Pulling up the hood of the cloak I had stolen from Marcus, it was too large with its hem brushing my ankles and swallowing my frame entirely, I kept to the shadows as I rounded the rows of tents toward the rear of the encampment.
I waited.
The four legionaries guarding Gen's tent patrolled in predictable intervals. I counted their steps, my pulse quickening with each passing moment, until finally there was an opening.
I ran.
Heart pounding, I slipped beneath the flap and ducked inside.
Only to come to an abrupt halt, when I found Marcus alone in the middle of the tent.
He was still dressed in his armor, though someone had clearly cleaned the blood from it. His arms were folded across his chest, dark eyes fixed on me as though he had been expecting me all along.
"I believe I specifically ordered you to remain in my tent," he said the moment I entered.
Slowly, I lowered my hood, feeling like I was back in my school days, caught sneaking out way past curfew.
"Like I said," I replied, straightening my shoulders, "I am not one of your soldiers for you to order around, Marcus."
His expression did not change.
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked, taking a step toward me. "Have you come looking for your Briton? To ask what he knows?" His gaze sharpened. "Or perhaps to tell him of our plans?"
The accusation stung.
"If you are insinuating that I would betray you," I said coldly, "then I owe you no explanation."
Marcus crossed the remaining distance between us in two strides and gripped my jaw, forcing me to look up at him.
If I had been even slightly less furious, I might have dragged him down and kissed him myself.
"Then what," he bit out, his voice rough with restrained emotion, "are you doing here? Do you love him now? Do you wish to reconcile with him?"
The words struck something raw inside me.
Before I could stop myself, my hand flew across his face.
The crack echoed through the tent, and Marcus's head turned with the force of it.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
His grip on my jaw loosened.
Then, before I could react, he pulled me against him and crashed his lips onto mine.
The kiss was nothing like the soft, careful ones we had once shared.
No, it was all anger, frustration. Weeks of distance and unspoken fears.
I should have pushed him away, but instead, I found myself kissing him back just as fiercely. My fingers tangling in the front of his armor as though I could shake some sense into him, or perhaps simply reassure myself that he was still here.
"You infuriate me," I breathed, my voice rough as his mouth traced fire down my neck.
He snarled low, fingers dragging the strap of my dress down. "You are not the easiest woman to love either."
A sharp whimper escaped me when his mouth closed over my nipple, his hardness pressing relentlessly against my middle while I ground into him, wild and aching.
"Neither are you," I spat back, my hands gripping his balls hard, then stroking his hard length beneath his uniform, feeling the heat of him while he gritted his teeth with barely-restrained pleasure.
I cried out when he bite my tip, my fingers clinging onto his shoulders, head drawn back as my pleasure mixed with pain. He licked and sucked the other, while his hands drifted underneath my skirts to claim me.
"But you love me anyways," he growled, spinning me, my back crashing against him. "And you always will."
He buried his fingers between my legs, stirring the madness inside me. Anger and desire collided, twisted into raw, aching need. I wanted to hurt him, but I wanted him inside me, all burning in the same breath.
"On your knees," he snarled, and the moment my knees hit the grass, his hand crushed my breast, pulling me hard against him while the other yanked my skirts up.
"This is your punishment, Elena," he growled, his palm slapping my bare ass.
I yelped.
Fingers clawing into the earth, I hissed through clenched teeth, "Fuck you, Marcus!"
"Oh, I plan to," he chuckled darkly, before delivering another stinging slap.
"But you need to be punished, for disobeying me, my love."
Another slap cracked through the air.
I cried out, torn between pain and fierce, hungry pleasure. My hips ground shamelessly against him, desperate to feel him deep inside me. Stretching my walls, filling me whole, fucking claiming me entirely.
"Look at you," he whispered in my ear, teeth sinking into my shoulder, tongue tracing the sting. "So desperate to finally have my cock inside you."
"Marcus, please—oh!"
He plunged into me, all of him, every breath against my neck like fire. His hand crushing both my breasts as I moaned, lost in the storm of him.
"Let this be a fucking reminder, Elena," he breathed, his voice rough with pleasure and raw frustration, "you are mine. Mine alone. In this life, and whatever comes after."
His hand slid to my neck, holding me firmly but still didn't move.
I was desperate, grinding my hips against him, craving release.
He merely chuckled at my desperation, gripping my hips with one hand, fingers digging into my skin while the other stayed steady at my throat. His lips brushing softly against my temple.
"Tell me you love me," he murmured, voice thick with desire, "and I will give you what you need."
The audacity of this man.
But desperation was burning through me, tears blurring my vision from the pleasure, threatening to overflow."Fuck you, Marcus."
He thrusted his hips lightly. "Wrong words, Elena. I can stay here buried inside you all night, you know I can."
Fucking Roman.
"Fine," I breathed, fingers digging into his wrists. "I love you, Marcus Valerius Corvus."
I could feel his dark smile when he said, "Good girl."
He pulled me closer, hands tightening on my hips. "I love you too."
My hands slipped to the ground, claws digging into the soil when he pulled out just to slam into me. Hard and relentless, just the way I needed it. Like water, to a person dying of thirst.
He fucked me with a wild, desperate hunger, each thrust driving me deeper into madness. I lost count of how many times I came, my body trembling beneath his fierce possession. His breath ragged against my neck, his grip brutal yet possessive, grounding me in a storm of raw pleasure and need.
"Elena," he growled, just as I thought I couldn't take it any more, my vision swimming, my entire body trembling, overwhelmed by the relentless fire he pulled out of me. "Look up."
My brows furrowed in confusion, but I obeyed, letting him lift my chin.
And there, sitting against a wooden pole silently, was Gen.
With his hands bound behind him, hidden beneath a thin cloth I hadn't noticed before.
Expressionless.