He did not hesitate. He had a long journey ahead of him, and little time to make it. He whistled, leaving Theron to watch over Persephone as he readied for Olympus.
###
Erysichthon could not ease the grip upon her arm. His fear was too great. He’d awakened, from dreams full of her, only to find her missing. And that man… that man had been with her, speaking to her, walking with her… alone. His anger choked him.
He stopped, turning to regard her.
She was breathing heavily, her cheeks tinged red from the rapid pace he’d set. He moved forward, gripping her shoulders in his hands. She was there, in his hold.
He smiled down at her, savoring the feel of her beneath his hands.
“My lord,” she gasped, shrugging against his grip. “I… I demand you release me.”
Erysichthon chuckled, admiring her spirit. “You demand?” He shook his head. “We return to my home, Persephone, to wed. I will not have you stolen and ransomed against me by my enemies. There will be no more delaying things.”
She was surprised, he could tell. But not displeased. His eyes traveled over her, astounded by how dear she’d become to him. When it had happened, or how, he did not know. She was more dear to him than anything. And he would not lose her to another. He lifted a strand of her hair and wrapped it about his wrist.
She pulled her hair back. “My lord…”
He grabbed her then, lifting her off of her feet. “You would be wise not to tease me, blossom. You’ve possessed me. Each time I look upon you, I see more clearly that you are mine. And now, I’ve awoken with a powerful hunger for you. You will not deny me.” He spoke the truth. And he would brook no arguments from her. “You are mine,” he murmured, pulling her close. He bent his head, his lips descending eagerly upon hers.
She twisted, whispering, “I am not yours. I will not marry a man who has so little respect for me, a Goddess…”
He shook her roughly, startling her into silence. He settled her over his shoulder and smacked her soundly on her rump. “Hush, woman. Or I’ll find a way to keep you quiet.”
She did not move, but hung limply over his shoulder. He smiled.
He stroked the line of her leg, felt her tremble. She wanted him, too.
He ignored his men, letting them rally behind them, as he made his way to his home. He’d not thought his marriage would give him such joy, but he could not remember a time when he’d been happier.
He swept into the great hall, smiling and nodding at all he passed.
“Make ready for a wedding,” he bellowed over his shoulder. “This very eve.”
She squirmed then, but he smacked her and she stilled.
They reached her room and he threw open the door. “Do your chambers please you, blossom?”
He lifted her again, setting her on her feet before him. There were tears in her green eyes.
“What is it, my sweet?” His hand cupped her cheek, smiling when she shivered. “If I injured you, I am sorry. Blame my carelessness on my craving for you. I fear I may not make it through the ceremony, my wanting for you is so great.”
She blinked, her lower lip quivering in earnest now.
“I’ll leave you now.” He smiled and patted her cheek. “For but a moment.”
He all but ran to his chambers. Never had he felt so giddy, so impatient. He hurried, making himself ready for his bride. Once he had bathed and groomed, he regarded his reflection in the looking glass Ione had left behind. He straightened his braid, using a handful of olive oil to smooth his thick curls. He rubbed a finger over his brows, his mustache and beard. He would make her proud, his Persephone.
Green eyes appeared, haunting him. Strange that he should feel so overcome, the need for her almost sending him back to her chamber.
That he wanted her was a good thing. That the sight of her made him fiercely protective, almost violently so, was mildly troubling. That she seemed to occupy his every thought and breath, that not having her in his sight was painful, was new and puzzling.
Had he felt so passionately this morning? He could not recall.
“Wine,” he murmured to the slave.
His cup was refilled and he drank deeply. It was bitter, stinging his tongue.