He gripped me tighter and thrust harder, and I swear, I left my body. My nails scraped down his back, desperate to anchor myself in something, but he was already everything.
He was the prayer I never said right. The punishment that tasted like mercy. The sin that made me feel alive today.
And just as the tension inside me snapped, he kissed my temple. “Come for me, wife.”
And I did.
Trembling, broken, singing his name like it was the only thing I ever learned how to say.
The sheets smelled like him.
Still.
Warm. Bitter salt and storm and whatever sin made me unravel against that hallway wall like a girl with no name, no shame, and no future.
I stared at the ceiling for what could’ve been seconds. Could’ve been hours. My thighs ached, and my ribs ached. My mouth tasted like regret and roses.
Still, when I shifted my legs and felt the slick sting of where he’d once been, something inside me pulsed. Throbbed.
God.
I hated myself.
He married me without asking.
He killed Adrian.
He used me.
He took what I didn’t offer, and then last night, I asked him for more. Moaned for it. Whispered his name like I’d die without it. How do you hate a man properly… when your body doesn’t seem to want to?
I sat up. The bed was cold on his side.
Of course, he wasn’t here.
Coward.
I slipped out of bed, knees weak, balance unstable, and the bruises between my thighs hummed shamefully.
The curtains were draped, and there was no sign of Elena anywhere.
I brushed my teeth, took a bath, and went to the closet and found another dress like the ones he’d filled it with.
All soft and revealing and sexy. He dressed me like a doll. Or a wife. Or someone he wanted to pretend had chosen this.
This one was blush pink. A two-piece co-ord set, high-waisted skirt, and cropped blouse with small pearl buttons down the front. It looked like something out of someone else’s life.
I wore it anyway.
My hands shook as I buckled the ankle strap of my nude heels. And then, without meaning to, my fingers brushed the anklet.
That anklet.
A diamond-studded chain with a small, pale, opal that shimmered when the light hit just right. His gift for me. His mark.
I stared at it for too long. Swallowed the bile and the ache.
What the fuck was I doing?
