Helios Crowns His Mistress. Michelle Smart
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she couldn’t stop her eyes moving to his, couldn’t stop herself gazing at him.
His silver chain glinted against the base of his throat. That chain had often brushed against her lips when he’d made love to her.
And as she stared at him, wondering when he was going to speak, his eyes studied her with the same intensity, making her mouth run dry and her hammering pulse race into a gallop.
His fingers drummed on the table. ‘Did you have a nice time at Greta’s?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied stiffly, before she realised what he’d said. ‘How did you know I was there?’
‘Through the GPS on your phone.’
‘What? You’ve been spying on me?’
‘You are the lover of the heir to the throne of Agon. Our relationship is an open secret. I do not endanger what is mine.’
‘I’m not yours. Not any more,’ she spat at him, running from fear to fury in seconds. ‘Whatever tracking device you’ve put in my phone, you can take it out. Now.’
She yanked her bag onto the table, pulled out her phone and threw it at him.
His hand opened to catch it like a Venus flytrap catching its prey. He laughed. But unlike on Saturday, when he’d thought he’d been indulging her, the sound contained no humour.
He slid the phone back to her. ‘There’s no tracking device in it. It’s all done through your number.’
‘Well, you can damn well untrack it. Take it off your system, or whatever it’s on.’
He studied her contemplatively. His stillness unnerved her. Helios was never still. He had enough energy to power the whole palace.
‘Why did you leave?’
‘To get away from you.’
‘You didn’t think I would be worried?’
‘I thought you’d be too busy cherry-picking your bride to notice I’d gone.’
Finally a smile played on his lips. ‘Ah, so you were punishing me.’
‘No, I was not,’ she refuted hotly. ‘I was giving myself space away from you because I knew you’d still expect to sleep with me after an evening of wooing prospective brides.’
‘And you didn’t think you’d be able to resist me?’
Her cheeks coloured and Helios felt a flare of satisfaction that his thoughts had been correct.
His beautiful, passionate lover had been jealous.
Slender, feminine to her core, with a tumbling mane of thick dark blonde hair, Amy was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. A sculptor wouldn’t hesitate to cast her as Aphrodite. She made his blood thicken just to look at her, even dressed as she was now in an A-line navy skirt and a pretty yet demure lilac top.
But today there was something unkempt about her appearance that wasn’t usually there: dark hollows beneath her taupe eyes, her rosebud lips dry, her usual glowing complexion paler than was normal.
And he was the cause of it. The thought sent a thrill through him. Whatever punishment she had hoped to inflict on him by disappearing for a few days, it had backfired on her.
He would never let her know of the overwhelming fury that had rent him when he’d seen the box she’d left by his door.
Which reminded him...
He slid the thick padded envelope he’d placed on the table towards her. Smashing the box when his anger had got the better of him had caused the perfume bottles to spill and ruin the books, but the jewellery had been left undamaged.
Her eyes narrowed with caution, she extended an elegant hand to it and opened it gingerly. Her mouth tightened when she saw what was inside.
She dropped the envelope back on the table and got quickly to her feet. ‘I don’t want them.’
‘They’re yours. You insult me by returning them.’
She didn’t blink. ‘And you insult me by giving them back when you’re about to put an engagement ring on another woman’s finger.’
He got out of his chair and stalked over to her. With the chair behind her she had nowhere to retreat. He pulled her to him, enfolding her in his arms so that her head was pressed to his chest. He was too strong and she was too slender for her to wriggle out of his hold, and in any case he knew her attempts didn’t mean anything.
He could feel her heat. She wanted to be in his arms.
Her head was tilted back, her breaths quickening. He watched as the pupils of her eyes darkened and pulsed, as the grey turned to brown, with a passionate fury there that set his veins alight.
‘There is no need to be jealous,’ he murmured, pressing himself closer. ‘My marriage doesn’t change my feelings for you.’
Her left eye twitched, an affliction he’d never seen before. Her top teeth razed across her full bottom lip.
‘But it changes my feelings for you.’
‘Liar. You can’t deny you still want me.’ He brushed his cheek against hers and whispered into her ear, ‘Only a few days ago you screamed out my name. I still have your scratches on my back.’
She reared back. ‘That was before I knew you were looking for an immediate wife. I will not be your mistress.’
‘There is no shame in it. Generations of Agon monarchs have taken lovers after marriage.’ His grandfather had been the exception to the rule, but only because he’d been fortunate enough to fall in love with his wife.
Of the thirty-one monarchs who’d ruled Agon since 1203, only a handful had found love and fidelity with their spouses. His own father, although he’d died before he could take the throne, had had dozens of lovers and mistresses. He’d revelled in waving his indiscretions right under his loving wife’s nose.
‘And generations ago your ancestors chopped your enemies’ limbs off but you’ve managed to wean yourself off that.’
He laughed at her retort, running a finger over her chin. Even with her oval face free of make-up Amy was beautiful. ‘We don’t marry for love or companionship, as other people do. We marry for the good of our island. Think of it as a business arrangement. You are my lover. You are the woman I want to be with.’
His mother had been unfortunate in that she’d already loved his father when they had married, and it was that love which had ultimately destroyed her, long before the car crash that had taken both his parents’ lives.
He would never inflict the kind of pain his father had caused, not on anyone. He had to marry, but he was upfront about what he wanted: a royal wife to produce the next generation of Kalliakis heirs. No emotions. No expectations of fidelity. A union founded on duty and nothing more.
Amy stared at him without speaking for the longest time, searching for something. He didn’t know what she hoped to find.
He brought his face down to meet her lips, which had parted, but she pulled back so only the faintest of touches passed between them.
‘I mean it, Helios. We’re finished. I will never be your mistress.’ Her words were but a whisper.
‘You think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why are you still standing here? Why is your breath still warm on my face?’
Brushing his lips across the softness of her cheek, he gripped her bottom and ground her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. The tiniest of moans escaped her throat.
‘See?’ He trailed kisses over her delicate ear. ‘You do want me. But you’re punishing me.’
‘No, I...’