Chapter Twelve
“What the hell is this place?”
“Welcome to my home,” Apollo said, doing a twirl in the reception area. “Do you like it?”
Like was an understatement. Titus was absolutely stunned.
When Apollo said that he would translocate them to his home, Titus was expecting a house - a regular house, with four walls, a ceiling, some windows, and probably some tasteful decor.
Titus never imagined Apollo living somewhere small or messy.
If that wasn’t mind-boggling enough, Titus was still coming to terms with his first translocation. His wolf was still dizzy. “Where are we?”
“We’re back in Buffalo,” Apollo said. “I moved into this house about a year and a half ago, when my sister said she wanted my help with her new business venture.”
“There is no way this is a house in Buffalo.”
Apollo, who had been making his way up the stairs, turned and leaned on the banister. “The front door’s right there if you want to take a look outside,” he said, pointing to a large wooden slab in the wall. “It’s not locked.”
It freaking should be. Titus knew he shouldn’t be tempted to go anywhere near the door.
His unclaimed mate was heading upstairs – the implication being there were bedrooms up there, beds, bathrooms – but Titus’s mind could not comprehend the room he’d appeared in.
It was like appearing in a movie set, yet it was as real and as solid as Titus’s own house.
Opening the door, which moved surprisingly easily given how big and heavy it was, Titus stepped outside, going about five feet from the house and staring back at it. It looked like a regular house – well, mansion would be a better term.
Three stories high. White stucco walls with blue window frames and shutters.
There was a parking area in front of the house, paths leading around it, and even though it was dark, Titus could make out details of a very large yard.
A rich looking house, one that signified quiet wealth, but a house, nonetheless.
I can’t believe it. Titus went back inside, taking care to close the large door slowly. “How? Why? Why did you do all this?” He waved his arm, indicating the interior, which looked so different from how the house appeared outside.
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like anyone comes into this house – you’re the first visitor I’ve had.” Something on Titus’s face must’ve shown he didn’t think it was enough of an explanation, so Apollo continued.
“I’m one of the twelve Olympians, so I don’t have my own domain.
I don’t see any harm in creating my own domain, if you want to call it that – my little bubble where I can live in privacy, comfort, and peace here on Earth.
I like it, but if you’re not a fan of the décor, then let me know, and I can change it.
“But, speaking of change” - Apollo straightened and stretched out his arms - “I’m not used to sitting in a similar position for hours at a time.”
He shook his arms out, but as he did it, Apollo’s shirt, his pants, his boots, and even the belt buckle disappeared. Apollo was now covered in a sheer robe of the same white as the walls.
“Oh, that is so much better,” he said, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. “I find modern fashions can be so restrictive at times.” He went up four more steps and then called over his shoulder, “Are you coming? I’m going to have a shower,” before continuing up the stairs.
Leaving Titus standing open-mouthed at the bottom of those stairs, mesmerized by the flashes of skin he could see as Apollo moved. It’s like a damn dream, but of course it wasn’t a dream. My mate’s an ancient god. Why would I think any of this is unusual?
He’d pulled off the I-90 at Bristol when the urge to claim Apollo got more than he could control. The truck was safe, but when Titus started searching for accommodation, Apollo told him not to bother. He’d laughed. Titus remembered that laugh.
“Why waste the money when you won’t be staying there?” And before Titus knew what was happening, Apollo’s hand was on his shoulder, and all of a sudden it felt as though his body had blown apart, swept along with an unseen wind, and landed in Apollo’s house. Poof. Just like that.
“I’m waiting,” Apollo called out, and Titus realized his mate couldn’t even be seen. He must be in a bedroom. Will there even be a bedroom, Titus wondered as he started running up the stairs – or will I find a fluffy cloud and Apollo rolling naked in the middle of it?
At the top of the stairs, there was a long carpeted hallway, and the walls were painted a soft cream. No chiffon this time, just artfully placed paintings instead.
Titus didn’t know much about art, but he would bet his truck that every painting on the walls was an original from the Renaissance period.
How did Apollo end up with a priceless art collection decorating his hallway?
Titus snorted at his ridiculous question.
Apollo was probably the muse that inspired the painters in the first place.
His nose working overtime, he followed Apollo’s scent to the end of the hall, where large double doors were left open to reveal a sumptuous bedchamber.
No clouds, but there was no way anybody could describe the room as a bedroom, not even a master suite.
Titus stepped into a sumptuous bedchamber.
Similar draped linens to those in the reception room decorated the walls.
There was a tall pillar standing in a corner that had ivy growing all the way up and around it, before spilling out over the top and spreading across half of the wall.
There was a bed – it was round and took up over half of the room. Some form of sheer white material hung from the ceiling, floating down to cocoon the bed, creating a romantic setting.
But it wasn’t a setting. Apollo clearly used the room.
There was a used hairbrush on the dressing table, a pair of discarded cufflinks, and a pamphlet.
Crossing the room, Titus went over and picked it up.
It was a brochure from an art gallery, and Titus noticed some of the art had been circled in pen.
Did you buy those pieces, or were you the muse for the artists?
The sound of running water led Titus deeper into the room and through the other side. The bathroom was a study in white marble, lined with threads of gray and gold. That gold is probably the real deal, too.
On the left was a large bathing pool. Not a tub, an actual pool that would easily hold six grown men.
A small fountain provided the trickling water sounds, filling the pool, or more likely recycling the water.
Is it warm? Titus went over, dipping his fingers into it – the water was the perfect temperature for a hot bath.
But Apollo wasn’t swimming. He said he was going to have a shower.
Titus turned and gasped as he saw Apollo in his naked glory.
The man was glowing, literally glowing. His hair appeared longer and a paler shade of blond.
Titus wasn’t sure whether that was because of Apollo’s pale tan or because he was seeing Apollo as his true self.
Apollo’s face was tilted up, his eyes closed as water cascaded over his face.
He was standing, his hands joined in front of his chest as if he were praying, although Titus didn’t believe that was possible.
He doubted that gods prayed to other gods, and it would seem rather pointless to pray to oneself.
But the pose, so unashamed, so incredibly beautiful, was the final push Titus needed.
Yes, he’d had the most fucked up day in a lot of ways – he’d learned so many new facts to the point it was as if Titus’s world view was completely upended.
But a naked mate in a shower was something that he knew how to handle, and Titus really wanted to handle Apollo.
Clothes came off in record time – boots kicked off, his jeans were around his ankles in the time it took Titus to blink. He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head as he was stepping out of his pants.
Fully naked, Titus stepped into the stream of water, sliding his hands around Apollo’s waist.
“There you are,” Apollo said, straightening his neck and opening his eyes as his arms rested on Titus’s shoulders.
“You’re glowing,” Titus growled as his arms around Apollo’s waist tightened, pulling their bodies flush together.
“You’re seeing my godly form. I’m one of the few gods who look very similar in both my human form and my godly form. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You’re beautiful. Stunning. Incredible.” Just having Apollo in his arms reduced Titus to one-word sentences.
“I was created for that purpose,” Apollo said quietly. “I was meant to be the epitome of physical perfection, as seen by the Greeks all those millennia ago. I’m not sure the same standards still hold true…”
“They do.” Apollo’s skin was as smooth and warm as his smile. Titus shuffled his feet so that as much of his skin as possible was touching his mate. “You know I need to fuck you to claim you,” he growled in Apollo’s ear.
Apollo’s chuckles bounced around the marble. “That’s not strictly true, but I know that’s what you want from me, and that’s fine… this time.”
“What do you mean it’s not true?” Titus’s hands had found a new home on Apollo’s butt. It wasn’t rounded or juicy, but it was definitely a muscled handful. “Claiming is done through saliva, spunk, and blood.”
“Some gods claimed their mates without having anal sex.” Apollo raised his arms above his head, stretching out his body as though inviting Titus to rub against him, which Titus was more than happy to do.
“But for now, I’ve been subject to your pheromones all day.
Kiss me and show me how you’ve always hoped your claiming night would go. ”
Titus hadn’t actually dreamed of finding his fated mate, but there came a time when a wolf shifter had to stop overthinking things and simply enjoy the man who was meant to be his forever.
Brushing his lips over Apollo’s, Titus got the impression of falling into a volcano again.
He was consumed but never wanted to stop.
It was as if Apollo was dancing under his hands, his skin slipping and sliding against Titus’s muscles, as Titus nipped, sucked, and licked over Apollo’s lips.
A nip of Apollo’s bottom lip drew the smallest bead of blood, causing Titus’s gums to tingle.
That’s not my claiming bite, but Apollo will be covered by my marks of my passion before the sun rises.