Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(38)

Oh, he wanted Cora. When he laid eyes on her, he was undone. The flick of her eyelashes, the flutter of her fine boned hands, the shy smiles he drank in like a man who’d crossed a desert. She was the oasis he didn’t know he craved.

On screen, she tossed her head back and forth, the fragile column of her throat taut as she called out for him. Her skin shimmered like mother-of-pearl where he’d spilled his seed. And gods, when she’d come, the pleasure so obviously foreign to her…

His dick curled up to his belly, aching to take her. When he’d spewed his seed all over her beautiful bare breasts, he hadn’t been thinking of revenge. He’d been lost in her. The taste of her sweetness still drugging his senses. Unable to look away from her half-mast eyes hazy with lust even though she’d just come. She wanted more and gods, he’d wanted to stay there all night and give it to her.

He’d barely managed to force himself from the room after smearing his seed all over her chest, marking her as his like a barbarian.

He forced himself to finish his drink, savoring the bitter dregs. Even now, the thought of having her at his mercy, separated only by a wall, absolutely thrilled him. All that innocence at his fingertips. He would’ve enjoyed corrupting her, keeping her tied to his bed, even if she wasn’t his enemy.

These momentary misgivings would fade. A king had to be ruthless in order to maintain control. He’d long ago accepted that he was a necessary evil.

He had her. He would keep her. Time would fade her beauty and warp her innocence.

He’d dreamed of this day for years and he wouldn’t let anything ruin it, even a foolish thought of last-minute sentimentality. Revenge was a heady draught, wine made from pomegranates. Sweet with a bitter edge. He’d drink as deeply as he could.

And then he’d pour the rest down Cora’s throat until she choked.





Eleven





“Marcus,” Cora shouted for the millionth time. “Marcus!”

She dropped her head back to the mattress in frustration and humiliation. He’d just left her here, tied to the bed. She had no idea how long it had been. She’d fallen asleep for a while and she could see morning sunlight peeking through the Venetian blinds on the window. And she had to of been yelling for an hour straight with no response. Gods, was he just going to leave her here?

“Stupid,” she hissed, her throat aching and dry as she slammed her head back into the mattress. Her other bodily needs couldn’t be ignored for much longer, either.

How had she gotten herself into this mess? But it wasn’t like she could claim ignorance. Her mom had warned her about how dangerous the world was.

She’s over-exaggerating, Cora always told herself. She’s paranoid.

Or maybe she knew exactly what she was freaking talking about.

You’re only in danger because she lied about who she was. About who Dad was.

Cora looked up at the fancy texture on the ceiling, her eyes searching out patterns. Looking for meaning where there wasn’t any. Story of her life.

If Mom had only told Cora why she was keeping her so isolated instead of ordering her around and forbidding her from taking a step off the farm, maybe they could have worked together. But no, Demi Vestian always knew best and God help anyone who told her different.

And consequently, Cora had walked right into the lion’s den without even knowing it.

“Stupid.” But this time it was directed at her mother. Why couldn’t she have trusted her own daughter?

Cora looked up at the hand where she’d been slowly working at her ring. It was difficult to take off a ring with only one hand.

Difficult but not impossible.

She swore she’d lose her shit if she had to wear this mark of his ownership one more second. She’d fought her whole life to be free and she wasn’t giving up now.

She bit her lip as she finally managed to wiggle it past her largest knuckle, and finally off, into her hand. She gave the rope as much slack as possible on that hand by straining all her other limbs, before she flung it as far as possible to the far corner of the room. She smiled as it got lost among the greenery in the corner.

“That was poorly done, wife.”

Cora’s head swung toward the door, her mouth going dry. Well, drier than it already was. She was parched.

She yanked at her restraints. “Let me free.”

Marcus wandered over and propped a hip on the bed. His large hand encircled her ankle and slid upwards, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. Cora fought the response but her body apparently didn’t know any better. Her limbs weakened and her stomach flipped, reacting to Marcus as she always did.

“Are we ever truly free?” Marcus mused, stroking her thighs. She hated the liberties he took with her body. Hated and loved it.

“Freedom...” He looked toward the window. “It’s an illusion. From the minute we’re born we serve a purpose.” His face turned back to her, his eyes cold. “We play a role. The gods design our lives and we are merely pawns.”

Cora fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was such bullshit. “You don’t believe that.”

Marcus’s hand trespassed closer to her throbbing core and she jerked her leg as far as it would go—almost a whole inch. She didn’t know what she was angrier about, the fact that he was touching her or her own response. No, it was more than anger. She was furious. She couldn’t remember ever being more furious in her entire life. He thought she was meek and pliable and that she’d be terrified of him and do whatever he said. Well he had another thing coming.