Page 31 of Marked By Him

He pulled the grass from his mouth and tossed it onto the ground. “So, she’s just going to stand around at the ceremony and watch?” He laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“She’s not going to the ceremony.” There was no fucking way either one of us would survive it. I pointed to the lamb at my side. “This one should be good.”

“You mean for the ceremony that you’re hiding from Eve.”

“I’m not hiding the ceremony.” The claiming ceremony was part of our culture. It celebrated our purpose. It defined our future. I wasn’t ashamed of it.

“Then, you’re hiding the girl.” He raised an eyebrow. Cocky fucker. “Worried someone else might claim her?” His gaze was loaded with suspicion. It was a gift he’d inherited from our father. Isaiah had our mother’s sunny disposition and our father’s keen sense for bullshit.

I got the bullshit gene, but the sunny disposition must have skipped over me.

My skin bristled. The throb of a beginning headache pounded in my temples. I was one hundred percent certain anger glowed in my eyes as I glared at him.

Isaiah grinned wide as he hopped off the fence, then clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, my brother, you are so fucked.”

I had a feeling that, for once, he was right.

15

Eve

I tried to read,but I couldn’t focus. The book was on the couch, face down and open to the page I’d stopped on. The house was quiet. Sunlight seeped through open blinds and warmed the air. For the first time, I noticed how bright everything was. White and gray and pristine.

Roman left me alone, but I had no interest in snooping. All I thought about was him. Where was he? What was he doing?

Was he withher? Sitting at the table, telling her how amazing her roasted chicken tasted. Talking and laughing.

I wondered what it was like to see him smile, truly smile. I wondered what his laugh sounded like.

I wondered what his touch felt like. Would his kiss be gentle or fierce?

And I wondered how many women had sat on this couch, wondering the very same thing.

Was she one of them?

Had she started out like me? A prisoner.

Thinking about it made my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. A knot clawed up my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the mental image of another woman in the bed upstairs. Of his hard body on top of hers while he whispered comforting words in her ear.

Stop it, Eve.I was acting obsessed. This was crazy.

One minute I wanted to punch him in the throat and the next I wondered what he’d feel like inside me. And I didn’t even know him.

I threw my head back against the couch cushion and let out a loud groan.

Was this a stage of grief? Or was it a part of recovering from being strapped to a chair in a stranger’s basement? Or was I simply trying to adjust to a new environment?

Or was there another reason that had nothing to do with any of that?

Minutes ticked by, and Roman still hadn’t come back. The longer I sat here, the more questions I had—questions I knew I’d probably never get the answers to. Roman was a vault.

He was protective of his secrets.

He was intense.

He was feral.

He was unapologetically erotic.

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