Page 44 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)
“Lykos, go,” Theron was half amused, half scandalized. “Now.”
The captain pursed his lips, clearly unhappy. “Now I’ll have to go and look it up. How do you spell it?”
“G-o, n-o-w. And take the evening off.” Theron strode to his friend, ushered him out, closed the door, and finally laughed. “I never expected that from you.”
Her face was on fire. “I hoped you wouldn’t know the word.”
“Unlike Lykos, I couldn’t evade my tutors,” he replied, stepping closer, amusement still warming his dark eyes.
He had changed into a casual black robe with a golden border, and he was barefoot.
He beckoned her to step into his study and walked back to his desk, picking up a cup and taking a sip.
After a moment of silence, he continued, “And speaking of Lykos…”
She glanced at the door.
“He’s definitely gone, Calliste. I was listening to his steps, and he wouldn’t be eavesdropping like this.”
She glanced at Theron’s massive frame, etched in shadows against the searing sunset, and stepped closer.
To her left stood a long desk stacked with neatly arranged parchments and quills, positioned to receive plenty of light from the windows during the day.
Behind it was a comfortable, carved chair.
A huge map of Hesperis hung on the wall behind it, flanked by two bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling.
No scrap or quill was out of place; everything was arranged with precision, at neat angles. She was about to comment on how his desk reflected his personality when her eye caught on a mural spanning the entire wall across from his desk.
She turned slowly, awestruck to see a phoenix rising from the ashes—vibrant, victorious, its fiery wings and tail spread out, incandescent as it soared across the teal sky.
It took her a moment to catch her breath from the profound beauty of the painting, her eyes traveling from the ashen swirls in the fresco’s corners to the ignited oranges at its center. Then she noticed the solid wooden door in the corner of the study, reinforced with steel bands and slightly ajar.
Theron placed his cup on the desk and moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Like it? I commissioned it when I moved here.”
“Why a phoenix?”
“Because I needed a reminder to stay true to myself,” he murmured into her ear, a spiced and velvety hint of wine on his breath. “The phoenix is defiant—it burns, dies, and returns. This was what I needed to remember: no matter how many blows the Fates dealt me, I’d rise from my own ashes.”
It sounded just like him.
“It also reminds me of you, now,” he added, his hands sliding over hers. “Look at you—rising from the ashes and soaring. Despite how poorly the Fates treated you, now even immortals rely on your help.”
She didn’t know how to respond, or if he even expected an answer. Given how subtly he’d phrased it, she wondered if he was hinting that he was ready to overlook whatever he already found out about her past.
Or maybe Hypnos had been lying all along about Theron investigating her past. Would it be unusual for Hypnos to be devious? Certainly not.
She allowed herself to soften in his arms. “It’s a wise way of looking at life, Theron. I’m glad you had this to inspire you.”
His arms tightened around her. “It inspired me until I met you. Now, you are my inspiration.” After a few moments, as their breaths fell into one, he said. “I have the most magnificent view of Anthemos from here. My favorite. Would you like to see it?”
“More magnificent than the one from your garden?”
“This place is much higher.”
“Lykos told me it used to be an observatory.”
“This is the highest point in Anthemos.” He unwound his arms and took her hand, leading her to the window. “Admittedly, we flew higher than this, but still...”
As if the view she remembered from earlier wasn’t stunning enough.
Anthemos was awash with ruby light. The sun hovered just a fraction above the sea, its dark-amber disc poised to sink into the lilac expanse of water as the sky deepened to a rich purple.
“Here.” Theron handed her a cup.
She brought it to her lips and inhaled. “Wine?”
“The best Hellenixian wine, Calliste. I believe you two are already acquainted.” The sunset illuminated his amused expression, and she noticed a small, carved wooden table with a glazed clay jug next to it. Beside it was a comfortable armchair with soft, golden pillows.
“Oh, is this your nook? Well chosen. Wine and a view.”
He gave a knowing smile as he lowered himself into the armchair. “Yes.” He watched her in silence for a moment. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
She glanced around for a chair. “Where—”
“...My lap?” Mischief flickered in his deep baritone like the silver light of the moon across the sea at night; he was both playful and serious.
“Oh, I thought you just wanted to know about Lykos...”
“That, too, but it wasn’t the only reason I asked you to come here.”
Her pulse quickened, and she took a long sip of wine to recover. The drink burned on her tongue and warmed her stomach. As she set down the cup, he leaned forward and caught her fingers.
He held them, watching her from his armchair, waiting. “Out of curiosity, did you find out which one of us is right?”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost that bet.”
“I thought I would. I took a moment to think about it, and everything you said makes perfect sense.”
She squeezed his hand. “He’s a true friend, Theron, but he also genuinely cares about her.”
“A real mess, huh? I had no idea, I swear,” he sighed. “I’ll speak to him when the time is right. You’ve won, Calliste. What would you like as a prize?”
You , she wanted to say, but stopped herself. “It wasn’t a bet I took seriously; I knew I’d win. But what’s the other reason I’m here?”
He released her fingers and gazed out the window at the fading sunset.
“By this time tomorrow, we will be back in the Underworld. What we’ll face there is anyone’s guess.
” He stretched out his legs, glancing up at her.
“You know how I feel about you and how much I desire you. I’m assuming you’re ready for all of me…
” Playful fire danced in his eyes. “Because I distinctly remember you telling me recently that you were more than ready.”
She blushed, recalling how she had begged him to go further in her bed.
“But, of course, if I misjudged, or if the timing isn’t right, I’ll get you another armchair, and we can talk, or cuddle, or I could take you back to your room. Whatever you like, Calliste.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t want to leave any room for misunderstanding. “You wanted to know about my past before we could venture any further. And… now?”
His expression was unreadable. “I don’t require it anymore.”
She hesitated, hoping he would elaborate—but he didn’t, and she didn’t want to push.
For a moment, she balanced on the fine line between want and fear.
Want was unquestionable—every cell of her body sang with it.
Fear was that familiar cord around her neck, pulling her back from telling him the truth whenever she contemplated it.
She glanced at Anthemos, devoured by the glorious, fading conflagration. The sea had swallowed the sun, leaving only the last patches of searing light to hint at where it had vanished.
To the left, the pale pink shape of the moon shone with its distant, hazy aura. Night was descending—a night they could have all to themselves.
Melitta’s advice whispered in her head: In the end, you’ll regret the chances you didn’t take far more than the ones you did. It made her chuckle.
He arched his brow. “What’s so amusing?”
“Just imagining your reaction if I said I wanted to sit beside you and talk.”
He chuckled. “Oh, but you wouldn’t.”
“No? That’s a bold assumption.”
“I know you can’t resist me, Calliste.” He leaned back, grinning.
Laughter bubbled out of her again. “Now I’ll have to agree, for I’d hate for your confidence to sustain a serious blow.”
His eyes smoldered. “My confidence also remembers how you shivered in my arms and begged for all of me.” After a moment, his teeth glinted.
“Calliste, this blush is delightful.” He stretched like a lazy cat, his muscles rippling.
Then he unfastened the pin holding his robe on his shoulder, allowing it to slide down his torso.
His gaze was both amused and challenging as he observed her reaction.
“But of course, we could watch the moonrise instead.”
She stared, swallowing, her fingertips itching to touch the sculpted magnificence and trace the map of nicks and scars.
She stepped closer, reaching out, allowing him to take her hand and pull her onto his lap.
She wound her arm around his neck, and finally traced and stroked his chest as she nestled against him.
He tugged at the cord securing her hair and pulled it loose. “I’m not holding back tonight,” he murmured.
The silver and steel in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Watching up close, he ran his finger along her jaw, turning her head toward him to capture her lips.
His kiss was unhurried, as if his tongue was warming up to spar with hers, but he broke it after a while. “Oh, before I lose my head completely...” A fiery note in his voice burned like embers. “I still don’t want this night to have consequences that could put you at any risk. How should I finish?”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “Fast and hard.”
His eyes widened, then glowed brighter. “Naughty nymph. You know what I mean.”
“Inside me.”
“And you’re certain of it?”
“I am.” She tightened her arms around him, her tongue exploring his mouth, savoring his taste.
His hand slid to her collarbone, teasing the clasp of her robe open.