43. Caelus
Caelus
I stared mutely at the roaring hearth in Hades’ unconventional living room. Nyssa’s living room.
Hades was dead, and Nyssa was Hades?
That line of thinking made my brain ache. She wore the Shadow Crown — of that there was no doubt. I could see it flickering in and out of my periphery where she sat silently next to me.
At some point, Nyssa had left. She shadowstepped to Olympus and returned with Lykos. In the time she was gone — minutes, maybe? Hours, perhaps? — I’d felt nothing but sorrow and hollowness.
The thread stretched invisibly between us, the one I had woven with my horrifically scarred hands, thinned.
The usual comfort of her emotions faded entirely.
I missed her immediately. I longed to hold her, to whisper quiet reassurances about all that had transpired tonight, and all that still lay ahead.
My mother murdered my father. Why? And what would happen tomorrow?
A humongous muzzle prodded my left leg, scenting the ichor still coating my breeches, though the wounds had long since healed.
Or at least, I thought they had. Truthfully, I had no idea how long I’d been sitting here, in a loveseat that smelled like vanilla and raspberries, watching the flames dance.
I do not relish the scent of pain and despair on you, godling.
Lykos’ deep tone rumbled through my mind. It was a relief to have his presence back, a relief to know the trials were over, and the separation between us no longer necessary.
Only Hera can explain her actions, young one. You do yourself no favours by pandering over her reasoning.
I knew he was right. But I was still torn over what I should feel.
You need rest. Tomorrow will be along before you know it. A bath is also needed — you reek.
I frowned. Rude.
Perhaps. But nonetheless true.
Nyssa stifled a giggle, as though she’d overheard. Which was impossible — right?
“Velira says we need a shower,” she explained, a short laugh breaking through her defences.
My lips tugged upwards involuntarily as a sweet, golden burst of amusement trickled down our bond. Could she feel the thread too? Did she know the emotions washing down through it weren’t hers — but mine?
Or was it an effect on my end only, since I was the one who’d created it?
Nyssa rose slowly, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders. Apparently, we had been sitting for quite some time. She extended a hand. I scowled at her gilded fingers, and rage ignited like a furnace deep within me.
I never wanted to see her skin tainted that colour again.
Gold. Proof of our divinity, but also evidence of her pain.
Pain I had felt as if it were my own. Pain caused by her father, her secret, and most of all — my mother.
A mother who had tried to strike me down with a Titan blade, before Nyssa ingeniously ripped the pendant of protection from her dainty neck.
A mother who had never been one in any of the ways that mattered.
I supposed Nyssa and I had that in common.
I grasped her outstretched hand and unpeeled myself from her favourite chair. We stood so close her nose brushed my sternum as she looked up at me. I wished I knew what she was thinking. She held her emotions so tightly in that moment, I had trouble deciphering the look in her twinkling green eyes.
She took a deep breath and led me up the stairs to her bathroom — a room that had recently become my sanctuary.
“Bath or shower?” she asked hesitantly.
As much as I longed to soak in the clawfoot tub, with her back pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around her middle, I knew the overhead stream would better wash away our blood — and our sins. At least until tomorrow bled them anew.
“Shower.”
She nodded, walking into the wide recess, and fiddled with the handles to get the temperature just right. Finally satisfied, she called me over and tugged me into the space alongside her. A copper blush crept over her cheeks, and a sensation that was both warm and icy travelled down the bond.
The Queen of the Underworld was nervous.
Because of me.
“Um,” she stuttered. “You can go first… I’ll just go grab some towels and?—”
“No.”
I caught her firmly around the waist and pulled us both under the steady stream of uncomfortably hot water. The stream ran gold, our blood mixing and washing down the drain. I reached to brush a lock of ebony hair from her face and accidentally knocked the tap to cold.
Ice water poured down my back. I inhaled sharply through my teeth, causing Nyssa to bite down on her lips in an effort to stifle a laugh.
“Sorry,” she sputtered, brows and lips twitching, both losing the war against her amusement.
A wicked smirk drifted across my face as I leaned in close. “You will be.”
She sobered instantly. I watched as her pretty lips parted, as those striking eyes widened. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed roughly.
The mouthwatering scent of vanilla and raspberries filtered through the air — and all at once I was starving .
I crowded her against the wall. Our chests rose and fell rapidly, heartbeats racing in tandem. She wriggled, brushing against my solid length, and froze as a groan escaped me.
Fuck me. I am so entwined in this woman. I know how much she aches for me, even if she shouldn’t.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathed. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away right now.”
Nyssa’s brows furrowed, but she remained silent.
“For the love of fuck, Nightshade,” I whispered. “I need to hear you say the words. Either you want this as much as I do — or you don’t, and I’ll go.”
I tried not to beg. Tried not to let my insane longing sway her. I wasn’t entirely sure I succeeded — and then she spoke.
“Just for tonight,” she said softly. “I need time to understand what you did and why you did it.” She gestured between us, to where the tug of the thread bound us together. “But I can ignore it. Just for tonight.”
It wasn’t forgiveness or absolution. It wasn’t romance, or love, or any of the things I so desperately craved from her. But it was permission — for a single night — and I’d be a fool not to take it.
I didn’t wait a Furies-damned second longer. I lunged for her like a drowning man gasping for air, inhaled her like she was my first breath, and kissed her like there might be no tomorrow. Because for all I knew, there wouldn’t be.
Perhaps this was the last night I’d ever get to drag her lips to mine.
Perhaps she’d never forgive me for binding us together so irrevocably.
But I’d make damn sure she knew I was hers regardless.
One hand wound through her soaked hair, the other cupped her cheek with reverence. This woman was made for me. I’d been a goner the moment I laid eyes on her, whether I knew it then or not.
No one else had ever measured up. No one else could compare to the raven-haired beauty who clung to my soul — literally and figuratively. It was her face I saw when I palmed myself in the dark; her ass in those fucking leathers I pictured when I chased my release.
I groaned. Suddenly, it was no longer enough to grind myself against her like an adolescent boy, seeking instant gratification at the cost of hers. No. I needed to chase her moans and hear her sighs. I needed to learn exactly what it took to make her explode. I needed it like I needed air.
For, I was a man starved.
My scarred hands darted down to her thighs as I hoisted her up.
Her legs tightened around my waist instinctively, and heat coiled low in my belly at the feel of her pressed so intimately against me.
My grip was hard and desperate; hers just as fierce.
She kissed me back ferociously, like she was claiming me, and my desolate heart wished it were so.
I wanted nothing more in this life than this. This woman. This passion. This kiss.
I wanted to scream from the rooftops, shout into the void of oblivion — that I was hers, and she was mine .
Mine to hold, to kiss, to love.
Mine to protect, to cherish, to worship — in any way my goddess demanded.
She shifted, her core grinding against the firm bulge in my pants, dragging moans from both of our lips. My cock twitched in response — I needed to hear that delicious sound again.
Nyssa was the most potent of drugs, and I was an addict chasing ecstasy.
I dragged us away from the wall, and she gasped as we passed through the icy downpour. Gently, I set her down on the cold tiled bench seat — a clever design I was about to take full advantage of.
She whimpered when I pulled back, and Furies , did that do wonders for my masculine pride. Smirking, I dropped to my knees — a subject before his Queen; a god before his goddess; a man before his woman.
Never in my thirty-one years of existence had I knelt before anyone. And yet, here I was — at her feet. Knowing I would crawl over broken glass if she asked. I would kill for her, build for her, craft a Furies-damned moon for her.
And I would die before she doubted it.
Nyssa stilled as I reached for her, barely breathing as I grazed the sliver of exposed skin at her hip. Leather slid between my fingers as the first buckle of her cuirass came loose at the ribs. The second followed with a soft, metallic clink. Her breath stuttered.
I repeated the process on the other side and lifted the armour gently over her head. Underneath, she wore nothing but a gold-stained band wrapped around her torso, allowing me to see the deep heaves of her lungs as she watched me stare.
My eyes roamed over her pale, exposed skin. My cock ached painfully at the sight. She moved to cover herself, a slimy feeling skittering down the bond, but I leaned in to halt her hands in their path.
“Don’t. Don’t hide from me,” I pleaded. “You are so painfully beautiful.” Grimacing, I gestured to my aching balls. Her perfect lips twitched.
My fingers drifted higher, hooking into the soaked waistband of her leather breeches. I paused, raising my brows in silent question. I wondered exactly how far her permission extended on this one night.
“Caelus,” she whispered. “I’ve never… I haven’t…”