The Goddess (10 page)

“I’ve been in your country a few weeks now,” Helene went on. “I worked at a taverna
and stayed with a family downtown.” She gestured toward her knapsack. “I’ll pick up
the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”

“You have nothing to wear?”

“Nothing other than a sarong and swimsuit.”

“We’re something of the same size.” Tahlia found her feet. “I’ll have clothes brought
by straight away.”

Helene was ready to decline, but frankly she was grateful for the offer. “Thank you.”

“And I’ll come again tomorrow while Darius is busy with his work, and we can read
that story.” Tahlia crossed to the door. “Let’s hope we get a happy ending.”

Chapter Twelve

An hour later, feeling brave enough to scout a little, Helene swung open her quarters’
door. Darius stood the other side of the ornate framework, his hand raised, ready
to knock. He arched a brow.

“Going somewhere?” His gaze dropped to her recently changed attire. “Nice dress.”

The clothes Tahlia promised had arrived ten minutes after she’d left. There had been
so many gorgeous outfits to choose from, as well as a pair of jeans. After trying
on half a dozen combinations, she’d opted for a sky-blue jersey wrap-around that dropped
to her ankles.

She smoothed the cool fabric draped over her hips. “I was about to go exploring.”

His fingertips trailed up her arm. “I might tag along.”

They traveled down the long hallway, descended the grand stairs, and wandered through
an enormous room with an elevated domed ceiling painted ultramarine and dotted with
gold stars. Along the way, they passed several curious house staff that might have
liked to ask questions but only averted their gazes. Finally, she and Darius emerged
from the solemn palace walls into wide-open spaces and sunshine. Strips of manicured
lawn, divided by exquisite perfumed gardens, rolled out before them.

Helene breathed in air fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms then glanced across
to study Darius’s classic profile. The thrust of his chest, the gleam in his eye,
said he was both at home here and immeasurably proud. The more she got to know him,
the more she understood that he was all about protecting what had been handed down
and entrusted to his care. This palace. The throne. Tahlia.

No doubt his own family when he had one.

“I met your sister,” Helene said as they headed down the lawn.

He grinned. “I’m not surprised.”

“She didn’t mention Otis.”

“I’m amazed.”

Helene warred with herself then let him know. “She doesn’t think you listen to her.
She’d like you to understand her.”

“I’d like to, too. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” When his brows knitted, she pushed on. “Can’t you try to let her
in a little more? Listen to who she is. Who she wants to be.”

“A teenager who wants to play house.”

“Well, they’re both adults.”

“She’s too young to understand the consequences.”

“Of having a boyfriend?”

“Of having sex.”

When Helene pulled up, he stopped too. Facing her, he folded her hands in his.

“Eighteen is too young for a person to know what she wants.”

“Maybe. But it’s up to that eighteen-year-old to decide for herself.”

They were circling an enormous Renaissance-inspired fountain at the far end of the
garden when Darius spoke again.

“My uncle contacted my office while I was away. He wants to attend the coronation.”

“Isn’t he in exile?”

“I can revoke that. But I’m not sure I should.”

“If your father were alive, would he finally mend the fences?”

He faintly smiled. “I wondered the same thing. And I honestly don’t know. He wasn’t
the forgiving type.”

“Well, you’re the boss now. It’s your decision.”

In the golden afternoon sunshine, he stopped, then tugged her into his arms and raveled
them around her waist. His lips closed over hers, and her bones turned to Jell-O.
The longer he kissed her the more she melted, until her mind was mush and her body
a furnace. She didn’t know where she ended and he began.

Slowly, their lips parted but the haze remained.

“Like I was saying…,” she murmured. “You’re the boss.”

His lidded gaze focused on her lips. “I’ve organized food to be brought to your quarters.
Are you hungry?”

“What are you offering?”

“Along with the finest delicacies and wine, a side order of this.”

When his mouth captured hers again, her whirling brain could come up with only two
words.

Yes, please.

…

Back at her quarters, Darius led her straight past the
spanakopita
,
yemista
, and
stifado
, which had magically appeared on a dining table.

“Did you enjoy the bubblebath you teased me about earlier?” he asked.

“I decided to wait for you.”

Sweeping her up into his arms, he strode toward the bathroom doors. “So thoughtful.”

“I needed someone to scrub my back.”

“Only your back? You know the all-over deluxe wash is my specialty.”

Toeing off her sandals, letting them drop to the floor, she drew teasing circles over
his chest. “I do have one spot that’s particularly difficult to reach.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find more.”

The bathroom boasted an extravagant marble tub complete with a trickling indoor fountain.
Everything was screened by a gold lattice-work grill. Darius set her on her feet and
peeled the shirt up over his head, leaving his hair ruffled and his beautiful broad
chest bare. Then he tugged the tie at her waist and eased the fabric off her shoulders
until the dress fell in a silken blue pool around her ankles. As he cupped her uncovered
breasts, she leaned into him, and when his head went down, hers rocked back.

The tip of his tongue twirled around her right nipple and then her left in a slow
savoring motion that ignited sparks and left her toasting inside and out. His mouth
found the right peak again and, while he gently nipped and sucked one, he rolled and
plucked the other until time spun out, and the pulsing kernel sizzling at her center
threatened to leap the gate.

Her fingers splayed across the breadth of his back, over taut muscles and glorious
natural heat. Then he was hunkering down, his lips trailing past her cleavage, beyond
her navel, until his teeth tugged at the elastic at the front of her cotton briefs.
On his knees, he caught the side straps and dragged the scrap of fabric down, but
only far enough for his breath to warm the exposed crease between her thighs. The
blade of his tongue spliced up the seam, stopping at the top to swirl and flick while
his hands on her behind rotated her hips, and the hum in his throat vibrated all the
way through to her soul.

Her eyes drifting shut, she quivered as the strokes delved deeper, grew stronger,
and when her head was spinning, she knotted her fingers in his hair for support. Somewhere
along the way, her briefs were peeled down and gently pried off. Then he scooped a
leg over his shoulder and pressed that burning part of her all the closer to his mouth.

Against her warm wet flesh, he murmured, “How am I doing so far?”

Combing fingers through his hair, she quivered, smiled, and sighed. “So far, you’re
doing okay.”

“Just okay?”

Lightly, he tugged and nipped the spot with his lips, with his teeth. Her head lolling
to one side, Helene bit her lower lip while her lit fuse ran shorter, hotter, and
he turned her inside out. Everything everywhere had funneled back and down until her
world was myopic, focused only on this.

Then, too soon, the stroking eased, the clasp on her hips released and, as if unplugged
from a live current, she almost withered to the ground.

“I was kidding,” she said. “That was really much better than okay.” He was getting
to his feet. “You don’t have to stop.”

“Who said anything about stopping?”

He found a wrap in his pocket, kicked off his trousers, and fit the condom. Then,
with a deliberate, controlled movement, his hands circled her waist. Slowly, he raised
her so that her feet left the floor and her front pressed against every hard, slick
inch of him. When the tips of their noses touched and his dark hooded gaze consumed
hers, she coiled her legs around him, locking her hips snugly to his. His gaze penetrated
hers, and he took a few steps until cool wall tiles met her back and bare bottom.
While she shivered and clung to him tighter, he began tasting her shoulder, expertly
adjusting his hold under each of her thighs. His words were muffled.

“Sorry. It’s cold. Should have turned on the steam.”

She traced a grin through his hair. “I’m sure you’ll make up for it.”

Behind her, one big hand scooped down and between her spread thighs. He leisurely
explored all her soft wet fringes while he nuzzled her neck and she moved in a dreamy
rhythm against him. His teeth on her neck clamped a fraction tighter at the same instant
as he did something so incredible down below that he bumped the promise of her climax
up to “not long now.”

She was lost in the cadence, in the deep beat of desire, in the burn. Then that magic
hand drew away, but the need he’d whipped up inside of her had grown to a point she
couldn’t bear. She grabbed his forearm and urged him on.

“Touch me like that again.” She thrust forward.
Please,
“Do it now.”

As usual, he was teasing her and driving her crazy. How she loved it.

He stroked her again but too lightly. Soon she was doing the work, rubbing against
him while he murmured encouragement against her cheek.

Vaguely she was aware of him hitching her hips lower onto his before the tip of his
erection nudged and slid over her folds. Locking her ankles more securely at his back,
she wriggled and arced in. His length drove inside, stealing the last of the air from
her lungs.

This feels so good…better than anyone…anything, ever…

As his body warmed hers, his smile tasted her brow. “You’ll give me a big head.”

Helene smiled too. She’d spoken aloud? But she wasn’t embarrassed. Every word was
true. He was an incredible lover: instinctive, generous. Each touch, kiss, and thrust
was sublime. The sizzling peak they climbed now would be a mile higher than the last.

Holding her firmly with her back still pressed against the wall, he began to move
in measured strokes meant to power up the pleasure while making it last. The friction
building in her core was already spitting flames. Her senses were reeling. When his
tempo picked up, he lifted her a fraction higher, and she groaned as the pleasure
bumped and bore down. Her inner walls gripped. Shaking, she buried her face in his
damp, corded neck at the same time spasms hit with a force that ripped a cry from
her throat.

She rode every wave, murmuring his name and when the delicious beating deep inside
of her had quieted, that gorgeous heat continued to glow. She’d never felt so content,
so happy, so open to giving her heart…

…Which meant it was time to pull back, regroup, and get a grip. No matter how wonderful
this union, if she was thinking in terms of giving her heart away to Darius, she’d
end up having it broken.

…

Later that evening, she and Darius dined with Tahlia in a formal gold-trimmed room
that had numerous staff serving an array of exquisite traditional dishes. Throughout
the meal, Tahlia was conversational, sweet, and bright. The dinner had been filled
with laughter and stories, which included explaining how Helene had come to be on
the island, although he brushed over the part about how hiring her to perform light
duties had culminated into something more personal. It was the perfect in for Tahlia
to bring up Otis.

Only she didn’t.

After dessert, when the younger woman rose and said goodnight with an air of dignity
that belied her age, Helene felt both disappointed and relieved. Guess poor Tahlia
didn’t want to upset their guest’s first night at the palace, although she shouldn’t
need to feel that way.

Any woman had the right to live her life any way she pleased. If Tahlia wanted to
defer her studies to spend time with the person who made her feel incredibly special,
well, she was only human. Darius could be romantic. At times he made her swoon. But
at his heart lived a true pragmatist—like Vasily Senior, she guessed. Darius firstly
did what needed to be done, and then he fit in the personal if there was room for
it.

They returned to her quarters where they made love into the night. Later, she snuggled
up into his hard heat, feeling him breathe while the tips of his fingers stroked her
arm.

In the morning, a rap on the main door dragged Helene from her dreams. Alone in the
huge disheveled bed, she stretched out, smiling as she remembered Darius’s mesmerizing
kiss and his intoxicating touch. When the knock came again, she roused herself, grabbed
a robe, and, rubbing her eyes, hurried to open the door. A girl, perhaps sixteen,
presented a long-stemmed yellow rose along with a note:

Join me in the pavilion. DV.

Bringing the bloom close, she inhaled its perfume then quickly changed and was led
through the palace maze. When the girl finally bowed off, Helene spotted Darius sitting
beneath the soaring ceiling of a magnificent gilded-roofed pavilion. A bevy of dishes
were laid out on a table before him. As if sensing her, he set down the block of papers
he was studying and found his feet at the same time as his gaze found hers. His bright
smile was a reflection of the sun rising behind him.

She crossed over. He dropped a kiss on her brow and a uniformed attendant pulled out
a chair.

“You didn’t wake me when you left,” she said, looking over the array of food and sighing.
Her waistline would suffer after two weeks of this.

“You make certain noises when you’re sound asleep.” Seated again, he flicked out a
linen napkin. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Certain noises?
“Are you saying I snore?”

He leaned in close enough to steal a kiss. “Not badly. Not all the time.” She slapped
his hand, and he pulled away laughing. “I thought you’d enjoy sharing a decent breakfast
your first morning here.”

Nodding her thanks as an attendant filled her cup with steaming coffee, she reached
for a pastry and teased, “Work not holding your attention?”

“I’ll admit, you are a distraction.” Grinning, he pulled down a mouthful of coffee.
“So, how do you plan to fill in your day?”

“If you’re going to be busy…”

“Until early afternoon.”

“I’ve invited Tahlia over.”

He looked vaguely suspicious. “You two are getting along well.”