Page 29 of Marked By Him

I should have left her in the basement.

No.

I should’ve let Silas keep her. Or leave her where he’d found her. I should have kicked his ass for opening the gate and letting her in. She should have been miles away, back at her own camp, with her own people.

She would’ve died out there.I knew it as surely as I knew anything.

Instead, here she was, fucking with my head.

I didn’t sleep at all last night after I’d left her room. I kept replaying Eliza’s final words over and over in my mind.

“You’re a king, Roman. God has anointed you. You are chosen like David. Don’t let your kingdom fall.”

“What good is a kingdom without a queen?” I didn’t want the world if Eliza wasn’t in it.

Her hand cupped my cheek. “He will send you a queen. She’ll be strong and fierce and worthy.”

I shook my head, blinking back tears. “No. There will only ever be you.”

And until now, that had been true. I’d never even looked at another woman in that way. My dick sure as fuck had never reacted to anyone. Not even on ceremony nights when I’d stood there, watching in silence while everyone else writhed and moaned and fucked. But one touch from Eve and I was ready to throw her on the ground and fuck the life out of her.

Fuck a ceremony.

Fuck a claiming.

My cock went stiff with possessive need the second Isaiah touched her hand. It took everything in me not to shove her against the side of the closest house and fuck her until she screamed my name.Mine.Not his. I wanted to rip those tiny fucking shorts she wore right off her perfect body so that no one would ever see her wear them again. I wanted to wrap my hand around her throat to keep her from talking to him.

She stood there, holding the forbidden fruit in her delicate little hands and fuck me, I wanted a taste—even if it was poison.

Christ.

The heat of her touch spread from where her pinky touched mine, all the way up my arm, licking through my bloodstream, and blazing in my bones.

I moved my hand and scrubbed it over my face. “We should go back inside.” I needed a drink. And distance. I needed to think without her standing next to me.

“Okay.” Her voice was a gentle whisper, laced with disappointment. Whether she was disappointed I moved my hand or that I was dragging her away from this place of serenity, I couldn’t tell.

The sound of her footsteps trailed behind me all the way back to my house. The door slammed closed behind her. I assumed it was behind her. Maybe she’d stayed on the front porch to pout. I didn’t stop walking long enough to check. I headed straight for the kitchen, opened the cabinet and poured a drink.

When I finally turned around, I caught her standing in the living room, eyeing the bookshelves on each side of the fireplace.

I waited for the liquid to coat my throat and wash away my hunger. Then, I walked into the room and leaned against the back wall.

“Do you read?” I asked from behind her.

She didn’t turn around to face me. “When I can. Mostly it’s the same books over and over.” She stepped closer to the shelves, running a fingertip across the spines. “They aren’t really a priority where I’m from.”

We lived in the same world. We had the same enemies. We had the same purpose. Yet our pasts felt lifetimes apart.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“The Old Man and the Sea.” She said it without pause.

I took a sip of whiskey. “A tale of suffering.”

She spun around. “A tale ofsurvival.” She used the word like a weapon. Her eyes landed on mine, full of fire and anger and need. She steeled herself. “He caught his fish. It may have taken him eighty-five days, all his strength, and almost cost him his life, but he caught his fish. He proved he was worthy.”

I knew the story. It was about sacrifice. Redemption always coming with a price. There were so many parallels to that story and religion. Although, an outsider wouldn’t have known it.

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