Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

His eyes grew wide.

“I…” she faltered.

“You please me,” he spoke softly. “You please me greatly, lady.”

She placed her hand on his chest, “Too long I’ve wondered how it would feel, to have your arms about me…”

“Wonder no more.” His arms came around her, pressing her to him.

His strength and scent assailed her. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest. His arms, thick and solid, cradled her. She felt his breath stir her ear, his cheek resting against her head, and pressed herself closer.

Her arms slipped about his waist, her hands pressed flat against his back. And still it wasn’t enough. Her grip tightened, pressing him closer still.

His breath hitched and the rise and fall of his chest quickened against her.

With a sigh, she turned her face into his chest and breathed deep.

“Is it satisfactory?” he whispered.

She glanced up at him. “What?”

He laughed. “Being held so?”

She shook her head, teasing him with relish. “It is too soon to say, husband. Sit with me a while longer so I might better decide.” She sat on the sand, pulling his hand.

He laughed again, sitting at her side, his arm wrapping about her.

She leaned against him, but found too much space separated them. “Mayhap I prefer standing.”

The look in his eyes silenced her, the pull of him sweeping through her. She rested her head on his shoulder, calming the fire in her belly.

The music played on, though the rhythm changed and a new voice rang out. She strained to hear, but the words seemed slurred. “Do you know this song?” Medusa asked.

Ariston cleared his throat, smiling down at her. “I do.”

She closed her eyes, leaning towards the singer. “I’m not familiar with the story.” Her eyebrows arched as the singers proclaimed the many virtues of the nymph’s form and features.

“No, it would not be sung for a priestess.” He seemed greatly amused.

Medusa opened her eyes. “But I’m a wife now.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

Medusa was vaguely aware of the rapid pounding on the drum. How could he look at her and inspire such feelings within her? How had she never known such feelings existed?

A cry went up, jarring her. Shouts and laughter joined and the music began again, fast and spritely as it teased its listeners into movement.

Medusa smiled at Ariston. She dearly loved to dance. If Elpis were here, she would dance with her. She felt his eyes upon her as she stood.

“Is dancing permitted for soldiers?” her voice wavered, uncertain.

He nodded once.

She could hardly speak the words. “Do you dance?”

“I can, mistress.” He smiled up at her, a lop-sided grin.

She pulled her cloak from her shoulders and placed it on the sand. Standing, vulnerable, she held her hand out to him. “Show me?”