Enraptured

Chapter 28

Orpheus was pretty sure he’d never been so tired.

He’d spent all day with Nick and his scouts, searching for daemon signs. A few new reports had come in that indicated what was left of Atalanta’s scattered army was on the move. That meant two things: either someone else was gathering daemons to build a new army, or Atalanta had found her way back from the Underworld.

The last thought left Orpheus more uneasy than he liked. Gryphon’s ramblings that Atalanta was “out there” suddenly didn’t sound like the delusions of a crazy man.

He’d spent the evening in Gryphon’s room, just as he’d done every night for the last week, talking to his brother, playing cards with him, trying to coax him out of the comatose state he seemed to inhabit. Nothing helped, though. Gryphon refused to leave his room. He only barely showed interest in the cards. And the twitching and head shakes were getting worse.

Orpheus rubbed his forehead with two fingers while Gryphon tossed and turned in the big bed. The bedside light was on and the curtains were open, allowing in enough moonlight to illuminate the entire suite. But it still wasn’t enough for Gryphon. The big, tough Argonaut who’d never been afraid of anything was now scared of the dark.

He stayed with Gryphon until his brother dozed off, then pulled the cover up to his chin and stared down at his sleeping face. Relaxed, Gryphon’s forehead smoothed and the stress he carried with him seemed to evaporate. And for a moment, as he studied his brother’s blond hair and the long dark lashes against his skin, it was like looking at the old Gryphon. The younger brother who’d never done anything but be a hero.

Quietly, he turned off the bedside lamp and crossed to the door. One last glance back confirmed Gryphon was still asleep, so he left, closing the door softly behind him.

He headed for the stairs. It was late, close to midnight, and he knew he could take the elevator and cross to the southern wing, but he didn’t want to wake anyone. And he needed fresh air.

He headed down three flights and pushed the door to the courtyard open, heading across the garden toward the south entrance. When he spotted Maelea walking alone near the fountain, he hesitated and ducked into the shadows. The female seemed to be acclimating to life in the colony—or so Nick told him—but she kept to herself. And the only time anyone saw her venture out of her rooms was late at night.

She was an anomaly in every way possible. The daughter of Zeus and Persephone, the embodiment of light and dark. And every time Orpheus saw her, he remembered the scars on her arms. The ones he knew she’d put there herself.

She’s growing on me, daemon. The more I’m around her, the more I sort of like her.

Skyla’s words came back to him at unexpected times. But he was thankful. Because in a way it felt like she was still here. And on this he had to agree. Maelea was growing on him too.

But not tonight. Tonight he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

The female sat on the stone bench surrounding the fountain and looked down into the gurgling water. As if something had caught her attention, she glanced up and around, then turned and faced the castle. For a moment Orpheus thought she’d heard him, then he realized she was staring at a window three stories above.

For a heartbeat she didn’t move. Then she gathered her skirts and briskly crossed the courtyard, disappearing into the shadowed building on the other side.

Curious, Orpheus stepped out of the shadows and looked up. And caught sight of his brother standing at the window of his room, looking down with that same blank stare that had been on his face since returning from the Underworld.

Gryphon held Orpheus’s gaze for several seconds, then turned away from the window.

And alone, surrounded by darkness and nothing but the bubble of water in the fountain behind him, Orpheus knew he should go back up there. Try to console Gryphon. Make sure he was okay. But he didn’t want to. The last week was catching up with him. And the hollow ache in his chest was growing. The one he’d been struggling with since Skyla’s death.

He closed his eyes and pictured his room. Seconds later he was standing in his tower, staring at the sanctuary Skyla had created for him.

That ache intensified. He crossed to the bed and dropped onto his back, one leg on the mattress, the other hanging over the side. He didn’t bother to kick off his boots, didn’t bother with a light or even to pull the covers back. He simply stared up at the high-beamed ceiling and breathed, in the hope that if he thought of nothing, the ache might eventually ease so he could sleep.

The irony of his destiny wasn’t lost on him. After nearly three hundred years alone, purposely avoiding any kind of contact that would leave him vulnerable, even though he was surrounded at every turn by colonists, Nick, his brother, and the Argonauts, he’d never felt as lonely as he did now.

He swiped his forearm across his face, called himself a pussy when his arm came away wet. He’d kill himself if he thought it would do any good, but he knew it wouldn’t. He had to hang on and do the right thing so that one day he’d see her again. And Skyla’s last words, telling him to be greater, wouldn’t allow him to take the easy route out. Not anymore.

He closed his eyes, drew three deep breaths, but the flash of light that erupted outside dragged at his attention.

He sat up. Stared out the wall of windows to the dark balcony beyond.

Lightning, he told himself. Or a meteor of some kind. But he pushed to his feet anyway, thankful for any kind of distraction. He crossed to the glass door and pulled it open. A figure draped in a black cloak with the hood pulled up stood in the moonlight facing the dark water below.

His jaw clenched. He so wasn’t in the mood for company right now. He swiped at his eyes again with his shoulder and cleared his throat, putting as much intimidation into his voice as he could. “You wandered into the wrong tower. Head back where you came from.”

The figure turned, her wrinkled hands reaching up to lower the hood.

The blood drained from his face. “Lachesis.”

The Fate smiled. A light breeze ruffled the black cloak that he now saw had concealed her white robes. “Finally, someone remembers me.”

His heart sped up. And words…pleas…lodged in his throat as he tried to figure out what to say. How to beg. Would dropping to his knees and groveling be too much? Was there even any point, this long after the fact?

That hole in his chest opened wider. He took a shaky step toward her. “I—”

“No, hero, you do not have to beg. But you do have to promise me one thing. This time, live up to your destiny.”

She held her hand out to the side, and his gaze followed the sweep of her arm. To the figure across the stone balcony, standing in the shadows, also wearing a black cloak.

He squinted to see more clearly as the figure reached up with pale, feminine hands and lowered the hood. And was sure his heart jumped right out of his chest when the face he’d been dreaming of for the last week stared back at him.

“Skyla.”

If he was dreaming, he didn’t want to know. He was across the balcony in two leaps, his hands on her arms, pulling her into him. His mouth lowering to take hers as her warm and real and alive body brushed up against his.

“I remember you,” she whispered against his lips, her delicate fingers landing on his chest as he kissed her. Again. And again. And again. Just because he could. Until he was light-headed and breathless and she was smiling as if he was a giant fool.

“I guess that means you remember me too,” she said softly.

He could barely believe she was real. Her hair was different. Shorter. Just barely to her shoulders and more dark blond than golden. Though her face was the same, the heavy, perfect makeup was gone. A spray of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose, and he didn’t remember that small scar near her left temple.

“How…? Why…?” Still unable to believe she was real, he pulled the robe she wore open, pressed a hand against her chest where the wound had been. Nothing but flesh under his touch. And a heartbeat. A strong, rapid heartbeat beneath the thin white T-shirt she wore over slim jeans.

“They gave me a choice.”

He had to be dreaming. He didn’t want to be dreaming. Please don’t let me be dreaming. “Who?”

“The Fates.”

He turned to look back at Lachesis, but she was already gone.

Skyla’s finger tugged his chin back to her. And the emotions in her eyes cut right to the heart of him. The heart she’d reawakened. The heart that had been tattered and broken since her death. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. For everything. I should have told you who I was, who you were. I should have…” Tears swam in her eyes. “I should have trusted you all those years ago. I should have known you’d never—”

His lips met hers, cutting off her words. Gods, she was real. He still couldn’t believe it. But he wasn’t wasting any more time. Not on things that didn’t even matter anymore. “Shh. Don’t.” He cupped her cheek. So smooth. So warm. So real. “No more apologies.”

“But—”

“I’ve remembered a lot more about my first life since that night. And honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t kill me yourself. Skyla, I did steal the air element from Zeus, and I did hide it. And not for any honorable reason like protecting the world or keeping it out of the hands of the gods. I stole it because I knew it would piss him off. I also knew what you were when we met. So I set out to seduce you right back. And piss Zeus off even more in the process.”

“Are you saying—?”

“I’m saying there was nothing noble about my intentions. Not from the start. Not even at the end. The one thing I just didn’t count on was falling in love with you.”

Her eyes searched his. Searching, he knew, for the truth. A truth he should have told her so many times, so long ago.

Emotion tightened his throat. “Can you ever forgive me? Not just for that but for the way I reacted when I finally remembered? I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I shouldn’t have…” He brushed his hand against her soft, slim throat, closed his eyes, the memory of the way he’d treated her, the guilt from that hitting him right in the solar plexus.

Her soft hand brushed his cheek, brought his eyes open. “You didn’t hurt me. And there’s no forgiveness needed. In fact…” A smile turned up the corners of her lips, lips that weren’t quite as plump and perfect as he remembered. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d killed me that night. I deserved it.”

“No more killing,” he whispered. “My heart can’t take it. My heart can’t take anything but you.”

“Do you mean that? Because if you don’t…” She closed her eyes, opened them. “If you don’t want me anymore, I—”

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with everything he had in him. All the loss and heartache and emptiness he’d been carrying with him his whole life. The emptiness he hadn’t known was there because he was missing her.

“I want you,” he said, bringing both hands up to frame her face, feeling her silky hair slide between his fingers. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Her arms wound around his back and she moved into him, the heat from her body warming him all the way to his toes. She buried her head against his chest as he held her. Yeah, she was definitely shorter. And so damn perfect.

She sniffled. “I couldn’t go on the ship. It was so pretty, and the light called to me. I wanted to go, but…I couldn’t. I couldn’t get on.”

Her voice wavered. And as he pushed back and looked down, he realized just what she was talking about. “The Isles of the Blessed. You were on your way to Elysium. And you came back here? To me?”

She nodded.

He brought his hands back up to her face as disbelief rippled through him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because…I didn’t want to forget. I had this ache inside me, and it was growing. And I knew it would go away if I just got on the ship, but I…I couldn’t. I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never forget. I couldn’t let that go.”

The enormity of her sacrifice, of what she’d given up for him, nearly brought him to his knees. “Skyla…”

Her hands landed on his forearms. “I’m different, Orpheus. I know you can see it in my face, but I’m different…everywhere. It’s still me, it’s just…me before the Siren transformation. I know it’s not what you remember. It’s—”

“Oraios.” Beautiful.

“Really? But won’t you miss—?”

“Not for a second. Skyla, I’d want you even if you had a completely different body. Even if that body was part daemon.”

Emotions filled her eyes. Eyes that weren’t amethyst anymore but a soft, mottled green. Her natural eyes were green. As his daemon’s eyes had been.

“Your daemon’s gone,” she whispered.

“Thanks to you.”

“No, Orpheus.” Her hands tightened around his arms. “Thanks to you.”

Be greater. Her last words echoed in his head. He was. And with her, he could be even more.

“I can’t go back to the Sirens,” she whispered. “And when Zeus finds out the Fates sent me back, he won’t be happy.”

“I have a feeling Zeus is already unhappy. And news flash, female, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here with me.”

“Here?”

“Here.” He nodded to the glass windows. “Home.”

The darkening of her eyes told him she liked that. But when he moved in to kiss her once more, she stopped him with her fingers against his lips. “The Fates said I would have a blessed life, but my soul isn’t guaranteed a repeat ride on the white ship. Not unless I prove it again.”

It was his turn to grin. “Something tells me that won’t be a problem. Not this time.”

He leaned in, but she eased back once more. “And they said something about a curse. A soul-mate curse. You don’t know what they were talking about, do you?”

He froze millimeters from her mouth, glanced at the Argonaut markings on his forearms, and then chuckled. “That sneaky Fate. No wonder.”

When her brow lowered, he ran his thumb over her lips. Her sweet and tender lips. Lips he planned to sample and taste and lose himself in this and every night from here until their days’ ended—when they’d both be sailing on those white ships toward lands unknown, together. “Yeah, I might know. And trust me, it’s the best damn curse any scheming god ever came up with.”

She let him draw her face back to his. And in the cool wind, with the world dark around them and the fate of his brother, the Argonauts, and the future uncertain, one thing remained constant.

Her.

Through both his lives, through all the agonizing time in between, she was worth fighting for. She’d been worth dying for. She was the best thing in this world or the next worth living for.

“Kiss me, Siren.”

She lifted her mouth to his. “I thought you’d never ask, daemon.”