Eumaeus followed me as I moved toward the door.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I want to.”
“We don’t have to talk about Melanthius. Wait, please.” Hereached for my wrist. His grip was not firm—I could have broken away if I wished—but I let him hold me there. “You don’t have to leave. Unless, of course, you must return to Mistress Penelope—”
“Penelope does not need me.”
“Then will you please wait? You’re clearly upset, and I hate to think of you being alone like this—”
“Are you asking me to stay the night, Eumaeus?” I turned to face him, and he immediately released me, cheeks reddening. “I know you asked Mistress Penelope if you could court me. So we have permission. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
He seemed at a loss for words, yet his eyes blazed, questions flickering within them like the shadows playing across the walls.
“Say it, Eumaeus. Say you want me to stay.”
I could feel his desire expanding between us, charging the air with possibility. It felt good to be wanted like this, to have someone else’s longing threaded between my hands instead of being strangled by my own day after day.
Eumaeus’s throat bobbed as he whispered, “I want you to stay.”
I moved quickly, taking his face in my hands and clumsily tugging his mouth to mine. His surprise felt like a spark against my lips, but it quickly melted into something else, something hungry and urgent.
When he began tugging at my gown, I suddenly stiffened, pulling away. Eumaeus blinked dazedly at me, lips slightly swollen from the urgency of our kisses.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you…want me to stop?”
Faded memories swirled, of all the times I’d wished Castor and his friends had asked me that very question.
Instead of replying, I undid my gown, letting it ripple to the floor. Eumaeus’s eyes widened.
“Come here,” I instructed.
I did not have to tell him twice.
Eumaeus wrapped me in his large arms, and I sank into the heat of his body, letting my thoughts grow silent as instinct took over. Iknew this game well; it was simple and familiar. It was a place I could disappear into, where I no longer had to be “Melantho,” rather just a body—limbs and skin and lips.
Within moments, Eumaeus was carrying me to his bed in the corner of the room, his own tunic discarded on the floor. He was surprisingly muscular, skin dusted with thick, dark hair. When he placed me on the furs, he paused to stare at me, as if wishing to savor the moment.
“Aphrodite has truly blessed you,” he murmured.
I smiled. I had forgotten how intoxicating it could feel to bewantedby someone.
Taking Eumaeus’s hand, I pulled him down to me. This time, he kissed me slower, his lips migrating from my lips to trail down my neck, along my collarbone, venturing farther still. With his free hand, he pushed me down onto the bed while his lips continued to explore. I craned my neck to watch the muscles of his back ripple and shift as he moved, glowing like a golden mountain range in the firelight.
At some point, my head fell back and my eyes fluttered closed. I let my thoughts stray, the heat of the moment seeming to burn away the guard I usually held in place. In the confines of my mind, it was no longer Eumaeus’s bare body over mine, no longer his lips on my skin, nor his roaming hands…
Penelope was smiling down at me, her curled mouth pressing against my fingertips, whispering my name.
Melantho, Melantho, Melantho…
“Melantho?”
I realized Eumaeus was staring at me, his face half dipped in shadow.
“What?” I asked, painfully aware of how defensive I sounded.
“Are you all right?”
