From her vantage point, Cora could see her husband’s sober expression falter as he looked up at the man who blocked his progression to her. She waited long enough to see the recognition flicker across Marcus’s features as he stared at the giant in white.
Another second and surprise left Marcus’s face and hatred flooded in.
Cora didn’t wait to see what happened next. Slipping out of her shoes, she whirled and ran up the stairs.
Two
The house was a mini palace, big as a hotel. At the top of the stairs, Cora slipped past the sign marking the hall beyond as “Private.”
Oh well, she’d ask Armand later who owned the palace so she could beg forgiveness for trespassing. Escape was more important at the moment. She hurried down the hall, testing a few of the doors to see if one could lead to a safe hiding place.
None of the doorknobs turned. Cora ran barefoot from one to another, imagining Marcus stalking up the stairs, the victor (of course) of whatever faceoff he might have had with Philip Waters. He’d pause at the top of the stairs, order his Shades to wait, and come for her.
Finally, the door at the end of the hallway opened and Cora walked out onto a balcony. The air was cold and crisp but did little to cool her overheated skin. Hurrying to the balustrade, she leaned over and looked out over the garden, heaving in a deep breath.
Second floor. No way down. Nowhere else to run.
She blinked rapidly as her heart raced, looking over her shoulder. Maybe he wouldn’t find her? But there’d been that look in his eye. He was done waiting.
Two months ago, riding in Maeve’s car away from the Ubeli Estate, she’d texted him: I’ve left you. I’m somewhere safe. Please don’t come after me.
She’d turned her phone off, and Maeve had dropped her off at Olivia’s apartment. After kissing Brutus goodbye (and getting a doggy lick in return), Cora had gone inside to Olivia and Anna, to hug and cry. Armand had shown up an hour later bearing wine. Armand hadn’t chastised her, but hugged her until tears came to her eyes. They drank until dawn.
The next day, she turned on her phone and stared at the six voicemails Marcus left her. And one text: We need to talk.
After saving the voicemails without listening to them, she’d texted him back. She was a coward, but she was resigned to being one.
I can’t right now but we will soon. I promise. I need time.
She’d left out what she really wanted to say. His reply said it for her. I’ll wait. I love you.
He’d kept his word. He hadn’t sought her out for two months. Oh, Cora knew he checked up on her, and every week flowers were delivered to Olivia’s apartment that Anna and Olivia swore weren’t from any of their admirers. But no phone calls, no texts. No showing up on her doorstep. Nothing until tonight. His patience had run out.
Cora took her now freezing hands away from the stone and rubbed them together. The truth was, as much as she’d been dreading this day, she knew it needed to happen. Closure, right? Everyone said it was important. If only she was strong enough.
She and Marcus were wrong for each other. From the beginning they’d sparked like fire but what was it worth if it burned the whole world down?
She’d told herself that she needed the past two months to think. But the truth was, sticking her head in the sand was the only way she knew to become deaf and blind to his charms. Seeing him again now, she knew the truth.
She wanted him. She…liked succumbing to the pull he had over her. If she was being honest with herself, and this was very, very hard to admit…she always had. She wanted his overwhelming strength to roll over her and fill her with desire. She wanted him too much.
And she hated herself for that. Her desire for him, her weakness. She wanted to be able to stand up to him and prove she was strong enough to live her own life.
She had to break the cycle. It was up to her.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
And now was her chance.
Three
Finally, she was here in front of him. Marcus stepped through the grand doors and out onto the balcony with her. His wife. They were reunited at last.
The last two months had been hell. Ask anyone who’d been around Marcus. Sharo, the Shades. They’d all learned to steer clear of him other than when absolutely necessary.
Cora’s back was to Marcus but he knew she felt him. She always could. They were connected, no matter the miles that might separate them. Nothing could sever their bond.
So he’d given her the time she asked for. She’d been scared. Everything that had gone down…it was bad. She thought she needed space, so okay. Every single day he’d wanted to drive over, tear down the door to her friend’s apartment, and drag her back to the Estate where she belonged. At his side.
For her, though, he’d fought his less evolved nature and let her be.
But enough was enough. She was his wife and it was time for her to come home.
“Cora.” Her name was a sensuous caress on his tongue. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her.
She turned and the string of connection between them pulled taut.
She was so fucking gorgeous, he almost lost his breath. She was statuesque and beautiful, delicate, with pale skin that glowed in the moonlight. The dress she wore molded to her curves but it also highlighted the fact that she’d lost weight.
A hundred disjointed thoughts ran through Marcus’s head. He wanted to punish her for leaving him. He wanted to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to grab her, flip her against the wall, and fuck all the frustration of the past two months out between her quivering thighs.
Her hands fisted at her sides as if she could read his thoughts and was forcing herself not to reach for him. He all but growled in satisfaction at the sight. He affected her as much as she did him.
Her eyes narrowed and she squared her bare shoulders, lifting her chin. Whatever statement she hoped to make by the posture was undercut by the fact that her nipples had clearly hardened, completely visible through the tight fabric that clung to her breasts. It was a good thing she’d retreated here for their reunion to take place because now Marcus could enjoy the sight all for himself instead of concerning himself with blinding any fucker who dared to stare at what was his.
“Leaving the party so soon?” he finally fired the first volley.
Her eyes flared and she crossed her arms over her chest. More was the pity. “I’m not much of a party person.”
He couldn’t help smiling at that. “I remember.”
He lifted his hand, holding out her ridiculous shoes that she’d abandoned midflight.
“You left these on the stairs.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment and little pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Yes, well. I’ve had a long night.”
He stalked forward, his eyes capturing and keeping hers. She backed up until her legs hit the balustrade. He knelt. So it was to be bowing at her feet after all. He lifted up the silky material of her dress and exposed her perfect ankle. Gods, to touch her skin again…
“Marcus,” she breathed, and he looked up the length of her. Her chest was heaving and he grinned. She seemed to lose track of whatever she’d been about to say. Oh yes, her body remembered his command over it and soon the rest of her would too. He’d make sure of it.