Until I woke up to find him sitting in a chair near the window, staring at the city with a hound dog look on his face.
I knew as soon as I saw Rune's expression that it was over. We were getting too close to the point of no return. The night before, he had stared at me with yearning even when he was inside me. I had held him tightly, hoping that it meant he was finally willing to put aside his pride and put up with Hermes. Looked like hope had stabbed me in the back again.
With a crushing weight on my heart, I sat up and took a deep breath. Rune slowly turned to face me, reluctantly giving up the view to do what had to be done.
“You don't have to say it,” I said. “I know it's time. Did you already pack?”
A wounded sound left him as he crumpled forward.
“Rune,” I whispered, knowing better than to go to him. “It doesn't have to be like this. He only visits for a few days, at most a week. Can't you try to—”
“Try to what?” Rune snarled as he lifted his head. There were tears in his eyes, but his expression had shifted into fury. “Try to ignore the tearing in my chest when another man—a fucking god—takes my woman?” He got to his feet, his chest heaving. “Just forget that your mine for a week while he fucks you like a whore? You're mine, Lora!” He pointed at me. “Mine!” His hand started to tremble, and he lowered it with a sharp jerk. “But not entirely. You never will be. And I can't have only a part of you. Not while I give you all of me.”
“Even if that part is my heart?” I asked as I stood up and went to him. I laid my hands on his rapidly rising and falling chest. “I know it will be hard, but isn't this worth it? Isn't what we have special enough to fight for?”
Rune's lips pressed into a hard line and a tear slid down his cheek.
“I love you, Rune,” I said the words that had been hovering over me for a week. “I want you to stay. I think we could be—”
His wounded cry cut me off. Or maybe it was him lifting me off my feet to drag me up to his lips. All I knew was that before I could finish asking him to stay, he was kissing me. We both had only underwear on our lower bits, so we were skin-to-skin instantly. Rune's cry turned into a groan, and then I was back in bed, spread beneath him.
My panties were torn away. His boxers too. Shreds on the floor. Rune's rough kisses marched down my throat. His mouth latched onto my breast. Even as I arched into him, his hand found my core and worked me in a way he knew would have me panting in seconds. A month, and the man had found every spot that made me moan, learned every technique that brought me pleasure. Not even a month. He'd learned the needs of my body in the first week. Now, he employed all his knowledge to bring me to a shuddering climax.
As I screamed his name, Rune slid into me. Lodged deep, he balanced my thighs on his forearms and started a slow, tender rhythm. The very motion of his body in mine showed me how much he loved me. But he didn't say the words. He bent forward to kiss me, then brushed our foreheads together. He stared at me with such adoration that my heart raced. This was it. I'd finally found someone who loved me enough to share me. He didn't need to say it. If he just looked at me like that, I'd be happy forever.
Then Rune sped up. Muscles bunching, he pounded into me. Ecstasy rose again, summoning the both of us this time. He rose onto his knees, his expression going fierce, and thrust with sharp movements that made my whole body shake. But his arms were wrapped around my thighs, ensuring that I didn't escape him.
That beautiful friction. The slam of his flesh against my sex. The smell of Rune. It all combined in an intoxicating way to send us into that upward spiral. I clutched at his forearms as my body splintered and my heart burst with bliss. At last. I had found him at last.
With a wordless shout, Rune came, his body jerking forward one last time. Every muscle on him tightened, the cords of his neck especially standing out as he arched backward. Then he fell forward, catching himself on his forearms. My legs fell to the bed, cradling him. With a shudder, he kissed me. Just a press of his lips on mine. Then he withdrew. As he climbed off me, I saw the tears on his cheeks.
“Rune?” I asked softly, terror suddenly filling me.
“I can't, Lora. I can't let myself love you if you're still with him.”
I sat up. “But—”
“I can't!” he roared and stormed out of the room.
I sat there, in the middle of my rumpled bed, still smelling of Rune, enclosed within the bed's walls and a crushing loyalty for another man. Feeling trapped in so many ways, I listened to him stomp down the hall to the dressing room. He wasn't there long, so I knew he had packed while I slept. His footsteps returned, and he paused at my bedroom door, but he didn't come in. With the wooden walls of the bed between us, it felt as if he was even further away.
“Goodbye, Lomasi,” Rune said. “You are . . . I wish . . .” He growled and stomped away.
Chapter Thirteen
I alternated between hating and loving Rune. I was so furious with him for giving me hope, for allowing me to fall in love with him before he left. But in my heart, I knew he loved me too. He hadn't been on the verge of falling; he had fallen. So, he was hurting as much as I was. But he was also the one who had decided to end us.
I also alternated between hating and loving Hermes. Not love like I had for Rune, but I did love Hermes as a friend. Someone who I had once loved romantically and who had given me a great gift. Even letting me go had been a gift. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have met Rune. Again, that sent me swinging back and forth between love and hate.
It goes without saying that I cried. I did so often and violently. I got drunk. I ate a lot of food, then I didn't eat at all. Jenny ran the gallery for me for over a week. Yeah, a week. I knew it was going to be a long mourning period. Otherwise, I would have just closed the gallery for a few days. But this was Rune Demos I was trying to get over. Hound of Hades. The most incredible lover I'd ever had. And that included Hermes. I was pretty sure he was the love of my life. Again, that included Hermes. But maybe that was just heartache talking.
I wallowed for nine days and then got my shit together. I put away the alcohol and cleaned up the pizza boxes, ice creamcartons, and other detritus of delivered food. Then I took a hot shower. I scrubbed everywhere. I washed the filth away and maybe a little of the sorrow. When I finished drying off, I felt strong enough to face life again. Eternal life. Without Rune.
“I'm going to be all right,” I said to my reflection. She didn't seem convinced.
So, I pulled on a power suit, pulled back my hair into a war braid, and painted my face. I mean, put on some make-up. My heels felt like weapons, stabbing the hardwood as I took the stairs down to the gallery. I was alive. I had survived the shattering of my heart. Again. And now I had to face every day as if it were a battle. Because, just for a little while longer, it would be. But at least now I had healed enough to fight.
“Fuck these men,” I growled and slammed open the gallery door.
