Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(59)

She wanted to ask Marcus again what he had planned for her punishment, but no. She kept her back straight and her head up. She’d handled everything he’d thrown at her so far.

And if he ties you to the bed again? Fucks you slowly? How long before you break down and beg?

In spite of herself, Cora’s entire body trembled as Marcus pulled her over the threshold into the penthouse.

She’d submitted before because she could justify it as a means of eventually gaining the upper hand and escaping. But now? Now if her enemy made her cry out his name in ecstasy, there was no excuse. There’d be no way to rationalize her actions in her head next time.

No, if she submitted to Marcus again, it would mean facing the truth she’d long been denying—that some part of her liked it. Craved his touch and his dominance.

Her mind immediately tried to reject it. No. Never. She’d never—

“Welcome home,” Marcus said sardonically, letting the door slam shut behind them. Cora jumped at the noise. Marcus didn’t let go of her wrist.

“Marcus, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But—”

“Silence.” The barked word was like the crack of a whip.

He tugged her to the living room and pointed to the couch. She sat on the very edge of the cushion, body tense and feet not quite touching the ground, waiting like a student called into the principal’s office. But the seconds stretched to minutes and judgement never came.

Marcus paced away, pulling off his jacket and removing his cufflinks. He looked back once as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms, lean and hard and dusted with dark hair. Cora’s breath caught, but he only strolled to the side bar. Glass clinked and he returned with a glass half full of amber liquid. He offered it and she shook her head, but when he didn’t move she finally accepted it. He strolled back and poured another glass for himself. He took his drink to the window and stood sipping, his profile outlined in shadow.

In the silence, her nerves were screaming. What would he do to her? The waiting might kill her.

Cora raised her own glass but stopped when she breathed in the alcohol’s cloying scent.

“Just get it over with.” Her voice broke the airless quiet.

Marcus turned and regarded her. She set her glass down on a side table with a solid click.

“Punish me, yell at me, whatever you’re going to do.” She folded her arms around her middle. Don’t let him in. No matter what. He wanted to enslave her just like Mom had for all those years. She said it out loud to remind herself he was no different. “My mother locked me in the cellar. I guess getting tied up in a bedroom is an upgrade.”

Marcus’s gaze darkened. He ambled over, his casual stroll at odds with the fierce intensity on his face. The focus of a hunter intent on his prey.

She couldn’t move, trapped in his regard. Not even when he stepped so close her knee brushed his.

No. You want to be free. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

His hand went around her neck, collaring her with warm, hard fingers.

Her pulse hammered under his palm. She closed her eyes against his gorgeous face. But she couldn’t shut out the warmth of his hand or the way her body completely relaxed at his commanding touch. Why? Why did he affect her like this? She was so confused; she didn’t know which way was up.

“I had to try,” she blurted when silence became too heavy to bear.

“I know.” His thumb stroked her chin in a semblance of tenderness.

“So do it.” She tried to sound strong but her voice wavered. “Whatever you plan to do with me. Do your worst.” And she looked him straight in the eye. His eyes were dark, almost black.

He dropped his hand and took a seat opposite her.

Her breath stuttered out of her. He savored his drink and observed her like she was a piece of art he owned. “Do you know why I'm training you?”

Because you’re a controlling madman? she wanted to bite out. But he’d told her the first night why he was doing all this. “Because you delight in torturing me.”

“Yes.” He swished the dregs of his drink. “There is that. But ultimately, Cora, I keep you so you’re safe.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

She shook her head, rubbing her tired face. “You do all these awful things in the name of peace. You tell yourself Olympus is dangerous and that you’re the only one who can hold back the violence.”

“It’s true. No one else is strong enough.”

“You think you’re the city’s savior.”

“Not a savior. An emperor.”

Of course. She could totally see him standing on the Senate steps. Handing out laurels. Sending out troops. Conquering nations, torching cities, enslaving the enemy and sowing their fields with salt.

“It’s better to be feared than loved,” she quoted Machiavelli. Marcus in a nutshell.

“Do you, Cora? Do you fear me?”

“Yes.” Her answer was barely a puff of air.

He cocked his head, looking pleased. “And what about love?”

“What about it?”

“You said you loved me.”

“That was before. Now I know the real you.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve been too lenient with you. I let you off the leash and you betrayed my trust.”