Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(35)
And Achilles would champion it, if not in word at that moment, when the time came, he’d do it in word and deed. For Apollo and, he was in no doubt, also for Ilsa.
Therefore, Apollo nodded back and ended the conversation by leading Torment into the stables.
* * * * *
His fist on his c**k pumping, his eyes closed, the vision of her running her tongue up the underside was in his brain.
Her face, he knew.
But he’d never had that tongue.
Or those eyes.
Eyes that were burning on him now, burning on him and through him even if only in his imagination.
Fathomless.
A mystery.
His mystery.
On this thought and the small enigmatic smile she gave him before she rolled her tongue around the tip, his head pressed back into the pillows and Apollo stifled his own groan as he spent himself on his stomach.
Slowly opening his eyes to the dark of his room, he milked the last beads from his shaft as she continued to steal his thoughts.
Then he reached to his nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled out a handkerchief. He wiped up his seed and tossed the cloth aside. He then yanked the covers over him and turned to his side, stretching out his arm to curl around the pillow and pull it to him.
Tonight, a pillow.
Tomorrow, something else entirely.
He’d lied to his cousin.
He didn’t intend to sleep on anything.
He intended to sleep with something.
Yes, he’d made a colossal mistake.
One he just no longer had any intention to rectify by sending her away.
On that thought, Apollo closed his eyes and faded to sleep.
* * * * *
At sunrise the next day, with his gloved hand on a lead to a horse that was hitched to the sleigh prepared to take Ilsa forward or back, Apollo saw her standing on the steps of the inn.
She was wearing a fur cape, holding a fur cap in her hand, her auburn hair shining in the sun and her eyes were aimed at him.
He pulled back on Torment, halting close and looking down at her.
She looked up, and before he could speak, she snapped, “Bellebryn.”
Then, without delay, she stomped through the snow to the sleigh.
Knowing he was cursed and not caring in the slightest, when she did, Apollo smiled.
Chapter Seven
Away to Bed
I was learning something new.
That was, you could not stomp out your anger when a man had your hand tucked in the crook of his arm and was leading you up some stairs behind an innkeeper.
You also couldn’t do it when you were in the presence of an aristocrat, even if you weren’t one yourself (officially), because that wasn’t the done thing.
But I already knew you couldn’t throw a hissy fit in public, it was rude—in this world, my world or any world, no matter how much reason you had to do it.
That said, I was going to do it when we reached our room.
Yes, our room.
The first day gliding over the frosty tundra with Apollo had gone relatively well. This mostly had to do with Apollo riding beside me through the snow and not attempting conversation.
On my way through Lunwyn the first time, as the men rode close to my sleigh and we chatted, for the most part, my attention had been taken from the landscape.
Without that diversion, I was able to more fully take in the beauty of what was around me. The rolling plains covered in soft snow twinkling in the sun. The vistas dotted with green pines tufted with white. The small villages we passed, sleepy and closed away from the cold, smoke drifting lazily from chimneys coming out of roofs covered in marshmallow blankets.
As the glorious white horse with its smoky gray mane (the contrast to Apollo’s fantastic beast, which was smoky gray with an unusual white mane) pulled my dark green lacquered sleigh, I could give it my full attention. And I saw it was far more beautiful than I’d noted on the way in.
This annoyed me. It was silly and even childish, but I didn’t want to like anything that came with Apollo. And considering the latest turn of events, after a wonderful four months that had been the happiest maybe in my life, I was feeling okay with being silly and childish.
One of the worst parts of this turn of events was that it included being in the presence of Apollo.
He was worse than I imagined and he was pretty bad before.
Sure, there were reasons I couldn’t go forth and start my new life, free to be whatever I felt like being. I mean, malevolent magic was imminent and I didn’t want to seem like a wuss, but I didn’t think it was the smartest decision to go it alone in a whole new world when bad witches and vengeful deposed rulers were plotting to unleash misfortune on the land.
And he’d been cool (okay, I had to admit, he’d been relatively kind) when I explained about Christophe and Élan.
But mostly he was dictatorial, haughty and arrogant and it really annoyed me when he interrupted me like what I had to say wasn’t as important as what he had to say.
I’d slept on it and come to the decision that being with him would be easier to deal with than being around his children. And I decided this because I decided at the same time to ignore him as much as I could when I was with him.
I could ignore a dictatorial, haughty, arrogant grown man (maybe). I couldn’t ignore kids (definitely).
Decision made, I put it into practice when we stopped briefly for lunch and he tried to engage me in conversation. Without a peep, I turned my eyes away, chomped into the roasted pork sandwich one of his servants (no doubt, I didn’t see Apollo in a kitchen slapping together sandwiches) had provided (which was delicious, by the way) and ignored him.