Enslaved (20 page)

“I’m not going to hurt you, Gryphon. I just want to say thank you. I haven’t been very nice to you so far and…and I’m trying to tell you now…I’m sorry. Just relax and let me thank you.”

She rose up on her toes, brought her mouth close to his. He drew in a sharp breath again, one that told her yes…
yes
, this was what they both needed. She didn’t know why, but an uncontrollable urge to prove that and so much more to him consumed her.

Just before she kissed him, he blocked her by bracing his hands against her shoulders. “Maelea, don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered. “And trust me, Gryphon, we both need it.”

He went still as stone as she pressed her lips to his. His hands fell from her shoulders. She eased in closer, until the tips of her breasts brushed his skin. Skimming her lips over his again, she laid her hands against his hard, warm chest, her body growing more needy with each long, silent second that ticked by. Growing more frustrated too, because he wasn’t kissing her back the way she wanted.

Was he not as attracted to her as she thought? She’d been so sure this was what he wanted too. She lowered her heels to the floor, stared up at him in the dim light. Searched his eyes for what was holding him back.

Fear. Stark and raw. But not of her. He couldn’t be afraid of her, could he? No one had ever been scared of her.

“Gryphon,” she whispered.

A strangled groan rumbled from his chest. Then he snagged her at the waist and jerked her tight against his body before she could gasp.

And just as he lowered his mouth to hers, he whispered, “
Skata
. I do need you.”

***

Her mouth was everything he’d remembered and had been afraid to taste again. Warm, wet, inviting. She opened for him on reflex and drew his tongue inside without hesitation. Her fingers slid to his shoulders, dug into his skin as he kissed her. She tasted of darkness. Of hunger. Of need. Of heaven and hell and everything in between.

He groaned, changed the angle of the kiss so he could taste her deeper, pulled her tighter so he could feel her closer. His hardening erection pressed against the soft indent of her belly, sending shards of heat ricocheting through his groin. She moaned, and the darkness inside him hummed in pleasure. Vibrations that echoed through every inch of his skin, even as that place inside that had been broken since the Underworld lurched toward her, as if she were a magnet. As if she were the antidote to his pain. As if she were his very last chance for salvation.

Which she was. She was all that stood between him and insanity. Between him and the voice that had been calling to him since he’d left the Underworld. The one that made him twitch, made him want to claw his skin off, made him want to scream. And now he knew why. Because of the light inside her. The light that was counteracting the darkness simmering inside him. The light that was interfering with Atalanta’s hold on him. With her ability to summon him.

“Gryphon,” she whispered against his lips.

The sound of her voice drew him back. He stared down at her swollen lips, at her wide and aroused eyes, at that tangle of damp, dark hair around her face. Did it matter why he was attracted to her? Did it matter if it was the darkness of the Underworld pushing him? If he’d met her in his old life, would he have wanted her as much as he did right this second?

She brushed her thumb against his bottom lip. And everything inside him tightened as her eyes hovered on his mouth. Gods, she was beautiful, with her pale skin, the mole near her eye, that small button nose. His cock swelled against his zipper as he gazed at her, as her small breasts pressed into his chest. Desire stoked the roaring need already building to explosive levels.

Yes, he realized as she skimmed her mouth against his again, as she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him with more urgency, more intensity. He’d have wanted her. He fisted the fabric of her shirt at the base of her spine and opened to her, drawing her wet, tempting tongue into his mouth and kissing her the way she was kissing him. He’d noticed her months ago in the courtyard of the colony. From the confines of his room, staring out at her through the window, he hadn’t been able to feel the light inside her. He’d been attracted to her simply because of her beauty, her secrets, and the way she’d looked up at him with the same longing he felt deep in his soul.

He turned her, slid his hands over the soft globes of her ass, lowered her to the bed. The mattress dipped. She gasped, then moaned and opened her legs, making room for him, drawing him even closer to her heat. He slanted his mouth over hers and stroked his tongue across hers, found the hem of her shirt, and ran his fingers along her smooth, enticing skin. And when he trailed his fingers up her rib cage and finally found her breast, he groaned all over again.

No bra. She was naked beneath the thin cotton. She must have taken off her undergarments when she got out of the shower. The thought of her wearing nothing beneath those pants made him kiss her even harder.

He squeezed her breast, then pinched her nipple with his fingers. She shivered and moaned against his mouth, lifted her hips, ground against his throbbing erection. “Yes, gods, yes, Gryphon. I want you.” Her hands shifted down his back to his ass. She gripped and pulled, grinding his cock against the heat between her legs, making him that much harder. “I need you.”

Her last three words filtered through his mind. They were the same ones he’d said to her numerous times. As she continued to kiss him, awareness trickled in. She was Persephone’s daughter, the offspring of the Queen of the Underworld, which meant she had the same darkness inside her that he did. The same darkness that had been gifted to him by Krónos, that son of a bitch. She likely felt the same draw toward him that he felt toward her. The same pull. And that meant her reaction to him now was likely a result of that darkness and not her attraction to him, the person.

She knew how crazy he was. Everyone at the colony did. He’d seen the stark fear in her eyes when he captured her in that orchard, when he dragged her into the tunnels, when they were trapped near that river. And he’d seen the anger erupt inside her when they escaped those tunnels and he told her he wasn’t letting her go.

Her mother was a manipulator, her father a righteous prick. She’d lived over three thousand years, no doubt knew exactly how to get what she wanted. And up until just a few minutes ago, what she wanted was to get away from him.

I
kidnapped
Zeus
and
Persephone’s daughter. If they find out—

They
won’t. Not if you let me go tonight.

I
can’t.

Can’t or won’t?

She was playing him. Reality settled in hard, latched on tight. This wasn’t about her wanting him. This was about her distracting him. Did she have a weapon on her? Was she planning to strike out when he was so overcome with lust, he dropped his defenses? Or was she going to take things all the way, fuck him until he passed out, then run when he was sound asleep?

Anger replaced desire. Disgust rolled through his stomach instead of heat. As she continued to kiss him like a lust-driven slut, he pulled the cuffs from his pocket. Slowly, he slid his hand from under her shirt, grasped her wrist, and pushed it over her head. She lifted her hips again, tilted her head and licked into his mouth. And before she could work the fingers of her other hand beneath the waistband of his pants, he slapped the cold metal over her wrist.

She pulled back from his lips. “What the…?”

He climbed off her, slapped the other cuff around the metal railing of the headboard, and snapped it closed.

“Gryphon!” She jerked upright. Pulled hard on her arm. Metal jangled against metal. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Wising up, she-devil.”

She yanked on the cuffs. The headboard rattled against the wall. “Let me go.”

“So you can run? Or murder me in my sleep? I don’t think so. You’re good, female, but you’re not irresistible. Should have asked Mommy Dearest for more pointers.”

“You asshole.” Fiery, jet-black eyes shot to his. “I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead. I’ll just kill any human who tries to rescue you.” He leaned close to her ear, so close he could feel the heat still radiating from her skin. “Get used to the fact that you’re mine. I’m the one calling the shots here, not you.”

“You bastard.” The nails of her left hand caught him across the cheek before he moved out of her reach.

A burn rushed over his skin as he straightened. He dabbed at his cheek, looked down at the blood on his knuckles. “Maybe you did learn something from that bitch of a mother.”

He glanced at her on the bed, her black hair a wild tangle around her face, her lips still swollen from his mouth. But the lust was gone from her black-as-sin eyes, replaced with a fury that made those obsidian irises blaze, made her chest heave, made her look every bit the daughter of the Queen of the Underworld.

Needed her? He only needed her for one thing—to calm the voice. The sooner he realized that, the better off he’d be.

“Get some rest,” he said as he headed for the door. “We’ve a long trip in the morning.”

Chapter Twelve

Maelea jerked on the handcuff for the umpteenth time. All her efforts did were rattle the headboard against the wall and send pain lancing through her wrist.

Anger rolled through her, followed by a hum that echoed all the way to her toes. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the bed was vibrating, but that was ludicrous. As ludicrous as what she’d just let happen in this dive of a motel room.

She glared toward the door. Gryphon had been gone at least ten minutes. She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare. His mood changed so drastically from one minute to the next, she didn’t trust him not to follow through on his threat to kill anyone who tried to help her. And whether he was bluffing or not, she didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent’s death. Even if it might be her only chance at freedom.

She yanked on the cuff one more time. Clenched her jaw. She’d kissed him? She’d felt something for him? She’d obviously been
out
of her fucking mind. What the hell had she been thinking?

Bitterness brewed in her chest and hummed through her legs as she remembered the way she’d offered herself to him like a meal. But before she could get all the way worked up, a sliver of guilt crept in. One that took hold and grew little by little until it lodged in the center of her chest and wouldn’t let go.

Okay, so maybe he had a valid reason to be pissed. Maybe she
had
set out to seduce him. And maybe distracting him
had
been her original plan. But that wasn’t what had pushed her to kiss him, dammit. Something had changed during their conversation. Something even she didn’t totally understand.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. The bottom line was simple: no more kissing. None. Obviously, whatever humanity she thought she’d seen in him was long gone, if he could so easily turn on her. The first chance she had, she was out of here.

Olympus. That was what she needed to stay focused on. That was all that mattered anymore.

Plans she’d made back at the colony reformed in her mind. The only way for her to be granted access to Olympus, a home that would forever be safe from Hades’s wrath, was to prove her allegiance to the gods. To turn her back on the Underworld for good.

And she would. But first she had to break free. Everything hinged on that. She jerked on the chain again, grasped the metal with her free hand, and tried to pry the cuff off. Pain shot up her arm, and a burn ignited all around her wrist.

“Padded handcuffs are nicer. There’s nothing better than being strapped down and used by a male when you can’t fight back.”

Maelea jerked around at the sound of the voice so close, then froze. Her mother sat in the chair beside her bed, wearing a black gown cinched at the waist with a red belt. Her long legs were crossed at the knees. A red sandal dangled from her toes.

“I—”

“Speechless? You wouldn’t be the first, my child.” Persephone shrugged her straight black hair over her shoulder. Hair that was just like Maelea’s. “Now, I don’t have a lot of time, daughter, so I need you to focus. My husband doesn’t know I’m here, and if he did, we’d both be in deep shit. Plus my mother’s going to be looking for me soon. She’s always worried I’m ditching her to find Hades when I’m spending my allotted time of the year with her.”

Maelea’s eyes grew wide. Her
mother
was sitting next to her, for the first time in hundreds—no, thousands—of years. Her mother, Queen of the Underworld. Wife to Hades, the one god who couldn’t wait to see Maelea ground to dust.

“You look pale, child.” Persephone’s dark eyebrows drew low. “Are you all right?”

“No. I…” She swallowed hard. “What…? You…?”

“I wish I had more time, but I don’t, so I’ll make this quick. I know you’re searching for a way to Olympus. For a way to prove your allegiance to Zeus. I can make that happen.”