Page 57 of Elysium

SAY WHAT SHE MIGHT ABOUT HIM, but it was Penelope that was the insatiable one. He had barely made it back into the room, barely closed the door behind him when her hands were on him. She hummed against his lips as he undressed.

“Hurry,” she urged, trailing a finger down the contour of his chest. “You were gone for so long.”

Desperation coursed through his veins as she whimpered against his mouth. “I was helping prepare our son for his ceremony tomorrow, woman.” He stepped backwards in time with her, pushing her gently back on the bed.

The look in her eyes was enough to send him over the edge. She was feral in the way she touched him, the way she dug her nails into his skin as he showered her with devotion.

It would have been enough to bring a greater man to his knees, for his heart to shatter in her hands.

He was not that man. He met her step for step, touch for touch, as they clawed their way into each other’s arms. He would always rise to the occasion that was his wife.

They collapsed into each other, exhausted and content. Odysseus would never tire of the sated look on his wife’s face as she drifted off, a look of utter fulfillment that he knew only he could provide her with.

The night was still around them. The faint sound of ocean waves lapped in the distance as Odysseus himself succumbed to the pull of sleep, surrounded by the smell of her, by the warmth of her touch.

A dreamless sleep took him quickly, both he and his wife wrapped up in the shroud of the night. The moon was high in the sky when he felt Penelope stir beside him. A sleepy grin fluttered across his face as he reached for her, desperate to feel her underneath his skin again.

“Quiet, queen. Or he suffers too.”

Odysseus blinked, trying to shake off the weight of sleep. His mind was still half shrouded, hearing fears and thoughts as he fumbled around, searching for the warmth of his wife.

“If you keep squirming like that, pretty, it won’t just be your throat I’m after.”

He shook his head, a mess of hair falling into his eyes as his vision cleared. His body froze, heart lurching into his throat as he took in the sight before him.

His wife, his entire essence, the reason he woke, was pinned down to their bed. A massive hand dwarfed both of hers, clutching both of her wrists above her head. The other brandished a knife, pressed to her throat.

The devil in their bedroom was straddling his wife. The words he had dreamt… hadn’t been dreams at all. This creature dared to speak to his wife like that.

Odysseus didn’t think, he just reacted. His muscles tensed, giving him the power he needed to leap at the man. The intruder grunted as he hit him with the full force of his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin.

The two men clattered onto the ground, the knife between them. Odysseus was fast, but his body was still waking up. The assassin got to the knife faster, brandishing it between them.

“You think I’m afraid of a dull blade, you fiend?” Odysseus spat, crouching low. “You’ve touched the most precious thing in this world to me. I will take pleasure in ripping you apart with my hands.”

He didn’t like this arrangement, Odysseus had his back to the balcony. The villain stood between him and his bed, between him and his wife.

He took a step forward, watching the other man’s movements, watching his actions. Strength alone did not win wars. He had to be precise, had to be particular.

He needed this man alive. Too much noise and the guards would come, their son would come, and Odysseus wouldn’t get his chance to find out what this beast was here for.

No, this had to be done quietly, without drawing a fuss.

Or at least, that was his original plan.

His eyes darted to the bed, where Penelope sat up, clutching the blanket to her.

A blanket with a stain of red that grew by the second

Odysseus’ vision clouded, his jaw tensed. Every muscle in his body sang for this man’s demise.

Who was he to refuse?

He lunged again, grabbing the man by the middle and slamming him down on the ground. He let out a curse, jabbing his knife in wild movements. He might have found purchase. He could have very well severed an entire limb, but the king wouldn’t have known.

The intruder still fought, still struggled underneath him. He felt a punch to his side, maybe one to his face, but he couldn’t feel pain. The only thing he could feel was pure, unfiltered rage.

His fist connected with the assassin’s face. He felt bone crumble beneath his hand. “Hit harder.” The king jeered, adjusting his hold.

Odysseus’ hands were around his throat, thumbs pressing into his windpipe. He heard the weapon clatter to the ground beside him.

It was the sound of Penelope’s gentle gasp that caused the red in his vision to recede.

“Odysseus,” her voice was so quiet he could feel the tremble of her words deep in his soul.

His hands were on her in an instant. Cradling her face between bloodied fingers, brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, trying to still the tremors that wrecked his wife.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, trying to will her heart to calm, her breathing to settle. “I’m here. He won’t hurt you again. I’m here.”

“You’re bleeding,” she managed, fingers touching his arm. It turned out… the trespasser that ruined their night had landed a hit with his knife.

He pulled back enough to inspect her, to see the damage done to his wife. “Oh, my love.” His fingers swiped over the opening on her neck. The blade had cut her, and though it might be a shallow cut, he felt the rage building up inside of him again.

Odysseus closed his eyes, pushing a harsh breath out of his nose, settling himself. He had taken care of the threat. She was safe in his arms.

He reached down, wriggling the blanket out of her clenched hands. Quickly, he tore a strip off of it, holding it to her neck.

“I can do that.” She tried to move his hand away, but his fingers twitched against her skin, refusing to budge.

“Let me care for you, wife.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let me do this.” His other hand cupped the back of her neck, keeping her steady as he applied gentle pressure to her wound.

“You’re hurt, too.” Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. He could tell she was fighting so hard to keep her composure. There would never be a moment that he didn’t adore this steadfast woman in front of him.

“I’m not the least bit concerned,” his lips turned into a gentle smile. “It will turn into another rugged scar that my wife will dig her fingers into while she screams my name.”

“Odysseus,” she blushed, laughing breathlessly into the night air. Her hand circled his wrist, tears finally staining her cheeks. “Odysseus,” it was different this time, urgent. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, answering finally. His eyes never left hers. “But I’m going to find out.”

Her fingers brushed against the stained rag he held to her throat. “Am I still-”

“Just a little, dear heart.”

“Will it scar?”

“I hope it does.” His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

“Another scar to prove to every man that dares to lay eyes on my wife. She is not to be reckoned with. She is a woman of strength, stature, power, and poise.” His hand left her neck, wrapping her up in an embrace. She still trembled. “And she is mine.”

Her tears fell freely, and he held her against his chest. Her fingers clenching against his skin.

It wasn’t until this moment that Odysseus took stock of himself. He was covered in blood. His, hers, the intruders. “My love, if I asked you to do me a favor… would you do it without fighting me?”

“Probably not,” she laughed, the words thick with tears.

“Will you go to our son’s room for the remainder of the night?” He loosened his grip around her, moving to meet her gaze.

“I don’t want to be away from you.” She whispered. Her voice was so small, it cracked a fissure in his soul.

“I know,” he leaned his forehead against hers again. “I don’t want you to be away, either. But I have to know what this man wants — why he was here for you.”

“Let me stay.”

It was Odysseus’ turn to laugh. “I love you, my queen, but to… extract the information I need from this man, I cannot be worried about you, too. The only man I trust to keep you safe is our son.”

“Will you fetch me when you’re finished?” Her eyes were wide. She was trying to be strong for him.

“Oh, foolish woman,” he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. “I will always come for you.”