Just as her orgasm claimed her, jets of hot come burst from him. And kept coming as she convulsed around him, moaning and panting. His heart galloped in his chest like a thoroughbred. Shoving his arms under her back, he grabbed her shoulders and rocked into her again and again. Her breath rushed against his ear as his chest heaved. The heat from her taut nipples seared him as he collapsed onto her.
Moments passed quietly between them. Her muscles continued to clench around his shaft as he lay breathing heavily.
“I wish I could move, but I’m absolutely wrecked,” he whispered against her ear.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Clio teased.
“Am I too heavy?”
She shook her head and locked her legs more tightly around his back in response.
Jax turned his head until his face was buried in the curve of her neck, her body a soft pillow under his. Her chest heaved when she sucked in a deep breath. Dammit, he was too heavy. When he attempted to move, she tightened her arms around his neck to hold him in place. He balanced more to the one side, giving her a slight reprieve from his crushing weight.
While the storm between them had been raging, the storm outside had dissipated to a light rain. The soft plop of water on the windows accompanied their panting breaths.
Above everything else, the incessant cackle of a bird tapped at Jax’s consciousness. “That’s weird.”
“Don’t go calling me weird now.” God, he loved the low sexy hum of her voice.
He lifted up and balanced on his elbows and looked out the window at the darkened sky. “No, it’s weird to hear a bird in the night.”
“What about owls? Owls are birds.” The skin on her forehead puckered as she squirmed under him and followed his gaze.
When he lifted his hips, she clenched her inner muscles, gripping him like she didn’t want to let go. He gasped as he slipped free, then rolled to her side and settled on the mattress. “Birds are typically quiet after the sun goes down. I’m not hearing an owl, more like a raven. Or the bird I saw this morning, a magpie.” He laid his hand possessively on her breast and squeezed gently.
Clio stiffened. “A magpie?”
“Yeah, I saw one early today. Messy little suckers, if you ask me. Always dropping feathers and squawking like there’s no tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Her world had been sunny in the light of Jax, but it dimmed when he mentioned the bird. Cold dread passed through her like a shadow. Goddess, if she didn’t do something, there might not be a tomorrow. At least for her. And as for the rest of civilization, well, all of the possible tomorrows would be vastly changed if she failed. And instead of working toward solving the challenge, she’d fallen into bed with the man whose aid she was supposed to enlist.
She was an idiot.
This was the complete and utter wrong time to try to influence him. Lying naked in his arms, praying he’d make love to her one more time before she had to return to reality. And then a third time. And once more as the sun started its climb on the horizon. She squeezed her eyes together and chewed her lower lip. His soft kneading action on her breast sent waves of desire coursing through her.
Her wants and needs would have to wait. If Jax had seen a magpie, and now heard one outside her window, the challenge must be in full swing. Add in Pierus’s appearance as they’d dined, and hellfire, she should be quaking from fear, not need.
Concentrating on Jax’s face, she sent him a nudge to get out of bed. But instead, the sexy smile he’d been wearing grew even more incandescent, and he blinked hard. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and circled the tip of his fingers around her areola.
“We fit together, Clio,” he said, his voice soft and seductive.
Jax rested his arm around the top of her head and laid his cheek on his bicep. Toying with her hair, he draped a leg over hers and pressed closer. Against her bare thigh, his dick twitched. The tingling that had never really died flared back to life. Her body was certainly ready for round two. Even if her mind was already elsewhere, like sitting across the room in the chair, away from the temptation of his hands and lips.
Pushing away thoughts of continuing their love play, she firmed her mental jab and sent it toward him again, praying he’d receive the message this time, hoping she wouldn’t have to tell him he should leave. Those words, coming from her mouth, had the ability to slay her. Something popped in her chest as she prodded his mind.
He stopped the motion of his fingers on her flesh. Holding her breath, she prayed the stronger nudge worked. The idea to leave her bed had to be his. Because, to be honest, she didn’t want him to go. If only Pierus wasn’t trying to play a dirty trick that could destroy her sisters and quite possibly the world. She tried to rein in her dramatic thoughts. But knowing if Tyranny were freed from her magpie form, the aggressive position the Five Nations were taking would quickly spread across the rest of the planet. She needed to speak to Gaia.
His cock prodded harder into her thigh. He glided his hand up her chest and throat until he came to rest on her cheek. Urging her face to his, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Forget I mentioned the birds. We have much better things to do than talk.”
What the hell was wrong with her? Not one of the prods she’d sent his direction seemed to be effective. He wasn’t succumbing to her inspiration. It was as if the stimulation he’d received was different than the message she’d sent. Add one more thing to her list to mention to Gaia.
She broke her silence by releasing an explosive sigh. “Jax, I’m really sorry about this, but we need to talk.” Simply saying the words stung her heart. She rolled from his arms and off the side of the mattress, snatching the throw from the bottom of the bed as she did. Regret inched up her chest like someone climbing a ladder. In the blink of an eye, she had the blanket wrapped around her torso. She braced her feet apart on the plush rug.
Jax pushed up on his elbow. His bare chest gleamed in the light from the one small lamp on the bedside table. His black hair was disheveled and one knee was bent upward, the other leg stretched out on her bed. His taut muscles flexed, and the deep vee cut of his lower belly was like a directional beacon to the one part of his body where she shouldn’t be looking.
She darted her gaze back to his face, heat charging up her chest and neck. He lay on the bed looking like a marble statue of Hercules, strong, solid…desirable. One eyebrow arched up, and his lips tilted in a crooked smile.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, something close to contrition lurking in his tone.
Outside the window, the magpie’s call rattled again. Clio clutched the blanket more firmly against her chest and pressed her hand over her eyes. It would be easier to say what she needed to if she couldn’t see his chiseled body. If she didn’t think about how his muscles moved under her fingertips. “I just… We need to talk.” She sucked both lips between her teeth and bit down.
The breath he sighed out sounded resigned. “Okay.”
The bed squeaked as Jax climbed out. Clio kept her hand over her eyes, tension blossoming in her neck. His footsteps whispered against the soft rug. The metal of his belt buckle jangled as he scooped up his shorts. She heard him zip his pants and refasten the belt. His footsteps moved away from her.
Dropping her chin, Clio covered her entire face with her hands. A wail built up in her chest that she savagely forced away, along with the thought of how she’d ruined something lovely and magical. She’d lived a long time and couldn’t recall ever experiencing what she’d had in bed with Jax.
His steps approached her again. Lowering shaky hands, she snapped her head up. The pale cream-colored robe she’d left hanging on the knob of the dresser dangled from his fingers. She clutched the robe against her chest. Breath stilled in her lungs when he traced the pad of his index finger under her eye, holding her gaze as he did.
Her eyes crossed when he held his fingertip up in front of her face. She was surprised to see moisture glittering like a diamond on the end. Sh
e didn’t realize she’d shed tears.
He leaned into her, his voice soft when he spoke. “Whatever is wrong, it can’t be worth crying about. We can work this out.”
His gentle voice shimmered over her skin and settled in her chest, a warm glow just under her heart. She’d known him only two weeks, but already he had this power over her. It didn’t take a leap of faith to see they could, in fact, change the path Pierus had cast before her.
With a small tug, Jax took the robe from her hand. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.” His bare chest brushed against her upper body when he wrapped the garment around her shoulders.
His lips grazed the corner of her mouth, his brown eyes warm and sincere. Everything in her strained toward him, seeking the common sense and calm he offered. With a nod, he moved toward the door. Pausing on the threshold, he glanced back. His attention lighted on the rumpled bed. Lust and longing and something else…contentment perhaps…flickered in his expression.
Sliding his gaze toward her, he sent an encouraging smile across the distance before exiting.
Clio crossed her arms over her chest and clutched the sides of the robe he’d draped over her shoulders. He moved away with agile grace. When he disappeared around the corner into the front room, she released her pent-up breath in a quiet rush.
If nothing else, with this confident, caring, sexy man at her side, trying to redeem the world might actually be fun. Clio dropped the blanket she’d snugged around her body and then wiggled into the robe. Before she left the room, she straightened the covers on the bed, smoothed her hand over the indention Jax’s head had made on the pillow. She jumped when the magpie in the tree outside her window jabbered—the sound a cold, harsh laughing noise.
Straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, Clio cinched the belt of her robe tight. She stared into the dark through the window, squinting to locate the damned bird. Not even a vague outline appeared in the branches. Didn’t matter. She extended her middle finger toward the window. The gesture was almost as childish as sticking her tongue out at the statue of Calliope at Achilleion earlier. But still, it broke some of the tension consuming her.
Biting her lip against the smile trying to break out, she padded down the hall. What should she say to Jax? How would the story she was about to confide affect him? She rounded the corner into her living room and stopped when she caught sight of him.
He stood framed in the window, his back to the room, one elbow braced on the wall, his hand cupping the back of his neck. The tails of his shirt hung loose around his lean hips, his bare feet shoulder-width apart. The only indication that he was tense came from the set of his shoulders. His forlorn posture stung like a wasp at her heart.
“Jax.” She stopped. She still didn’t know what to say to him. Goddess knew she wanted to spill the whole truth about herself. The urge had never been so strong, so overwhelming.
He turned. He hadn’t bothered to button the shirt, and the edges gaped open, revealing the smooth expanse of his pectorals. Leaning against the windowsill, he rubbed his fist over the center of his chest. He watched her with expectant, wary eyes.
She crossed the room and took a position behind the tall wingback chair by the fireplace. Recognizing it as a defensive posture, she scooted to the side and leaned against the upholstered wing. She scratched her short nails along the padded headrest. Desire to stroke his thoughts, to make him more receptive to what she had to say nearly overrode her determination to do this the mortal way. To be fair to him, she had to keep out of his mind when she asked for his help. Regardless of how much it galled to admit.
His sigh rang in the quiet of the room. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other long. But you shouldn’t be embarrassed about what just happened. We’re adults. We both wanted it. So what if it seems sudden?”
“No! Oh, goddess, Jax. You think I regret my decision to take you to bed? Nothing could be further from the truth. Half of me is kicking the other half for not asking you on a date sooner. We’re damn good together.”
His eyes widened briefly, but then narrowed again. Shaking his head, he let his shoulders slump. “Then what is it?”
“You’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.” Why would he? Gods and goddesses were merely myths in the eyes of the pragmatic world. They didn’t exist. She didn’t exist. She gestured to the sofa. “Take a seat. Can I get you a drink? Beer? Whiskey?” Giving him something strong to drink might make him more comfortable and willing to embrace what she had to tell him. She could use a stiff drink herself.
“Sure.” Jax took a seat on the edge of the couch cushion, bent forward, and propped his elbows on his knees.
Clio headed to the small cupboard opposite the fireplace. Crystal glasses were arranged on top, and she dragged two toward her. The amber-colored whiskey in the etched decanter was an exact match to the shade Jax’s eyes had darkened to as he’d moved within her a short while ago. As she poured three fingers of the spirit in each glass, several drops of whiskey spilled out when her hand shook.
Drinks in hand, she moved back to the sofa. She took a seat next to him and downed a healthy swig from her glass. The whiskey burned a path straight to her belly. Cold practicality iced a spot in her chest right next to the burning uncertainty. This would be the first time she’d ever revealed herself as a Muse to a mortal. Humanity had called on Muses throughout the ages, but she and her sisters had never done a damn thing to confirm their actual existence.
Risking a glance at Jax, she found his gaze locked on her face. He nodded, his brows raised in encouragement. “Clio, just spit it out.”
She set the glass aside and twisted to face him. She slid one foot under the opposite leg and tucked the robe under her knee. Pressing a hand on his thigh, she took the plunge. “Jax, have you ever heard of the Muses?”
“You mean like the band?”
She snorted. Terri was to blame for the techno-rocker’s name. Clio remembered how her sister had laughed like a demented loon once that band had crashed onto the music scene.
Focus, dammit! She shook away the memory. “No, like the beings who serve to inspire people to achieve greatness in art, writing, or science.”
Jax’s smile dimples. “Ah, you’re talking about mythology.”
Grasping his hand, she pulled it to her face and cupped it around her cheek. “Do I feel like a myth to you?”
“Huh?”
“Jax, I’m Clio, the Muse of History. Oh, and guitar.” She tipped her chin up. “I’ve been nudging generals, statesmen, and inventors for thousands of years, inspiring them to achieve their destinies. And then I record their triumphs and defeats.”
He drew his brows together and leaned away. She’d pretend his withdrawal didn’t sting like a painful spider bite. Mouth opening and closing, it looked as though he was trying to understand a completely foreign language.
A smile broke out on his face, but it never reached his eyes. His laugh came out a skeptical, scoffing grunt. “Good one, Clio. You had me going there.”
“I’m serious, Jax. I’m a Muse. From ancient Greek mythology…except we’re real. We exist. My eight sisters are all Muses as well.”
“You don’t look a day over twenty-five. So, I’m going to say false.” Pulling his palm from her cheek, he leaned forward and grabbed the tumbler. His hand trembled slightly when he lifted it. He took a hasty gulp of whiskey, then coughed as he replaced the glass on the table.
“Add about eight thousand years, and you’re in the neighborhood of my exact age.” Of course he wouldn’t believe her. She sounded bat-shit crazy, even to herself. “I’m not insane. And I’m not making this up. Go ahead—ask me about any event in history. From any time period. I’ve either inspired it, witnessed it, or recorded it.”
Jax popped off the sofa. Running his hand through his hair, he paced in front of the unlit fireplace. “Fine. What exactly happened with the Black Hole of Calcutta?”
Easy-peasy. She knew this incident well. “When F
ort William fell to the Nawab of Bengal, the British and Anglo-Indian troops who’d remained to defend it were imprisoned in a single cell, measuring four by five meters. According to some accounts, as many as one-hundred-forty-three men were jammed into a cell smaller than this room. But the actual number was closer to seventy.” Conditions in the cell had been crushing, suffocating. Pressure built in Clio’s chest just thinking about it. “The Nawab claimed he had no knowledge of the situation, but in truth, he’d ordered the incarceration. Only twenty-three survived the night.”
“Lucky guess.” He rubbed his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. The motion caused his sexy dimples to play peek-a-boo with her heart. Pausing from his pacing, he squinted at her. “Okay, what about Genghis Khan’s conquest of Eastern Europe?”
“Genghis didn’t lead the Mongol army into Europe. His generals invaded Russia, Crimea, Armenia, and Georgia while the Khan returned to Mongolia. What isn’t clear in the history books is that Khan was as much a statesman as Thomas Jefferson, Ronald Reagan, or Mikhail Gorbachev.” It wasn’t recorded properly because she’d been distracted by King John signing the Magna Carta. “Khan united the Silk Road under one cohesive political system.”
Jax gaze sharpened, his knuckles white when he propped his fist on a hip.
She gripped the neck of her robe closed and watched as he resumed his frantic pacing. “Are you convinced yet?”
“Those are facts anyone could know.” The lack of certainty in his voice led Clio to believe Jax might be buying in to her story.
“That’s true.” Clio went for the score. Something no one could know but would convince a history professor that she’d been there. “In 1918, hours before the assassination of the imperial family of Tsar Nicholas the Second, the Grand Duchess Anastasia was rescued from house arrest by Sophia Tyutcheva. She’d been governess to the imperial children. She’d been fired for speaking out against Rasputin.” Clio leaned forward. “Sophia hid Anastasia in Paris until the end of the First World War. They later moved to French Polynesia where they lived as mother and daughter until Sophia’s death in the late Fifties.”
Tyranny: Goddesses of Delphi Page 8
