But then the air suddenly warmed behind me, a bloom of heat brushing the back of my neck where the chamber remained cool. A tingling swept along my arms, not in warning this time, but in anticipation that twisted sweet.
A breath drifted through my hair, and then Achilles’s lips touched the spot just below my ear, a kiss that slid beneath my skin and loosened everything I’d been holding rigid for hours. A gasp ripped free before I could stop it, cracking the silence and my eyes stung, tears I hadn’t realized were there brimming.
His mouth touched me again, slower this time. A promise. A command not to fall apart yet.
Relief slammed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled. The world steadied only because he was there, close enough that the scent of leather and steel wrapped around me, close enough that his nearness became a tether.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” I whispered, my voice frayed to threads. The words carried more than longing; they carried the weight of what this place had reduced me to.
The palace had stripped me, made me question the ground beneath my own feet. I had never needed a man. I had always stood alone, unbowed. And yet here I was, trembling, desperate for him, as though he were the only thing keeping me from breaking apart.
Achilles slid his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him. My body gave before my mind did. I melted into him, breath leaving my chest as if he were the air itself, the shape I’d been waiting to collapse into.
His mouth brushed my ear. “You think I’d let a few watchful eyes keep me from you?”
I bit down on my lip, suddenly fearful, like the whole palace might hear the sound.
“If he’d opened that door, I would’ve killed every man on the other side … and died with your name on my lips.”
My fingers tightened against the basin’s edge, bronze biting into my palms. I wondered if he meant those words. They were pretty, but so were a lot of things.
I turned in his arms and studied his face. “You can’t say that.”
“I just did.”
“You can’tmeanthat.”
His jaw flexed. “But I do.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Because some part of me, some hidden, aching, desperate part, wanted it. Needed it. To be someone worth that kind of vow. To be his in a way that went deeper than flesh and longing. To be worth dying for.
My fingers curled into his tunic as he gripped me tighter, the fabric bunched and twisted between us.
“Easy,” he murmured, his mouth brushing my temple. “Menelaus has no idea. Last night was nothing but a flash of drunken madness. He’s forgotten all about it. He didn’t say a word to me or even look at me suspiciously. We are safe.”
Safe.The word hung between us, fragile as the glass Sparta imported from Aígyptos.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, rough thumb stroking once against my skin. “If he had any true suspicion, we wouldn’t be standing here now. Menelaus has only ever seen what he wants to see.”
I drew a shuddering breath, pressing closer, letting his certainty bleed into me, and chase away the chill. For a moment, I could almost believe him. Almost.
“You looked haunted,” he murmured. “When I came in.”
“I had a bad dream,” I said softly, unwilling to give shape to it. “That’s all.”
He searched my face for a moment before resting his forehead against mine, breathing me in like I was the only oxygen left in a dying world.
“You’re here now,” I whispered. “That’s all that matters.”
He smiled, barely. “Always.”
The word landed like another vow, and I wanted to believe it. Gods, Ineededto believe it.
But my throat ached as I pressed my cheek against his chest and whispered the question I couldn’t silence any longer. “How long can this last?”
He stilled.
