Chapter 45 #2
But my throat ached as I pressed my cheek against his chest and whispered the question I couldn’t silence any longer. “How long can this last?”
He stilled.
“How long can we keep hiding in shadows, pretending we’re not on the edge of ruin every time you touch me?”
His arms tightened around me. “As long as we have to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.” His voice was fierce. “But hear me, Helena—I swear to you, someday, I will get you out of here. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I will take you far from this place. Far from him. From all of this.”
My eyes burned. “Swear it again.”
He cupped my face, holding me like I was already breaking. “I swear it. On every oath I’ve ever kept and every one I never had the chance to.”
Before I could answer, a violent gust slammed through the room.
The balcony doors burst open, crashing against the stone with a force that made the torches gutter.
Wind swept in, whipping the curtains into frantic spirals, scattering petals from the floor, clawing its way between us like a living thing.
Achilles frowned and tensed, his gaze flicking toward the open balcony as if he expected to see something standing there. When he saw only the night, he crossed the room in two strides and shoved the doors shut. The latch clattered into place.
He didn’t hesitate. He came straight back to me, gathering me against him, his arms a shield around my body and the storm outside. “I promise,” he murmured against my hair. “Whatever comes, whatever he does … I will not let you be alone in it.”
My hands curled into his shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this,” I said achingly. “I feel like I’ve been split in two. Like there’s the version of me that he touches … and the one that’s yours. And I don’t know how much longer I can survive the difference.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck, his forehead pressing against mine again. “You are not his. Not even in pieces.”
My breath trembled as he pulled his face back, clenched his jaw, and stared at me for another long minute, still searching my features.
“He’s also bothering you, isn’t he?” Achilles muttered. “Theron.” The name came out laced with disgust. He shook his head. “He’s in a cell where he belongs.”
A breeze suddenly stirred the edge of my nightgown though the balcony doors were still sealed.
Achilles didn’t seem to notice. “That man walked into the Great Hall, magic humming off him like heat, and offered himself in service like he was a pauper asking for scraps. It was a performance,” he growled, his eyes on the wall like he was reliving the throne room scene all over again.
“And Menelaus was too stupid to see it.”
I stayed silent, watching his profile come into clear relief as the moon peeked out from a cloud and light poured in from the window across from us.
“There’s been no power in Sparta for decades, not beyond what Menelaus claims,” Achilles continued. “And now some stranger walks out of the sea glowing like prophecy and turns Menelaus into a panting cur in under a minute?”
His fingers twitched at his sides. “Sparta doesn’t have room for any other gods besides Menelaus. Or anything that looks like one.”
He wasn’t wrong. The palace had no room for a lot of things … no room for love either. And yet here I stood, wanting him like I’d never wanted anything.
My throat burned, but I lifted my hand anyway, steadying myself against the rough plane of his jaw. My fingers trembled, but I forced them gentle, smoothing over the stubble there like touch alone could strip the bitterness from his voice.
His eyes fell shut for the briefest moment, lashes brushing his cheeks, as if my touch had undone him despite himself.
“You will keep us safe,” I whispered, though the words shook, and I wasn’t sure I believed them.
Some of the weight seemed to slide from his shoulders even though his eyes still burned with war and the shadow of a man who had walked out of the sea like an omen.
Before I could speak again, his mouth crashed against mine.
Rough. Hungry. His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back as he devoured me like he’d been starved for years.
A strangled sound broke in my throat, half sob, half gasp, and I clutched his tunic with both hands, pulling him closer until there was no space left between us.
“Helena,” he groaned against my lips, the words vibrating through me as his tongue slid against mine, desperate and claiming.
The world narrowed to this … his mouth, his heat, the sharp edge of his need.
He found the thin straps of my nightgown, and wrenched them from my shoulders. The silk puddled at my waist, leaving my breasts bare to the cool air … and to him.
Achilles’s breath hitched. Then his head dipped and his mouth closed over the flushed peak of my breast in a hot, claiming pull. He sucked deep, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth until I was trembling, and clutching his shoulders for balance.
“Say my name,” he demanded roughly, his mouth never leaving me.
“Achilles.” I gasped, shuddering when he sucked harder, greedier, like he wanted to pull the sound from my very bones. His hand slid beneath my gown. Calloused fingers ghosted over the inside of my thigh, teasing strokes that made every muscle in me tighten in anticipation.
My breath caught, then broke when his hand finally slid higher.
A sound ripped from him, untempered and almost feral, vibrating against my spine. “Gods,” he muttered, almost to himself, the words edged with hunger. “You’re drenched for me.”
His fingers pressed into my core, parting me with shameless certainty, stroking through the slickness he’d found. The first touch sent fire flashing through me, and I bit down on a cry.
My head fell back, the moan spilling from my lips before I could stop it. He caught me with his free hand and his palm cradled the back of my skull, forcing me to feel every drag of his fingers as they worked inside me.
The rhythm was merciless, slow enough to tease but deep enough to undo. His thumb circled, pressed, flicked until my hips were rocking against his hand, chasing more.
“Say it,” Achilles growled as his tongue tasted my frantic pulse. “Say you want me splitting you apart. Say you’re mine.”
“Achilles—” My voice cracked. My fingers twisted in his tunic desperately, dragging him closer as though I could fuse him into me.
“Mine,” he snarled, curling his fingers inside me, hitting the place that shattered me into sound. “Every gasp, every tremble. Mine.”
My body seized, pleasure crashing through me in a hot, never-ending wave. I choked on his name, writhing against his hand as he held me fast, his lips catching the sound with a bruising kiss.
“Look at you,” he whispered harshly against my mouth, his fingers still stroking me through the aftershocks. “Clenching around me like you were made for this. For me. I could do this forever,” he groaned against my skin, then bit lightly, sending another shiver straight through my core.
He pulled his fingers from me only to shove his hand under his tunic, groaning as he freed himself, and I felt him, thick and heavy against my hip. He ground against me, the blunt head sliding along my soaked folds, slicking his length.
A shout suddenly echoed from outside, and Achilles stilled. His breath was still heaving as he continued to press against me.
Another shout rang out. Louder this time. Urgent.
His jaw locked. “What in the gods now?” he snarled, fury lacing every word. He yanked back, pushing his tunic down with a vicious motion, his eyes wild with frustration.
Before I could speak, he caught my face between his hands and pressed his forehead hard to mine. “I’m sorry,” he ground out, the words tasting like regret. “I have to go.”
My fingers dug into his tunic, desperate to keep him, but he tore himself away, the absence like a blow. The door slammed, and then his footsteps were gone, swallowed into whatever chaos was advancing through the palace.
The silence he left behind was unbearable. My chest heaved, my skin still slick with him, every nerve screaming unfinished.
I stumbled to the balcony doors and flung them wide, desperate for air. The wind hit my face again, tangling my hair, burning my lungs. I gripped the rail until my knuckles ached as I searched for what was happening.
At first, I thought it was smoke.
But smoke didn’t move like that.
A red haze swirled over the garden, thick and shifting, wrapping the hedges and marble in coils that writhed like living things. Shapes lay twisted inside it, limbs bent wrong as they sprawled in grotesque stillness.
My stomach lurched. My throat closed.
The Dread had struck the palace again.