Over the centuries, Orpheus has returned to Greece many times, and to the land that used to be Thrace. He has stood at the foot of Mount Olympus and felt as far from home as the other side of the planet, separated further by time than by distance. All of that falls away at her touch, her fingers on his skin making his heart stutter, his face split wide in a grin.

"As you've been in mine," he says, his forehead pressing against hers. "Every night of my life."

If he kisses her again, he's not sure he'll be able to stop, so he pushes himself back with a groan, his hands pressed flat against the wall, arms framing her between them. "But we are neither of us dreaming now," he says, and for the first time, he feels the truth of it, piercing through his doubt. "So take me to your bed or I'll have you here, but I won't be kept from my wife for a moment longer."