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"Figures." She moved her hand aside in a careless gesture
that annoyed Apollo.
A glimmer of light caught his eye. "Will you show me the
back of your pendant?"
She picked it up and showed it to him, turning it around
for him to see.
"The Greek inscription reads, 'A choice must be made if
you are to be true to yourself.'"
"I know. I studied Greek mythology in college."
"You've attended college?" His eyebrows shot up. There
were scholars in Ancient Greece, but education was for the
wealthy not the plebeians such as
He stopped himself. It wasn't nice to refer to someone he
was fucking as a plebeian in this day and age. Mona had
reminded him earlier.
"Yes! You started to attend from what I gathered by
looking around your house. You have an impressive library.
Or, James does anyway. Why did you stop?"
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He touched her hand, feeling the warmth against his cold,
clammy palm. "Because I'm obviously not James Helios."
She frowned. "I guess that makes sense. When did you
appear here?"
His eyebrows rose. "So you believe me?"
She tilted her head slightly. "We're still figuring out that
part." She gave him a light smile.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Hair fell in his eyes,
and he brushed strands back behind his ear. "About three
days ago. Hera banished me before the night of a big party.
Thousands were coming from all of Greece to worship me.
There was to be a festival just because I felt like it!"
She grinned wickedly. "You look like the delicious type to
worship."
He nodded. "Thanks, but you are more of a goddess than I
am a god right now."
Her face turned a shade of crimson.
"By the Fires of Tartarus, Tanya, you are a goddess in your
own right. In my time, people would come to worship
beautiful women like you. They would have been elevating
you to something close to goddess status. That much is sure."
He leaned into her body, aware of his own serious expression.
She frowned. "I doubt it."
"Why doubt my word?" His shoulders rose, tension building
at her impudence.
Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd said too
much. Looking deep into her eyes, reminded him immediately
that she'd had a difficult past. Whatever had happened to her
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in the past had managed to follow her here and weigh her
down in the present.
"It's nothing." She looked away.
"No. What's nothing is an orgy consisting of hundreds of
drunken women who've come with the sole purpose of fucking
the god of light. You are something amazing."
"You're saying that because you want in my pants." Her
tone was flat. "Just leave it be, okay?"
He scoffed. "I will do no such thing. I may not have my
powers about me or an army of hundreds knocking my door
down, but at least one human should listen to someone with
some sense."
She stood, her breasts jutting out deliciously, as though
she meant to intimidate him. "So you're not only stubborn but
controlling as well?" Taking a few steps back, she reached for
her purse but missed it.
"How dare you say that about a god of Mount Olympus!"
Her eyebrows rose. "If you're a god, you're certainly the
asshole type. Are they all like this? Does Mona know who you
truly are? Or have you fooled her, too?"
This was not exactly how he'd planned for any of this to
go! Still, he couldn't seem to control himself. "Yes! Mona
knows exactly who I am." He narrowed his eyes at her and
stepped closer to her, breaking the distance she had put up
between them.
She was incredibly annoyed by now, her green eyes dilated
and lips trembling.
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He took a step closer, his gaze fixed on hers. Beneath her
shirt, her nipples were drawn into tight peaks that begged for
his mouth, his oh so hot mouth to suckle.
She inhaled a breath, her shirt rose just a little to expose
enough light brown skin of her tummy.
Without thinking, Apollo cleared the remaining distance
between them and grabbed her by the waist.
"Hey, what are you do "
Pulling her to him, his lips fell upon hers. Tasting and
devouring her mouth as he forced her body against his, he
tangled a free hand in her mess of curls.
Putting her hands to his chest, she pushed back against
him but stopped and became pliant beneath his masterful
mouth.
He nuzzled her lower lip with his, brushing two-day-old
stubble over her chin.
Her fingers gripped his shirt, clinging to him while her head
tilted back.
Apollo dipped his head between her breasts and flicked his
tongue over her heated skin, tasting the light coat of powder
she'd applied earlier, before dragging it slowly up her throat,
over her chin. Kisses followed by little bites along her chin
made her acquiesce beneath him further, though he still
sensed resistance.
Claiming her mouth with his, he parted her lips with his
tongue and explored the inside of her delicate mouth,
learning the different folds and curves of her.
Her tongue wrestled with his, and she inhaled a deep
breath.
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He ground his pelvis into her hips, his steel erection
hardening even more against her as she tried to resist.
She pulled away. "This could be construed horribly if I
talked." She tangled her fingers in his thick hair and tugged
his mouth towards hers.
He breathed in her scent, light and jasmine this time.
"Nobody would believe you," he murmured between kisses.
Her skin burned his, made him ache with desire so deep in
his core that he knew she must be his.
"I'm not one of your groupies," she muttered.
"Baby, I want you for my only groupie." He nibbled her
earlobe and walked her back against the wall.
She jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. Her
arms slid around the bands of his shoulders. "Damn you,
James!" She moved her head up for him to kiss her neck. "Or
whoever you are."
They stumbled against the wall near the bedroom before
Apollo dipped his head to her shoulders. "Apollo," he growled.
A hand palmed her breast beneath the shirt and bra she
wore, feeling the beautiful round weight of her.
She moaned, sending vibrations through his body.
Her thighs squeezed around his hips, settling her heat
directly over his.
He had to strip her and fuck her. Hard, his body
determined, but to keep her here, he'd have to take his time
and make her regret thinking he was nobody other than
Apollo, Greek god of wine and fertility.
Drunk on her, her scent, her taste, the way she felt
against his hard body, he needed her to be his.
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Her tongue caressed his neck, sending a heat wave
straight to his groin.
He throbbed painfully beneath his jeans. He snaked a hand
between them over her abdomen, spreading his fingers
possessively over her skin. She was warm to the touch, soft,
feminine. Different than the harlots he'd fucked in Ancient
Greece. Those women were playthings, merely useful for
passing time and satisfying his lust.
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