Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
It’s a lie.
I peel off the dress and place it back on the hanger. I don’t care if it’s false; I want the promise this dress gives me. I try on a pair of jeans that also goes into the keeper pile, and then a flirty short skirt that’s entirely impractical for the coming winter. Who knows if I’ll live long enough for the season’s return. It’s a depressing thought.
No. I’m not going to be defeatist. I’ll pick out a cute top to wear with this skirt, and I will wear it this spring when the flowers begin to bloom.
The door opens behind me and I spin, skirt swirling around my thighs, to see the last person I expect. Asterion. “What are—”
He’s on me in a moment, his big hand plastering over my mouth and cutting off my words. His other arm goes around my waist and then I’m pressed to his chest and, oh gods, but it’s happening again. Touching him makes something short out in my brain. My survival instincts demand that I scream, fight, do anything to draw the attention of the other people in the store. But those demands are quiet whispers in the face of the inferno flaring inside me.
He looks down at me with a forbidding expression on his scarred face. Like I’m the one who’s done something wrong…who’s done him wrong. His fingers tighten on my face ever so slightly. “Don’t scream.”
I nod slowly. Just as slowly, he lifts his hand from my mouth, shifting down to grip my jaw. Not tight enough to prevent me from speaking. I lick my lips, achingly aware of how he follows the movement, of how he always follows the movement. “What are you doing here?”
“You can’t trust Hera.”
I blink. “Might as well tell me that the sky is blue. I know. Everyone in this godsforsaken city has their own agenda, Asterion. Even you. I can’t trust anyone.”
He glares at me as if I said something wrong when all I’ve done is confirm exactly what he came here to claim. He opens his mouth but seems to change his mind about what he’s about to say at the last moment. Instead, his dark gaze flicks over my head to the mirror behind me. “What are you wearing?”
What kind of question is that? It’s pretty obvious what I’m wearing. “It’s a skirt.”
“It’s a tease.” His grip on my jaw tightens again, and he moves away, pulling my torso forward while keeping the bottom half of my body in place with a hand on my hip. His glare intensifies. “Barely bend over and you’re flashing your panties. Did you pick this out for your husband?”
I’m not the one who picked it at all, but suddenly I am a thousand percent done with his shit. He was sent to kill me. Yes, he hasn’t done a single thing to intentionally hurt me to date, but that doesn’t change the fact that he owes my father everything. No matter what I feel for Asterion, I am intensely aware of where I stand in the hierarchy of his allegiance.
I’ve done what it takes to survive, and I’m sorry if it hurt him, but he doesn’t get to play the jealous lover when he is the most dangerous person to me right now. I glare right back up at him. “I already told you that Dionysus doesn’t want that from me. But you know what? He kindly informed me that I am more than welcome to take a lover as long as we discuss it first. I’m wearing it for them, Asterion. And when I do, there won’t be panties underneath it.”
His grip on me becomes almost painful. “Show me.”
I shove at his chest, but all it does is guide him to sink on the bench across from the mirror. Even as I tell myself that this won’t be the time I melt for him, my hands find their way under my skirt and hook the edges of my panties. One good jerk and they reach my knees so I can shimmy out of them.
Then my traitorous hands find his thick thighs. He’s big enough that I can brace my elbows just above his knees and my fingers barely touch his hips. The new position folds me in half, and no matter how reserved this motherfucker is, I hear his shocked inhale right down to my soul. I can feel the air of the changing room on my exposed pussy. This is dangerous and one more mistake to add to my list, but that doesn’t stop me from shifting my legs farther apart.
I turn my head until I can see his face, but he’s not looking down at me. He’s looking at the obscene display I’ve created for him in the mirror. Because it is for him, regardless of what imaginary lover he’s decided I’m taking.