Heads turned. Orpheus looked over his shoulder, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. But they brightened just a touch when they caught sight of her, and warmth flooded her belly in response.
He rose from the chair, all corded muscle and restrained strength. Though someone had given him a new shirt, his jeans were still stained with Gryphon’s blood. As he crossed the floor toward her, the guardian markings on his forearms stood out in stark relief to the rest of his skin. Markings that technically shouldn’t be there anymore, now that his brother was back.
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, his tired eyes and the stubble on his square jaw making him look sexier than she’d ever seen him. He stopped a foot from her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, was careful to keep his voice low. “Hey.”
“Is he doing better?”
The agony Skyla saw in Orpheus’s eyes tugged at her chest. “He’s out. Callia gave him a sedative. Said he needed rest to let the”—he swallowed, faced her again—“wounds heal.”
The wounds. Those crazed eyes. And Gryphon’s voice. I can’t get it off. It’s all over me. Inside me. I just…oh, gods, make it go away.
She reached for Orpheus’s hand, pulled it from his pocket, and squeezed her fingers around his, hoping to take the haunted look from his eyes. The one that said he remembered every detail as clearly as she did. “Come with me for a few minutes.”
“I can’t leave him.”
“You’ll be no good to him if he wakes and you’re falling over from exhaustion.”
“No. He needs me here.” He pulled back from her hand.
“She’s right, O,” Theron said. “You need some rest. Callia and I will come find you if anything changes.”
“He’ll be out for at least another twenty-four hours,” Callia added from the other side of the bed.
Isadora crossed the room, her ballet-style flats barely making a sound on the floor as she came to stand next to him. Beside the queen, Orpheus looked huge. She laid a hand on his forearm, right over the Argonaut markings, and not for the first time Skyla had the impression these two had some special bond. Not sexual, but…a friendship. “Go with Skyla, Orpheus. I promise when Gryphon wakes, we’ll come find you. Everything will seem better after you’ve both gotten some sleep.”
The frown on Orpheus’s face said he didn’t agree, but he finally nodded. Skyla stepped toward the door. A little of her worry eased when Orpheus followed.
In the long hallway his boots echoed like drumbeats as they moved toward the elevator. When they were inside the small car, Orpheus shot her a frown. “Since when do Theron and Isadora side with a Siren?”
She punched a button. “Since Demetrius explained what happened after we left the Argonauts on Crete. Apparently, you help one Argonaut, the rest are friends for life. Even if you are a Siren.”
Orpheus didn’t answer, but his scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his muscular chest.
“Speaking of,” she said, “I notice you still have the markings.”
“I know.”
He didn’t say more, and she sensed he wasn’t happy about that fact. Not wanting to push things, she let the topic drop as the elevator came to a stop and the door opened.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Skyla,” he sighed, “I’m really tired. One of the rooms across from Gryphon’s would probably be bet—”
She took his hand and tugged him down the long empty two-story hall with its wall of black windows before he could dig his heels in. “Just humor me for a few minutes, would you? If you want to go back down and find a room closer to Gryphon after you see the surprise, I’ll take you.”
He scowled again, but let her pull him along. When they reached the double doors at the end of the hall, she pushed them open. Chilled air cut to her spine. She continued to pull him after her, heading for the curved stairs off to the right.
“I don’t think it’s snowed since the last time we were up here,” he said at her back as they started up the steps.
She shot him a smile. Though she knew the events of the last few days weighed heavily on that soul he didn’t think he had, she was happy that at least a little sarcasm was back in his voice. “Contrary to what you think, I’m not wild about snow.”
“Could have fooled me,” he muttered.
And oh yeah, the hero she’d come to care for was still in there. Hidden beneath a layer of pain she hoped to alleviate.
“Fooling you isn’t as fun as it used to be, daemon.” She tugged him to the upper balcony. “Okay, close your eyes.”
He frowned but did as she asked. “If I get a snowball in the face, you’re going to be in big trouble.”
She grinned. “Will you spank me?”
“I’ll do more than that.”
Heat flooded her veins. That was the guardian she wanted to find again.
Her free hand closed around the door handle. She pulled him into the glass room behind her, shut the door. Warmth from the fireplace to the right dampened the chill, and the orange glow from the embers lit the room just enough.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
Orpheus’s lashes lifted. And his eyebrows immediately dropped low as he turned a slow circle. “Where’s all the stuff?”
For the first time since she’d hatched this crazy plan, a sliver of unease slid through Skyla. “In storage somewhere else.”
She watched as he took it all in. The couch and chairs positioned near the fireplace, the bookshelves on the far side of the room that were empty but for a few leather tomes, then past the dark windows to the other side of the room and the king-size bed with its blue comforter and mountain of pillows.
“What is this?” he asked.
Skyla’s stomach tightened with doubt. “Your room. Well, if you want it, I mean.”
When he slanted her a confused look, that unease pushed its way up her chest. She hated that she felt anything but confident. As a Siren, confidence was part of who and what she was. But ever since she’d met Orpheus, that confidence had been wavering. Because his was the first opinion that mattered. “Isadora suggested it, actually. A room of your own. She didn’t think you’d be leaving Gryphon and going back to Argolea anytime soon.”
Her voice trailed off because the whole idea suddenly sounded…lame.
“You did all this?” he asked, looking around again.
“Yes. Well, no, not all of it,” she corrected. “Nick had a couple of his guys help me move boxes and chairs and haul furniture up here.”
“You got Nick to agree to let me stay here?”
“Isadora did.”
He turned to face her, but she couldn’t read his expression. Was he impressed? Angry no one had asked him what he wanted?
He didn’t answer her unasked questions. Instead he crossed the floor, stepped past the bed, and pushed the door on the far wall open. After flipping on the light and glancing around the fancy bathroom she’d been surprised to find behind the door, he switched off the light, then came back and stared at the bed. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you do this?”
“Because you need a place to unwind.”
“No, why this?” He motioned to the whole room, accentuated by warm burgundy throw rugs and leather furnishings instead of the cold cardboard boxes that had dominated it before. “Why this room?”
Because it meant something to her. And she hoped it meant something to him as well.
A lump formed in her throat. She wasn’t sure how to answer. Not without putting her heart on the line. A heart she’d only just rediscovered in the last few days. All because of him.
He crossed back to stand in front of her. “Well?”
She hated that she wanted his approval. More than she’d wanted anyone’s approval before, even Cynurus’s. Though they were technically the same. Gods, none of this made sense, and she especially hated how that made her vulnerable. Vulnerability wasn’t something she had much experience with. “You don’t like it? I told you if you didn’t, you could find a different room downstairs. I was just trying to—”