Page 49 of Elysium

HER EYES OPENED SLOWLY, rebelling against the way the sun shined brightly on her face. She could feel the tension in the air, even sequestered in their bedroom. She could tell someone had found Icarius… and the mess she left behind.

The space beside her was empty, cold. Odysseus had woken long before she had. She smiled inwardly to herself. She never got to wake up this long after him. He was a boisterous morning person, waking her with gentle kisses, longing touches.

He would be back, though. If he and their son were dealing with the fallout from her choices last night, he would come for her.

A small spark of excitement flared in her chest at the thought of him coming to handle her reckoning.

Penelope sat up in the bed, taking a deep breath. She sat with the emotions that should have been tethered to her chest, searching for remorse, pain, agony.

She found none.

She heard his footsteps before he even made it to the door. She ran a hand through her ragged locks, steadying herself. As he pushed the door open, his eyes met hers with an almost feral fire. “Wife…” he said, his voice dark.

“Good morning, husband.” Penelope chirped in response, crooking a finger, beckoning him to her. He shook his head, eyes narrow as he took a deliberate step towards her, then another.

“It’s strange, wife…” the king mused, taking yet another slow step to where she lay. “Someone found my dagger in your father’s room.” Another step. “Where your father was found.” Another. “Dead.”

“Oh no,” Penelope feigned upset, pressing her hand to her chest. She pouted, furrowing her brows as she watched her husband pace the room.

“What did you do?” He asked, stopping at the foot of the bed. A thrill ran through her as he leaned over the footboard, hands grasping at the olive wood branch. His knuckles were white.

He was holding back.

“Me? Odysseus, me?” She said, shifting, raising up on her knees to meet his gaze. She was just out of his reach. The muscle in his jaw twitched, his tongue flicked over his bottom lip.

“I secure this door every night before I take my place at your side,” He said through gritted teeth.

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting a look she had seen so often on her husband’s face.

“Just as I lay that dagger by the door.” His hands clenched tighter around the bed. “To protect you.”

“My king,” she gasped, looking away from him, biting her bottom lip. “You are so good to me.” She bit back a smirk as she heard his heavy exhale. She settled back on her haunches, carefully, accidentally , loosening the ties that kept her sleep dressing in place.

Another buzz of desire shocked through her body as she watched the defined muscles in her husband’s arm go taut. “Did you kill your father?” He all but snarled at her, but it wasn’t rage that seeped into his words.

Penelope felt a flush of heat travel through her body, settling in her core. “Be a good king and come here, husband.” She crooked her finger again. “Then maybe I’ll answer your question.”

“You will do as I ask,” He said through clenched teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at her.

“No, husband, I don’t think I will.” Penelope's lips ticked up into a tight smile as she moved her legs from underneath her, settling herself back against the headboard.

“Penelope…” His words carried warning. She gasped when she saw the olive branch underneath his hand give way, only slightly.

“There are better ways to break a bed, husband.” She drawled, beckoning to him a third time.

“You can’t kill people in our home, Penelope.” He no longer sounded like a man in control. His voice had shifted into something hungry, something primal.

“You did. Quite a few of them, if I remember correctly.” She dragged a finger down the collar of her opening dress, exposing more of herself to him.

Odysseus didn’t answer, not immediately. She watched, enraptured, as his chest heaved, composure slipping. He closed his eyes. “They touched something that belonged to me.”

“And what was that?” She fired back, shrugging the fabric off of her shoulders, letting it pool in the creases of her elbows.

He was over the bed frame, and over her, in a matter of breaths. His lips crashed down on hers, and she was instantly begging for more. She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, causing him to curse, pulling back. “You.” He said, before devouring her again.

His hands were everywhere, on her hips, her thigh, her breast. There was not a single place on her body that wasn’t completely entrenched with him. He moaned against her kiss, and Penelope pulled back, pushing him off of her.

“Don’t you dare,” her husband growled, reaching for her again. She followed, notching her legs around his hips, settling into his lap.

“I killed him.” She whispered against his lips, hands tugging at his hair. She pulled his head back, forcing him to meet her eyes. “He threatened something that belonged to me.”

“Did he know?” He was desperate, grabbing on to any part of her he could get his hands on. Clinging to her as his mouth found her throat.

“No,” she breathed, eyes rolling back in her head as he nipped at her skin. “No, he never saw it coming.”

His arms wrapped around her, clutching her close to him. He groaned against her throat, hips jerking. “You wicked, feral woman.”

Penelope’s hands left his hair, grabbing his chin roughly. “The world will think twice before they try to come between my husband and I.” she said, crashing into him. The kiss was sloppy, frantic.

With one arm, he lifted her, adjusting himself quickly before lowering her back into his lap. She lolled her head back, crying out as she finally felt the relief that she needed.

The crack in the pressure that had been building up since she had opened her eyes this morning.

“You, wife,” his words were pointed, short, as he moved with her. “Are the very center of my being.” He grabbed the back of her neck, bringing her gaze to his. “Look at me,” he demanded, his other hand digging into the skin at her hip.

“Look at me when I unravel you.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Her world shattered with fire and brimstone, her entire being coming undone by the touch of the man who she was tangled up with.

Her breathing hitched, heart stopped, as she clung to her anchor, to the man she had built her life upon.

He kept his hand firmly on her neck, forcing her to watch as he crested.

He cried out her name, grabbing at her hip so hard…

She prayed it would leave bruises. She prayed he had marked her.

“Odysseus,” she muttered, all but collapsing against his chest. The only thing keeping her afloat were his arms around her. His lips in her hair.

He didn’t answer, just tightened his grip around her, holding her in the aftermath. She lost track of how long they sat there, frozen in this moment. She would have stayed here until Hades came to claim them both, if given the choice.

Eventually, her limbs started to ache, hips screaming in protest as they sat there. With a kiss to her temple, he lifted her from him, and she curled into the mattress, reaching for him.

Odysseus joined her, wrapping them up in the blankets. He pulled her close, and she wormed her way into his arms again, resting her head on his chest.

Her eyes were heavy, and being surrounded by him, by his smell, his touch, his heartbeat in her ear, she could have easily drifted off into sleep. “Wife,” he murmured into the electrified air around them, a soft word only for her.