Atalanta shrugged. ‘You live the life of a hero and one day you run out of chances. Besides, you’ll look like this forever.’ She gestured at the entirety of Danae. ‘You won’t want me when I’m a withered crone.’
Danae gazed at her as the warm candlelight licked across her face. Even in the year they had been apart she could seea change, a deepening of the faint lines creasing Atalanta’s eyes, her brow. She had never looked more beautiful.
‘How oldareyou?’
The warrior rested her forearms on her knees. ‘I have seen twenty-six summers.’
Danae raised her eyebrows. ‘Must have been some rough summers.’
Atalanta flicked seawater at her.
Danae smiled, before silence reclaimed the tent. She looked down at the cloth in her hand.
‘Did Artemis say she wouldn’t want you when you grew old?’
‘What?’ Atalanta breathed.
The words pushed their way up Danae’s throat until they spilt over her tongue. ‘Was she more than just your goddess?’
Atalanta’s face spasmed, and, like a creature emerging from the deep, the hatred born of poisoned love the warrior had harboured all this time unfurled into the light. Finally, Danae understood the conflict that had burned within Atalanta since desire took root between them. The mirror Danae held to the goddess who had ripped out the warrior’s heart and smashed it beneath her gilded foot.
‘I remind you of her, don’t I?’ Danae whispered.
Atalanta looked stricken.
‘I’m not her,’ she pressed. ‘I know I left you once, but I will never abandon you again. I would never let anyone hurt you the way –’
With a snarl Atalanta pushed her back, knocking over the bucket. Seawater spilt across the ground. Danae scrabbled to her feet as Atalanta did the same. In the enclosed space, they prowled, their faces drawn and flickering in the candlelight.
Then Atalanta pounced, and Danae slammed into her, both women falling together in a heap of limbs on theanimal hides. Danae gained the upper hand, squirming on top, but Atalanta twisted her foot around Danae’s thigh and flipped her onto her back. Danae hit out, fists meeting flesh and armour.
‘We might die tomorrow! Why won’t you just admit …’ Danae faltered as she tasted salt.
Tears dripped from Atalanta’s face onto her own.
‘Atalanta …’
The warrior let go and scrambled back, crouching as she wiped her cheeks. Danae remained kneeling on the hides, her breath shallow.
For a while neither of them spoke. Then Atalanta murmured, ‘You are nothing like her. And I am glad.’
Danae reached across the space between them and took the warrior’s hand, kissing her calloused palm.
Atalanta moaned. ‘Danae …’
She drew Atalanta’s hand upwards to the curve of her breast.
‘Tell me you don’t want this.’
‘Oh, I want …’ Another half-growled moan rumbled from the warrior’s throat.
Danae pulled the other woman towards her. Longing ripped through her like fire as their bodies pressed together and they tumbled onto the hides.
Atalanta caressed Danae’s breasts through the fabric of her dress, her nipples hardening at the warrior’s touch. Then Atalanta’s fingers travelled up, tracing the ridge of her collarbone to curl beneath the hard angle of her jaw. She lowered her head and kissed Danae’s neck, each press of her mouth burning, teasing until finally those lips that Danae had dreamed of tasting met her own.
It was more than she had imagined. The sharpness of reality and the blaze of her senses sang through her bodyas Atalanta’s tongue played with hers. Danae drank her in, hands prying beneath Atalanta’s armour, struggling at the straps of her breastplate.
The warrior’s kiss deepened, her fingers surging up into Danae’s tangled crop of hair, raking her scalp. The breath hitched in Danae’s throat, fear curling around her spine.
