Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(41)

“Ah ah ah,” Marcus walked around front of her, wagging a finger calmly. He wasn’t even holding the leash. He’d looped it around the headboard and that was why she’d been yanked backwards so unforgivingly.

“You really do want to be tied to the bed again, don’t you? I guess we’ll try this again later.”

“No, no! I’ll be good! I promise.”

It had been fight or flight—the impulse was too strong, and she’d known there was no way she could fight Marcus. But some monkey part of her brain had thought, maybe, if she was untied, she’d be fast enough to make it to the door—

“No!” she screamed when Marcus grabbed her by the wrist and shoved her back down on the bed, landing on top of her with his body.

She thrashed to get him off but it was no use. He was twice her size and before she knew it, he had tied her collar to the headboard in a way that choked her unless she lay very still.

“Careful,” he murmured. “Don’t want to damage that pretty neck.”

This time he took the time to pull out real, heavy leather cuffs for her wrists and feet. He soon had her wrists bound. Oh gods, no. She bit her lip hard as she fought back tears while he spent a moment stroking the red lines on her skin from her struggle with the scarves. No, he would not see her cry.

She clung to the anger and tried to stoke it again. Like a fire. Like a shield. She tried to let every ounce of hate pour from her eyes and kicked out when he grabbed her ankles. But it was no use.

Within five minutes she was spread-eagled again, this time tied more securely than before to the bed.

“We’ll try this again in an hour. You’ll learn to play by the rules, little girl. One way or another.”

She let out a furious grunt, glaring at Marcus.

He only chuckled again as he left the room.

It took long minutes for her head to clear but finally she forced her breaths to even out. Just like she used to when mom would lock her in the cellar.

She would get through this. She’d lived through one indignity after another with her mother, hadn’t she? And all because she could taste her future freedom. She’d lived in that imaginary future and let it nourish her for years.

This was just another momentary setback. But she’d escape this bastard—and not by trying to make a run for it the first moment she was free. That had been stupid. No, it would require cunning and planning and maybe even—she swallowed hard—it might even require playing along with Marcus’s sick little twisted games.

No, next time she wouldn’t run. She’d be the sweet little terrified girl he expected. And then when the time was right, she’d make her escape, steal out of town and eventually make Marcus Ubeli rue the day he ever thought to trap her in the first place.





Twelve





An hour later, Marcus was back sitting at the edge of the bed, holding out a glass of water with a straw in it. He’d already taken Cora to the restroom and then reattached her collar to the headboard. He’d been prepared for her to make another run for it but she merely followed his instructions with her head bowed.

She was more subdued than she’d been during his last visit. He didn’t know why he was disappointed not to see the fire in her eyes. It made his cock rock hard every time she talked back with that smart mouth of hers. And even more determined to get her to submit.

She sucked greedily at the straw.

“Not too fast or you’ll get cramps.”

She glared up at him. Ah, there it was. He didn’t bother hiding his grin. He never imagined how much he’d like having her helpless, completely dependent on him.

Normally women were nothing more than a form of stress relief. Useful for a night’s indulgence, but rarely brought back for a repeat performance. If they were, it was only because they were convenient and knew the score. He didn’t need the hassle or a possible pressure point his enemies might use against him. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had.

But Cora was something altogether different. And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Careful,” he murmured as she choked on the water. His stomach tightened as she coughed and gasped in a gulp of air, finally regaining her breath.

His entire body had been coiled, ready to turn her around and pound her on the back. What the fuck? He should enjoy the sight of her sputtering, her eyes watering.

Instead, relieved, he wiped her mouth carefully and helped her sit up to drink the rest. She stiffened but let him handle her. The feel of her warm, lithe body in his arms turned his erection painful. He had to take a moment to compose himself under the guise of setting the water glass aside.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had her right where he wanted her. But instead of crushing her and teaching her the merciless lesson he’d intended, he was coddling her.

Taking care of her.

It had been a problem from the beginning. Dating and courting her hadn’t been as painful as it should have been. He’d taken himself in hand every night, and gotten off imagining Cora looking up at him, eyes wide and innocent and so very trusting.

Even now, he wanted to unbuckle the collar, check for marks, and soothe her sore skin. And somewhere along the line, he decided to train her to obey, being careful to insure she’d bend and not break.

Because even though she was his enemy, he didn’t want her totally broken.