His lips traced down my neck as his hand spread across my stomach, pinning me against him. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice rough with restraint as he began a slow, deliberate rhythm against me. The hard length of him slid between my thighs, teasing what we both wanted.
Each roll of his hips sent water crashing against the edges of the tub. His mouth worked along my shoulder, leaving a trail of bites and kisses that made my skin prickle with anticipation. I felt marked, claimed, even before he was inside me.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear. The shape of him pressed insistently against me, impossibly hard.
“Yes,” I said, reaching back to grab his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. The motion made me arch against him, my back bowing. The sound he made wasn’t human—a primal growl that vibrated through my entire body. “Please…”
He positioned himself, one hand still splayed across my stomach while the other guided him to my entrance. The first push breached me slowly, deliberately. The stretch burned in the best way—painful and perfect. I hadn’t done this in almost a year.
I gasped for air as he continued pushing in, my body struggling to accommodate him. His free hand moved to my chest, fingers finding my nipple and pinching just hard enough to distract me from the initial discomfort.
His hips stilled once he was fully seated inside me. I felt impaled, stretched to my limits, my body adjusting to the intrusion. The water made everything slicker, more intense, amplifying every tiny movement.
I forced air into my lungs as he pushed inside me, stretching me wider than I’d been in months. Fuck, he was big—bigger than I remembered from just feeling him in my mouth.
His fingers bruised my hips, holding me steady while I adjusted. I clenched around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat that vibrated through my back. The water lapped against us, turning every tiny movement into something fluid and intense. I rolled my hips, testing him, and nearly sobbed when he hit that spot inside me.
“My gorgeous, perfect pet,” he growled, his lips against my neck, teeth scraping my skin. The possessiveness in his voice made me clench around him. He guided me into a rhythm that had water sloshing over the edge with each thrust. Every time he drove into me, stars burst behind my eyes.
His grip shifted without warning. His hands slid under my thighs, hooking beneath my knees and spreading my legs wide apart. He lifted me up, water streaming down my body, leaving me completely exposed with my legs forced open. Helpless. On display. He held me suspended above him, my weight nothing to his inhuman strength. The absolute control he had over me should have triggered panic. Instead, I went slack in his hands, my head falling back onto his shoulder. I wanted him to take all of me.
My orgasm hit without mercy. My cock spurted untouched, cum mixing with bathwater as my body convulsed around him.
“God, oh fuck–”
Kronos tightened his grip, fingers digging into the sensitive skin behind my knees as he slammed me down hard onto him. He came inside me with a growl that sounded barely human, his teeth sinking into my shoulderhard enough to mark. The pain mixed with the aftershocks of my orgasm, prolonging it until I thought I might black out.
My muscles gave out as he lowered us back into the water. My limbs felt disconnected, my mind floating somewhere above us. Kronos held me against his chest, his arms still strong despite what we’d just done. His lips brushed my temple—so gentle compared to the way he’d just fucked me senseless. That softness made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t handle right now.
The steady thud of his heart beneath my ear and the water lapping at our cooling skin pulled me toward sleep. I tried to stay awake, to savor this strange peace I felt in his arms, but exhaustion dragged me under. As darkness took me, I felt his fingers combing through my wet hair. For the first time in years, I fell asleep feeling completely safe in someone else’s arms.
Chapter Seven
Morning After Never
ZZZ ZZZ!The muffled sound of my phone dragged me out of a deep sleep. I blinked groggily—Egyptian cotton whispered against my skin as I shifted, their rich gold color catching the morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. The mattress felt like sleeping on a cloud, nothing like my bargain store special.
Memory rushed back as I blindly reached for my phone, and my heart stopped. Ten missed calls from Twyla.Fuck.A flood of unread texts that started concerned and grew increasingly panicked. On top of that, I was already an hour late for work. The last message made my stomach drop: “Alex, if you don’t answer in the next hour I’m calling the police.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” I scrambled up, wincing at muscles I didn’t even know could be sore. My clothes sat in a neat, folded stack on a plush armchair by the window—definitely not how I’d left them strewn across the floor last night. Someone—Kronos presumably—had even taken the time to smooth out the wrinkles in my dress shirt. The fire escape outside the window caught my eye, and without letting myself think too hard about it, I was dressed and climbing out. No awkward morning-after conversation necessary.
The metal grating was freezing under my hands as I made my way down, trying not to think about how many stories up we were. My shoes were not made for this, and I slipped twice on patches of frost. The last ladder dropped me into an alley between two dumpsters, and I dodged a cluster of violet-eyed rats that scattered at my approach.
I burst through the shop’s front door twenty minutes later, the bell’s cheerful chime at odds with the way every customer turned to stare. Mrs. Henderson, one of our regular antique browsers, actually clutched her pearls. The teenager trying on steampunk goggles snickered behind her hand. Only then did I catch my reflection in the sunglasses display mirror—rumpled dress shirt despite Kronos’s careful folding, hair sticking up at odd angles, and...were those bite marks already turning purple along my collar?
“Go get cleaned up,” Twyla said from behind the register, her voice carrying that rare note of professional disappointment that was worse than anger. “We’ll talk later.” She was dressed in one of her signature oversized cardigans, this one featuring patches of different textile patterns sewn together like a fabric collage. Her purple micro braids were wrapped in an elaborate crown today,decorated with tiny brass gears that caught the light as she turned back to her customer.
I took the stairs two at a time up to my apartment, grateful that at least my keys had still been in my pocket. The shower barely had time to get warm before I was out again, rushing through my morning routine. As I passed the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I froze. My body was a canvas of marks—teeth impressions scattered across my chest, finger-shaped bruises on my hips, evidence of last night painted across my skin like some debauched art piece.
Fuck.I traced a bruise where his thumb had dug into my hip. Just one night and I’d let him mark me like this? So goddamn easy, just like my father always said. One smooth-talking man with a nice smile and I’d melted, invited him into not just my bed but under my skin. The worst part was how much I’d wanted it, how I’d begged for more.Pathetic.
I pressed against a purple bite mark on my collarbone, watching my reflection wince. The pain should have disgusted me, should have been a warning to stay away. Instead, it sent a treacherous shiver of desire through me. What kind of messed-up person gets turned on by being treated like this? The kind who’d worked at Ogygia, clearly. Maybe the Madam had ruined me for normal after all.
He’d washed my hair afterward…and the way he’d checked each mark with careful fingers, asking if I was okay? That tenderness confused me more than the bruises. Monsters aren’t supposed to be gentle. It was easier to hate him, to cast him as the villain who’d taken advantage of my weakness. The alternative was too dangerous to contemplate.
I opted for a black turtleneck, trying not to think about why those marks made heat pool in my stomach despite my resentment. The soft wool was both comfort and torment against my sensitized skin. Comfortable jeans and boots completed the outfit, the everyday normality of the clothes a shield against the chaos he’d introduced into my life. I couldn’t afford to get attached to someone like him. I’d been down that road before, and it only ended one way—with me broken and alone while they moved on to easier prey. No…I’d lose his number and just move on.
The day dragged on endlessly. I rang up Mrs. Peterson’s usual collection of antique thimbles, helped a teenager find the perfect steampunk goggles for her costume, and sorted through three boxes of consignment jewelry that Twyla had accepted without checking for quality. Every time I bent down to reach the lower shelf display, a delicious ache reminded me of last night.
