South of Surrender (Hearts of the Anemoi) (26 page)

“If you had the choice between the return of your visual sight or remaining blind and gaining long life, which would you choose?”

A shiver passed through Laney’s chest and over every inch of her skin. Such a thing was possible? And this god had the power to offer it? Laney’s whole life narrowed to this one moment. “What do you mean by long life?” she asked, nearly breathless.

“The ability to stay with immortal Chrysander for as long as you wish, but mostly blind, as you are now.”

The walls of the room swam and buckled. Laney swayed.

Hephaestus’s rough, calloused fingers gently caught her arms. “Steady, lass.”

“I wouldn’t grow old or die?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know that he wants me.”

“And what if he did?”

Her heart thundered, sending blood roaring through her ears. If there was even a chance, Hephaestus was offering them a way to be together forever. “The choice would be easy. I would choose love, so I would have to choose long life and blindness.”

“Would you like to make this choice?”

“Laney,” a voice behind her rasped. She turned. Chrys stood in the doorway. How long had he been there? She dragged her gaze up his big body to his face. He was shaking his head. “Don’t do this. I’m not worth it. You could see again.”

Hope and fear filled her chest in equal proportions. “I don’t want my sight. I want you.”

“Hephaestus, please,” he said.

“The choice is hers, Chrysander Notos. She has earned it.”

“Remember your joy when we flew in the elements,” Chrys said, his voice desperate. “Remember your wonder at getting to see again. The sun, Laney. Sappho, your farm, your books…a million things. You could have all of it again.”

She shouldered back the side of her psyche that latched on to his rejection, and listened to what he wasn’t saying. It
wasn’t
that he didn’t love her. It
wasn’t
that he didn’t want her. It was that he didn’t think he was worthy of her sacrifice of these things.

Her heart ached for him. “You
are
worthy, Chrys.” Her choice would prove it to him. As soon as the words left her mouth, certainty flooded over her in a warm rush. She turned back to Hephaestus. “I would like to make the choice. Long life and blindness.”

“So be it.” Hephaestus pressed one gnarled finger to her forehead and another to her heart. Electric tingles ran through her, and a white haze descended over her mind. Chrys’s voice sounded out, but Laney couldn’t decipher the words. She seemed to float outside herself for a long moment. Then, in a rush, she slammed back in. Her knees buckled, and she fell.

Warm arms caught her, cradled her against an even warmer chest. The rightness of the feeling flowed through her. The hazed lifted. Was it done? Was it really true?

Hephaestus leaned over her. “Indeed it is.”

“I said that out loud?” The old god grinned and nodded. She grasped his hand and kissed a gnarled knuckle. “Thank you.”

“You have chosen powerfully, Laney Summerlyn. You shall keep your prophetic sight.” He straightened, at least as much as he could. “This is for you, Chrysander. Do not open it until you’ve made
your
choice.” He hobbled two steps backward and lurched to a stop. “Oh, and we finished your barn roof. No thanks to you, Notos.”

Then he disappeared.

…

Chrys looked from the now empty floor in front of him, still echoing with the series of wild pronouncements, to the incredible woman lying in his arms. Overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of her sacrifice, he sank the rest of the way to his knees.

Every reason he’d used to convince himself they couldn’t be together fell away, and, in a great rush of faith, Chrysander surrendered. To need, to want, to love.

She had given up something for which she had long yearned for the mere
possibility
of a love, and a life, with him. With
him
.

Yet, she had no idea how he felt about her. How powerfully love and admiration and pure, simple
awe
flowed through him for her. All she knew were the lies he’d told—that he didn’t want her, that his life had no room for her. The lies were a shameful disgrace in the face of the enormous gift she’d bestowed on him. A disgrace he needed to correct right now.

“Chrys—”

“I love you,” he rasped, his throat so tight the words were barely audible. He swallowed, hard, and crushed her to him. “I love you,” he said louder. “I want you. And I’m so sorry—”

“You love me?” Joy scattered every doubt from her beautiful eyes. A smile brightened her whole face, even as her eyes glassed over. “I love you, too. Nothing means more to me than you.”

Chrys cradled her face and kissed her for all he was worth. Every longing, every yearning, every hope he’d ever had for and about her, he poured into the kiss. Her love and acceptance were like a balm to his soul, warming those places that had been left cold and unattended his whole, long existence. Breathing hard, he pulled away. “I want to make love to you.”

Cheeks flush, lips swollen, she nodded. He saw his desire mirrored back to him on her lovely face. “I’m yours. Always.”

He rose in one movement and crossed to the big bed, sending a rush of the South Wind behind him to secure the door. Willing their clothes away, he sprawled her on the center of the bed and climbed between her spread thighs. His cock twitched and throbbed, already aching for their joining. He dragged his fingers from her throat to the soft curls between her legs. He rubbed his thumb over the hard nub of her clit. She was already wet and wanting with desire. For him.

“Jesus, you are gorgeous and so damn sexy. I want to spend the rest of my life exploring you, bringing every one of your fantasies to life. But right now, I have to get in you.”

She grasped his cock and guided him to her opening. “I need you.”

He thrust forward and filled her in one slick penetration. An ecstatic groan tore out of him. Nothing had ever felt more right, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Like he was home.

Laney threw her hands above her head and arched beneath him. “You feel so good, Chrys.”

Bracing his fists on either side of her stomach, his body took over, moving in deep, fast strokes through her tight heat. The iron amulet knocked against his chest in time with the grinding rhythm. He dragged his gaze down her body, alive and writhing with arousal. Her hips rocked, her breasts shook, her teeth scraped at her bottom lip, her hands fisted and grasped at the covers above her.

Seeing a lover this way wasn’t something he was used to. And Laney…she was absolutely breathtaking to behold. And he wanted to feel her, feel
this
, every bit of it.

“Laney,” he rasped, the foreign desire to
touch
resurrecting a hint of his ancient anxiety.

“I love you,” she panted.

The declaration, so freely given, so deeply felt, blanketed the apprehension just enough that he thought he could take the chance… “Touch me.” His heart tripped into a sprint. “Oh, gods, touch me.”

Eyes wide, she reached up and grasped his face in gentle hands. “Shh, it’s okay.” Her fingers stroked his cheeks. “You can trust me. I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never do anything you don’t want.”

He swallowed, hard, his breath rushing from his chest. “More.”

She lifted her legs and wrapped her calves around him, rubbing and stroking his ass as he thrust.

The sensation was electric. Warmth and pleasure overloaded his skin and crawled down his spine, gathering in his balls. “Aw, gods, I want—” He lowered his body fully onto hers, his hands fisting in her hair, his hips thrusting wildly. Everywhere they touched, her heat seared and soothed him until his head was spinning with the incredible, foreign sensation. She smelled so good, warm and feminine and sweet. He breathed her down deep, but couldn’t get enough. Would never be able to get enough. “Hold me,” he gasped against her lips.

Her arms came around his back in a tight, warm embrace.

He groaned and claimed her in a fierce kiss. Their tongues swirled and licked, their lips and teeth nipped and pulled. Their breathing was rough and panting. Chrys dropped kisses everywhere he could reach without giving up one iota of her touch.

His hands were filled with black silk. His torso pressed against the firm mounds of her breasts. Their stomach muscles, damp with sweat, rubbed and slid. Her thighs squeezed his pistoning hips and her heels spurred into his ass, completing the mind-blowing full-body experience. He’d never felt anything like it before. “You’re the only one,” he said, emotion raw in his voice.

A high-pitched whimper tore out of her. He captured the sound with his mouth and worked his hips against her clit. His cock stroked hard and deep, and he angled his thrusts until she was mewling and whimpering into his mouth.

“Gods, Laney, give it to me. Give every bit of it to me.”

For a long moment, she held her breath and her whole body went tight. Her orgasm tore through her—her slick sex milking the part of him deep within her, her body thrashed and bucked under him in great waves, and her nails dug into his back. Gods, he hoped she marked him.

As her orgasm went on and on, Chrys got lost in her clenching heat. His grinding rhythm grew jerky, a glorious pressure filling his balls. He went light-headed at the overwhelming sensation, and then his orgasm slammed into him, shooting up his spine and down his legs. His release erupted into her, filling her up and spilling over them both.

When his body finally calmed, he lifted his head. Laney smiled up at him, her eyes full of love, her expression totally blissed out. Her hands dragged lightly up his back and found his hair. She combed her fingers through it, her nails soothingly scratching his scalp. He could’ve purred.

She’d touched him. Every part of him. Until he couldn’t feel where he stopped and she began. And he’d felt…good, right…alive.

Awed, he shifted his hands to stroke the damp hair off her face.

She stretched beneath him, a long, luxurious movement. Grimacing, she reached beneath her hip. “What’s this?” The little leather bag Hephaestus had given him.

“I don’t know.”
Do not open it until you’ve made your choice
, that’s what Hephaestus had said. And Chrys had made his choice—he’d chosen Laney. They worked together to release the thin string holding the top of the satchel closed tight.

“How much of my conversation with Hephaestus did you hear?”

“Most of it. Enough to know you and Seth have ancient divine connections, and that you did the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I did it for me, too.”

He kissed her, just a light, worshipful brushing of lips. They finally got the strings untied. “Hold out your hand.” Chrys dumped the contents into her palm.

Two rings, both made of brushed infernal iron, one band thicker, the other thin.

Certainty and gratitude roared through him.

Laney brought her other hand to explore the objects. She gasped. “Are these—”

“Yes.” He picked up the smaller ring. “When the chaos is behind us, we will do this right. But until then, Laney Summerlyn, I promise to love and cherish and honor you, forever. Will you be mine?”

Her breath caught and her eyes went glassy. “Yes.”

Chrys slid the ring, a perfect fit, on her finger.
Thank you, Hephaestus.

She grasped the remaining piece. “Chrysander Notos, I promise to love you and take care of you and be there for you in every way you need me, for the rest of my long life. Please be mine.”

“Always,” he rasped as the cool iron settled on his finger. His cock hardened at the sight, slow but sure. “I want you again,” he said, slowly moving his hips.

She nodded. “Anything you want. Everything you want. I love you.”

“As I love you, Laney, and I always will.”

Dark days lie ahead—only ten sunrises separated them from the fall equinox and Eurus’s ascension. He and Laney would face every challenge, together. Everything else was uncertain, but not this. Never this.

Acknowledgments

From his very first breath, Chrysander Notos had his own way of doing things, never easy, never straightforward, never boring or dull. And that made bringing him to life one of the most challenging and fulfilling writing experiences I’ve ever had. I know so many of you have waited to spend more time with the golden boy of the Anemoi, and I hope you love him as much as I do.

I have to offer thanks first and foremost to Christi Barth, who read the entire manuscript and pushed me again and again to go deeper. To have such an incredible critique partner and wonderful friend in the same person is a true privilege. I must also thank my best friend Lea Nolan, who brainstormed with me, cheered me on, shared Panera cookies, and held my hand more times than I can recount. Stephanie Dray, Joya Fields, Marta Bliese, and Laura Thompson (my horse expert!) provided encouragement, moral support, and tough love that kept me going when life went off the rails. Again. And again.

Thanks, always, to Heather Howland, for loving the Anemoi as much as I do, for making me shine, and for never letting me get away with a thing! She’s the kind of editor authors dream of working with. A special word of thanks to Kari Olson of A Good Addiction blog, who won an Entangled Publishing contest and got to name Boreas’s love interest, Tabitha. You did great! Thanks to Jenn Schober for always being there with an encouraging word!

I also need to offer thanks to someone who doesn’t know she inspired me. My former graduate student, Dana S., was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa and faced the news with such courage and determination. Dana, I hope I’ve done RP justice here. To learn more about RP or donate toward finding a cure, visit the Foundation Fighting Blindness at www.blindness.org.

Huge love always goes out to Laura’s Heroes, the best street team an author ever had. To Brian and my girls, thank you for supporting me so completely. I love you. And, as always, I have complete love for the readers, who welcome characters into their hearts and minds and let them tell their stories over and over again. ~ LK