Page 24 of Elysium

RETIRING TO HER CHAMBERS AFTER DINNER, Penelope pushed her door closed. She turned, confirming that the door was locked behind her.

She had never felt unsafe in her father’s home before, but with the growing number of men here to vie for her cousin's hand, caution felt like second nature.

Once the door was secured, she turned. Her heart leapt into her throat as she caught sight of a figure lounging on her bed, one leg draped over the side, his arms folded lazily behind his head.

She swallowed the fear in her throat, reaching silently for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

Her fingers clasped around a hairpin, she gripped it tightly, stalking forward. All she saw was the man’s shape, tracking her across the room. Her resolve faltered as she got closer, grip tightening on her poor excuse for a weapon.

Fear clouded her thoughts. Any wise woman would have immediately turned and left the room, but she crept closer, fear tethering her to the figure in her bed.

Once she was close enough to strike, she lifted her weapon, but the warrior was too quick, too in tune with her motions. She never stood a chance. A large hand gripped her wrist, causing her to drop her weapon. He moved deftly, practically invisible against the shadow of the night.

Her back was flat against the mattress, breath coming in rapid gasps. But.. as quickly as the fear had taken her, it subsided. A low rumble of laughter came from above her, a voice that, even as new as it was to her, she would recognize anywhere.

“You can't be here,” Penelope hissed, heart stuttering in her chest. She was enveloped in the smell of him. Hints of salt air and sweat clung to his skin.

“Wasn’t difficult,” Odysseus murmured, his grin audible in the darkness. He loomed above her, his weight pressed lightly to her frame, her hands caught fast in his grip. “You ought to scold your guards.”

“I should scold you,” she whispered furiously. “If my father finds-”

He laughed again, the sound soft and wicked as he shifted his grip, his thumb tracing the curve of her palm. “I just wanted to see you,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s a long voyage home, and I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Her chest heaved as she glared up at him, heat rising in her cheeks. “I would hardly consider this proper,” she muttered, though her lips betrayed the beginning of a smile. “If we’re caught, I’ll be-”

“Married by sunrise.”

She stiffened. “Odysseus.”

He softened, one hand brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “Or gifted to Athena, perhaps?”

“Stop teasing.”

A flicker of mischief crossed Odysseus’ face. He loosened his grip on her wrists, but didn’t release her. “I seem to recall a different version of propriety when I caught you watching me from the terrace this morning.”

Her cheeks burned. “I wasn’t watching-”

“You were,” he interrupted, his voice low and certain. He leaned closer until the heat of his breath ghosted her cheek. “I’d wager you’ve done it before.”

Penelope clenched her jaw. “And if I have? What are you going to do, Odysseus? Lock me away for looking at my betrothed?”

“Lock you away?” His laughter was a soft rumble, almost kind. “No. I would steal you in the night, run away with the woman who has captured my very being.”

Her breath caught. "You mean that?"

"Penelope..." He shifted his weight so that he was no longer pinning her, resting on his elbow instead, his finger curling around a lock of her hair. "I would carry you on my back if I had to."

She let the weight of his words settle, her heart skipping unsteadily in her chest. “You’re a fool,” she whispered, eyes softening despite herself.

“For you, perhaps I am,” he murmured, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth. His gaze drifted, and when his lips finally brushed hers, it was tentative, testing the waters like the skilled navigator he was.

Her lips parted. “We’ll be caught,” she breathed once more against his mouth. He had invaded her every sense. She warred against her sense of decorum, and the way the moonlight shone in his eyes. Her conscience kept telling her to stop, but her body continued on singing a different tune.

His smile turned wicked. “Then let us make it worth the scandal.” They came together in a clash of passion. Now that her hands were free, she used them to clutch at his shirt, anchoring herself in him.

His tongue teased her lips, his arrogant grin never truly leaving his features.

“Princess,” he groaned, nipping at her jaw as his lips memorized her.

His mouth traveled along her jaw, pausing at the lobe of her ear.

“Imagine,” his voice was husky. His hand memorizing the curves of her body, “Imagine what it would be like, Princess.” His breath was hot against the skin behind her ear. “To be loved by me.”

“Don’t call me that,” she managed, tilting her head to grant him more access, her breath hitching.

“What should I call you, then?” His voice was a velvet rasp, filled with wicked delight. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Penelope,” she whispered, her chest heaving. “Just Penelope.”

He hummed, pressing his lips against the pulse point at her neck. “Ah… ‘just Penelope’ doesn’t capture the woman I see before me.”

She bit her lip, warmth flooding her cheeks. “And you think you know me so well?”

Odysseus pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes gleaming like the sea under starlight. “I do know you. I’ve known you since the first time you smiled at me and made me forget my own name.”

Her heart thundered. “Then perhaps I’ve known you since the first time you tripped over your own pride and made me want to slap that smirk off your face.”

He laughed, the sound deep and rich. “It was a magnificent stumble.”

Her lips twitched. “It was a disaster.”

“A triumph,” he corrected, cupping her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin. “One that brought me here.” Their lips came together again, softer this time, intimate. Penelope’s heart lurched in her chest.

Odysseus paused. She could feel his breath across her face.

Her head was spinning. His grin softened, the mischief in his eyes giving way to something deeper, something quieter.

He traced her cheek with his fingertips, as though memorizing the curve of her face.

“Penelope,” he murmured, the teasing lilt gone from his voice.

She blinked, her heart still racing as the warmth of his hand settled her. “Yes?”

He studied her carefully, the weight of his gaze making her feel as if he could see through every wall she had ever built. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was gentle, the kind of vow not sworn in words but in the way his touch had never overstepped, always waiting for her to lead.

“I know.”

His smile deepened, a flicker of boyish curiosity beneath the tenderness. “Have you ever…?” He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken, and though he didn’t finish, she knew the question.

Penelope’s breath hitched as her fingers gripped the fabric of his tunic tighter. Her cheeks burned, but her eyes never left his. “Yes.” A pause, her voice softer now, trembling under the weight of honesty. “But it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like you.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Half amusement, half wonder. “Good,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against hers. “Then let me be the only one who makes you feel this way.”

She trembled, her hands tightening around him. “What if they catch us?” A final plea, one she prayed he wouldn’t answer.

“They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

He chuckled, brushing his lips along her temple. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow. Tonight, if your father can be bothered.” His repeated sentiment, the way he claimed her with absolute certainty, lit a fire in the Spartan’s princess’ veins.

“Odysseus…”

“I swear it, Penelope.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, not yet daring to press further. “Tell me if I go too far. Tell me if I need to stop.” His words trailed off into silence, eyes wild with restrained hunger. “Say the word, Princess, and I’ll leave.”

Her lips curved upward, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. “Stay.”

In one fluid motion, they shifted. Her head was spinning at his speed.

His back was pressed against the headboard.

She was sitting on top of him, legs straddling his hips.

One large hand steadied her, firmly planted on the small of her back.

His other hand cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer.

Her heart pounded as her pulse raced ahead of reason.

She had been taught restraint, to tame the storms within herself.

But with Odysseus... restraint had never been an option.

The warmth of his hand on her back ignited a fire where decorum had no place.

His lips hovered near hers, waiting, as if every breath between them was a promise he dared not break.

She pulled back from him, breaths coming quick. “Odysseus,” she whispered, “Take me with you, tomorrow.”

“What?” He muttered half heartedly, lips carving a trail down the side of her neck. He stilled against her, jerking his head back to meet her gaze. “What?” He repeated.

Penelope let out a breathless laugh as she watched him process what he said. “I am yours. You have won my hand. Don’t make me wait for your return, King of Ithaca.”

A wicked grin split her face. “Take me home.”