By the time my eyes fluttered open, my body felt heavy, as though I had spent the entire night drinking, which was something I haven't done in years. A dull soreness lingered between my legs, far too pronounced to ignore. Instinctively, I rubbed my thighs together beneath the sheets, stretching lazily before reaching toward my bedside drawer for the vibrated I had kept there.
Only to feel my fingers brush against a man's hand.
Strong fingers closed gently around my wrist before a pair of lips pressed a soft, familiar kiss against my knuckles, sending an unwelcome spark of warmth through me.
It was then that everything came rushing back, just how far from home I truly was.
The camp. The attack. Marcus and I drifting apart. Then the way he had kissed it all better, claimed me in that tent. Just when I thought all was well, he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet Gen's expressionless gaze from behind the curtain before I had finally succumbed to exhaustion.
I jerked my hand away, pressing my back against the headboard as I struggled to steady my breathing.
Marcus sat beside the bed, still dressed in the simple tunic he wore for sleeping. He occupied the chair as though he had spent the entire night there, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers loosely clasped together as he looked up at me.
He frowned.
"Do you need help?" he asked quietly.
"After what happened last night, you still have the audacity to ask me?" I murmured sharply, glaring at him.
Then I turned away, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The cool morning air brushed against my skin, and only then did I realize that Marcus had changed me into one of his sleeping tunics. Though it reached my knees, the fabric was thin and loose enough that I was practically naked.
I adjusted the garment instinctively, acutely aware of his gaze on me.
Marcus remained silent.
"I apologize," he said at last.
I froze.
The shame from the previous night burned through me all over again.
Gen's haunted eyes, his expressionless face as Marcus had forced me to look at him.
That had been something intimate. Sacred, even. What Marcus and I shared had always belonged to us alone.
Or so I had believed.
Instead, he wield it like a weapon. A means of humiliating his enemy. And in the process, he humiliated me, making me feel less like a woman he loved and more like a piece of meat, dangled between two hungry, stubborn wolves.
Slowly, I turned back to him.
"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" I asked quietly. "How I feel?"
Marcus rose slowly from his chair.
"I do not deny that what I did was wrong," he said. "The attack, the men we lost, seeing him with a blade to your throat..." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "My emotions overwhelmed me."
His gaze met mine.
"But you are not entirely without fault either, Elena."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"You fucking used me, Marcus," I bit out. "I have never felt more ashamed. More humiliated."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"That was not my intention."
"Then what was?" I demanded, rising to my feet despite the lingering ache in my body. "To remind him that I belong to you? To prove that you had won?"
My voice cracked.
"Because all you proved was that neither of you sees me as anything more than something to possess."
Marcus flinched, only slightly but I saw it.
"You think I do not regret it?" he asked quietly.
"Do you?"
He was silent for a long moment.
"Every moment since," he admitted.
I laughed bitterly. "Then perhaps you should have thought of that before forcing me to watch him while you—"
I broke off, unable to finish the sentence when Marcus closed the distance between us.
"I was angry," he said. "Angry at him. Angry at myself. Angry that he still had the power to make you doubt us."
His eyes searched mine.
"I have never once doubted that I love you, Elena."
I looked away.
"Love should not feel like ownership, Marcus."
The silence that followed was deafening.
He moved closer while I remained rooted on my spot. His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, exposing my neck.
I tore my gaze away from his intense eyes, unable to bear their weight, clenching my fists at my sides. I could feel the tips of my nipples pressing against the thin fabric like sharp peaks, aching to be touched, pinched, explored.
"Tell me what I should do," he murmured, his thumb trailing gently to my chin, tipping it upward. "Tell me how I can earn your forgiveness, Elena."
I studied him for a long moment.
The exhaustion etched into his features. The guilt, that fear.
I took a step back, slipping from his touch.
"Let me speak to Gen alone."
Marcus went completely still.
"No."
"Marcus, please—"
"No." His voice hardened immediately. "Absolutely fucking not."
I folded my arms across my chest. "Well, you asked what you could do to earn my forgiveness."
"And I meant it."
"Then let me speak to him. Alone."
His jaw clenched. "You cannot seriously expect me to allow that."
"I need answers," I said quietly. "About returning home, what he knows. You said yourself that there is a traitor somewhere in this camp. If Gen truly is the only person who knows how to send me back, then I need to hear it from him directly."
Marcus looked away first.
"I do not trust him."
"Neither do I," I said, holding his gaze. "But out of everyone in this camp, I am the one most likely to pry answers out of him."
His expression hardened. "I should kill him."
"Then you would never have my forgiveness," I said, glaring at him.
Marcus's jaw tightened.
Finally, he released a slow breath.
"You ask much of me, Elena."
"That is my price," I said quietly. "You asked how you could earn my forgiveness. This is how."
He studied me for several long moments before finally nodding once.
"Very well."
Relief flooding through me.
"But on one condition."
I frowned.
"I remain outside the tent."
"Marcus—"
"No." His voice hardened immediately. "You wished to speak to him alone. This is the furthest I am willing to compromise."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.
He was already giving me more than he wished to, and I didn't want to push it.
"Fine," I said quietly, and his shoulders relaxed fractionally.
"Now," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the thin fabric of his tunic where it clung to my body, revealing far more than either of us had intended. His eyes darkened before lifting to meet mine once more. "Do you require any assistance with that ache, Elena?"
By the time we left our tent, night had fully descended over the encampment once more. Though I could not see anything through the blindfold Marcus had insisted on placing over my eyes, I could feel that something had changed.
Marcus's hand remained wrapped firmly around mine, guiding me over the uneven ground.
Around us came the sounds of marching boots and clinking armor. I could feel the presence of his soldiers surrounding us, hear the soft murmur of Latin and the scrape of sandals against the earth.The entire thing felt excessive, but then again, so are most things Marcus did where I was concerned.
Eventually, he slowed and the sounds around us changed.
There were fewer voices, footsteps too.
It was more isolated.
"We have arrived," he murmured, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
A moment later, I heard the tent flap being pulled aside.
Marcus removed the blindfold, his fingers lingering briefly against my face before he pressed a soft kiss to my temple.
"I will be outside," he said quietly.
Then he stepped away.
Standing in the center of the dimly lit tent, his hands still bound before him, was Gen.
His blue eyes found mine instantly.
And he smiled.
"Elena," he said softly, as though we were merely continuing a conversation interrupted moments ago. "I was beginning to wonder when you would come."