Red Mortal by Deidre Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

squeezing it between her much smaller ones. If he needed this slumber, if it was restoring some of the vitality Ares had stolen, then she didn’t want to disturb him. But it was hard not to be afraid.
    “Leonidas,” she whispered, pulling his hand against her breast. She was relieved when he stirred slightly, groaning as he resettled on the cushions. He began snoring softly, his jaw falling slack. As she watched him sleep, she’d never thought him more beautiful. She let her gaze sweep over his features, noticing the subtle transitions already taking place—and memorizing his face, knowing that they now truly lived on borrowed time. Years from now, in the ages to come, she would always remember this beautiful, rugged face: one of character and magnificence, even as it was so unconventionally attractive. Even despite the scar that split his lower lip, his mouth was full, sensual, and in this relaxed state utterly kissable. She bent forward, lightly brushing her own lips over his, savoring the feel of them.
    Then she stared down at him again, studying the way Leo’s long, dark lashes lay against his weathered cheeks. His eyes had always been the most erotic and sexy aspect of his appearance, sometimes hooded and full of natural sensuality—other times so sharply intelligent and filled with suggestion that she was aroused just by gazing up at him. She loved everything about Leo’s appearance, even the short-trimmed beard along his jaw and the way it curled slightly like the hair atop his head. It was strange, to watch that beard faintly change hues before her very eyes, a few strands already silvering. She wondered if the bracketing lines she noticed at the edges of his lips had always been there, concealed by the beard, or if they too were part of Ares’s handiwork.
    She pressed her lips against that mouth again, savoring the warm, vital feel of it. With her fingertips, she outlined the familiar length of his aquiline nose, which had always been somewhat inelegant because of how many times it had been broken in battle. But now, as she kissed him and felt the soft exhalation of his breath, she blinked back tears knowing that soon—any day, perhaps—she might never see his imperfect nose again. Or touch him, feel his lips against hers.
    Closing her eyes, she kissed his hooked nose—right on the awkward bump in the middle—then fluttered soft kisses down to his lips. He moaned low, stirring beneath her, and one sleepy hand came about her waist, securing her atop him before she could move.
    “What’re you doing atop me, my lady?” he asked, his voice rough and groggy. He sounded still half-unconscious, even as his body sprang to life beneath hers. Immediately she felt him grow hard against her belly.
    “My silly king, did you think to play Sleeping Beauty?” she teased, even though her heart was heavy.
    Leo pulled her all the way down atop his chest, burrowing his face against the crown of her head. “You smell nice. Peaches . . . always like peaches,” he observed drowsily. “That’s why I planted a grove of them in the side pasture . . . so I’d always sense you near me.” He inhaled her scent again, and she never wanted the moment to end. She wished to stay here, suspended in reality—Leo so sleepy and dreamily romantic, the truth obviously forgotten for one heartbreaking moment.
    He grunted, shifting beneath her stiffly. “I feel as if I’ve been drugged . . . or have taken a great blow to the head. And why are my shoulders so very sore?” He tried to sit up, but Daphne pressed a staying palm against his chest.
    “Not so fast, my lord,” she cautioned, urging him to lie back down. “You should take it a little more slowly.”
    “What happened? My whole body aches. . . . I feel as if I’ve battled for days.” He glanced about the room in confusion. “We were in the meadow . . . weren’t we? How did we come to be in my study?”
    She rubbed her thumb against his bearded jaw, soothing him. “You