Page 173 of Blood of Olympus

Shock and then pure, unadulterated delight flooded the bond. “Interesting,” he purred, then returned to that aching bud, shelving his discovery for the time being.

As he gently sucked, a single finger slid inside, crooking upwards to stroke against something I didn’t even know existed within me.

Rapture was coming — and so was I.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I don’t think I’ll last long at all after that.”

“One way to find out,” I said, the words coming out breathier than I’d intended.

He cursed again, sliding back up my body and sheathing his cock in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” I echoed, near-on climbing him like a tree, grasping anything I could take purchase of. The end result was my fingernails scoring the skin of his back as my hands dug into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he slammed into me again and again until our mingling desire overtook us both and we fell apart, together.

Eventually, we parted, and Caelus left me to go find some things in that miniscule bathroom with its non-existent shower screen, to clean up our combined messes. When he returned, humming softly to himself, I smiled, committing the moment to memory. I didn’t know how many good ones we had left, and I intended to savour every last second of this one.

A cold, wet washcloth passed over my belly and I swore.

Caelus giggled. “Sorry. The hot water seems to be out.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled, holding my hand out for the cloth.

“Let me,” he said. “Please. I want nothing more than to take care of you tonight.”

My lower lip twitched, unbidden emotion swelling within me and I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Caelus immediately went to work cleaning every sensitive inch of me in such a tender, gentle way that I knew I’d have no trouble bringing myself to conclusion in the future just thinking about it.

“What are you thinking?” he asked with an audible grin.

I felt my cheeks heat and I turned quickly away, but not before he could capture my chin in one hand and press an equally tender kiss to my swollen lips.

“Whatever it was, you turned the most exquisite shade of copper thinking about it.”

I bit my lips before he could kiss them again, torn equally between mortification and delight.

“I love you,” he said, kissing my forehead, my nose, the corner of my lips. “More than you know.”

A grin twisted my face into what I hoped was pure happiness. My finger slid down his neck and torso until it found the midpoint of his breastbone and tapped it once. “I know,” then tapped my own in the same place. “Because I feel it too. I cannot breathe without you, Golden. I am agitated and glum and the weight of the worlds rest more heavily on my shoulders. I yearn for you with a ferocity only the Fates are aware of. I am so completely in love with you⁠—”

My sentence was cut off by his urgent kiss. In it, we conveyed every word left unspoken, and every hope we shared for our future. And if this was to be our last night together in the realms of the living, then it was a kiss of goodbyes as well.

“If this is truly to be our last night in these bodies⁠—”

“I said it might be, not that it is,” I cut in.

“Nyssa, please.” He sighed. “I’m trying to say something important.”

I bit my lip, forbidding anything else to fall from my lips. A soft, muffled sound came from beside the bed, then Caelus pressed something light, sharp, and round into my palm. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just let me puzzle it out on my own.

The thing was small, hoop-shaped with an empty centre, and smelled of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. A memory lingered at the edges of my mind; flashes of black glass, frustration, hope, pebbles, and overwhelming love.

“You once asked me to do this again, when our circumstances weren’t so… foul.”

I sniffed the object again, and the memory expanded. A black lake flashed into my mind. A Katniss flower reborn. And a pile of weeds beside an engrossed storm-wielder.

My heart picked up its tempo and I sat up in the narrow bed. My lungs felt cold, inhaling sharp breaths faster than, I thought, was usual.

“I know the war is not yet over, and this isn’t even remotely romantic, but…”