I once thought I knew my own mind. I did not.
—Book of Mars
Books claimed that a woman could seduce a man to her will. Stories from all the way back to antiquity lauded a woman’s ability to change her lover’s mind with her body. Or even for him to forget his actions.
Clarissa was desperate enough to try anything. She was no siren. She was a simple country girl who wanted the best for the man she loved.
And she did love him.
His lips parted beneath hers. She tried to relax. Her heart pounded so loud he must have heard it, he must suspect. He kissed her hungrily, as if he, too, yearned for there to be another way.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and met his kiss with a ferociousness of her own.She wanted him to live. To free himself of this quest for vengeance. It would destroy them.
Mars rose, lifting her to sit on the desk. He began unbuttoning his breeches as his kisses found her neck, her breasts.
And then he entered her, hard as if he needed this connection. Except, instead of hard thrusts he stopped, his body deep in her. He held her. His lips brushed her ear.
“I never want to forget the feeling of you.”
The words ripped through her heart.
She pressed her lips to his neck, tightening deep muscles as if she would never let him go. “Stay with me. Love me.”
He began moving. There was an intensity about him, a need. He didn’t want this duel. She knew it. He’d convinced himself this was the only way and it was up to her to show him that he was wrong.
Mars wasn’t a killer. The cost of going through with this action would be more than he wanted to pay. More than she and Dora could afford.
Except she was the one who was beginning to lose control. She was becoming the one seduced. He kissed her neck, her chin, her breasts.
She had to think, to keep her wits about her.
Cupping her hands around his strong jaw, she lifted his head. His eyes were dark and unfocused, his movements primal.
“Don’t go tomorrow,” she managed. “Please, Mars, stay with me.” She bound him to her,legs around his hips. She would not let him escape, to leave. “Please—”
Abruptly, he pulled out of her.
The sudden movement shocked her. She wasn’t ready to release. She tried to draw him back. His hands on the desk, he pushed away. Her legs broke their hold.
Free, he gave her his back. His breathing was heavy. Her mind was confused. Her body begged for the denied release.
Mars turned to her. He’d righted his clothing while she was spread across his desk, one hand holding the edge while her other palm braced for balance.
He was angry, the lines of his face harsh. “What are you doing?”
Whatwasshe doing? How to explain it?
Slowly, Clarissa gathered herself. She sat up, closing her legs. Her dress was on the floor. She would not apologize for her nudity... or for loving him.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said.
He raked his hands through his hair and then shook his head before asking incredulously, “Do you think I can’t defeat him? I’ve donenothing but dream of this moment for a decade.”
She’d never heard him sound so angry, and there was something else in his voice—disappointment. It was as if he was hurt that she didn’t understand.
Clarissa tried to explain. “I think, no, Ifearthat you are about to do something that willhaunt you every day of your life. Mars, there isnogoing back from this.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I know what is at stake, Clarissa. But you must understand, my life changed when he shot my father.”
