Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

She’d fallen asleep in his arms. And he’d watched her.

In the candle’s glow, her cheeks had been flushed, her skin dew-kissed from their lovemaking. His eyes had pored over every inch of her, etching her form into his mind.

Her hair twined about her, wrapping about her waist. He smoothed it back, letting the silken strands slip through his fingers. She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, one hand pillowed under her cheek. Her shoulder, bleached white in the moonlight, begged to be kissed. He leaned forward and did so, inhaling the smell of her sweet scent.

His fingers lightly traced the curve of her shoulder, sliding along the dip at the base of her spine. His fingers were a whisper on her skin, trailing down her back and the curve of her buttock.

She stirred. “Ariston?”

He kissed her shoulder again, whispering, “Sleep, love, sleep.”

She sighed, searched out his arm, and burrowed under it. It pleased him greatly that she sought him out. He pressed closer to her, draping his arm across her in return. Though he tried to sleep, his eyes would not close. She was too recently won to part with. So he watched her until the sun rose.

He would sleep later.

As the sun had woken he’d slipped from the cottage with his net, to fetch them breakfast.

He glanced back at the beach. It was early yet, she likely slept still.

But she sat, wrapped in his cloak on the shore, watching him. His heart thundered as he lifted a hand in greeting. The morning grew sweeter yet when she smiled and waved back. He dove into the water and swam to the shore, pulling the net behind him.

As he waded from the sea, Medusa met him. She stared up at him, her welcoming smile unguarded. Her eyes slid over his face, resting on his mouth. His wife blushed.

There is no sight lovelier. “My lady…” his voice was soft.

“Husband.” She stepped closer to him. Her hand hesitated before she placed it on his arm.

Ariston’s heart tightened in his chest, pleased that she would touch him. He closed his eyes as her hand slid from his wrist to his elbow. Her arms slid around his waist and her cheek rested upon his chest with a sigh.

He dropped the net, shivering at the feel of her. Even now, this simple touch captured him.

“How are you this fine morning?” her words were said against his chest.

The clouds shifted, hiding the sun. The wind stirred her cloak about them, sending a shiver along his spine.

It was a fleeting sensation, this fear that robbed him of his breath. He knew not where it came from, but a coldness gripped him so deeply he was frozen. Her hold on him seemed to lessen, as if she was moving away from him – beyond his reach and his help. The pain was blinding, and terrifying. Ariston’s arms came around her with a suddenness that surely startled her. But he feared she’d slip away if he let her go.

He shook his head.

Yet she still stood with her arms about him, calling him, “Husband?”

He could not relax his hold on her, for the feel of her chased away his terror. His anguish, which he knew was unfounded, was too real – too severe. So he held her to him until he grew calm, if not quite peaceful.

“Had I known this was a riddling question, I might have started with another.” Medusa leaned back in his arms. Her face was alight with a mischievous grin, one that soothed him almost instantly.

The clouds shifted once more, and the sun broke free, restoring the day’s glory and peace once more. ‘Twas fatigue that played upon him, nothing more.

“I’ve never seen a brighter morn. Nor felt as blessed by the Gods as I am this day.” His eyes met hers before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hungry, wife?” he whispered into her hair, soft and silken against his lips.

“I am, yes.”

Ariston stared down at her. She looked up at him, her smile dimming the morning sun. He sighed deeply, at ease once more.

His hands explored her face. He seemed unable to stop touching her. His thumbs caressed her brows, her lashes and cheekbones as his eyes traversed the plains of her face. She leaned into his touch, making it easy for him to tilt her face to his. Their kiss was soft, lingering and sweet as her mouth opened for him.

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Before her wedding night, she’d never had lips upon her own. But his fit against hers as if his mouth had been made to meld with her own…as her body had held his. They were made to be one.