“Hey, speaking of sleep—I know Z’s the big High Priestess, but she’s not the only one who needs her beauty rest,” Aphrodite whispered when they were alone in the hallway again.
Darius gave her a considering look. “You are right. You must be exhausted, especially after having a vision.”
“I wasn’t just talking about me, Mr. Macho. I was thinking about where we could go on the way down here and I came up with an idea—a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”
Darius smiled. “And I’m sure you do.”
“Of course. Anyway, I remembered you telling the penguin nurses that Stark shouldn’t be interrupted for at least a solid eight hours. So, he’s not in his very private, very dark, very cozy room. Instead it is tragically empty.” Aphrodite nuzzled the side of his neck, lifted herself on her tiptoes and nipped at his earlobe.
He laughed and tucked his arm around her. “You are brilliant.”
On the walk to Stark’s vacated room, Aphrodite filled him in on her vision, and on Zoey’s dream. He listened to her with the quiet attentiveness that had been the second thing about him that had drawn her to him.
The first being his utter hotness, of course.
Stark’s room was cozy and dark, lit only by a single candle. Darius pulled a chair over to the door and propped it against the handle, effectively barring anyone from busting in on them. Then he rummaged through the dresser in the corner of the room and pulled out fresh sheets and blankets, which he remade the bed with, saying something about not wanting her to sleep on a wounded vampyre’s sheets.
Aphrodite watched him as she pulled off her boots and jeans, and then slid her bra off under her shirt. She thought about what a weird feeling it was to have someone take care of her—someone who actually seemed to like her for herself, which was a total surprise. Guys liked her because she was hot, or because she was rich, popular, and a challenge, or, more often than not, simply because she was a bitch. It always amazed her how many guys just flat-out liked bitches. Guys didn’t like her because she was Aphrodite. Actually, guys usually didn’t take time to find out who she was underneath all the good hair, long legs, and attitude.
But the biggest shock of all about her relationship with Darius, and it was definitely becoming a relationship, was the fact that they hadn’t had sex. Yet. Sure, everyone believed they were doing it like bunnies, and she’d let them believe they were—she’d even encouraged them to believe it. They weren’t, though. And somehow, that didn’t feel weird. They slept together, and had even had some seriously hot make-out sessions, but that’s as far as they’d gone.
With a jolt of shocked realization, Aphrodite understood what it was that was happening between her and Darius—they were going slow and getting to know each other. Really, truly getting to know each other, and she was discovering that she liked going slow almost as much as she liked getting to know Darius.
They were falling in love!
That terrifying thought had Aphrodite’s knees going weak so suddenly that she backed up to the chair that was in the corner of the room and, feeling light-headed, sat down.
Darius finished making the bed and looked bemusedly across the room at her. “What are you doing all the way over there?”
“Just sitting,” she said quickly.
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you really okay? You did say you burned along with the vampyres in your vision. Are you still feeling the effects of that? You look pale.”
“I’m a little thirsty, and my eyes still sting, but I’m fine.”
When she continued to sit across the room without making any move to come to bed, he gave her a confused smile and said, “Aren’t you tired?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am.”
“Shall I get you some water?”
“Oh, no! I’ll get it myself. No problem.” Aphrodite boinged up like one of those freaky puppets with strings and walked over to the sink in the opposite corner of the room. She was filling up a paper cone with water when Darius was suddenly behind her. His strong hands were on her shoulders again. This time his thumbs gently began to knead the ultratight muscles in her neck.
“You carry all your tension here,” he said, working from her neck to her shoulders.
Aphrodite downed the cup of water and then couldn’t make herself move. Darius massaged her shoulders silently, letting his touch tell her how much he cared for her. Finally, she allowed the cup to slide from her fingers. Her head lolled forward and Aphrodite breathed a deep, contented sigh. “Your hands are totally magic.”
“Anything for you, my lady.”
Aphrodite smiled and leaned into his hands, allowing herself to relax more and more. She loved it that Darius treated her like she was his High Priestess, even though she had no Mark and would never be a vampyre. She loved that he had no doubt that she was special to Nyx—that she was Chosen by the Goddess. He so obviously didn’t care whether a Mark went along with that or not. She loved that he—
Ohmygoddess! She actually loved him! Holy shit!
Aphrodite’s head snapped up and she turned around so quickly that Darius took a short, startled step back, automatically giving her room.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I love you!” she blurted, and then pressed her hand against her mouth like she was trying, too late, to keep the words from exploding from it.
The warrior’s smile was long and slow. “I am glad to hear you say it. I’m in love with you, too.”
Aphrodite’s eyes began to fill with tears and she blinked hard to stop them as she shoved past him. “Goddess! This sucks!”
Instead of responding to her outburst, Darius simply watched her stalk over to the bed. Aphrodite could feel his steady gaze on her as she considered whether she should sit on the bed, or get in it. Finally, she did neither, deciding she didn’t like the picture she’d be creating in bed. She already felt vulnerable and exposed enough standing there in her T-shirt, panties, and nothing else. She turned to face Darius.
“What?” she snapped.
He tilted his head. A sad smile lifted just the corners of his lips. She thought his eyes looked decades older than the rest of his face. “Your parents are not in love, Aphrodite. From what you’ve shared with me about them, they may not be capable of feeling that emotion for anyone, and that includes you.”
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “So tell me something I don’t know.”
“You aren’t your mother.”
He’d said the words gently, but she felt them as if he’d flung knives at her that had buried themselves in her heart.
“I know that!” She spoke through lips that were suddenly cold.
Darius moved slowly toward her. Aphrodite thought how graceful he was—how powerful he always looked. He loved her? How? Why? Didn’t he realize what an awful bitch she was?
“Do you really know that? You are capable of love, even if your mother is not,” he told her.
But am I capable of being loved? She wanted to scream the question, but she couldn’t. Pride, who spoke louder to her than the understanding in Darius’s eyes, stopped the words. Instead she did what made her feel safe—she went on the offensive.
“Of course I know that. But this whole thing between us still sucks. The truth is you’re a vampyre. I’m a human. The most I can ever be to you would be your consort, and I can’t even be that because I’m already fucking Imprinted with stupid-ass Stevie Bumpkin Rae—an Imprint I can’t seem to get rid of even though you’ve bitten me, too.” Aphrodite paused, trying not to remember the tenderness Darius had shown her when he drank from her, even though to him her Imprinted blood was tainted. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about the pleasure and peace she’d found in his arms, all without having sex with him.