Chapter Ten
He was leaning against the wall of the passageway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
She was struck once again by the similarities between him and Caspen—how they shared the same broad shoulders, the same strong brow.
But Apollo’s beauty was harsher than Caspen’s.
He resembled his father more than he resembled his brother, and every time Tem looked at him, she couldn’t help but think of Bastian.
“Looking for someone?”
Apollo’s mouth was turned up at the corner. There was no one Tem would be looking for other than her husband. He knew this, and she knew it too.
Still, Tem answered, “Have you seen Caspen tonight?”
Apollo stepped forward, his arms still crossed. His cock was half-erect, thick and straight and glorious. Tem had removed her dress already, as had become habit when returning to the caves. She was suddenly acutely aware that she was naked.
“I saw him yesterday. Does that count?”
“No,” said Tem. “It doesn’t.”
“Shame.” He smiled wider. “I wish I could be more helpful.”
“Are you ever helpful?”
“Occasionally. For example, I know where Caspenon is right now.”
“Excuse me?” Tem snapped. “You just said you hadn’t—”
“You asked if I had seen him tonight. Not if I knew where he currently was. You should know by now that basilisks take pride in the details, Temperance.”
If it was possible to roll her eyes even harder, she would’ve. Apollo was infuriating. But that was not surprising. What was surprising was his willingness to help her.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms. “Then where is he right now?”
Apollo smiled. “And why should I tell you that?”
“Because he’s my husband. And I want to know.”
“Only one of those reasons is compelling to me.”
Tem didn’t bother wondering which one. “Just tell me, Apollo,” she said. “And then we can both get on with our evenings.”
“And what if I do not wish to get on with my evening?” Apollo murmured, stepping far closer than was appropriate. “What if I wish to linger here with you?”
Tem looked up at him—the familiar golden eyes, the same smooth, warm skin. Apollo’s heat radiated off him just as Caspen’s did, enveloping her. But she would not be seduced by it.
“I don’t care what you want,” she snapped. “I want my husband.”
“Perhaps I could be what you want for the night.”
“I’m taken, Apollo.”
“There are many types of relationships, Temperance. I have no doubt we could find an arrangement that everyone is happy with.”
“I’m already happy with my arrangement, thank you very much.”
He smirked. “If you insist.”
“I do insist.”
The smirk deepened. “You do not need his permission to do what you want, you know.”
“And how do you know what I want?”
“Please,” he laughed. “I can sense it.”
It reminded her of what Caspen had said in the caves. You are afraid of me. I can sense it.
Was Tem afraid of Apollo? She wasn’t sure. She was certainly wary of him. But that didn’t necessarily equate to fear, and it would be wrong to interchange the two. She was still getting to know him. And what she knew so far was decidedly aggravating.
When it became clear that Tem wasn’t going to indulge him, Apollo said, “Your husband is hunting.”
Tem frowned.
“Ah,” Apollo whispered. “Are you surprised he would seek sustenance without his bride?”
“Of course not. It’s just…”
But it was a surprise. There was no denying it.
Tem had always hunted with Caspen—ever since she’d come under the mountain.
It was their routine, and it was special to do it together.
But considering how dinner had ended, she couldn’t exactly blame him for going off alone.
She’d gone to the village to see Gabriel, after all.
It was only fair that Caspen unwound in whatever way he saw fit.
“You are hurt,” Apollo said quietly, interrupting her thoughts.
Tem blinked. “What?”
“You have a bruise.” He raised his fingers and touched them gently to her cheek. “Just here.”
Tem hadn’t even noticed—it was probably a remnant of the rowdy crowd. She swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Apollo dropped his hand. “Bruises are complex,” he said with a smirk. “Like you.”
Tem rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time a Drakon brother had tried to compliment her, and it certainly wasn’t the most flattering. To say she was complex was like saying the sun was bright. It was hardly a groundbreaking analysis, and it would not soften her to Apollo.
“Your observation skills leave something to be desired,” she said.
“Do they?” Apollo arched an eyebrow, stepping even closer. His smile grew so wide, it looked as if it might split his face. “And what do you know of desire?”
Not for the first time, Tem deeply regretted the words she’d just said. Apollo took everything as a challenge. Everything was a taunt and a tease, and Tem was tired of it.
Or was she?
The night had been a heavy one. But for some reason, this moment wasn’t.
For some reason, she felt oddly at ease with Apollo, as if she were playing a game that she was good at.
So instead of recoiling when Apollo’s mind brushed hers, Tem savored the feeling, noticing how similar his presence was to Caspen’s.
Both were overbearing, yet they were not the same.
Whereas Caspen was rigid, Apollo was loose.
As if he existed in the space between what was right and what was possible.
Anything is possible, Temperance.
And just as quickly, her resistance returned. Not for us.
We are meant to sleep together. Surely, my brother told you.
He told me you would try.
And what would you do if I did? It is mating season, after all.
I’d tell you no.
I am trying right now.
They were standing a foot apart. They weren’t even touching. Yet Tem knew what he said was true. This was Apollo’s first flirtation. He was testing the waters to see how she would react. What happened next was up to her.
Well. You’re failing.
Am I?
Yes. Miserably.
That got a laugh from Apollo.
Is it such a crime to wonder what you think of me?
I don’t think of you at all.
His face twisted into a smile. You wound me.
Nobody could wound you.
I beg to differ. You, of all people, are up to the task.
Don’t flatter me.
It is not flattery. Merely fact.
The way he said it made her blush. The conversation was becoming too real—too intimate. Tem had to create some distance. So she said out loud, “I don’t want to hurt Caspen.”
Apollo let out a soft chuckle, speaking out loud to match her. “My brother and I have done this dance for centuries, Temperance. It would be a mistake for you to think you are the first person to find yourself in this position.”
And what a position it was. Tem understood what Apollo was implying: that he and Caspen had done this before—that she was not the first to come between them. But Tem had no desire to repeat history.
“I’m loyal to him,” she insisted.
“No one said you were not. Do you consider this conversation disloyal?”
“I consider it a nuisance.”
“Is that so? Your heart says otherwise.”
“My heart?”
“I can hear it beating, Temperance. It speeds up whenever you look at me.”
Tem looked pointedly at the ground. Caspen had told her the same thing the first time they’d eaten a meal together. Your heartbeat, he’d said. It is irregular.
“My heartbeat is none of your business.”
“And yet, it beats so loudly, I can hear nothing else.”
“Well, stop listening.”
“You are rather difficult to tune out, Temperance.”
Tem didn’t know whether that was a compliment, and quite frankly she no longer cared.
The evening had not gone at all as planned.
She hadn’t expected to talk to Evelyn, hadn’t expected to witness a protest in the village, hadn’t expected to run into Apollo.
It was late and she was alone with her husband’s brother, and nothing that was happening right now felt even remotely within her control.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. “How can you speak to me like that?”
To her surprise, Apollo laughed. “I like the way you blush when I do it.”
Tem resisted touching her fingers to her cheeks. She didn’t need to touch them to know that they were warm. Apollo just made her so…flustered.
“I’m blushing because I’m angry. Not because you’re flirting.”
“Are you, now? Fascinating. I have never heard of an angry blush. You must be the first to experience it.”
“Then I guess I’m the first.”
“How thrilling,” he said, tilting his head. “To be such a trailblazer.”
Tem rolled her eyes. There was absolutely nothing to be done with him.
He was unreasonable. She couldn’t believe he would act this way, especially when he knew she was married to his brother.
It didn’t matter that basilisks did things differently.
This wasn’t the way to do things. She should leave.
She should tell him good night and walk away. So why didn’t she?
The truth was that she didn’t want to. Tem wanted Apollo to listen to her heartbeat—to continue standing far too close to her.
It felt right to be in his vicinity. Here, in the quiet of the passageway, Tem knew temptation.
She understood what it meant to look at Apollo and want to touch him—to want him to touch her.
She remembered the first night of mating season, how the couple had fucked on the mattress before her—how she hadn’t come until her eyes had met Apollo’s.
But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t Caspen.
“This belongs to your brother,” Tem said firmly.
“This? Are you an object?”
She frowned. “No.”
“And yet, you belong to my brother. That implies ownership.”