Modern Romance December 2015 Books 5-8. Kate Walker

him that touching her and being touched in return was becoming as necessary to him as breathing.

      Theos.

      He had to keep his mind focussed on the bigger picture.

      No matter how good the sex was between them it didn’t change the fact that Amalie was in Agon for the gala and that it was his job to get her on the stage and performing for his grandfather. She had come on enormously in the past fortnight, but still she wouldn’t play his grandmother’s composition for him, although she would perform other pieces. She swore she knew it by heart and only wanted to perfect it, and he believed her, but the clock was ticking painfully. The gala was only a week away.

      Where had the time gone?

      He could sense she was close to unbuttoning the secrets she clutched so tightly, and knew it was the key to unlocking what she kept hidden—the thing at the very centre of her stage fright.

      A creamy envelope lay on the welcome mat of the cottage, the sight of which made him blink rapidly. It was an official royal envelope.

      Amalie opened it as she walked into the living room. ‘I’ve been invited for dinner with your grandfather,’ she said, passing it to him.

      His heart accelerating, he read the invitation, which was for dinner that coming Wednesday.

      ‘Did you know about this?’ she asked.

      ‘No.’

      He hadn’t been told a thing. Naturally his grandfather’s permission had been sought before Talos began his quest to find a soloist, his only wish concurring with Talos’s—that the soloist had to be special. Other than that, his grandfather had been content to leave all the organisation for the gala in his grandsons’ capable hands, his energy reserves too limited for him to want any part in it.

      Talos shouldn’t be surprised that he had sought out Amalie before the gala, and made a mental note to tell his grandfather he would be attending too. Astraeus Kalliakis still grieved the love of his life, and would want to meet the woman chosen to step into her footsteps on the stage.

      He knew he should take the opportunity to tell Amalie the truth about his grandfather’s condition. Prepare her. But the words stuck in his throat, a cold, clammy feeling spreading through his skin as it always did whenever he thought of what the coming months would bring.

      The death of the man who had raised him from the age of seven. The man who had come into Talos’s bedroom and woken the small boy from his sleep, had taken him into his arms and told him in a voice filled with despair but also with an underlying strength that Talos’s parents wouldn’t be coming home. That they were dead—killed in a road crash on their way to an event at the Greek Embassy.

      It was the only time his grandfather had ever held him in such an informal manner. He’d then left Talos in the care of his Queen, Talos’s grandmother, and flown to England so he could personally tell his two other grandsons at their boarding school.

      Talos thought back to how it must have been for his grandfather, having to break such tragic news while grieving the loss of his own child. His quiet strength had been something for Talos to lean on in those dark few moments when he’d learned his whole world had been turned upside down and inside out. It had been the last time Talos had ever allowed himself to lean on anyone.

      And now his grandfather was nearing the end of his own life.

      And there wasn’t a damn thing Talos could do about it.

      He could no more protect his grandfather from death than he’d been able to protect his mother from his father’s fists and infidelities.

      ‘Is something wrong?’ Amalie asked, peering at him closely. ‘You look a little pale.’

      He swallowed and returned her stare, suddenly wishing he could throw his arms around her waist and rest his head on those soft breasts, feel her gentle fingers running through his hair, soothing all the pain away.

      He wrenched his thoughts from such useless wishes.

      To vocalise it...to reveal the truth about his grandfather... Theos, he couldn’t even speak of it to his brothers. They skirted around it in conversation, none of them prepared to be the one to speak up, as if saying it would make it true.

      He ignored her question, reaching out to stroke her cheek, to have one quick touch of that beautifully textured skin before he continued the conversation they’d started in the car. Except Amalie leaned in and hooked her arms around his neck, her breath on his skin as she razed his throat with her mouth before stepping onto her toes to claim his lips.

      Her tongue swept into his mouth, her warm breath seeping into his senses. Wrapping his arms around her, he selfishly took the solace of her kisses, the place where all thought could be eradicated in the balm of her mouth and the softness of her willing body.

      The last coherent thought to go through his mind as he carried her up the stairs to the bedroom was that he was nothing but putty in her hands.

      * * *

      Amalie stretched luxuriantly, then turned onto her side to run her fingers over Talos’s chest, tugging gently at the dark hair that covered it, brushing the brown nipples, pressing her palm down to feel the heavy beat of his heart.

      He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, planting a kiss to her knuckles.

      She stared into his eyes, those irresistible brown depths, and a feeling of the utmost contentment swept through her. She could stare at him and lie in his arms for ever...

      His hand made circular motions in the small of her back. She raised her leg a touch, pressing her pelvis into his thigh. It didn’t matter how deep her orgasms were, still she wanted more. And more...

      ‘You’re insatiable,’ he growled.

      ‘That’s your fault for being so sexy,’ she protested with a grin, moving her hand lower.

      His eyes gleamed, but he grabbed her hand and brought it back up to rest at his chest. ‘You, my little songbird, are the most desirable woman alive.’

      My little songbird?

      The possessive pronoun made her heart jolt and soar in a motion so powerful it reverberated through her whole body, right down to the tips of her toes.

      My little songbird.

      And in that moment came a flash of recognition of such clarity that her heart stuttered to a stop before stammering back into throbbing motion.

      This wasn’t about lust and desire.

      She loved him.

      Loved him. Loved him.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      STRUGGLING TO COMPREHEND, Amalie detached herself from his arms and sat up, crossing her legs to stare down at the face she had, without knowing how or when, fallen in love with.

      ‘Is something the matter?’ he asked, his eyes crinkling in question. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

      She shook her head, partly to refute his question and partly in wonder that this could have happened to her. She waited for self-recrimination to strike, but the wonder of the moment was too great, her mind a jumble.

      Shaking her head again, she said, ‘You forcing me here...that horrible contract you forced me to sign...the threats you made...’

      He winced and she was glad. She wanted him to be ashamed of his behaviour. It meant he had a conscience. And if he had a conscience that meant he was the flesh-and-blood man she’d got to know these past few weeks and not the terrifying ogre she’d first met. It meant they had a chance. A small chance, she knew. Tiny. But a chance all the same.

      She rubbed her thumb over his bottom lip and said softly, ‘Just because I think you’re