She looked back at Zander. And knew he was the best of the worst. At least, for her sake, she hoped he was. “I choose…you.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t say anything. And then, he motioned with his hand. “Come to me.”
She pulled the towel tighter around her breasts. Slowly, she crossed the floor, her bare feet silent as she stepped from carpet to solid wood. When she was a foot from him she stopped and had to tip her head back to look up. He was taller than she’d realized. And bigger. Everywhere. In fact, from her vantage point he seemed…downright huge.
He closed the distance between them. Heat from his body encircled her where she stood. She smelled sandalwood and something citrusy. And though her pulse kicked up at his nearness, there was no excitement rushing through her veins. Not even a flicker of arousal.
He tipped her chin up with his finger. Warmth flowed from his hand into her cold skin. “I will never intentionally hurt you, Isadora. If you are honest with me, I will be honest with you in return. Do you understand?”
She nodded once.
“Trust is all that I ask of you. Nod so I know you believe me.”
She did.
“Good.” His gaze ran over her face. “Now, kiss me and show me you are as committed to this binding as I am.”
She didn’t move. But neither did she fight him. Not even when he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers.
The sensation was…soft. His lips were supple, yet firm, and when he skimmed them over hers again, she felt herself respond. Felt her mouth move beneath, not in approval but in…acquiescence.
It was over quickly. He eased back and stared down at her. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. There was no heat burning in his eyes. No flash of desire. He didn’t appear to be holding back his passion, and, she supposed, that was a good thing. Because that kiss hadn’t done anything for her except check off a box in the life column of things she’d never done.
“I’ll return in six days for the binding ceremony.” He left the room quietly, the door clicking softly at his back.
Alone, Isadora walked to the vanity and sank onto the plush-covered stool to stare at her reflection. That numb feeling had washed back over her sometime during her conversation with Zander. In a matter of days she’d be his syzygos. His wife. And that kiss? It was only a hint of what he would do to her when they were husband and wife.
No excitement, apprehension, not even worry ran through her at that thought. She let the towel fall to her waist. Slid her fingers through her long blonde hair from root to tip. The thick mass hung to the middle of her back. As heir to the throne, and female, she was held to the traditions many Ar-goleans had given up long ago, much to the disapproval of the Council. Her hair was to remain long, she was to wear only full-length gowns that covered her limbs in their entirety and she was to be untouched. In every sense of the word.
Was that still true?
She dropped her hair. Pushed away memories from her time in the Underworld that tried to creep in. Tried to settle the unrest that grew deep in her soul with each passing day. She would be two hundred years old in a few months. Two hundred years and never been kissed. Until now.
With hands steadier than she expected, she pulled open the drawer of the vanity and fished around until she found scissors. They glimmered in the early evening light as she thought about who she had been before and who she was now.
Her father expected her to bind herself to Zander and produce an heir. To cement the monarchy so the Council could not overthrow her reign once he was gone. And she would do exactly what he commanded, because her life, now, was sacrificed. But that’s where it ended. There would be no follow-up “spare.” No matter how nice or agreeable or handsome Zander was, she would not take him into her bed again once her pregnancy was confirmed. And oh, she would rule. Much to the dismay of the Argonauts, and the Council, and most of all, her father.
She had five hundred years before she passed from this life into the next. And once she did, her soul no longer belonged to her, but to Hades. It was way past time she stopped living for everyone else and finally started living for herself.
She opened the blades of the scissors and captured a clump of hair near her temple. Then, without hesitation, she sliced.
Zander paused on the other side of Isadora’s closed bedroom door, took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his brow. He wasn’t sweating. If anything, his skin was cold and clammy, much like Isadora’s had been.
Not important. He headed out of the anteroom toward the grand marble staircase. Walking in on a very naked Isadora had not been what he’d expected. Or planned. Or, skata, wanted. But now that he had, he couldn’t get the memory of her out of his mind. Bare as the day she was born. As perfectly formed as any Argolean male hoped. The female that would very soon be his for the taking. And why the hell that didn’t excite him, he didn’t know.
Before he could stop himself, his thoughts were skipping back, comparing Isadora’s body to the heady fantasy of Cal-lia he’d conjured up in that damn study. Only one got his blood going. Only one shot his body temperature into the out-of-this-world range. Only one made him hard with just a thought.
Shit. He stopped with one hand on the banister. Forced out a breath, drew another one in.
Isadora is not the one.
His heart rate kicked up, but he worked to keep it steady. Told himself, okay, so his body wasn’t reacting the way his mind wanted, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still make this work. There were Argolean aphrodisiacs he could take that would help with his libido. And if those failed, he could always cross into the human realm, knock over a pharmacy and lift some Levitra or Viagra or Cialis. He’d used human drugs before. He knew they’d work in his system. He could use them again for the sake of his marriage and their people.
You never had to use them with your soul mate, dipshit.
“Whatever,” he muttered, picking up his pace again. “It’s just biology, dumbass.”
“Talking to yourself again, old man?”
Zander pulled up short at the base of the stairs on the second floor, one hand on the newel post, as he peered into the shadows.
Near the far wall, Titus stepped out from behind a column he’d obviously been leaning against, waiting. “I always suspected you were a little senile.”
“Hey,” Zander said. Because, yeah, this was awkward too. “What’s up?”
Titus crossed his arms over his broad chest. Stood with his legs shoulder width apart. The stance was defensive, but not aggressive, and Zander was glad. He wasn’t in the mood to get his ass handed to him anymore today.
“Theron told me to wait for you. He got a message from Nick. Daemons hit a village somewhere near the North American colony. Seems there was a mix of half-breeds and humans living there. Nick’s asked for help locating survivors. Theron already sent the others out. He wants you ready to roll.”
Excitement pricked Zander’s skin. Theron was letting him fight? He’d expected to be sidelined from now until the time Isadora produced an heir. But maybe since they weren’t officially bound yet, Theron was giving him one last job. “Yeah. Sure. I just need to grab some weaponry. Then we can go.”
“One thing first.” Titus stepped in front of Zander, blocking his path to the next set of stairs, and Zander’s back tightened in anticipation of what would come next. Retribution was a bitch, but Zander had it coming.
“What you did before…in the king’s chamber. That was…” Titus lifted his hand, looked at it. Seemed to debate whether he was going to reach out and touch Zander’s shoulder or plow his fist into Zander’s abdomen. Zander stiffened, but then Titus dropped his arm. “That was heroic, Z. I just want you to know all of us…especially Demetrius…we won’t forget this.”