Why fear this final step between them? Either she’d meant forever, or she hadn’t.
“Won’t a branding require energy or something?” Energy he needed to maintain considering the trials in their future. “Erebus might kick off another labor. I don’t sense anything, but I didn’t sense anything last time, either.”
“Hardly any energy. It’s far easier to open the door than to close it.”
“Okay. All right. I’ll do this. For you,” she said with a nod. “But in return, you’ll tattoo my name somewhere on your body. My full name. Ophelia Falconcrest Formerly Known as the Flunk Out and Mistakenly Referred to as the Sweetheart. I’m betting there’s only one spot long enough.”
“Deal,” he replied with a grin. He kissed her breathless, then tugged her to her feet. “Turn around and hold up your hair.”
He didn’t wait for her to act but maneuvered her into the desired position with a flick of his wrists. She braced, expecting searing pain, but she perceived only a delicious warmth as he worked, tracing a fingertip over her nape. That warmth spread through the rest of her. Her veins tingled, her blood swiftly morphing into fuel, as if she’d plugged into a fully charged battery. Wow! A total rush! The beasts quieted, as if they’d just been hit by a tranquilizer dart.
How soon could she cast her thoughts into his mind? —Halo? Halo! Yo, yo, yo. Want to get ravished?—
He clasped her waist and tugged her closer to kiss her brand. The barest caress, and the sweetest tickle. “Finished, love. You wear my brand, our connection eternal.” —And yes, I do. Immediately.—
Gasp! “I heard your voice inside my head.” A shockingly intimate caress she liked very, very much indeed.
He cupped her backside through the pleats in her skirt. —Let’s see what else I can get inside you.—
* * *
Halo awoke at 10:00 p.m. sharp. He remained in the Forest of Learnings. He lay upon a boulder, naked and bathed in moonlight, with a naked Ophelia draped over his chest. The contentment he felt...
Will kill to keep it.
He cast his awareness over the terrain, on the hunt for any threats. A stream rushed farther south. Cool air scented with foliage and dew carried a charge, as if a storm approached. Nothing odd caught his attention, and he relaxed against the stone.
Two labors remained. The final test followed by the deciding battle. Victory, or defeat. The start or end of their union. They—were not alone. The knowledge hit, and he cursed. Someone approached.
A flock of birds took flight, and Ophelia’s eyes popped open. “Danger.”
“Yes,” he said, flashing them to their feet. It wasn’t the proper time for a labor, but when had that ever stopped Erebus?
Halo summoned the easiest clothing to don. Robes. He always kept some at the ready, the pockets fully loaded with weapons, just as the headmaster had coached him. They dressed in silence. She worked fastest, moving at a speed triple any she had displayed before, then she patted the material and withdrew a three-blade stored inside a pocket.
A trumpet blared once, twice, announcing a nondeath match. Halo breathed easier and shouted his name, proclaiming his intention to be his own champion.
“If you can take the blade from him,” Ophelia muttered, “do it.”
Erebus appeared mere feet away. Smug delight replaced yesterday’s shock. He wore a tunic and leathers to better display his lack of weapons. Meaning, there was no Bloodmor in sight. “Oh, how I’ve waited for this moment.”
Halo’s mind tossed out facts. He hadn’t perceived the previous battle. Now this one. The truth was suddenly so clear. Outmaneuvered from the start.
“You purposely warned us about the prior labors, luring us into a false sense of expectation,” he grated. The god must have purposely alerted Ophelia through the brand, allowing Halo to detect it through her. No alert, no detecting.
“Or did she do the luring for me?” Erebus asked. “As my champion, it is her duty, after all.”
Aggression electrified the air around her. “I’m not betraying Halo, you—” She pressed her lips together. —You know I’m not betraying you, right?—
—I do.—Like the Astra, she had become a trusted constant in his life.
“Although,” Erebus continued, “that does sound like me. I can be such a rapscallion at times.” Though his hand was empty, he mimicked throwing something Halo’s way. A golden apple appeared midair. “To win this labor, you have only to take a bite of this. Or feed it to the girl. Refuse to do either, and I shall be declared the victor of this round.”
Halo caught the fruit and frowned. He discerned no poison, no toxin. Chaos had stamped a small brand in the center, authenticating its use. “What do you hope to accomplish with this?”
“The apple will show you the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. I want you to see. To know. But the longer you wait, the faster the fruit will rot. The more it rots, the cloudier that truth will become. Trust me. You wish to know what I know, too.” Erebus disappeared a moment later.