Red Mortal (9 page)

Read Red Mortal Online

Authors: Deidre Knight

Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary

BOOK: Red Mortal
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When he opened them again, preparing to inspect the damage, he found Daphne standing in his strike zone. He was afraid to move, lest he discover that he’d only imagined her.
But she looked real as always, staring at him with an expression of flushed shock. And then she smiled, forgiveness in her gaze. “My lord, such an outburst isn’t at all like you.” She glanced down at the shattered pieces of the vase. “And that was a lovely piece of pottery.”
“It was because of you.” He gestured helplessly. “I was such a damned fool to accuse you of those things. And you left, knowing that I couldn’t follow you and apologize.”
“You need only have summoned me.” She moved much closer, smiling tenderly at him. “You said you were sorry. I knew that you were.”
That wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to fall to his knees before her, longed to shower her with penances. And then make everything right between them, not with words or excuses—but with his body. “All I could think about was what a bastard I’d been to you.” He inclined his head as if she were his queen. “My lady, please forgive my horrid conduct. It was entirely unworthy of you.”
“Look at me, Leo,” she urged softly, moving much closer. But he was too ashamed—of how he’d treated her, or for her to get a decent look at his changing features. All of it kept his head bowed, but she clasped his face in both her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked and she searched his features for one long moment. He glimpsed unmistakable grief in those lovely water blue eyes.
“Daphne, I understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“My brother is a cruel god. I couldn’t run the risk that he’d harm you any further . . . or faster.”
Leo gave her a regretful glance. “I’m already older. Since the field . . . it
is
happening fast. But that’s not your doing.”
Wordlessly, she kept his face cupped in her palms, drawing it to her own, and began rubbing her cheek back and forth against his silvering beard. “I’ve always loved the feel of your face against mine,” she whispered. “How rough, how masculine . . . and yet your silky beard tickles my cheek.” She stilled as if savoring the moment. Was she thinking how much she’d grieve when he died? Or perhaps memorizing the feel of him, the scent, so that in future days she’d always have this moment?
“You’ve never been a bastard to me,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “I was upset. . . . I needed to regain my equilibrium. And I had an errand to run.”
He quirked a smile. “Right then, of all times?”
“I had an idea.” She shrugged, stepping out of his embrace, and he saw sadness in her eyes. “It was just a thought . . . besides you needed time to cool down. We both did.”
He clasped her by the shoulders. “Daphne, I don’t want to argue or waste valuable time. I just want to be with you, hold you. I want . . .” He shook his head, grasping for the right words. “Time is precious now, and we shouldn’t be foolish or argue. I want to take you as my lover, once and for all.”
She flushed deeply at his admission. “Okay, the word lover, from your lips like that? So very, very sexy.”
“Lovers . . . you and me,” he murmured, bending lower so he could kiss her throat. He kept his mouth against that hot, fluttering pulse. She tasted sweet, perfect. Oh, by the gods, he did plan to claim her as lover. Tonight, not later. “In every way, together. Lovers, Daphne . . . yes.”
She never so much as shifted in his arms—yet instantly her outfit changed to something much sexier, a black dress that dipped low in front, outlining the swelling shape of her breasts and her very feminine figure. It flowed with all the sensuality of an ancient Greek gown, but the fabric and color were far more tempestuous. Daring. Seductive.
She gave him a demure smile. “I said you needed to cool down. But Leo? There are some ways in which I prefer you very worked up and in a fever.”
She leaned back against the bookshelf, studying him. After a moment, she cocked her head sideways, her smile widening. “Those combat pants look most handsome on you, but do you know what I’ve always loved? The idea of you nude, wrapped in your crimson cloak.” She released a slow, dreamy sigh. “And then very slowly, I take my hands, and peel that fabric away.” Her fair cheeks suddenly grew rosy as she demonstrated with her hands. “Fold by fold, I expose your godlike body to my virginal eyes, unfold you like a mighty, masculine flower. Yes, that is what I’ve dreamed of . . . for many lonely nights.”
“By Olympus, Daphne,” he barked, his pants tenting sharply. “Careful what you wish for.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s my damned cloak when I need it?”
Again, she snapped her fingers, and the folded garment appeared right in her hand. They’d lain on it in the meadow earlier, and she’d obviously forgotten to bring it when she teleported them into the study.
“Looking for this?” Her pale blue eyes sparkled with lust and mischief. And then just as suddenly, she appeared shy, holding the cloak against her chest. “I suppose it’s very forward of me, my lord, to describe wanting you thusly . . . to be so bold about my desires.”
Leo advanced on her, his mind rapidly calculating how fast he could undress himself and fulfill her intimate fantasy. Where would he lie and cover himself for her? On the sofa? No, too bland. Perhaps he would pose on the edge of his desk, as if awaiting an artist’s sensual rendering. He wanted her . . . to want him. He was still somewhat young—for now—and he yearned for her to appreciate his honed, warrior’s physique while she could. There was one physical trait he had epic amounts of confidence in: the strength and shape of his nude body.
Wordlessly, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Tossing the garment aside, he faced Daphne wearing only his combat pants and boots. She sagged against the bookshelf, still clutching his cloak to her breasts. Very slowly, she raked her gaze down his chest, lingering for a moment on his abdomen, at the tightly defined muscles that rippled there.
“You approve,” he said, his voice as husky as it ever got.
She replied by allowing the crimson cloak to unfurl in her grasp. He, in turn, began unfastening his belt, lingering on the gesture to make it as tantalizing as possible. Her gaze never left his hand as it worked.
Then he addressed his pants, eyeing her sensually as he lowered the zipper over his prominent erection. Her own eyes grew wide, fiery lust infusing her face with a crimson that rivaled that of his cloak. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, wrapping the garment about his shoulders.
“Like this, Adonis,” she murmured, spreading the crimson material about him. “I want to see you this way, adorned for me.”
He finished the work of unfastening his pants, then toed his way out of both boots. The pants slid to his ankles, pooling there until he kicked them away. Never one for underwear, he now stood before her in his full glory of nature.
She didn’t dare glance down, not this time, her gaze riveted on his face.
He held his head high. “I’m supplying every component of your fantasy, my lady. So tell me—where would you have me stand? Or lie?”
She swallowed, her pink lips parting softly on a light groaning exhale. Then she took his cloak from about his shoulders, draping it about his full body—including his protruding erection. Her hand lingered there for a moment, as she slid the material about his cock and began to rub it with exquisitely slow pressure. Back and forth, the rough fabric created an aching pleasure from the base of his arousal to the blunted tip.
“My lady, this is your fantasy?” He groaned, pressing his eyes shut.
Suddenly her lips were at his ear. “I’m good at improvising.”
He caught her face in one palm, dragging her mouth to his. “And like every good military commander, so am I.” He slid his other hand behind her upper thigh, hiking the dress up as he did so. He brought it above her hips, only to discover that like him, she wore no form of underwear. There was only sweet Daphne, mere inches away from his jutting shaft.
She lifted onto her toes, deepening the kiss, pulling him even closer. And then shocked him by bursting into light giggles. She leaned her head back, staring up at him. “Oh, Leo! You naked on the desk? That’s quite the temptation!”
 
Daphne couldn’t help smiling at Leo’s vivid and erotic imagination. She’d seen into his mind the moment their kiss had grown so heated, glimpsing a series of flashing images and desires. Including the various ways he was contemplating presenting himself fully nude, wrapped in his cloak. The edge-of-the-desk flash was endearing and funny, but also as sexy as anything she’d ever dreamed up on her own.
“You read my thoughts,” he acknowledged in a gravelly voice filled with need. “Not entirely fair, my love.”
She shrugged, beaming up at him. “Hazard of the Oracle’s profession . . . and of taking one as lover.”
“I’m willing to accept those risks.” He chased her mouth, capturing it once again. This time he thrust his tongue between her parted lips, sweeping it against hers with sensual pressure.
And then she caught another image, vivid and sinful. He wanted
her
spread out before him, on the floor and naked atop his cloak. A role reversal; he wanted her to lie on the floor before him like an offering to the gods, a king’s bounty.
She grasped his face between both hands, breaking the kiss. “Yes.”
“Yes . . . what?” He pressed his forehead against hers, obviously trying to steady his breathing.
She rubbed both thumbs across his bearded jaw. “Spread the cloak on the rug. And I’ll lie there, just like you want.”
He barked a laugh. “Did I say I was willing to accept the risks of loving an Oracle of Delphi?”
“You did, my lord.”
“Then I wish to restate the matter. I am willing, most infinitely willing, to accept the
rewards
of this venture. Of loving you, my Daphne, my spritely nymph.”
He kissed her almost chastely on the forehead, and then seemed to be considering something. She held her breath, unsure of what he planned. All at once, she found herself swept into his powerful arms, cradled against his brawny, bare chest. He was beautiful, almost painfully so, just standing there, holding her that way.
“Perhaps male nymphs exist in the form of ancient Spartan kings,” she murmured as he slowly moved with her across the floor.
“No, only ancient kings who dream of making love to impossibly beautiful, ever evasive and mysterious females. Kings who were lonely until they found their one true beloved nymph.”
He adjusted her in the crook of his arm, freeing his other hand. With a flourish, just as he’d done in the meadow, he unfurled his cloak and it sailed to the floor, spreading wide atop his antique Oriental rug. “There,” he proclaimed.
She clung to his neck, searching his face. Sometimes he could be frustratingly laconic. “There” didn’t exactly paint the full portrait of what he wished her to do next, especially since he didn’t seem to have any intention of releasing her.
“My lord?”
Gracefully, he allowed her to slide to her feet, but not before he caught the hem of her dress in his hands. Without a word, he lifted it, pulling it over her head until she stood nude as he was, revealed.
“You saw my fantasy,” he explained, pointing to the red blanketing fabric. “I wish to admire you without apology.”
She swallowed hard, nodding, and had to fight the urge to cover her naked body from his keen gaze. It was a vulnerable feeling to be so exposed, especially with Leonidas, a man she’d longed for and wanted for so many centuries and years. All that pining and unspent desire led to this moment, unencumbered by clothing or pretense, and to simply presenting herself to Leonidas, not a king now, not a ruler or a warrior . . . just the man she loved.
She slid to her knees, keeping her back to him for a moment. She trembled all over, a mixture of fear and excitement causing her heart to leap inside her chest. All this time, she’d wanted this. To become his lover, to belong to him. But no man had ever seen her nude, much less claimed her physically. Now that the moment was here, she found it hard to fight a slight sense of terror, even as her heart raced and thrilled at what was happening.
Resolved, she lay down on the cloak, curled on her side protectively at first, and then with a smile, she rolled onto her back. She kept her hands across her breasts, staring up at him shyly. “They’re not very big,” she said by way of explanation.
“They’re perfect.” Leo beamed at her, taking several appreciative steps backward. “You’re the most ideal woman I’ve ever glimpsed. In any century, in any country. Anywhere. You are the
arista
! The very best, my love.”
“Don’t let Aristos hear that,” she teased lightly.
Leonidas scowled back at her. “Don’t even mention another male, not now. Now, when I alone am offered this pleasure, this honor of seeing you like this. You are mine,” he proclaimed.
Daphne flushed at his possessiveness, something new in Leo that she’d never really experienced. Things were changing between them, becoming forever altered.
“You are mine, as well,” she countered, knowing she was being cheeky, “so perhaps you should start satisfying my own fantasy. You, nude with the crimson folds about your body. That could be most handily accomplished if you come and lie with me here.”

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