CHAPTER EIGHT
EVERYTHINGINHIM went still. The revelations of the past twenty minutes had taken everything he believed and turned them on its head.
His brother hadn’t been in love with Ariadne. And he had married her all the same.
His brother hadn’t wanted Ariadne, and he had claimed her nonetheless.
But he had never touched her.
Dionysus had waited for her.
He could still remember the agony of realization that she hadn’t done the same for him.
That he had never given in to any sort of sexual temptation because there was nothing greater than his desire for her. But he had simply been waiting for her to be ready. For her to want him.
And then... And then he had found out they were engaged. Nothing matched that. The anger that he had felt. The brutality of it.
The realization that Ariadne had given her body to Theseus.
A man identical to him in every way physically.
He had not been rejected because of his body, but because of who he was. And that was like dying.
And yet, it hadn’t been that. Not ever.
But he would not give her what she wanted just because she demanded it. Because she tried to absolve herself here. To make it so the move had to be his.
He burned with anger. At himself, at his brother. At her. He ached with grief. Fresh and new, because his brother had lived in a hell that he hadn’t even realized he was in. Because he wanted to shake Theseus and tell him there was no shame in who he had been made to be. And he had never been given that chance. Because of his forbidden desire for Ariadne.
But it was all a circle, because if Theseus hadn’t lied to him, then...
They could have figured something else out.
But he had lied. He had shown all the world that Ariadne belonged to him, when all she had been was a shield. His protection.
He knew his brother had experienced pain. He knew Ariadne had been more than a shield, but a dear friend, but they were both still left with all this. This shattered, ruined world.
And now she was alone.
But he had been soft with her all these weeks.
And her grief was not even that which he had thought. It was something else.
The loss of a friendship, the loss of her stability. The potential loss of her inheritance, but not the loss of her lover.
She had never had a lover.
Mine.
And that was when he realized, there was no question about any of this going forward.
There would be no artificial insemination. He would make her his. In every way. And, however she wanted to pass the baby off... Whatever lies she wanted to tell his father, she could do so. But the child would know the truth, and so would he.
She would be his. There was no question.
Possibility was a roaring beast inside of him. A possibility that hadn’t existed only moments ago.
And all the dangers remained.
He couldn’t love her, not in the way she deserved. But neither had Theseus. So why couldn’t he have her, imperfectly.
Why not?
“Tell me,” he said. “Did you really believe that I was my brother?”
“No,” she said.
“And why did you lie?”
“Because... Because I was afraid. I was afraid of what that meant.”
“When you were sixteen, and we went swimming together. You wanted to kiss me,” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You were afraid.”
“Yes. I was afraid. Because you could have made me go back on my word. You could’ve made me... I’m not a fool, Dionysus. I knew that it wasn’t love. I have never seen any evidence in my life that romantic love exists or means anything. And all I wanted was something stable. Something safe. I knew that with you it could be... Mad and passionate and dangerous.”
“It still could be,” he said. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. Don’t you understand that something like this could set us both on fire?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper.
“And?”
“I tried the other way. I tried, and what did I get for it? Nothing. I am left here fighting by myself. I am left with the awful realization that whatever I’ve tried has never been sufficient enough to protect me. I would rather have what I want and damn the consequences.”
“Little girl, don’t you know that I will devour you?” Need roared in his veins, his whole body on high alert.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then so be it.”
He moved toward her, his heart thundering hard. She sat there, looking up at him, and then she stood, moving down the table, the dress poured over her curves like liquid. Her eyes glittered, and he growled.
Because he had wanted her, and he had kept himself on this leash. Had martyred himself to this desire for so long, and now she was offering herself to him.
“How many men have you kissed?”
“You and Theseus,” she said.
“Did you ever kiss him because you wanted him?”
She shook her head. “It was a performance. Every time.” She swallowed. “I admit that I felt attraction to him, but...” She looked down. “It was a shadow of what I felt for you. And that was why I liked it. Theseus needed me. I was his support, his confidante. You... You didn’t need me at all. You were wild and untamed, and you whipped up the wildness in me. I was afraid of that. It was much better to be needed. It was much better to be the one who was necessary.”
“You wanted me?”
“I didn’t know what it was at first. I didn’t understand. I was too young. But when you kissed me I did. And I knew that I couldn’t... I knew that I couldn’t. And he would never have married me if he knew that I wanted you.”
“I don’t think that’s true. He was desperate from the sounds of things.”
“Yes, but so was I. To feel secure and he offered me...he offered me stability. A commitment to our friendship that was so deep and I wanted it. It was my choice.”
“As you said. A choice you made when you were a girl. So you tell me now, what choice is it that you make as a woman?”
She understood. But it was up to her. That she was going to have to close the distance between them. Because he had done it once already. And he had paid for it.
She moved toward him, and something like a fist tightened in his chest. She was so beautiful. Her dark hair, her glittering eyes. And the woman standing in front of him right now, she was the one who ran over the island with him. She was the one who made everything brighter.
She was the one he desired. Above all else.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, their mouths a whisper apart.
An echo of the swim they had taken the other day. An echo of the desire they felt in their youth.
And then finally, she pressed her soft lips against his. And that was all the invitation he needed. He growled, crushing her lips to his, and forcing them apart, because he was starving, and he had waited enough time.
His heart was raging, his body hard as steel.
He wanted her. Desperately.
Needed her. With a strength that transcended anything else.
He felt nothing but desire. And it was like the past decade had burned away. Like he was twenty years old again, claiming her mouth finally. His body untried, preserved for her. Only for her.
He wanted this woman. With everything in him. He wanted her.
And she would be his. Because Theseus hadn’t touched her.
Untouched.
His.
His arousal surged, his whole body alight with need.
“I aim to have you in every way possible,” he said. “I would’ve had you that night, you know.”
She shivered. Her need apparent as she did so.
Yes. She needed this just as badly as he did.
He cupped her face, letting his fingers drift over her lovely, familiar features. She had been there, within arm’s reach for all these years, and yet utterly untouchable. Behind glass. And that was how his brother had kept her. A doll that he had put in a box, treated like a collector’s item and placed on the shelf. Untouched. Virginal.
In pristine condition.
He intended to ruin her. Utterly. In the way that she had ruined him all those years ago. It wasn’t vengeance, no. It was a reckoning.
For the unutterable need within him demanded satisfaction, and it would have it now.
And she would burn the way that he had.
She trembled. He relished it.
He thought of how he had been the first time he kissed her. Trembling himself. Wild with the risk he was taking, and with all the need in his veins.
He had been eager, untried like a horse.
And now, he knew exactly how to touch a woman. Exactly how to prolong pleasure. To turn it into agony.
He intended to do so with her. Tonight.
On her birthday.
He moved his hands down her neck, let his fingertips drift along her collarbone, flicking the strap of her dress away from her shoulder. He could see her nipples bead beneath the thin fabric. She couldn’t be wearing a bra with this dress. Her breasts were perfect. He already knew they would fill his palms just so. Round and firm. His mouth watered. He wanted them in his mouth. He wanted to taste her. Yes. He wanted her.
He did his best to hold his need at bay. To keep control. He had practice restraining himself, as long as he wasn’t touching her. But now that he was...
He drew the front of her dress down, exposing one perfectly rounded breast, and a dusky colored nipple.
She was beautiful. Beyond. A goddess.
He had seen countless women naked. But it had never been Ariadne, so it didn’t matter.
Mine.
Her breath left her body in a gust, and he savored the reaction. The obvious need on her face.
“Take your clothes off for me,” he said.
Would she fight against him or would she obey. He wasn’t certain. But then with trembling hands she unzipped her dress, and let it fall to her hips, then she slipped out of it, her eyes round, her lips parted, her breath escaping in short bursts. She was standing there in only a pair of very brief underwear the same color as the dress. And a pair of shocking pink heels.
“Beautiful,” he said. “I want to see everything.”
She took her shoes off, and he thought about demanding she leave them on, but decided he didn’t need that kind of performance. He just needed Ariadne. Soft and pliant and his.
Then she took her underwear off, and his eyes zeroed in on the dark thatch of curls between her legs.
He felt like his skin was being flayed away from his bones.
He had never felt desire this sharp. This acute. It had never mattered so much who he was looking at. It was Ariadne’s skin.
Ariadne’s secrets.
All for him.
He was never possessive, not with anyone but her.
And living with the agony of not possessing that which he wanted to be only his was something he had become accustomed to living with. A wound he knew would never heal, but was his all the same.
And now...
It was like healing and being cut all at the same time.
He moved to her, and lifted her up, gripping her thighs and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He claimed her mouth, holding the back of her head as he did so, feeling her breasts crushed against his chest.
He wrenched his mouth away from her, his arm around her waist as he walked them both out of the dining room and up the stairs.
He took her into his room.
It was dark, nearly empty. With windows that gave them a view of the sea. But that didn’t matter. The only view he needed was her.
She gasped as he threw her down on the bed, gazing at her as she lay there with her legs slightly parted.
“Yes,” he growled. “Open your legs for me.”
Color flooded her cheeks.
Yes. She was a virgin. It was so hard for him to remember that.
And yet, that stamp of possessiveness had branded itself upon his soul.
She was his. Only his, and while he knew it, he could also scarcely believe that a woman so beautiful was untouched. But it was there, written in that flush on her cheeks, and her hesitance now.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “And I want to see all of you.”
“I... I don’t think I can.”
“Let me help,” he said.
He moved onto the bed, and pressed his palms to the insides of both thighs, parting her legs and giving himself a perfect view of her glistening, pink flesh.
She was wet. For him.
“Yes,” he growled. He moved his hand, up the inside of her thigh, just to the edge of that tempting glory there. And he paused. To say a prayer. Because he was about to tread on holy ground. He had dreamed of this. Of her. Before he could even imagine how glorious it would be.
But now he knew.
He slid his finger through her slick folds, before moving down to push one inside of her.
She gasped, her hips lifting up off the bed.
“I’ll take it slow,” he said.
She bit her lip, moving her hips in a sinuous rhythm. “I... I’ve had... I doubt there’s a barrier still.”
Of course. She had medical procedures that would’ve probably dealt with that.
“But you are still a virgin,” he said.
The word echoed inside of him. He had known that it mattered to him back then. Because it had mattered in the way that he had deferred his own pleasure for her.
He hadn’t realized it could possibly matter now.
It did.
He moved his thumb over that sensitive bundle of nerves there, as he pushed one finger in and out of her body, before adding another, watching as her expression transformed into one of pleasure. Feeling her thighs relax, as she began to lose track of her shame.
Then he bent down, and replaced his thumb with his tongue, tasting her sweetness. Ariadne.
He withdrew his fingers and gripped her hips, pulling her forward, claiming her with his mouth. He growled against her, lapping at her skin, unable to stop himself from devouring her entirely. This was his fantasy. Her. This.
And when she shattered beneath his touch, he consumed every drop of her desire, his body pulsing with need.
But he wanted it to last.
He had waited for ten years.
And this night would take as long as he wanted it to.
Ariadne was undone.
She was boneless, panting. And Dionysus was above her like a dark god, lord of the underworld, staring down at her with sharp eyes. He was still fully clothed, and it made her ashamed of just how hard she had shattered.
But he was... He was not unaffected.
Sweat beaded on his brow, and he breathed heavily.
And the hunger in his eyes was unmatched. Undeniable.
“Take your clothes off,” she said, repetition of what he had said to her.
A look of triumph crossed his face as he got off the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.
Her mouth dried as he exposed that gorgeous chest, those beautiful muscles. She had seen him shirtless only recently, but not like this. Not knowing that she was going to be able to touch him. To taste him like he had tasted her, if she wanted to.
And she did.
She had tried so hard to suppress this part of herself. Had been ashamed of it.
But she refused to be ashamed of it now.
She wanted him.
She wanted Dionysus.
She always had.
And she was going to have him.
He had just licked her like she was ice cream, and it left her shaken.
But in the best way.
And the only thing she could think, as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, and his hand went to his belt, was that the one good thing about being alone in life as she was, was that no one was around to be ashamed of her. There was no one to perform for. Nobody to please. It was all about pleasing herself. Keeping herself safe.
But no one else would ever even have to know about this.
It was all for her. All her need. All her desire.
He removed the rest of his clothes, and then she was looking at a naked man in person for the first time in her life.
She was very afraid that what she had done was open Pandora’s box. Because the need inside of her was as keen as if she hadn’t just experienced a shattering climax.
She’d had orgasms before, of course.
She was familiar with her own body. But there was always regret attached to it. She wished she didn’t need the release. She wished that she could be as free of temptation as she pretended that she was.
And if she saw Dionysus’s face sometimes when she reached climax, she had told herself that it was more Theseus, because it had to do with her familiarity with him. He was the man she knew best after all.
But if she was honest, she knew that it was Dionysus she was thinking about all this time.
As ever.
She let her gaze drop to his arousal. Bronzed and hard, standing out proud from his body. Thick and glorious. She chased that feeling of knowing that there was nobody to disappoint. That the only person she would ever be accountable to for this was herself.
And if she didn’t enjoy it to the fullest, she would have herself to answer to. And so, she pushed aside any virginal nerves and got up onto her knees, moving toward him. She tentatively wrapped her hand around his arousal, squeezing him.
“You’re beautiful,” she said. Just as he had said to her. His teeth were pressed tight together, his breath exiting his mouth on a hard hiss. Her mouth watered when she looked at him, and she leaned in, flicking her tongue over the crown of him. Then she wrapped her lips around him and took him as deep as she could.
His response was nearly violent. He reached back and grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging hard.
She looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he growled. “Don’t stop.”
She moved back to him, taking him in deeper, sliding her tongue over that hot, satiny flesh.
He tasted incredible. Dionysus.
The one man she had ever wanted like this. With a burning passion that would have left her ashamed at one time.
It had left her ashamed.
But not now.
She pleasured him like that until he gripped her hair again, moving her away. “I don’t want to finish like that.”
The image that painted was erotic.
She did want him to finish like that.
She wanted to swallow him down. To have all of him. To feel wanted. Suddenly, she felt a surge in her chest, power like she had never known.
She had imagined that desire left women weak. But she had never fully understood how powerful it could make a woman feel. She felt powerful. Because he wanted her. Wanted her so badly he was shaking with it. Wanted her so badly that he could no longer allow her to pleasure him with her mouth. Because he would lose control. Utterly.
He wanted her. And that mattered.
He wanted her, and that made her powerful.
Still, she obeyed him, patiently waiting to find out what would happen next. She ached for him. And when he moved back to her, and kissed her mouth, taking her deep and long, she sighed against him, her hands on his broad chest, moving over his muscles, the hair on his chest was crisp and enticing, his skin hot. She marveled at the difference in texture touching him versus touching herself.
He was so masculine. Absolute perfection. Large where she was small. Hard where she was soft.
He held her tightly, her breasts crushed to his chest, his hard abdomen like steel against her much softer body.
And then she felt that ridge of his arousal, and she wanted to guide him where she needed him most. She ached for him. She felt empty.
She was so wet it would’ve been embarrassing, if it hadn’t felt so good. Her body was ready for him.
“Please,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to wear a condom,” he said against her mouth.
They were close. Close to the time when her doctor had said they could try to conceive.
It made her want to weep. The idea that their baby could be conceived tonight. This way.
She felt like she wasn’t entirely prepared for that. Like it made it more real. How could she ask him to release his claim on a child that they had made in bed together?
She wanted to ask him that. But she couldn’t make the words come out. Because she wanted him. Bare and without a barrier inside of her.
So she pushed all of her reservations away.
“Yes,” she said.
He pushed her down onto her back and hooked her leg up over his hip. Then he guided himself toward the entrance of her body, sliding in slowly. He was so big, she felt her body stretch to accommodate him. She might not have a barrier remaining, but she had still never been tested like this. It felt good. So good, to have him fill her like this, even as it almost felt like too much.
“Dionysus,” she said, his name a prayer on her lips.
And then he began to move, hard and intense, a feral growl on his lips every time he thrust back home within her. She came alive. Like she had never truly known joy until this moment. Like she hadn’t been a whole person. How had she walked on this earth for twenty-eight years without knowing what it was like to have a man inside of her. Without knowing what it was like to have Dionysus inside of her. She had thought to give this away. To give it up for safety, and safety was an illusion.
This was worth all the risks. This was worth everything.
She said his name like an incantation, over and over again as he claimed her. She looked up at his face, they really weren’t identical. It was always so clear who was who. Dionysus was wild. And never more so than now. His dark eyes gleamed, his lip curled, his teeth like those of a predator, glinting in the dark light.
She wanted him. She had him, and yet she felt like it wasn’t enough. He was deep within her, and yet she wanted to be closer. She moved her hands over his shoulders, let her fingernails dig into his flesh. She cried out with her need, her need to be filled, her need for release. Her need for this to never end. Never.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to take him deeper, deeper still. Arching her hips against his. Their skin was slick with sweat, the sounds they made untamed.
Finally. Finally.
She didn’t feel virginal, not now.
Because she felt as if she had been building to this moment all of her life. Like everything had been waiting for this. Poised on the edge.
And when he found his release, she went right over the edge with him, shattering as he spilled himself within her, his hardness pulsing inside. She gripped him, taking him deeper, deeper as she cried out his name.
And then it was done. Except... With her heart beating hard, lying there exhausted but not sated, she knew that it wasn’t done. She knew that it couldn’t be. It would take more than once. More than a night.
This need couldn’t be satisfied quite so easily.
“Ariadne.”
He leaned in and kissed her. It was tender. So different than everything else had been. And she let her need to embrace that tenderness wash through her.
His lips were like home.
And it made her want to weep.
This moment... This was all she had ever wanted. The way that he held her was so strong and firm and sure.
It was everything. And so was he.
He moved away from her then, rolling onto his back. “You realize this changes things.”
It was like being doused with cold water. “Does it?”
“Of course it does. There is no question now of artificial insemination. You and I don’t need the intervention of a doctor in order to conceive a child.”
She put her hand on her stomach.
She felt... Wounded. Confused by the abrupt shift.
“Is that all you wanted?” she asked, “the chance to avoid having to do it into a cup?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But there is nothing standing between us now. I wasn’t going to touch you out of deference to my brother, and out of deference to your loss. But now that I know the truth of it... You’re mine, Ariadne. I will allow you to pass my baby off as my brother’s. But only to my father. And when he dies, the world will know the truth. But by then it won’t matter anyway. Because you will be my wife.”
“What?”
“You’re going to marry me, Ariadne. Because you’re mine. And I’m going to make sure that everyone knows that.”