Free Entwined by Elisabeth Naughton Page A

seemed to know what to say. There was no heat burning in his eyes. No flash of desire. He didn’t appear to be holding back his passion, and, she supposed, that was a good thing. Because that kiss hadn’t done anything for her except check off a box in the life column of things she’d never done.
    “I’ll return in six days for the binding ceremony.” He left the room quietly, the door clicking softly at his back.
    Alone, Isadora walked to the vanity and sank onto the plush-covered stool to stare at her reflection. That numb feeling had washed back over her sometime during her conversation with Zander. In a matter of days she’d be his syzygos. His wife. And that kiss? It was only a hint of what he would do to her when they were husband and wife.
    No excitement, apprehension, not even worry ran through her at that thought. She let the towel fall to her waist. Slid her fingers through her long blonde hair from root to tip. The thick mass hung to the middle of her back. As heir to the throne, and female, she was held to the traditions many Ar-goleans had given up long ago, much to the disapproval of the Council. Her hair was to remain long, she was to wear only full-length gowns that covered her limbs in their entirety and she was to be untouched. In every sense of the word.
    Was that still true?
    She dropped her hair. Pushed away memories from her time in the Underworld that tried to creep in. Tried to settle the unrest that grew deep in her soul with each passing day. She would be two hundred years old in a few months. Two hundred years and never been kissed. Until now.
    With hands steadier than she expected, she pulled open the drawer of the vanity and fished around until she found scissors. They glimmered in the early evening light as she thought about who she had been before and who she was now.
    Her father expected her to bind herself to Zander andproduce an heir. To cement the monarchy so the Council could not overthrow her reign once he was gone. And she would do exactly what he commanded, because her life, now, was sacrificed. But that’s where it ended. There would be no follow-up “spare.” No matter how nice or agreeable or handsome Zander was, she would not take him into her bed again once her pregnancy was confirmed. And oh, she would rule. Much to the dismay of the Argonauts, and the Council, and most of all, her father.
    She had five hundred years before she passed from this life into the next. And once she did, her soul no longer belonged to her, but to Hades. It was way past time she stopped living for everyone else and finally started living for herself.
    She opened the blades of the scissors and captured a clump of hair near her temple. Then, without hesitation, she sliced.
    Zander paused on the other side of Isadora’s closed bedroom door, took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his brow. He wasn’t sweating. If anything, his skin was cold and clammy, much like Isadora’s had been.
    Not important. He headed out of the anteroom toward the grand marble staircase. Walking in on a very naked Isadora had not been what he’d expected. Or planned. Or, skata , wanted. But now that he had, he couldn’t get the memory of her out of his mind. Bare as the day she was born. As perfectly formed as any Argolean male hoped. The female that would very soon be his for the taking. And why the hell that didn’t excite him, he didn’t know.
    Before he could stop himself, his thoughts were skipping back, comparing Isadora’s body to the heady fantasy of Cal-lia he’d conjured up in that damn study. Only one got his blood going. Only one shot his body temperature into the out-of-this-world range. Only one made him hard with just a thought.
    Shit. He stopped with one hand on the banister. Forced out a breath, drew another one in.
    Isadora is not the one.
    His heart rate kicked up, but he worked to keep it steady. Told himself, okay, so his body wasn’t reacting the way his mind wanted, but that didn’t mean