Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(66)

So now my mind was in a battle. The battle I knew was totally irrational of the panic I felt that I was about to get me some and it was highly likely it was going to be good but that good was not under the influence of magical tea created by a goddess. This was fighting against extreme excitement that I was going to get me some and it was highly likely it was going to be good.

I had, of course, noted in all our discussions of adela tea, Apollo had not explained one of its effects was making you an excellent lover. So, my guess was, if you were crap in bed before adela tea, you were the same but more pronounced with it.

And the opposite was true.

So Apollo was far from crap in bed. Way far.

In other words, in my internal battle, the excitement was winning.

My heart started beating faster when Apollo pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, returned the key and was reaching for the doorknob when my hand in his squeezed and I said, “Wait.”

He turned into me and looked down at me, brow raised.

Pol couldn’t raise one brow and I liked it that Apollo could. It was sexy.

Okay, so pretty much everything about him was sexy.

That was not what I intended to share with him.

I looked to his throat, then his shoulder, trying to find the words.

No, trying to find the courage.

Crap.

“Poppy?”

I looked to his eyes, thought, Fuck it, and went for it.

“In my world, after a date,” I began and his hand in mine tightened. “The guy…well, he…” I pulled in a deep breath and finished on a whisper, “At her door, he kisses her.”

His eyes went lazy and his hand holding mine slid up his chest toward his shoulder as his other hand came out to cup my jaw and he murmured, “I see there may be things in your world that I would like.”

A tingle slid up my spine as I watched his head descend. I then decided he shouldn’t have to do all the work so rolled up to my toes.

His mouth finally hit mine and his fingers slid back into my hair as he molded his lips to mine, taking his time. Finally the tip of his tongue touched my lips.

I opened my mouth.

His tongue glided inside.

At the taste of him, a taste I really liked, I melted into him.

When I did, his hand let mine go and his arm wrapped around me tight. I curved my arm around his shoulders, going further up on my toes as he slanted his head, I tilted mine and the kiss went from sweet and wet to sweet, wet and wild.

So, if that kiss was any indication, I was right about him not needing the adela tea to be good at this.

He was good at this.

Very good at it.

Way too soon, he broke the kiss but not the connection of our lips and his voice was rough when he said, “Oh yes, there are things from your world I like.”

I knew what he meant and it was sweet, so I smiled.

He moved away, grabbed my hand, threw open the door and pulled me inside.

He slammed it shut behind me, turned the lock, all of this with his hand still in mine which was good. It was good because, the minute the door was locked, he gave my arm a firm tug. I fell toward him, colliding with his body seeing as it was moving my way, and both my arms went around his shoulders as both his arms came around me. He started walking me backward and his head began to dip toward mine again.

My eyes were closing, my head tipping back, ready for it, wanting it, all of it, when suddenly he stopped us and his head jerked up.

I was about to ask him why he’d stopped when I was unexpectedly flung to the side. I gave a small, surprised cry, my thigh hit a chair, I tumbled into a table and as I reeled, I saw Apollo bend to his boot.

“Run, Maddie, now!” he roared.

I didn’t run.

This was because my blood had turned to ice seeing as not one, not two, but three men all wielding freaking swords were flooding into the small sitting room of our suite.

As I noted, they had swords and there were three of him. But although Apollo had produced a knife, he had no sword and there was just one of him.

And they weren’t delaying in attacking.

Shit!

What the f**k?

I watched as, with some fancy footwork, a lot of ducking and lunging and his small blade crashing against their long ones, Apollo was holding his own. But even as he executed a ducking lunge and pulled another knife out of his other boot, I knew he couldn’t hold his own for long.

No one could.

There were three of them!

With swords!

It hit my brain I couldn’t run because if I did, I’d be leaving him and there was no doubt in my mind that if I left him, I’d never see him again. Or I wouldn’t see him when he was breathing.

I liked him breathing.

I just liked him.

And we’d just had a great first date. Sure, it started out rocky, but it ended up with that kiss and I’d be damned if he was going to die as a finale.

So I instantly prioritized and ran past the fray to the bedroom. I got to his saber that was resting against his trunk, grabbed it and extracted it from its scabbard on the dash back as I heard the battle clash on.

I will note this was hard because that mother was freaking heavy, but I still managed it.

I was thinking, in the movies, if you tossed a sword to someone who knew how to use it, they could catch it by the handle and carry on fighting without delay.

When Apollo had taken on Pol, he demonstrated he could use a sword.