed, and much quicker, but not nearly as much fun, she decided when he stopped to kiss her again. They met Neda along the way, and Hephaestus instructed her to send Talos to the vestibule to stand watch. He also told her to take the tripod with her. But the little tripod struggled against Neda's hold until Aglaia explained that it was to aid Talos in a very important assignment. Hephaestus just shook his head helplessly.

 On the way to the bedchamber, they decided a bath would rid them of the sand still clinging to hair and skin. Hephaestus loosened the bronze fitting as Aglaia undressed. She carefully stepped into the basin beneath the sluice, closing her eyes, and tilting back her head to let the water soak her hair and flow over her body.

 Aglaia felt Hephaestus' dark eyes on her, and the thought made the smoldering embers of her passion burn hotter. When she had rinsed her hair completely, her hands slowly trailed downward. She cupped her breasts briefly, her fingers splayed across her nipples. She ran her hands over her ribs and across her belly.

 Suddenly, Hephaestus was under the falling water behind her. He kissed the side of her throat and the nape of her neck. His large hands slid over her slick body, his arousal probing the backs of her thighs. All visions of making love in his bed fled her mind. She placed her injured foot, still clad in the greave, on the rim of the basin.

 One of his arms braced against the wall, and she clung to it for support. She leaned back and tilted her hips as he slipped into her. His other arm surrounded her and his fingers pressed into her curls, massaging the center of her pleasure.

 Their bodies rocked together, building an inferno within. The last few strokes lifted her off her feet, and the blaze burst, rushing throughout her body, to the tips of her fingers and toes. Hephaestus ground his hips into her backside, stiffened against her, groaning his release.

 Limbs weakened, Aglaia didn't argue when he wrapped her in a fresh sheet of linen and carried her to the bedchamber. She sighed contentedly when he set her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her.

 She looked into his dark eyes and saw no sign of the haunted, brooding man who had first walked into this chamber. She touched his cheek and smiled at him.

 "It was wonderful. I've never felt quite this..." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't think of the words to describe how she did feel. Wanted, needed, well loved...none of them was adequate.

 He laughed. "The same for me. Never quite this way."

 She raked her hands into his hair and kissed him. When his mouth slipped from hers, his tongue left a hot trail along her cheek and neck as he pushed the linen out of the way. His hands seared her breasts and ribs and waist, his tongue following behind, tasting, teasing, arousing. He pushed the linen down farther until it pooled at her hips and dragged the back of his hand in the crease just below her belly. Aglaia gasped.

 "Are you tired? Do you need to rest?" he asked.

 "No! Don't stop, unless you need to rest," she said.

 "I don't need a rest. I want to make love to you all night long."

 "Then I think neither of us will be disappointed because I want the same thing."

 Slowly, Hephaestus drew up the sheet of linen to her knees and unfastened the greave. He removed it and the sandal from her other foot and set them aside. Laying his hands on her thighs, he parted her knees and moved in between them.

 Aglaia reached for him and pulled loose the corner of the sheet of linen he had wrapped around himself. She tossed it over his shoulder and ran her fingers through the thick mat of curls on his chest, following the dark line of hair between his ribs that disappeared into the linen gathered at his waist. She tugged another corner free, and the linen fell away. When Hephaestus stood, all he wore was the greave.

 Hephaestus bent to pick her up, placing one arm behind her shoulders and sliding the other beneath her, between her and the linen sheet. The flimsy material drifted away as he lifted her and put her in the center of the bed. He climbed in beside her and cradled her in his arms, his hard body deliciously warm against hers.

 Stroking his bearded cheek, Aglaia kissed him. "Aren't you going to remove your greave?"

 She felt him tense, but she looked into his eyes and refused to retreat. Ignoring his disability would not make it go away. She didn't care that he wasn't physically perfect. He was troubled by it and that was what concerned her.

 "No," he finally said and she felt him withdraw from her a little.

 "We're going to spend quite a while in this bed, and I want you to be comfortable," she said in a teasing manner and kissed him again.

 "You—" For a moment, he seemed unable to finish. Then he drew a deep breath. "You don't mind?"

 "Why should I?" She sat up and looked over her shoulder at him. "May I help you?"

 He nodded curtly, and together they removed the greave. The few times she had seen him on Olympus, he'd hidden the leg with wrappings. Now, she was jolted by the extent of the deformity, the shrunken muscles and withered skin. She wondered how he had ever managed to walk at all with his foot twisted nearly backward, but decided he had overcome the defect by sheer willpower.

 Hephaestus lay back, but Aglaia knelt between his legs, her hands on his hard thighs.

 "You are magnificent," she whispered as her fingers followed the contours of his hard muscles. "And you are a wonderful lover. Quite inventive with sand. And water."

 Hephaestus laughed and she loved the husky sound of it. He relaxed beneath her fondling, but his arousal, already long and thick, stirred. She eased her touch up to his lean hips, drawing lazy circles with her thumbs. With each swirl, she drew closer to the black hair that nestled his hardening length. By the time she reached its base, it stood quite tall and straight, and her hands enclosed its heat.

 He tensed as she gently kneaded the smooth silken skin, so hot in her hands. She watched it stiffen more, as hard as adamantine, and continued the massage, one thumb rubbing the tender spot just beneath its tip.

 With a groan, he reached for her breasts, his work-roughened fingers teasing her softer flesh. Desire raced through her to burn between her thighs, pulsing with the need of release. As sweet as anticipation was, she wanted him now. She moved up and over him as he straightened his legs.