West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi)

by Laura Kaye

  Either way, she felt the tension building between them, electric and relentless. Something was coming for them.

  “Turn,” he rasped.

  She gave him her back. He washed her gently, efficiently. Then turned her and made sure every last sud rinsed away. His soapy hands flew over his own body, and her hands fisted, itched to replace his. How ridiculous to be jealous of him touching himself.

  He pressed in beside her and rinsed off. When he looked up, eyes full of relief and accomplishment and need, Ella couldn’t resist. She grabbed Zeph’s shoulders and launched herself at him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As his back hit the cool tiles of the shower wall, Zeph’s mouth fell open on a gasp. Ella was all over the front of him—hands clutching his shoulders, breasts crushing against his chest, hips grinding on his erection—and it was fucking heaven. Her mouth found his bottom lip and sucked. Hard.

  The shock of her sensual assault wore off, and his hands finally got in the game. One arm curled around her waist, hiking her more tightly against him. The other grasped the back of her neck, tilted her head so he could control the kiss. His embrace didn’t keep her from writhing against him. Her body moved in great, needful undulations, creating the most maddening friction. Her incredible passion nearly drove him to his knees. He dove in deeper, twirling his tongue with hers, pursuing, exploring. Good gods, she tasted sweet and feminine and full of life.

  Zeph’s thighs quivered with the desire to squat down, just enough to align the swollen head of his cock with the graceful slit between her legs. He’d touched her there. Knew her warm perfection. Felt the slickness of her invitation.

  It would be so easy. And so fucking good.

  Of course, his brain chose that moment to parade out the images of the people for whom he’d felt this way before. Chloris—the wife he’d loved and lost, the relationship that started his centuries of torment, the fraternal competition-turned-feud with Eurus he didn’t deserve and couldn’t defuse—their most recent conversation with all its treacherous revelations proved that. After Chloris, there was Maia, Hyacinthus, Dion, Andreus, Eirene, Skiron. Some were unrequited crushes, others brief dalliances, others longer, more meaningful affairs. But they all had one thing in common: he’d been betrayed or abandoned in the end. Every fucking time.

  Which was why it had been a great while since he’d last allowed himself to wind up naked and panting and wanting against another’s warm, willing flesh.

  His heart kicked into a higher gear as a layer of anxiety blanketed the sharpest, neediest edges of his arousal. He loosened his grip, calmed his kisses. Withdrew.

  Panting, Ella looked up at him, brown eyes on fire, lips wet and swollen.

  Don’t stop! In his head, the debate raged. Want versus fear. Need versus self-defense. Fantasy versus the likely reality this would blow up in his face.

  But she made the decision for him. “Oh. Oh, God.” She pushed herself out of his arms. “I’m”—she wiped the water from her face—“I’m really sorry. I don’t know…” Ella shook her head and turned.

  “Ella.”

  “No, I get it.” She wrenched the water nozzle into the “off” position, yanked the shower door open, and rushed out.

  He knocked his head back against the tile. “Ella, wait, it’s not—”

  “Listen.” She reappeared in the opening of the shower door, blue terry cloth wrapped around her. “Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.” Her eyes flickered to him and away again.

  Zephyros dropped his head. When he heard the bathroom door open and close, he clenched his eyes shut and cursed.

  Damn it. He could feel the gut-kick of rejection rolling off her. He knew that emotion too well not to. He hated hurting her, but deep inside, he feared getting hurt worse.

  No hero material here, that’s for goddamned sure. Fuck.

  Zeph stomped out of the shower and found his own towel, tucked it around his waist. Hands on his hips, he sagged, the ancient weight pressing down on him. This woman appealed to him, even before what had happened in the shower. Her words, her aura, her invitation to stay, her little acts of kindness that probably meant nothing but felt damn good anyway—all of it. And now he’d seen her naked, touched her, held her, tasted her. He wanted her.

  But history had proven he was a piss-poor judge of what was in his own best interest, of what—and whom—he could actually trust.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair and spat a curse under his breath. He turned and faced himself in the mirror. Time to make things right with Ella. His heart was already making decisions his brain was going to have to deal with, like it or not.

  Head hanging, he left the bathroom and rounded on her bedroom door. Knuckles met wood twice and he waited.

  Nothing.

  He knocked again. “Ella?”

  “Go away, Zephyros,” came her muffled voice.

  A rock took up residence in his gut, but he found himself rubbing the muscles over his heart. “Ella, please.”

  “Not now, Zeph. Okay? Just…”

  He waited, but she didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to. “Okay.”

  The sadness came first, but quickly morphed, darkened, roiled into a dangerous storm of rage.

  Zeph willed himself into the elements and vanished.

  …

  Some time later, Zeph materialized in the Realm of the Gods wearing human street clothes. Because they made him feel closer to Ella.

  When he’d first left Ella’s, he’d needed space to vent his turmoil, but then, his energy flagging, he needed the rejuvenation being in his own world would provide. From his elemental form, he’d simply visualized his private chamber and focused on the compass rose mosaic with its calligraphic W tiled into the wall.

  With a sigh, he lifted his head and found the beautiful design of the mosaic. It had always helped center him. Except…this wasn’t…

  “Sometimes you get what you need, not what you want,” said a deep voice.

  Zeph smiled. “Is that so, brother?” His gaze traced over the stylized N at the top of the compass rose before he turned and laid eyes on Boreas. The oldest of the four Anemoi, he was the Supreme God of the North Wind, and the one who understood Zephyros best. Only problem was, Zeph respected him so damned much, he felt ashamed for Boreas to see him this way, for him to know just how bad he always fucked things up. He hated the thought of disappointing him.

  “Indeed.” Boreas shoved off of the wall he’d been leaning against and held out a hand.

  Zeph grasped it, gladly, and braced for what he knew was coming.

  Boreas yanked him into a brotherly embrace and clapped him on the back. The other man had a good eight inches on Zephyros—it was the only time he ever felt small—but he didn’t mind.

  He returned the hug, stepped back, and threw Boreas a wry smile. “Is this where I get the ‘ya never call, ya never write’ speech?” Generally, he steered clear of hanging here as much as he could—there were just too many damn people to avoid. He’d either end up in a fight with Eurus, get his heart ripped out all over again by Hy, or end up in bed with Dion—none of which were particularly good for him.

  Boreas’s silver eyes flashed with mirth. “Apparently, there’s no need. You already know. So, instead, tell me what has you so wrapped up in knots.”

  He couldn’t restrain the groan. Zeph’s elemental powers might’ve been the strongest among them, but Boreas had intuition a mile wide and twice as long.

  “Let me rephrase the question. What did Eurus do that has you so tied up in knots?” Boreas asked, leveling an intense stare at him. Long white hair and a beard framed his unexpectedly young face. As younger gods, they’d actually borne some physical resemblance until Boreas’s hair went white from the shock of his wife’s sudden death. Though he wore his grief in the Father Time getup and deep creases around his eyes, he’d never stopped being a father to his children. Just another thing to admire about the man.

  Zeph hesitated for just a mome
nt, then unloaded. “By the gods, Boreas, I can take his misplaced vengeance no longer.”

  Boreas paced his chamber, well, more like floated over the surface of it, but the effect was the same—he’d long ago given up any pretense of humanity and now wore the magic of his godhood the way mortals wore their skin. He was the only one of the four of them who really couldn’t pass in the human realm. Finally, he heaved a great breath. “If only Mother had lived.”

  “We all lost her.”

  “Yes, but he was the only one Father made feel responsible for it.”

  Zeph crossed his arms, not wanting to fight with Boreas. And he knew his brother spoke the truth. But Zeph found it damn near impossible to see Eurus as the victim. After everything. Instead, Zeph shared some of his own truth. “I’ve met someone. I care for her.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

  Boreas’s eyebrow flew up. “A human?”

  “Yes. Ella.”

  He nodded. “Beautiful name.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I have to no censure to offer, brother. I am curious, of course. I cannot recall the last time you interacted with humans with any manner of substance. She must be special.”

  “I nearly killed her.”

  Boreas whipped around, his fur robes whirling. A blast of cold air shot out from his body. “I do not believe it.”

  “It’s true. As if the anniversary party wasn’t hard enough.” He glanced at Boreas. “Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for Owen. But, you know, I don’t really do the whole happy-couple thing very well. Anyway, afterward, Hy tried to summon me back here.”

  “Did you go—”

  “No, of course not,” Zeph said, hating this.

  Boreas’s silver gaze narrowed. “For someone who supposedly made his choice—and chose someone else—he sure keeps close tabs on you. It’s not fair to you, brother.”

  The protective tone in the older man’s voice felt like what home and family were all about. Zeph needed such care and concern like mortals needed food and water, but that didn’t make him any more comfortable with it. He shrugged and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Anyway, I just felt suffocated at the party, but couldn’t come back here, and I lost it. And Ella got caught in the crossfire.”

  Boreas frowned. “But you saved her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, good gods, Zephyros, give yourself a break.”

  Zeph cut his gaze to Boreas.

  “I have never known someone who tormented himself as much as you. Everyone makes mistakes, but not everyone shoulders them like Atlas carrying around the weight of the world. Not everyone bleeds for them.”

  “That so, brother? And what are your mistakes? You are the most righteous god I know.” Zeph meant that, from down deep. His respect and admiration for Boreas knew no bounds.

  “Do not place me on a pedestal. I cannot stand there. No god can.”

  “I’m waiting.” He cupped his hand to his ear, knowing he was being a sarcastic asshole.

  “Next time you see Owen, you ask him if I’m perfect. Or ask Chione. Oh, wait, she’s off bed-hopping, providing fodder for another round of warfare between Ular and Koli. What a great job I did there. Shall I go on?

  “Shit, Boreas.”

  “You have a way with words, brother.”

  Zeph chuckled. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. So, now that we got all of that out of the way, what exactly did Eurus do?”

  Zeph inhaled a calming breath before he spoke. “He came to Ella’s house and marked her. Invaded my dreams and restrained my body while I slept.”

  Boreas’s expression darkened. “Damn it all to Hades. You must walk away. Or guard her well.”

  “I know.” Restlessness shot through him. Talking about Ella made him want to get back to her.

  “I fear some of this is my fault, Zephyros.”

  Zeph frowned. “How do you figure?”

  “Last year, I didn’t invite Eurus or his sons to Owen’s wedding, nor to his anniversary party last week.”

  Holy shit. He gaped. Not that he really blamed him. Nothing like the Supreme God of the evil and unlucky East Wind to throw a damper on a happy celebration. And his sons hadn’t fallen too far from the old evil tree. “And he knows?”

  “He does. I couldn’t do it, not with a new grandchild growing in Megan’s womb. I just couldn’t risk it.”

  “She’s pregnant again?”

  His brother’s eyes crinkled in mirth. “She is.”

  “That’s good. Real good.” Zeph smiled and ignored the empty ache that took root in the center of his chest. He’d always liked Owen, and the guy deserved this happiness, but damn if it didn’t highlight everything Zeph lacked. He clasped Boreas’s shoulder. “I certainly don’t blame you for being cautious. No one would.”

  “Eurus does.”

  “He’s the only one. And he earned it, fair and square.”

  Boreas grunted.

  Cracking his neck, competing thoughts rose up for attention in Zeph’s head. Only one thing he knew for sure. “I should go. I want to get back.”

  “I’m glad. Don’t give Eurus the power to choose for you, Zephyros.”

  Zeph nodded, but didn’t know what to say. If he was going to give this a real shot with Ella, it wasn’t only him he had to worry about getting hurt.

  “Thank you, Boreas. I’m glad you summoned me here.”

  The god chuckled. “Don’t stay away so long next time.”

  “I’ll try.” Zeph closed his eyes and focused, saw his compass rose in his mind’s eye. Just as he dematerialized, Boreas offered a last parting thought:

  “Sometimes what you want is what you need, Zephyros. Don’t forget it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Boreas’s words filled Zephyros with resolve. He had no idea what, if anything, might happen with Ella, but he wanted the chance to find out. He wanted to know if that peaceful aura would continue to affect him, if the kind look in her eyes could bloom into true affection, if the passion in her kisses would be lasting or fleeting.

  She dominated his thoughts. Excited his body. Eased that dull ache filling his chest just left of center. He felt drawn to her in a way he didn’t fully understand, but damn it, how he wanted to.

  But he couldn’t explore any of that while Eurus played his games.

  Zeph concentrated and allowed his mind to travel in search of his brother’s unique energy signature. As polar opposites, their energies were connected. Yin and yang. Life and death. West and East. So he found Eurus, easily. Within blocks of Ella’s house. Thunder rumbled around him as he flowed through the air in pursuit.

  Corporeality returned in a blaze of light, his seething rage crackling around him.

  “Ah, brother. I’ve been expecting you,” Eurus said. In the gloom of twilight, he lay prone on the dock in the middle of the marina where Ella’s boat had been taken that first day. Ankles crossed. Fingers making lazy designs in the air as if he were conducting a symphony. Cold wind whipped up around them, turning the calm waters of the inlet choppy, jostling the sailboats in their slips.

  His brother’s calm, casual repose was more disturbing than if Zeph had found him petulant and ranting. Because it meant he was planning. “What the fuck are you playing at, Eurus?”

  He sprung to his feet and tugged the lapels of his leather coat. “You see? I offer civility, and what do I get in return?”

  Zeph squared off and braced, ready for anything. “You don’t have a civil bone in your body.”

  Eurus pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting the wraparounds up the smallest bit. Though not enough, Zeph was relieved to see, to reveal his dead black irises. “If what you say is true, brother, whose fault exactly would that be?”

  “Not. Mine.” It was a fruitless conversation, but it was their little dance, and Zeph’s own special corner of hell.

  “Of course not yours. Not perfect Zephyros. Not the god of life and renewal. Gods forbid.”

>   Zeph ignored the barb. Perfection was the last thing he believed of himself. Eurus was jealous of a figment of his imagination. “What do you want?” he finally bit out, hoping to defuse the other man, to delay the confrontation long brewing between them.

  Eurus whipped off his glasses and drilled his disturbing, blank gaze into Zeph’s very soul. “Leave the woman alone.”

  Rage filled Zeph’s chest with white-hot pressure. “Why the fuck do you even care? It’s nothing to you—”

  “Ah!” He chuckled and held out his hands. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. It is something to me. Because it’s something to you.” He jabbed his long, elegant finger in the air.

  Warm wind whipped around him and rain pattered down in heavy drops, alleviating the smallest amount of the volcanic build-up within Zeph’s human manifestation. Prudence dictated he maintain a façade of calm. The more he revealed his interest in Ella, the more Eurus would latch on to the idea of her. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you anymore. You’ve built up this list of imagined offenses and there’s no reasoning with you.” He slashed his hand in the air. “Be gone.”

  Eurus’s body stumbled back, like an invisible hand shoved at his chest. He went elemental as his body flew off the edge of the pier. A short moment later, his caustic voice came from behind. Zeph whirled as Eurus ranted. “I did not imagine you insinuating yourself into Chloris’s life. I did not imagine you taking her away, joining your godhood with hers.” Thunder rumbled around them, shaking the boards beneath their feet.

  “For the thousandth time, she did not love you—”

  “Because you interfered and never gave her the chance!”

  Rain slashed down in stinging, jagged lines, chasing away the last of the daylight. “Don’t you ever tire of this merry-go-round? I didn’t know you felt something for her. And whatever wrong I might have done, you inflicted your vigilante justice several times over. She left me, remember? You blackened something good and true until she broke under the weight of it.”