Page 45 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

“Oh.” She pulled away while he flashed a wicked smile that promised only trouble for her and traced her collarbone to the opposite clasp, undoing it as well. Holding her close, he leaned forward, dropping the clasps on the table, then he peeled down the front of her robe.

She glanced down at the stark, ugly scar splitting her body between her breasts. The last time he’d bared her like this, it had been dark, and he hadn’t been able to see much of it. But now that it was in full view… She froze and pulled the front of her robe back to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” He lowered his hand, his eyes narrowing.

“I… I forgot about this… scar.”

“Oh. Calliste, but I’ve seen it before.”

“And why would you want to look at such ugliness again?” She didn’t want to admit to her insecurities, but they rushed to the surface.

The truth was that she had a barren, battered body and a soul that felt heavy and dark even at the best of times, and standing amidst this luxury and perfection, in front of a man who owned it all, she suddenly felt out of place, like a chipped, weathered sculpture in an idyllic garden.

“Ugliness?” he repeated, puzzled. “Do you think my scars are ugly?”

She glanced at his chest. “No, of course not. But you got them in battles.”

“And you didn’t?” He tilted his head.

It gave her a pause. “Maybe I did, but…” She couldn’t force out words. “It’s different for men.”

“How?” He seemed confused. “Calliste, you earned this scar fighting for my son. And your other scars…” A shadow crossed his face.

“I couldn’t be there to protect or comfort you, so I’ll worship them as a mark of how strong you are.

Because you didn’t give up, we had a chance to meet and you are everything I could have wanted—and more. ”

Her eyes welled up, because his words were such a balm. They soothed and cooled the wounds still burning beneath her scars. “And I’m truly… enough?”

For a moment, he stared at her in disbelief, then sighed and pulled her into an embrace.

“Come here. We need to clarify a few things.” He let her prop her chin on his shoulder while he whispered in her ear, his breath carrying the sweet scent of Hellenixian wine.

“A long time ago, I swore off women. It was a personal, firm choice, and I never believed anyone could make me change my mind.” He took a deep breath.

“I also never imagined that the woman who would challenge this choice would be so perfect for me, just as she is. Just as you are, with your sweet soul beneath those scars. You were made for me. ”

She sat upright at that, staring at him.

“Did I make myself clear?”

Her chest seized up tight. “Theron.”

“ Did I make myself clear? ”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He cupped her hips. “Will you let me kiss your scar now?”

Her hands still fisted her robe, trembling, because she wanted it as much as she was scared of it.

“If…” Her breath, still trapped in her chest, stumbled and hitched on its way out.

“If this is what you want.” She unclenched her fingers.

The fabric slipped down, but she still shielded her scar with her palms.

He placed his hands on hers, then slowly moved them from her chest, to his mouth. “It will feel… like this .” He planted a kiss on the back of one hand, then the other, and lifted them to his neck, so she could embrace it. “Yes?”

She gave a nod so small she wasn’t even sure she did it.

Theron’s fingers slipped up her back, tracing the scars underneath her hair—and then he pulled her closer to him.

When his lips finally touched her scar, they were gentle, almost reverent—as if he was kissing her heart—before he pulled back, his eyes locking on her face.

“You are beautiful as you are, Calliste,” he breathed.

She opened her mouth but couldn’t produce a sound.

Her emotions were tangled, and she could either cry or kiss him—and she chose the kiss that sent her mind into a haze.

As it deepened, she could feel him unfasten her sash and let it fall to the floor, then swiftly unwrapping her robe.

Breaking the kiss, he lowered his mouth to her breast.

“Theron,” she gasped when his lips tightened on her nipple and he gently took it between his teeth.

The ache of it was so delightful that she shut her eyes, flushing with heat as she sat astride him so he could continue; he was so sinfully skilled at this, especially when he cupped her other breast, his firm thumb circling the tip, making her whimper.

The air between them was hot and damp as he traced the tip of his tongue up her neck and briefly kissed her before pulling away, watching her as if to assess the devastation he had done.

Her breasts were heavy and flushed from his caresses. “Now that you’re bare in my lap and so, so hungry…” He leaned back, his eyes hooded. “You’ve just made this view a thousand times better.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, warmed by the thought of being naked in front of the whole city.

Not that anyone could see them. But that thought fizzled out of her mind as she straddled him tighter, reaching down to his belt buckle to undo it so she could get rid of his tunic and…

Gods, she was ready to ride him—anything to stop those hungry spasms.

“Not here.” His voice was low and rough as he caught her wrist. “There’s a better place for this.”

“But I—”

“Oh, me too, my thirsty nymph. Hold onto me.” He rose, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He stepped smoothly over her robe, carrying her to the door set in the mural wall she had noticed earlier, and pushed it open with his foot.

“That’s why it was ajar,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Confidence, Calliste. Confidence,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I’ve also learned a thing or two from carrying you to bed every morning.”