The portal closed behind me with a definitive swoosh, leaving Paris and I alone in the back of another shop. Though no longer on earth, I sensed no real change in the atmosphere or my surroundings. I wasn’t truly sure we’d actually entered another realm. Perusing the room, I searched for exits, weapons, anything to give me an edge.

Then I glanced at where the portal had vanished.

“Don’t worry. I paid Cranfel’s cousin in Paris an obscene amount of euros to make sure the portal closed behind us for good,” Paris said.

A goblin shuffled in through a shadowy door and gave them a bored look before shuffling back out again. I took a step to follow it, but Paris raised a hand so he could go first. I smirked. Once these cuffs were removed, I would show him just how much I didn’t need his help or his protection.

My mind raced back through the tale he’d told. I wasn’t sold on Paris’s story, though he had told it with surprising genuineness.

The vampire was well-known on Olympus. Tales of his womanizing and blood sport were often fireside fodder among my sisters. And he had always been known as a heartbreaker, his tan skin and fair hair a perfect complement to his formidable height and toned body. A golden five o’clock shadow graced the masculine angle of his jaw, and his eyes—I had never seen any more beautiful. It was as if a painter had taken a stroke of color from the firmament and given it to Paris, a gift of creation.

The more he’d told me, the more I had to admit something in his words rang true, and I couldn’t imagine why he would weave such a convoluted web of lies. I could not deny my instincts, and, to my own amazement, they told me to trust him. Besides, it was either risk the destruction of my sisters at the hands of the demon or put my own life on the line by following the playboy vampire. I would never set my sisters up for harm, even if it meant my own life would be forfeit. So be it.

We emerged in the front of another weapons shop, almost a mirror image of the one we’d left behind. Various blades and fighting accoutrements lined the walls, each glinting deadly. I calmed, knowing I could heft any of the weapons around me and strike down a foe in moments. I eyed a particular short sword, its length etched in Olympian runes and its haft wrapped in supple ram leather.

“Cranfel!” Paris barked, the harshness in his tone new to me. His face was stern, the angles even more stark. Only then did I realize how gentle he was with me, far more so than he appeared now. This version was the one whispered of and feared throughout the worlds, not the one who’d begged me to accompany him to the Underworld. Which was real?

A crusty goblin emerged from a side room and eyed both Paris and me with apprehension. “Master Paris, what can I do ye for?”

“Can you remove these?” Paris asked and placed his hand on my back, guiding me forward so the goblin could examine the binds on my wrists. His touch was somehow warm, the tips of his fingers resting lightly along my spine. Just the sensation made a pleasant rush of heat flow through me.

Ignoring the feeling, I proffered my hands, unafraid of any goblin who was half my height and pea green. A slow runnel of snot hung from his nose as he moved closer to examine the bracelets.

“Mmmm, these are something special.” His eyes lit as if seeing a precious jewel. Cranfel reached for my wrists, but Paris had a blade at the creature’s throat before the goblin had a chance to touch me.

“Harm her, and you’re dead.”

The goblin swallowed audibly and delicately ran his crooked fingers around first one band and then the other. They sizzled at his touch, though I felt no pain. He muttered in a strange language, puzzling over the bangles. His musings continued for moments before it seemed he’d made up his mind. “If I take them off her, can I have them?”

“Why? What are they worth?” I asked.

The goblin gave me a quick glance, sizing me up. “They aren’t worth much, just plain old silver.” He shrugged, but his covetous glance returned to my wrists.

“In that case, we’ll be on our way. I’m sure there are plenty of other shops around here that could remove these for me.” In fact, I didn’t know any such thing. This was my first visit to the Underworld. But I figured it was worth the chance, especially when I spied a case full of magic bomb ingredients more potent than any I’d ever been able to concoct on Olympus. Black market stuff. If these bangles could buy me some magic stores, all the better for my next meeting with Menelaus. I strode past Paris, who had a wicked look on his face as he watched me. I had never been looked at with such open desire, and the feeling of his gaze was somehow heady, powerful.

“Wait, wait.” The goblin hotfooted it past the vampire and planted himself in front of the door. “I’ll give you fifty for them.”

Paris’s eyes were laughing, a sparkle that made him more than a little endearing. His features were angular yet, when he looked at me, he softened, as if the very sight of me relaxed him. That familiar tingle shot through me, but I pushed it down.

I had no idea what the goblin meant by fifty. Fifty what? I glanced to Paris, who shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“I’m afraid not.” I crossed my arms. “Now we’ll be going.” Aggressive negotiating was one of my favorite games.

“One hundred.”

Another shake from Paris.

“Not a chance.” I took one more step toward the door for emphasis.

“Two hundred, and that’s my final offer.”

Another faint head shake, the sparkle growing into a smile that had my heart speeding its pace. Surely it was the negotiation making my blood pump, not the vampire.

I kicked my chin up and reached for the door handle. “Out of my way.”

“Okay, three hundred and not an ingot more.” The goblin’s color was getting up, his pointed ears turning neon.

Paris inclined his head ever so slightly. I eyed the short sword and the other magic elements scattered throughout the store. “I’ll take four hundred store credit and a twenty percent discount, or we walk.”

The goblin blinked, first the left eye, then the right. “Deal.” Its oozing nose quivered at the finality of his decree. I hoped all Underworld creatures were not so loathsome.

I looked back at Paris, his face glowing with a warm smile, his even white teeth showing only a hint of the canines that were there earlier. More than anything, I saw adoration in his eyes and felt an echo of the unknown past he’d told me about. My heart pounded even harder, and now I admitted it was he who spurred its beat. He held my gaze until I looked away, my cheeks heating.

“Are you okay?” Paris’s tone was cheeky, as if he knew he was affecting me and enjoying it.

“Just get these things off me,” I griped.

“Right this way,” the goblin said and hustled through another side door.

Once again, Paris stepped first. I followed, my gaze lingering on his broad back. He was strong; I already knew that from our run-in at Menelaus’s mansion. If his stories were to be believed, he was thousands of years old, making him one of the most powerful immortals I had ever come across.

I couldn’t stop my mind from humming with secret thoughts of what he could do to me—an utterly inappropriate topic. I tried to snap myself out of it by looking anywhere else, but my gaze returned, drawn back to the fall of golden hair that just brushed his stiff collar. I felt the urge to touch him—to reach out and run a hand along the powerful muscles of his back, as if it was second nature to me. All these thoughts were so out of place that I stopped walking, needing breathing room. I had never desired a male before, especially not one who was a known scoundrel. I even began to wonder if he’d enthralled me somehow, but I knew that couldn’t be the case. I was too powerful for vampire parlor tricks.

Paris continued ahead, surveying the room as he went. They entered an adjacent smithy shop with an enormous forge, its immense fire crackling and screeching up into a cylindrical chimney. Strange shapes twisted in the flames, dark faces and hands reaching out. They screamed in fear or pain, I couldn’t tell which, and goosebumps broke out along my arms. The walls were lined with newly forged weaponry, a couple still glowing with heat around the edges.

“Come, come. It’s all right.” The goblin fanned the flames with a whirring mechanism attached to the forge’s base, an orange glow lighting the room and the shrieks growing louder. “We need the fire of Hades to get those things off you.”

“Those are souls from Hades?” A chill rushed through me despite the overwhelming blast of heat. Hades maintained his dark kingdom in the depths of the Underworld where only the damned tarried. Even Olympians feared the dark reaches of such a cursed realm.

“Just their echoes. They’re still toasting in the fire down there, but their essence is in the flames here too.” The goblin continued, unaffected by the mournful sounds rising from the forge. “Those bracelets were created particularly for you, bound with a powerful magic. This is the only way to remove them.”

“How do you know they’re for me?”

“Whoever made them knew your magics, knew them intimately enough to create the perfect binding spell. Destructive magic is your forte, right? Got a thing for fire, though you can pull any element in one form or another. Extremely powerful?”

I nodded. But who could know my magics well enough to bind me so completely? I could think of no one. Not even my closest sister, Lilah, knew the full extent of the damage I could cause, the sheer power that made its home within my body.

The goblin put a finger into his ear and pulled out a giant ball of wax before flicking it into the fire. “Besides, they have your name on them. Helen, right?”

Chills ran through me at the goblin’s words, icing me inside and out. “I—”

“Her name is none of your concern. If you tell anyone you saw us, so help me, Cranfel, I will slice you up and feed you piece by piece to the screamers in the fire.” Paris’s voice boomed, cowing even the sounds of the flames. His fangs had lengthened again, lethal. He was a killer. One look at the death in his eyes proved it. The fireside tales about him were based in truth. I couldn’t tell if it frightened me or excited me.

Cranfel blanched. “I would never talk about my clients.”

The vampire loomed over the goblin, menace seeping from every pore.

Cranfel stopped digging in his ear. “Never, never,” he squeaked.

The goblin’s terror almost made me feel sorry for him. But not quite. Any creature who had no problem profiting from the fires of the damned would never be on the receiving end of my pity.

“Get on with it.” Paris rose to his full height again, crossing his arms over his chest.

The goblin, with a relieved sigh, reached for and found a set of tongs. They were spitting sparks into the air.

“If you hurt her—”

“I won’t, I won’t,” the goblin assured Paris with a wave of his twisted fingers. “This isn’t my first go-round with enchanted bracelets, you know.” Cranfel motioned me to come closer, waving his hairy green hands in the firelight.

Paris stood between them, eyeing the fire before turning to me.

“Trust me?” He held his hand out to me.

I ripped my gaze from the goblin’s fiery pincers and looked into Paris’s eyes. He watched me with such tenderness. It was disconcerting. My head screamed that I did not know him, but there was another part of me, buried deep, that spoke of a love so strong, it shook the very pillars of Olympus.

As he watched me struggle to make a choice, another emotion crossed his visage, something far more telling—passion. It was there, written in his confidence, his bearing. He was passionate for me.

I realized he’d been holding back in the short time we’d been together. At this moment, he was baring himself and asking for a boon from me. I could feel his desire, as if scorched into my soul. He wanted me with an intensity that I could not fathom. Those light touches of his fingers, the way he watched me. It was as if he’d caged himself, too afraid he might scare me away with the sweltering emotion that roiled within him.

I wondered at the feeling that raced through my veins. Not fear, but exhilaration. The same instinct that warned me of Menelaus now told me that Paris would be true to his word.

Trust.

Never breaking eye contact, I took his proffered hand.

The city of Pyli, where we had entered the Underworld, lay far below us. Smoke rose from the haphazard buildings that lined the main street, each one like an ice-cream cone piled high with too many scoops. Three separate suns were in the sky overhead, the firmament an unfamiliar shade of amethyst. When we’d stepped out of Cranfel’s shop, I had looked at Paris with alarm, expecting him to go up in flames. But he was unharmed.

He smiled when he noticed me staring. “The Underworld is the birthplace of vampires. This is our homeland. Only the earthly sun harms us.”

It occurred to me the ancient war between demons and vampires Paris had spoken of must have been extremely bloody for the vampires to leave a place where they could live in the light.

“I have a home up on the ridge.” He pointed to the craggy slopes in the distance. “We’ll head there. It’s safe.”

He’d led me down the busy street to a livery shop. He kept his head down and maintained a steel grip on my arm the whole way. I’d followed his lead, keeping my eyes down. At the livery, he’d arranged for transportation up the mountain ridge next to town. Questions upon questions had risen in my mind as we rode up the steep slope. But the clatter of the buggy made conversation impossible. Paris had barely paid me any attention, anyway. His gaze roamed the woods and the dark cliffs around them. We were then dropped at the edge of a dense wood by the horselike creature that pulled our small carriage. It had fur of the softest rabbit and was extremely sure-footed on the mountainous path that led to these heights.

I stretched after the bumpy, noisy ride and enjoyed the crisp air that stirred around us. Paris tucked some strange currency into the beast’s pack, and it turned, heading back down the craggy slope to the city.

Holding out a hand, I summoned a ball of flame. I’d been doing it every so often on the journey, reassuring myself that my magic hadn’t been tainted by the bangles. He eyed the orb of golden heat, a look verging on satisfaction crossing his face, before scanning the tree line. No fear. He wasn’t put off by my magic in the least, even though I could destroy him with a thought.

We walked a short way through the wood, the sunlight never touching the mossy floor in the thick tangle of trees, until a slight clearing revealed a shadowy structure. It seemed to grow from the rocky granite of the mountainside, perched there as if a dark piece of the mountain had bubbled up and been frozen to the spot.

Paris’s Underworld home was, in a word, hideous. The color of dark coal, it seemed to swallow any light that came near. It was built into a cliff of dark rock that ran along a sharp, wooded ridge high above the valley below. It would have been architecturally lovely, with high roofs and amazing vistas, if only there were windows. Instead, the outside was soot black. It was well-camouflaged, so high and well-blended that even an eagle would have trouble spotting it.

But I wasn’t in this for an architectural survey. I’d trusted Paris at Cranfel’s, even let him lead me up to his mysterious home. Though my instinct told me to trust him, I couldn’t give it full sway over my mind. I was able to think more calmly on our ride up the ridge and come up with a plan. Now that my binds were gone, I could make a break for it. Run and try to sort this whole mess out. Staying with Paris couldn’t be the right move, no matter how much my instinct told me it was.

He walked in front of me, carrying the packages from the shop. I knelt, pretending to examine the flora along the forest floor. He continued ahead a few more paces.

“I know it’s not much,” he called as he walked, “compared to where you lived on Olympus—”

I missed the rest of his words as I rose and darted away, dashing through the trees. I dodged low branches, keeping a swift pace, fleeing into the darkness of the woods. My footfalls were nearly silent on the mossy forest floor. I didn’t falter, even though I wasn’t sure what lay ahead.

Faster and faster I ran, my thighs burning, the forest closing in around me, hiding me from any possible pursuer. I couldn’t slow. Paris would no doubt have given chase, but my head-start should guarantee that he couldn’t catch up.

I chanced a glance behind me, and my heart dropped. Paris was only a few paces back, his steps even more silent than mine. Gods. His face was alight with something verging on rage, but not quite. There was something else there too, something that made my stomach clench and warm.

I burst into a blistering speed, pushing my body as fast as it would go. Ahead I saw the amethyst sky peeking through the leaves—a clearing in the forest. I reached the edge and lengthened my stride, now more sure of my footing and not having to dodge trees.

I knew I would escape. Knew it until I felt arms encircle my waist and drag me down into the grass. I hit the ground so hard the air whooshed out of me.

Paris grabbed my arm and roughly turned me onto my back. His fangs jutted from his mouth, sharp and hungry, and he looked almost dazed. He straddled me, pinning my arms at my sides with his powerful thighs. His hands were at my shoulders, pushing me into the cool ground.

He stared at me as I took in deep gulps of air, my heart beating at a furious pace. Power floated in the air, my emotions making electricity crackle around them. Once again, my fear mixed with something more, something different. Arousal. The killer looming above me made me want something I’d never wanted before. I balled my hands into fists at my sides, at once angry that he’d overtaken me and also… relieved.

He leaned down to my neck. I stiffened.

“You shouldn’t run from me, Helen.” His voice was low, a dangerous caress on my ears. “I can’t teleport here in the Underworld, but I can always catch you. I’m too fast. And you’re too delicious to let go.”

I shivered, but not from cold. I was trapped beneath a predator, but instead of fear, I felt desire. Heat spread from my center outward, warming me.

He breathed in and let the air out on a growl. His fingertips dug into my shoulders. “I can smell your need.”

The electricity snapped, silver light arcing around them.

“Paris—”

He sat up, the trance somehow broken at the sound of my voice. His fangs retracted, and he looked at me as if only now seeing me. He released his grip on my shoulders and rose to his feet before pulling me up next to him.

My power dissipated, gone on the chill breeze that soughed through the trees.

“Elena.” He let out a heavy breath. “You can’t just take off. It’s not safe.” He ran a hand through his hair, now lit brilliantly from behind in the light of the suns. More golden here than he could ever be in the single light on earth. “And I… I can’t be sure I can control myself when you do things like that. I just…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

“I can take care of myself.” I focused on his first words, not trusting myself to even think about what Paris would be like if he truly lost control. “I’ve done it for thousands of years. Led armies. Destroyed my enemies. I’ll do the same to Menelaus.”

He gripped my arms and locked his gaze on mine. His brows were drawn down in consternation. “I thought you understood. I would never hurt you. I need you to believe me. I want to protect you, always. You are safe with me.”

I felt my resolve failing. The thoughts of running I’d had earlier now seemed foolhardy. I didn’t know anything about the Underworld. I could have run right into an even worse situation.

I needed more time to plan, to think. Running headlong into the woods was not the action of a strategist. Paris was right. I needed to stick with him until a better opportunity presented itself. Instinct had gotten me this far. Time to trust it some more.

I squared my shoulders. “I won’t run again.”

“Do I have your word?”

My spine straightened. “Yes, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” He dropped his hands to his sides, seemingly appeased. “Good. Now, if you’d like, I’d be happy to show you back to my home.”

He backed up a step, letting me go first. Was he being a gentleman or keeping an eye on me? Likely both.

After a much more leisurely walk through the woods in almost comfortable silence, I approached the doors to the dark, foreboding house.

“Welcome.” He swung the opaque doors open wide. I entered slowly, unsure of what lay within. What I saw astonished me. The inside was filled with light and not a hint of the darkness that appeared from outside. Seeing the soaring views of the sky and the valley, I realized that the house was more glass than stone, more sky than ground.

The golden light filtered through the many windows, revealing rich wood floors and comfy seating areas. Paris had no doubt paid a high price for the intensity of the magic required for such a glamor. But it likely kept him alive. It was well known he was ceaselessly hunted by the bloodthirsty vampire queen Desmerada, usurper to his throne and kingdom.

I stepped farther inside. Given his party-boy reputation, I was pleasantly surprised to find Paris lived in this tranquil retreat. Its woodsy splendor reminded me of my home in the Forgotten Forest of Olympus. It was so well hidden that it made an excellent base of operations. High ground, good view, and difficult terrain. Perfect.

Paris retrieved my packages, setting them in a neat pile near the door. The air outside had a chill that grew colder the higher they climbed in the quaint buggy, but the house was warm and inviting. I smelled something wonderful wafting through the air, lemon and saffron drawing me into the home.

But I hadn’t come here to settle in. I needed to find a way to destroy Menelaus and have done with the entire affair. I told myself that my plans included being finished with Paris as well, that I was a warrior maiden in the service of Artemis. But the way he looked at me, that possessive yet reverent gaze, made my thoughts jumble. The way he’d pinned me in the forest, the feeling of being the prey. Goosebumps broke out along my skin at the memory.

Nothing had ever distracted me this way before, and I couldn’t let it happen now, especially when there was a demon out there who posed a threat to my sisters. No, the creature who thought he owned Elena was what remained foremost in my thoughts. Menelaus’s destruction was the endgame.

I halted, not allowing myself to sink into one of the welcoming couches or chairs. I needed Paris to know I wasn’t going to be his Helen no matter what happened from this point forward. We were strangers with a common goal, as far as I was concerned. Nothing more.

“We need to discuss our next moves so that we can put a plan in action.” My tone was clipped.

“You only just arrived. The trip through the portal and the journey afterward were likely more taxing than you realize.” He lowered his brows, a spark of the predator still lingering in his eyes. “We are safe for now. Menelaus won’t be able to follow. At least not right away.” He guided me into the living area, his light touch once again sending shivers along my bare back. His faint smile told me he was pleased that I allowed him to touch me.

“I think we should just focus on a plan.” I crossed my arms, unwilling to take another step until he acquiesced.

“And we will, but first, wouldn’t you agree that we could use a meal and you could use some fresh clothes?” His gaze roved over me, lingering on the edges of my torn sweater. It was starting to fray and reveal the sides of my breasts. When he licked his lips, my cheeks heated. I shifted my arms down to cover myself, eliciting a sigh from Paris.

He turned, walked deeper into the house, and called out, “Daphne!” Glancing back at me, he said, “I will return. Please make yourself at home.” He passed through a door at the rear of the living area, near the wide windows that overlooked the valley. His voice called back to me, a hint of a smile in the words. “And I’ll know if you take off again. Part of me is almost hoping you do.”

The strange tightening in my core returned, the warmth spreading at the thought of how he’d looked at me, how his hard body felt on top of mine. I slapped my palm to my cheek and shook my head. Get it together.

And did he say Daphne? Who was that? A lover? I pushed away the sting at the thought. I had no claim on him, and his philandering was well-known. Clearly, my feelings were just the result of the sudden stresses pressing on me from all directions.

Instead of contemplating further, I took in the room—ways of ingress, places to take cover, where to stash some of Cranfel’s weapons. I imagined enemies swarming through the front door and made a mental map of how many steps it would take for them to overtake the room. I could hold them off at the foyer for a time, then fall back to the hallway to the right—a handy bottleneck. The fluffy couches could be flipped to use defensively. A large white rug, no doubt the pelt of some mythical beast, would serve to trip attackers if bunched up just right. And the light alone, streaming in from the walls of glass, would dazzle anyone upon first sight.

Satisfied with the space for now, though I wanted to know where the three interior doors led, I perused the home through a different lens. The fur rug looked so soft, I wanted to run my fingers through it. Before I could even kick my boot off to glide a toe through the silky fur, something at the side of the room caught my eye.

A small half-moon-shaped indention in the glass wall held an ornate golden table with a piece of exquisite statuary on top. The space and the table seemed made solely to display the item, whose marble gleamed as if only recently polished. The light hit it at all angles such that the nook was aglow. I approached, drawn to it.

The statue appeared to be a game piece, akin to the white queen of a chess board. The figure stood with a sparkling crystal sword raised over her head, ready to strike, while a shield bearing a crest of laurel adorned her other arm. The workmanship was exquisite down to the very expression on her face, determination set in stone.

I raised my hand to it but didn’t touch. “Hmm, what are you?”

“A piece made long ago for a game called latrones.” Paris stood behind me, though I had not heard him reenter the room. I intentionally kept my eyes on the game piece, not wanting to reveal how startled I was that he could creep up on me so easily.

But his words piqued my interest; I had long been a lover of games. “What sort of game?”

“Strategy. A game of warfare.”

My favorite. “Where are the rest of the pieces and the board?”

“Why? Do you want to play?” Mischief was in his voice, and his question meant a bit more than what it seemed.

“Maybe.” He wasn’t the only one who could be mischievous.

“Then I’m sorry to say that this is the only piece I have left.”

“What happened to the rest?”

“They were destroyed.” The ache in his voice was like a wound, one that should have healed long ago but instead still pained him anew each day.

That whisper within me, the one telling me of a life already lived, grew louder. I turned to him, sensing that I needed to know the rest of the story, needed to put the puzzle pieces together. I found myself looking up into those sky-blue eyes, his lips only a breath away from mine. The passion in his gaze burned into me, searing a path down my body and into my most secret places. I had never wanted the touch of a male. But I knew then that I didn’t want the touch of just any male. Only the one whose reverent gaze rested on me, searching my eyes, my heart. Logic told me to back away, to take a defensive tack given the unfamiliar terrain. But I didn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find a muscle willing to obey the command of my mind. Instinct ruled me.

“Gods,” I breathed as my heart kicked into a staccato beat.

The sound of my exhale set him into motion, as if he’d been waiting for a sign from me. His hands pressed against my back, no longer the hesitant fingertips. His wide palms pulled me to him. Without warning, he claimed my mouth with a passion the likes of which I’d never felt. My mind screamed for me to torch him, a shimmer filling the air around us. But my body responded to him as if under his command instead of mine. His mouth, so insistent, so full of that fervor he had been trying to hide, made me giddy. This felt right, as if it was where I was meant to be. Here, in his arms. My lips parted, and his wicked tongue darted in, tasting me. My knees went weak, and I allowed him to pull me even closer.

His kiss was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced. My budded nipples grazed against him through the sweater with each of my quick breaths, making them ache. He ran a hand up my side and under the material, cupping my breast as he deepened our kiss. A moan rose from my throat at the sensation of him kneading the soft mound. He backed me into the window wall, covering me with his body. It was as if I were a magic bomb that had ignited, suddenly ablaze at his touch, his kiss. He ripped the remaining fabric from my top. His hands strayed to my breasts, the feeling of his thumbs teasing the hardened tips making me lose all sense of time and place.

He yanked his shirt open, buttons flying, and pulled me to him, groaning as my skin met his. I wrapped my hands around his neck, my instinct demanding more of him, all of him. I snaked my tongue against his and reveled in the pleasure of his penetrating strokes. Had I been here before? Felt this electric touch? Something sparked in my memory, a loose thread that fluttered away before I could grab it.

He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around him.

Home. This felt like home.

His shaft was against me, thick and taut with desire. And, gods help me, I wanted it. Wanted him inside me. It was as if I was suddenly possessed by some wanton spirit, but I didn’t care. All I knew was his passion for me, and all I wanted was to feel it come into full bloom within me.

He carried me to one of the couches and laid me down. Settling on top, he fell between my thighs as his kiss continued to make me melt. With one hand still at my breast, teasing me into a pleasured moan, his other reached down and got a handful of my backside. I arched against him, relishing the feel of him all over me.

Right. This felt so right.

He broke our kiss but only to move his mouth down my chest and capture a nipple, grazing it with his teeth. I ran my hands through his tousled hair. He released one breast to encircle the other, flicking his nimble tongue across the peak, sending a shock of arousal through me.

Tension built at my center, a sensation unlike any other I could recall. A sweet pressure that promised bliss. I moaned again as he sucked the bud completely into his mouth, the sensation within me growing ever stronger. Like I was a bowstring being drawn back slowly, surely.

But when he relinquished his hold on my aching breast and nibbled at my neck, I froze. Memories of Menelaus binding me and placing his mouth on my neck surfaced like a monster in my dreams.

“Helen?”

The name was wrong on my ears, jarring me back to my senses. I put a hand to his tan chest, pushing him away as I scooted from him until my back hit the arm of the couch.

His brows furrowed, worry dimming the fire in his eyes. “I mean, Elena—”

Before he could continue, a half-naked nymph traipsed into the living room, bowed, and said in a high trill, “Dinner is served.”