If you're still waiting for update on this book then I love you so much LMAO
This doesn't have smut lol... The chapter was ridiculously long so I had to split it.
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It was said the intimacy of a sexual experience caused people to feel attached to someone who they had sex with, and maybe it was what I had once felt for Tyrone, who had been cheated on by his late ex, Eloisa Halifax. Maybe it was the fact that my ex, Owen, had sought Eloisa - my cousin - behind my back, which made me relate to Tyrone's heartbreak and I had deluded myself into thinking I had loved him. I had no proper memories of sexual encounters with Tyrone, but all I knew was he had fucked and had left - never looking back to see what more I was willing to offer him.
Even if initially it felt insulting, I had leaned one thing. It was to never wait behind after a fuck. Science said, Oxytocin was released into the body during intercourse, a hormone which was linked to "bonding, trust, and loyalty", none of which I never craved from any man, which was why I made it a habit to leave before I was asked to leave or extended a card to wait for more.
So, I did the same with Cyrus Hudson.
I had left him.
Nothing had proved my life totally miserable until I had to attend a politician's birthday bash as Talin's date. Tim Shelby, Xayvion Shelby's father, as the senator of the State was certainly all about grandeur and appearances.
Like any Elite party, the grand hall was spruced up to perfection. One corner of the hall hosted an open bar leading to the dining area while the other end paved the way to the corridor of the hotel. The ensemble of singers occupied the dais, which was fixed to the other wall of the room. A cluster of tables were arranged in circulation formation around beneath which ran a red carpet rug on the gleaming floors, and lush velvet drapes framed floor-to-ceiling windows boasting breath-taking views of Los Angeles' iconic skyline.
"Who is this lovely woman on your arm?" A masculine hand landed on the curve of my ass.
Every fiber in my body went rigid as my eyes drifted to the man's face. Billy Bates was Talin's ex-boyfriend. His short figure was clad in an expensive suit that stretched over his weathered skin. A wretched scent of gin pricked my nostrils.
Narrowing my eyes on him, blood pounding with rage, I waited for memories to piece back into my mind so I could shrivel with shiver panicked nerves or for flames of resentment to push my claws out so I could gut the pedophile who had never been punished for molesting a sixteen-year-old self.
As if ice froze my receptor nerves, I felt nothing.
"This is Corrine. You didn't forget her, did you?" Talin's smile widened, eyes oblivious to the hand on my ass, just like they had been oblivious the night he had played with me.
Nothing really happened that night except he had whispered sleep nothings in my ear, had stripped me of my clothes and had made me suck him. He had told me it was too early to deflower me and had assured me to wait until I was of the right age. How tragic. My late ex, Owen Kyle Grant, hadn't felt the need to wait.
And even more tragic was the fact that had I not had a habit of jotting everything down in a diary, I would've never been able to know the little bits of my past after my memory loss. Those diaries I had written helped me recollect whatever I had remembered today when I had read them after my accident.
"You smell delicious. What's your perfume, baby girl?" Billy snickered, moving closer to me.
"Swine's shit, uncle Bates." A grin left my lips, worms crawling up on my skin. "I'm joking, obviously. Could you please move aside? Wouldn't want your dandruff all over my gucchi."
Talin stood in stunned silence. Ignoring her and her ex, I strolled away from them, spotting my crackheads for friends seated on stools at the open bar.
"Hi bitch," Rosie greeted, her curvy figure accentuated by a red wrap dress, her vibrant blue hair was left in waves. "Where is your date?"
"My lovely mommie," I said, reaching for a flute of champagne from a footman. My eyes coasted over to Celestina, who was in a quarreling contest with Xayvion. "Why are they bickering?"
Celestina narrowed her eyes. "You jackass! How can you forget about a sister—"
"Step sister," Xayvion corrected her.
"—and never introduce her to me. She is the Eirlys Kingston. Who even wears Gucci and Louis Vuitton these days? Eirlys is the brand, and she is your freaking sister." Admiration was rife in Celestina's tone.
"Did she just call me outdated?" Gazing down at my one-shoulder, thigh-high split dress, I frowned.
"Oh, please, she was just praising Eirlys." Rosie snorted, pushing her hair behind her shoulder.
"What's happening here?" Perching down on the stool that was between Celestina's and Xayvion's, I pushed them away since they looked like they were seconds away from ripping each other's head off their necks.
"I have known this jackass for 2 years now." Celestina pointed a finger at Xayvion. "As in, he had one million minutes to tell that his sister-"
"For the love of everything that can orgasm, she is a stepsister who lives in the UK." Xayvion threw his hands in the air.
Celestina ignored Xayvion's rant. "—is the freaking Eirlys Kingston. And he didn't use that time. Imagine how our first meeting was? I asked the woman how she knew me when she was calling me 'Moanlisa' , this jackass nickname for me. And when she said she was his sister, I just didn't understand if to call him a deplorable son of a bitch or explain to her that my parents weren't high when they're naming me and hadn't butchered my existence with names like 'Moanlisa'."
"She went ahead and called me Jackass anyway, in case you're wondering." Xayvion rolled his eyes.
"And what did you introduce me as? Cuddly-Wuddly? Cutie Patootie? Canine Hannibal?" My eyes drifted to Xayvion, horror parting my lips.
"Prince charming?" Celestina waved a hand, the watch bound to the wrist gleaming. "Eirlys was talking something about you breaking Cinderella's heart."
Confusion rushed through me. "Now, we have a Cinderella here?"
"Yes, we do. That would be the Constipated Robot." Rosie laughed, swiveling on her stool.
"And who is that?" I prodded, feeling lost, unable to keep up with so many nicknames.
"Cyrus," drawled Xayvion, and I stiffened while three sets of eyes scanned my face expectantly, as if waiting for details.
This was the thing I loathed the most, having to tell people that there were no shaking sheets between me and Cyrus, like my friends had anticipated. Sure, there was so much getting on each other's nerves and a pity sex session, which, by the way, wouldn't be repeating, but there was nothing worthy mentioning or even shipping.
"You know, you could tell us why you're marrying Romeo..?" Xayvion huffed. "It's like watching Prince Charming picking Drizella over Cinderella."
"Ha! Funny, I'll hire you to be my kids' babysitter to tell all these wonderful stories, jackass." I drowned my drink in one gulp, feeling a strange ache behind my chest. Cyrus couldn't be heartbroken because I was engaged to Romeo. How ridiculous!
"Cor, you know you can talk, right?" Celestina mused, her tone kind and assuring. "We are a family—"
"Stop this madness, Tina. Honestly, there is nothing happening between Cyrus and me." My eyes flickered to my ring finger. The lie tasted so bitter on my tongue before I let it out. "And I like Romeo—"
"—as much as I like dogs that smell." Xayvion's eyes flashed with irritation.
"How fortunate Tina has one. Get off my head and kiss its ass, then." My jaw ticked as I ran my finger over the rim of the flute. I never lost my cool, but to lie about my wretched relationship with Romeo always summoned my resentment that clawed through my threads of control.
"Shut up! My dog isn't smelly." Celestina pointed out, oblivious of lulling the argument, which I was going to have with Xayvion.
As the conversation shifted from my engagement to Celestina's dog, I let my eyes coast lazily over the guests, finding a flute slip from Talin's hands. Oh, no, it didn't slip. It dropped down while she stood frozen in her tracks; her face glowing pale and fingers trembling.
Curiosity nibbling at me, I followed her line of vision and tracked Hayden Evans entering the hall, his hand parked on his wife's hip, caging her to his side as his eyes roved over the crowd, his stance watchful and alert. Why did Talin feel shook by their mere presence?
"Are those two politicians?" Leaning back into Celestina, I tapped on her shoulder, summoning her attention. Since she worked at the Senator's office, she would know the weather prediction about US politics if these two planned to get on Talin's wrong foot in the parliament.
"No? Hayden is a business magnet and Kate is an artist last we checked," explained Tina, eyes narrowing on the duo.
If they're not even politicians, then why was Talin scared?
"Who invited them?" My gaze swung to Xayvion.
"Probably Eirlys did?" His tone was hesitant. "They are from the same cunt-shit, I meant cult."
"Circles would be the best word," Rosie reprimanded.
Now, sweet little Talin had a connection to the British cult? Ahh, is that why Katrina hated me? What did you do, Talin?
My phone pinged with an incoming message. Tapping on the notification, I opened the chat window.
Unknown number:
Your tits look bigger in that dress. Tonight, I want to know if your nipples turned darker over the years, baby girl.
Stomach coiling, I closed the chat window before lifting my head and gazed around the hall, wondering if this anonymous stalker was in this room. He had to be here. And those words 'over the years' certainly meant he knew for years.
Discomfort lodged in my throat when I registered Valentino's left hand on Frankie's waist and the other on his phone. As if caught red-handed, he lifted his head and smiled at me.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I excused myself from my friends and made my way to the washroom, anger flooding through my veins. I couldn't report this stalker to the police because it would bring all my filthy secrets and dark sins into the limelight. I could accept being shamed publicly for my drug addiction, but be punished for murdering someone?
I couldn't. I would have to spend all my life in prison.
How different is it from imprisoning yourself to Romeo?
Mocked my subconscious. It wasn't any different, but at least I would have my friends with me.
"It's time you suck my big white dick, baby girl. Why don't you show me what you learned all these years? I remember how talented you were with your young lips." It was the voice of Billy Bates from my behind that pulled me back from my train of thought.
Stunned and disgusted by his demand, I whirled around to give him a piece of his mind. Before I could open my mouth, he reached for my arm pulling me against him and groping my breasts through the dress as he mumbled, "You grew these tits just to get men to look at you, huh?"
Blood boiling, I kneed him in his groin with all my strength on instinct, setting myself free from his hold.
"Don't ever touch me!"
"Stupid cunt!" Crying and gasping, he stumbled back against the wall, hands cupping his groin, face contorting into a rage.
"Another word and I'll report you for the sexual assault, bastard," warning him, I retreated to safety — to my friends, knowing I couldn't report Billy. No one would trust me.
Talin had proved that I was a pathological liar when I had accused my uncle of touching me. Since I had been young, stupid, and without proof, I hadn't been able to defend myself. Ever since, Talin would brush off all my troubles as lies. Lies that I had said because I had wanted attention.
A pathological liar. They had called me and they would continue to call me that. Besides, it wasn't like I remember anything — my whole life was just fragments of shattered memories.
Spotting Valentino and Frankie beside Xayvion, I steered my direction, not having the energy to solve Valentino's conundrums. Strolling towards the balcony, I breathed in the fresh air, shutting the door on all the questions brimming in my head.
I swayed on my feet as the lights in my vision blurred as if the earth had started to spin out of control. Only it didn't. It was me. Had someone spiked my drink? Was it Billy? Or Valentino.
Tonight, I want to know if your nipples turned darker over the years, baby girl. The stalker had messaged me. Was it his work? Oh, fuck, no! This couldn't be happening now.
As my head started to pound mildly around my skull and my energy pulverized, I tried to grip anything, finding some sort of rod, and coiling my fingers around it.
"Bloody hell!" screamed a feminine voice, the voice that felt like I knew deep down in my bones.
Recognizing the voice, remembering how hostile Katrina Evans was towards me, I let go of her arm even as my knees turned jello. Instantly swaying, I almost tripped over her.
Fuck! I couldn't be at the mercy of this woman.
"What do–" Eyes scrutinizing me, she held me by my arms, keeping me from collapsing. "Bloody hell! Are you drugged?"
Yes.
I wanted to talk, but all I could feel was something akin to wool filling my mouth, some funny taste lingering on my taste buds. What the fuck?
"Stop watching the bloody show and help me, Eirlys." Kate's panicked scream almost cracked my skull in two.
Eirlys? As in Eirlys Kingston? Xayvion's step-sister he just talked about a few minutes back?
"Is that—" the other woman held my face, her aghast eyes scanning me in stunned silence as I blinked my eyes to plead for her. "You died."
"She will be if you don't help me get her help now." Kate's admonishing tone drifted my depleting attention to her face. She looked almost... worried. "Call the paramedics."
The other woman, a blonde from what I could register, staggered in surprise. "Is she?"
"Nope. This is her doppelgänger." Tremors wrecked my frame, and the panic in Kate's tone notched up. "She can't die in my fucking arms. Call someone for help, Eirlys."
Darkness slithered in my vision as I blinked my eyes to keep them open, even when I couldn't so much as lift a finger. Who was I? What did these women know about me? Would Kate leave me to get assaulted by that creepy stalker?
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It was the sound of an iPhone ringing somewhere in the room that woke me up. Blinking at the dim light over my head, I sat up, the sudden motion sending a rush of pain to my head. Curious and scared, I scanned the room as a familiar cherry fragrance infiltrated my nose.
The pale rose-colored walls accompanied by dark wooden furniture and the beige-colored fabrics for curtains, cushions, and bed sheets made Frankie's bedroom every inch calm yet lively, just like her.
Shoving the sheets away, I climbed down off the bed and my feet lost purchase. With a scream, I fell back onto the bed, vision blurring.
"Hon?" Frankie's sweet, soft voice rang in my ears before her soft hands patted my cheeks in a motherly way. "How are you feeling?"
Pressing a hand to my throbbing temple, I gazed at my aunt wearily. "How did I end up here?"
"Your drink was spiked, and you crashed in Kate's arms. She called for the paramedics and Talin wouldn't agree to it. While Kate tried — oh, she didn't just try, she succeeded — in giving your mom a piece of her mind. Your friend Celestina and I got you out of the party." Frankie pressed her palm to my forehead, checking if I was burning.
Tugging at the flimsy pair of camisole and printed boxers, I narrowed my eyes. "Is that Tom & Jerry printed boxers?"
"Found them at Target. They're super cute." She grinned. "Valentino thinks they're ridiculous, though."
Valentino. Oh, fuck!
"Is your boyfriend here?" I mouthed, rolling onto my stomach.
Frankie waved a finger in my face. "He is not my boyfriend yet. But more like not-a-boyfriend-but-kinda-boyfriend-boyfriend."
"Whatever," I huffed, "is he here?"
"No. He left after dropping me at the gate. Xayvion carried you to my room and stayed along with Celestina while the doctor was taking the drug out of your body." Frankie's eyes found me, eyes hard." Talin wants to give you a lecture on how-to-not-get-drugged."
"Oh, tell her to eat a dick!" I muttered, burying my face in the soft mattress, inhaling the fruity scent. "She was the one who dragged me to that wretched party."
Frankie's fingertip traced Romeo's ring. "You never told me why you agreed to marry this guy."
"It's not worth mentioning," I complained. "Can you give me a ride to my place?"
"No." She denied it rather abruptly. "You need rest. You look like a victim of a natural catastrophe. Don't give me that 'don't-body-shame-me' look, young lady. You need to eat something healthy. Are you even eating anything lately?"
I gave her a stinky eye. "Don't go all mama bear on me today."
"I've been this way ever since I started changing your diapers." Climbing off the bed, she pointed at a plate on the bedside table. "Have your lunch, take your meds, and get some rest."
"Oh-kay, Mommie."
She shot me a look over her shoulder. "I've got some work to do. Stay out of trouble, will you, kid?"
"No, can do." I grinned. "Speaking of trouble, I have to visit my boss before he shoves a screwdriver up his ass."
A laugh burst from her chest. "Is he pinning for you?"
"Not even in my wildest dreams." Pouting, I reached for my phone beside the pillow and opened my work email to check what Cyclops was up to.
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The next day, I was early to work. Striding over to my desk, I answered the call, fighting off the smile threatening to bloom on my lips.
"Peek-a-boo, Mr. Hudson! Congrats on being Los Angeles' biggest cheapskate for the 111th week in a row. Can we let the bullshit begin?"
"Besides excessive narcissism and extreme witlessness, what else did you forget to take medication for this morning?" He enquired in that orderly hollow tone of his.
"Oh, I see you're still a little ray of pitch black." I bit the inside of my cheeks to swallow my grin.
"To my office, right now." With that demand, he abruptly terminated the call.
Cradling an iPad in my arm, I strolled to his office with a notepad and pen in my hands. Shouldering past the door, I stepped inside.
Heat blazed through me as I took in the man who stood there with his hands resting on the tabletop, his suit jacket highlighting all his hard muscles, his eyes set on the file that was spread on the sheet. Then those ever-changing eyes coasted over my figure, leaving a trail of hate in their wake, and my heart plummeted under the full weight of his stare.
"Take your seat." He gestured at one of the chairs in front of him.
"Sir, yes sir." Resisting the urge to ridicule him with that salute, I perched down on the chair.
"I want you to schedule my next week's meetings and make the arrangements," he announced. Nodding, I opened the application and waited for his instructions.
"A meeting with Robin Davis, project manager for finalizing the landscape photographs for advertising, is scheduled tomorrow, postpone it to the upcoming Friday," he ordered, sliding into his chair.
"Are you serious?" I protested. "The man can't even make his dick look attractive in a picture."
"Is Mr. Davis sending you explicit images?" Cyrus's eyes flared, a vicious edge to his voice.
"No? I just used the analogy to explain his bad photographic skills — or lack of skills thereof." Pointing at the file on his desk, I insisted. "This project will be an epic disaster if you expect his jejune judgment to help you in business."
"I see," was his dry response, or rather a blatant disregard of my judgment. "Arrange a board of directors' meeting at 11: 00 am on Thursday. And make a dinner reservation the same night for two at Osteria Mozza between 8:00 pm and 9:00 pm."
My curiosity notched up. "With who?"
"Oksana Shirley."
Who the fuck is that?
"Pronouns?" Noticing the question in his eyes, I reasoned, "It is for the reservation."
"Miss Shirley goes by she or her pronouns."
It's a woman, right? Why was he going out with a woman? Is that a date? Oh, dear—
"Is this a business dinner?" I prodded, surprised to find myself annoyed at the idea of Cyrus on a date with another woman.
"No, it is not."
"So, it's a date," I concluded. Taking his silence as my answer, I went on, "Take a piece of advice: it's an instant pussy drier move when you don't even pretend to make a grab for your wallet when the bill comes. To avoid royally peeing off your date, don't act like a cheapskate."
"I'll let you know when I need your unsolicited, pea-brained advice, Aphrodite." Sensing the irritation in his words, I pursed my lips and looked down at the iPad in my lap, avoiding his gaze as embarrassment blazed through my veins and anger coiled at my nape.
"Fetch me a report on the Cash conversion cycle from Mr. O'Brein..." he kept talking, and I stopped listening.
He was going on a date with a woman.
Oksana Shirley. Who the fuck was she? Throughout all the years I had known Cyrus, I had never seen a woman on his arm, never seen him care about any woman that wasn't Celestina. But now, there is an Oksana?
As he went over the schedule, I managed to jot down everything, even if weird thoughts crept into my mind. Thoughts like tearing open a certain woman's tongue and using it in satanic rituals to turn her into some kind of frog.
"What do you want for lunch?" I asked, rising from my seat.
"Sauteed mushrooms and Broccoli, Cranberry salad," he replied.
A smile curved my lips. "Admit it. You're eating that to improve your sex performance, aren't you?"
He pinched his brows together. "I beg your pardon?"
"Don't you know that porn stars eat broccoli to increase their performance before the shoot?"
"No, I don't."
"Well, combine it with pesto, spinach and eggs, and oysters and it is said you wouldn't want to get out of bed," I provided. "So, are you still down for eating broccoli?"
"Get me a Green Apple Salad instead."
"Oh boy, you don't want to improve your sex performance?"
Indifferent, unamused eyes met mine. "I don't need to improve it."
"Tone down that ego and you might get laid once in a blue moon." My smile was delighted and teasing in equal measure.
"It is advisable to tone down your delusions and get to work."
Shooting him an unimpressed look, I swiveled on my feet and strolled to the door. A laugh bubbled in my chest when a light bulb went off in my mind.
"Also, should I send the mail for the invitation to the party between your legs to Miss Shirley?" I asked, keeping my tone light despite monstrous green claws piercing me from inside. "Or should I expect you to send her a personal invitation?"
I turned back just in time to see him rub his forehead as if I had succeeded in infusing a headache into his skull.
"Aphrodite... It's not too late to get help."
"I just wanted to help you. Why are you always so rude, bro!" Screeching, I parked a hand on my hip.
Molten desire poured into my bloodstream as he fixed me with a look that seared, dark and hot. My cheeks went hot as he furrowed his brows, as if contemplating how to fuck the word out of my dictionary or how to fuck me until I became compliant.
I cleared my throat to drown the escalating tension. "That's a beautiful scowl, but it'd look even better if it was all you were wearing."
"Get. Out."
The rest of my day at work passed rather boring since Cyrus ended our conversation on a cold note.
Later that night, I had agreed to meet Xayvion at dinner because he wouldn't stop pestering me about everything that went wrong at his father's birthday bash and my life in general.
It was exactly when I was cursing myself internally for taking a little too long to curl my hair and thumbing the button on the panel so the fucking doors would close, a shoe struck in between the closing doors, effectively reversing the motion of the door.
Pursing my lips to contain my scream of frustration, breathing in the scent of bergamot and birch, I looked at the man, narrowing my eyes on Cyrus's frame. He was in a casual black shirt and black jeans, which meant he wasn't going out to work, but somewhere more casual.
A date with Oksana?
My stomach knotted from my assumption, and my mood dampened tenfold immediately. I waited for him to step in and jammed on the elevator button.
"Are you going to Tyrone's place?" I inquired, criminally curious.
"Yeah, why do you ask?"
"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, digging into my sling bag to find something — anything to pretend that I wasn't actually prying about his personal life. "Can you give this to Tina?"
Taking the item from my hand, he surveyed it. "What's this?"
"A newly launched a feminine product that has — ironically cheapest and the best — fluid absorbing, minimal shedding producing and easily insertable and removable that comes with tabs on the wrapper, making it easier to open and the grips on the applicator for um..." Running out of words, I blinked my eyes. "It's a tampon."
He threw the tampon my way instantly, which I caught mid-way and dropped in my bag.
He let out an irked huff, folding his arms in front of his chest. My eyes coasted over his roped arms that were exposed by his folded sleeves. My nipples pebbled, my heart rate quickened and heat surged through me at memories of how he held me. Fucked me. Claimed me. The places that he had touched singed from bubbling tension.
"If I had a star for every time you made me horny, I'd have a galaxy in my hand," I admitted as the door pinged open.
Not waiting for his reply, I stepped out, needing some fresh air that would take my mind off of Cyrus between my legs.
"My vision has always been broader than casual flings, Aphrodite. " The voice of dazzling diamond and stubborn resistance drifted past me.
Stilling in my tracks, I shrugged. "Fine, put on a tux, and we can call it formal sex."
"You are self-observed, reckless to a fault, and self-destructive." Hearing a chastisement in his tone, I whirled around, surprised and annoyed that he was belittling in a tone that Cyrus had never done.
He had humiliated and humbled me countless times. But in a parental tone? Not like this. Never like this.
Folding my arms in front of my chest, I glared at him. "You got something to say?"
Taking two steps towards me, he towered over me, close enough that his chest pressed against mine, those ever-changing eyes locking with mine. Having men loom over me, and look me down was rare to me and for a man to make me feel like he could stop the sun rays from glaring at me was extremely rare, and seeing Cyrus Hudson of all loom over me like that made me still in anticipation.
When his gaze switched between my eyes and lips, lust shimmered through my veins, urging me to wrap my leg around him, ground my wet sex onto him and to rub myself up and down his shaft until his resolve cracked and he would line his mouth with mine.
"Don't go." It was an order, carrying a harsh edge yet unusually pleading.
Not liking where this was heading, I shook my head once.
"Xayvion told me what happened at the party a few nights back. I don't think you should be going clubbing again."
Of course, he would say exactly what I dreaded hearing from Talin's mouth.
Since you dressed up like a slut, he used you like one; she had once said when she had found me out about my relationship with the psychopath, Owen Kyle Grant. According to Talin, it was always my mistake, or it was a pathological lie I had made up.
And somehow, even Cyrus thought the same.
Fire licked at my blood. "Are you calling me irresponsible? That I shouldn't drink anymore because I was drugged the last time? That I can't defend myself? That I need to stay in that bloody apartment for a cage and become a trophy wife that Romeo wants me to become—"
It was the caress of a warm thumb against my lips that stunned me to silence, reminding me of the stinging behind my eyes.
"Calm down."
"It's not my mistake that some crazy freak spiked my drink," I argued, chest heaving, throat locking with unsaid emotions.
"No, it's not," agreed the man, his voice distant like he too understood the emotional riot in my chest.
Some days, I wanted the world to crack me open and see me, see me for how damaged I was on the inside. Just how close I was to crumble into pieces. How hard it was to continue smiling when I couldn't recall the sins of my past and couldn't predict the tragedies of my future.
"I'm not pathetic about wanting to live my life."
"No, you're not."
"Then why are you calling me names, Cyrus?" I titled my head, swallowing hard.
The hand on my chin snaked to my nape, the touch so gentle, warm, and sheltering. Tugging at my neck, he leveled my head to meet my gaze. "I've called you worse," he reminded me.
"Right," I barked out a rueful laugh, shoving him away. "When have you ever cared about my feelings?"
Who has ever cared?
"Hear a tale, Wild one. Despite all Aphrodite's extreme vanity and overbearing recklessness, Ares didn't ever want to see her hurt. It's not impossible for him to build a cage to keep her safe. He would never pinion her like Hephaestus. When he told her to stay behind, it was because she hadn't fully recovered yet." His gaze flickered with something akin to concern.
She hadn't fully recovered yet, he had said. The drug effect. Frankie had told me it would take at least a week before my system started working completely normally. And chances of aggravating my health or triggering a poisonous reaction were astronomical with my current state. Besides, there was a stalker.
Biting on my lip, I drank in the look in his eyes. The look no man had ever given me. Such vicious protectiveness, like he had never seen something more delicate and more breakable than me. Like he wanted to protect me from anything that could hurt me.
Tearing my eyes away from his hypnotizing eyes, I cast a glare on the floor, letting the insinuation sink deep into my mind. Cyrus cared. He cared enough to tell me to not aggravate my health. He cared enough to not be ashamed of wanting to live my life. He cared enough to understand how Romeo fettered me.
Why did he care, though?
Shutting a door on that answer, I kicked myself mentally, reminding myself just how susceptible I was to get my heart broken. I let Owen break my heart once and let Tyrone disregard those broken pieces. How pathetic should I have to be to let my guard down near another man who belonged to the same family?
Hardening my expression, I strolled away from him. "If you are done, tell me, what time do your legs open?"
"And she is hopeless."
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Who do you think is Oksana?
Any theories about Cor's past?
200 comments and I'll update the next chapter?
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