Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(39)

“You think you are a god,” she spat. “Rich, powerful, handsome—”

“Handsome?” he raised a brow.

She ignored him, or tried as hard as she could while his fingers grazed her pussy and her body released a shot of heated serum. She bit back a groan and focused on keeping her voice steady. “You think everyone else is a mere mortal you can toy with.”

“Hmmm,” he considered this, his fingers tracing arcane symbols on her inner thigh.

She gritted her teeth. “Stop touching me.”

Marcus seemed amused. “Why? Because you hate it? Or because it makes you feel too good?” He leaned in, his hands taking further liberties. “You belong to me. You know it. Your body knows it.”

She hated him. Hated him. She didn’t belong to anyone but herself.

She spat in his face. He jerked back, mood broken. The only sound was her harsh breathing.

She regretted it immediately. It was stupid. She was letting her anger make her reckless. She should conserve her fight and wait for the most likely chance of escape. But gods, he’d offered her paradise and brought her to hell. And anger felt so much better than letting that hurt in.

He pulled a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and wiped his face.

“Be careful, wife. I’ve killed men for lesser offenses.”

And there it was. She’d shut her mind to the warnings and fooled herself. She’d defended Marcus, insisting he was a good man no matter what the papers said. No matter how Maeve tried to warn her. But now he told her the truth. He had nothing to hide.

She believed it now.

Marcus was a murderer. She was married to a monster.

But when she said it out loud he only smiled.

“You’re finally beginning to see things clearly.”

“It’s true, then. All the things they say of you.” She ought to be feeling a lot more fear in this moment. But she was so off kilter, all of this so surreal, the fear didn’t penetrate.

Marcus shrugged. “You’d think they could come up with a more imaginative title than Lord of the Underworld. But rest assured, my Shades and I are the shadows that hold back the chaos in the streets of New Olympus.”

“More like you profit off it,” Cora muttered furiously. She knew she should stay silent, she knew it. But for him to stand here and pretend so sanctimoniously that he did what he did for any other reason than money was just—

Marcus tilted his head at her and she saw his jaw flex, but he said nothing.

“How long are you going to keep me like this?” When he still didn’t reply, she tugged on the scarves. Her wrists would bear red marks for a while. “You can’t keep me tied up forever.”

“Can’t I?”

Cora furrowed her brow. “I guess you could. But why?”

“Until you learn your place.”

“My place? As what, your wife?” She slowly worked it out in her head. “A trophy on display to prove your power over the Titans?”

Marcus shook his head as he shrugged out of his coat jacket. “Maybe so.”

“You’re nuts.” He loomed over her, dark and beautiful in the low light, removing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. At the sight of his forearms, sleek and strong and dusted with dark hair, her core clenched. It was almost enough to distract her from her rage.

Almost. “If you think I’m going to forget what you’ve said, what you’ve done to me…” She clenched her teeth.

“You know how many women would kill to be in your place?”

“What, tied to your bed?” she scoffed.

He raised an arrogant brow. Gods, why was he so handsome when he was mocking her?

“They can have you. I don’t care.” She turned her face away, keeping her expression blank.

“I could have them,” he agreed. “A different one every night. If I wanted to tie them up, they’d beg me.”

“Wow, I’m so impressed by your manly prowess,” she deadpanned. “Do you keep notches on the bedpost?” She twisted to look up at the headboard even as her stomach twisted at the images his words conjured, imagining Marcus entwined with another woman.

“You’ll learn to watch that smart mouth of yours,” Marcus muttered. “And what was it you said before? Rich, powerful, handsome...most women would settle for one outta three. Lucky you.”

His hand dropped to her thigh. “You’re the one I want. As soon as I saw you, I knew that I would have you. Here, like this.” His voice deepened and despite herself, her inner muscles contracted. Marcus trailed his rough fingers over the thin skin of her inner thigh. “I knew I’d be the one to break you. We’ll have such fun, angel, you and I.”

She fought to hide the way her breath hitched at his touch. Gods, why? Why was she still so attracted to him?

“Stop touching me,” she gritted out. She couldn’t think with his hand between her legs.

The gentle touch became a strong grip, solid and claiming. Her body liked that, too. “You’re mine. Bought and paid for.”

Every word out of his mouth only made it worse. She wasn’t a whore. “That’s not how it works,” she spat, still fighting the pull of her body towards his with everything she had in her.

“Isn’t it? I spilled blood for you, Cora.”