CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Athan was completely undone. For days, he had been certain that this thing with Lynna was lust and lust alone. Something to burn out eventually. Oh, he enjoyed her. Respected her. Always had. But he had known she did not feel the same, and so he had known this—she—was a fleeting moment.
But that little speech at the car, the fervor in which she absolved a small piece of him. No, not the things he’d done to her family, but all those twisted childhood mistakes…
No one in his entire life had ever… Too much was expected of him. To be his father’s son. To be an Akakios. Savvy and smart, charming and powerful. There had been no room for mistakes, only punishments.
Only the driving fear he would never be good enough.
And perhaps he was following old patterns, kissing this woman he could never be good enough for. He had harmed her in ways she had said herself she could never forgive.
And still he kissed her, not in desperation, not in a fervor of lust, but in some small, gentle world where even if he knew better, he felt good enough. For a moment in time, he felt like hers.
If she could kiss him back, hold on to him, allow him to sweep her up into his arms, maybe there was still hope somewhere that she could be his. And that that would be all they needed.
He carried her inside and up the stairs like she was precious because she was. Strength and fragility were not opposites, not in Lynna. Both were her, a complicated twist. And he wanted to bask in her strength, protect those fragile pockets inside of her.
He wanted, he wanted, he wanted, and she didn’t. Not the depth and breadth of this emotion that seemed to swell inside of him.
But she at least wanted this.
So he would deliver. He would enjoy. She would not forgive him for what he’d done in the past, but she would allow him this. And he was an Akakios, so he would take it.
He spread her out on his bed, the golden light of a summer afternoon washing over her. And he worshipped the goddess she was, the revelation she was. With his mouth, with his body. While she sighed into him, met every knot of pleasure with her own unspooling response.
And still, they did not rush. It was as if there was no outside world, only them, only coming together. Only sighs and sweet words and the way she came apart for him, over and over again.
Until he followed her into bliss, until there was nothing left to give one another, because they had given it all. All.
And he wanted that all. Forever. This should be enough. How could a man such as him ask for more?
But he supposed, that was the answer. To end this horrible hope, this chance , he had to ask for more.
So she would tell him no.
* * *
Lynna thought faintly of the dinner she needed to make. She really did not have time to doze here in the warm afternoon sun. And no doubt Athan needed to return to the office and see to his business.
But they both lay sprawled out on the bed as their breathing steadied.
She did not think about the gentleness, the emotional feelings that had swamped her. She was too good at boxing those up and shoving those away and focusing on whatever else.
In this case, she could enjoy the physical echoes of pleasure in her body and not wonder why they had seemed so important and life altering in the moment.
Emotions would never change her life. She’d made a promise to herself.
So it was absolutely incomprehensible when Athan rolled her over to face him, looking grim and haunted and said, “I think we need to discuss your father.”
It was like being slapped across the face, and she didn’t for even a minute understand why he would say such a thing. Why he would… No. No.
She tried to edge off the bed, but he held her firm. So she gathered up all the ice and disdain she could muster—naked and still beautifully sated. “I believe I’ve made it clear that is not on the table.”
“It is on my table.”
She kept his gaze and did not let herself think of the emotional toll of the words as she delivered them. “I don’t recall ever acting as though your table mattered to me.”
There was a silence, heavy and awful, because she felt guilty for saying something that was only the truth. That was only necessary. But she hated that it might land and hurt all the same.
He released her and she scurried off the bed. She needed to dress. To go handle her duties. To get away from all this . What had she been thinking?
“Do you know when I realized my father was the devil and I did not want to follow in his footsteps to hell?” he asked softly.
He did not give her time to say no or put her clothes on and flee. He just kept speaking as she scrambled about searching for clothes.
“It wasn’t when I hurt my mother by choosing Constantine, by being cruel to her.”
She found her shirt and nearly wept with relief, but he kept right on going.
“It wasn’t when I betrayed your father. It wasn’t even when I began to suspect that no amount of turning myself inside out to please Constantine would earn his approval or love in the immediate aftermath.”
“I refuse to listen to this.” She considered putting her hands over her ears, but even she could not lower herself to such a childish gesture. She pulled her shirt on with jerky movements, one of the sleeves was too twisted to allow her arm to get through and she did not know where her underwear was, so she simply put on her pants without them. She stalked away, half-dressed, in a panic she did not understand.
But he followed her out of his room, into the hall. Of course he followed, because he did not listen. He did not respect her lines drawn in the sand. He was an Akakios and did as he pleased. Always.
“It was when I saw you after your father’s funeral.”
She froze, unable to walk another step. She looked down, half suspecting an actual blade to be stabbed through her chest so visceral was the pain.
She never thought about that day. Not ever.
“Hiding. Crying. Sobbing ,” Athan continued. Saying all the things she’d promised herself in that moment she would never allow again.
Because she’d had her family to consider, to protect, to save . There was no time for tears. But in that one small moment, when she thought herself alone, she’d given in to the wave of grief that had taken her out at the knees.
It was the lowest point of her entire life. Not because of the funeral, or not only because. But because she had felt so alone and afraid and overwhelmed. Because she had known from that moment out, everything was up to her. For Mom. For Rhys, whether he appreciated it these days or not.
All because of the man she’d idolized. He had been a good father. He had been. Mostly. Until… Until.
It had been impossible not to blame his death on the way he’d stopped taking care of himself, so obsessed with revenge. To blame it on the way he’d leaned into alcohol. The nights she’d had to handle things because he was either passed out or crying. It was the Akakioses’ fault he’d become that, she had no doubts.
But her father had disappointed her wholly in his reaction to their betrayal. He’d stopped caring about anything that wasn’t revenge.
A revenge he hadn’t gotten. A revenge she’d somehow taken the mantle of now, without fully realizing it.
But she was not like her father. Not anymore. She wouldn’t get revenge with obsession, or emotion. She would find it with her own wits. Her own choices. She would give that to the family her father had left behind.
But now Athan demanded to throw emotion into it? No.
No.
She turned to face him, half-dressed in his hallway. He wasn’t in much better shape. Pants unbuttoned, no shirt, feet bare.
What was this? Some alternate reality where she did not have control? Where she did not make the right choices? She hated it. Worse, when he continued to speak, so stern, so determined, so vulnerable .
“I realized, in those six months before Aled’s death, that nothing I did would please my father, but I still thought I would live that way. That I was supposed to live that way. And then I saw you crying, and the consequences of what my father and I had done. Real consequences, untenable, unfair consequences. Not just against a stranger, but against someone who had been a friend .”
Tears—those tears she had controlled so long now—were threatening and she hated him in this moment more than she ever had for bringing her to this point. “Do you think I should forgive you then?”
“No, latria mu , I know you will not.”
“Then what is this? Why are you doing this?” And she didn’t sound strong like she wanted to. She sounded like a small child, begging.
“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I only know that… I cannot pretend this has not gone farther than we planned. I cannot pretend that you do not mean something to me, Lynna. I cannot pretend that this thing I did not believe in, this thing I did not think existed, would take a hold in me.”
He should have just shot her. At least then this would be over.
But it was clear now, he would not end this. So she had to. So she turned and ran.
But his words followed her down the hall. “I love you, Lynna.”
She practically dove into her room, shaking as she desperately tried to turn the lock. He would not and could not follow her, with these…words. With this bizarre game he was playing.
She leaned against the door, breathing hard, looking around her pretty room and how happy it looked in the afternoon light.
She would not stay in this place. She would not do this. She would find some other way to end Constantine.
And she would never, ever see Athan again.
She rushed forward for her suitcase and haphazardly began to throw things into it. Anything she’d need to travel back to London.
All the while she ignored the tears streaming down her cheeks and pretended she was fine.
Fine.