11

Talia

I swung the door open to my room, juggling the last of the shopping bags from Selene’s insistence that I come out and actually enjoy New York. I hadn’t been outside in days, and honestly, the walk through the bustling streets with her had been the only thing keeping me from wilting completely.

Of course, the last thing I expected was to find Ares standing in the middle of my room.

“Oh,” I said flatly, already bending to set the bags down. “You shouldn’t be in here.” Considering I hadn’t seen my husband in over two weeks, not since the morning after our wedding, this was not the most appropriate way to welcome him back.

He turned toward me, his gaze tracking the movement of my throat as I swallowed. Then, as if this were a perfectly reasonable interaction, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook.

It was unlocked, he wrote, tearing the page free and holding it out.

I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “And?” I asked. “So was the front door. Would you like strangers wandering in too, or is that privilege reserved for you?”

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he scribbled on the book. My gaze snagged on the wedding band still on his finger. Men like him didn't strike me as sentimental, so I was surprised he was still wearing it.

It’s my house. I can do whatever I want.

Irritation flared hot beneath my skin and it wasn't just about him being here. That would have been more tolerable. It was the arrogance and audacity that accompanied his presence… the fact that he could vanish for half a month and then reappear like this, unannounced and unbothered, like he hadn’t left me here to figure out how to exist in his world alone.

“I don’t care if it’s your house,” I said evenly. “This is my room. And you don’t just show up in it without asking.” There was something deeply unfair about how composed he looked, while I felt like I’d been left behind and only just realized it. Well, whatever. I refused to let him see how tightly wound I felt, how much effort it took not to say more. Because there was more. There had been more for days now, thoughts I’d shoved aside.

This marriage wasn’t born from romance or choice. I hadn’t come here hoping for tenderness, or companionship, or whatever nonsense people expected from newlyweds, and if I were being completely honest, the less time I spent around Ares, the easier it would be to conceal this lie.

I gestured toward the door, my tone cooling further. “Unless you have an actual reason for being in here, I suggest you remember where the exit is. I’m tired, and I’d like to be alone.”

Turning away from him deliberately, I focused on unpacking the bags, giving myself something to do with my hands. Ignoring him felt safer than acknowledging the awareness that hummed under my skin simply because he was here. I expected him to take the hint and leave; instead, he stepped closer until the heavy wool of his coat brushed against my shoulder. “What are you doing?” I gasped, my courage deserting me as I spun around. Before I could even retreat, he crowded into my personal space, his massive frame pinning me back against the cold, hard surface of the vanity table where I’d just dropped my things. He leaned in so close I was forced to arch my spine back to keep from being crushed by the sheer weight of him. Up close, his pupils were blown so wide they swallowed the irises, leaving only two black pits of pure, unadulterated hunger.

He raised both hands slowly, signing carefully. ‘You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me. I have spent three hundred and thirty six hours rotting with the need to satiate my hunger for you.’

My breath hitched, a strangled sound catching in my throat. It took every ounce of pretense in me to school my features into the confused, blank expression of a person who could not understand. I forced my gaze to remain glassy, tilting my head with feigned bewilderment, even as my soul was scorched by the admission.

‘Even right now, I cannot stop thinking of fucking you in every corner of this room,’ his hands moved lower now, signing right at the level of my heat. ‘I want to hike this skirt up, spread you across this table, and eat your pussy so goddamn bad I’ll swallow every scream from your lips until you’re sobbing for air. I want to feel your walls clench and break around me while I’m balls-deep, marking the inside of you until you’re convinced you were made for nothing but my filth.’

I felt a treacherous drop of moisture slick my inner thigh. My heart was thundering so hard I was sure he could feel it vibrating through the air between us. He was confessing his most primal, ruined thoughts, thinking they were safe behind the barrier of my supposed ignorance.

He leaned in, his nose grazing the pulse point of my neck. ‘But you don’t know,’ he signed one last time, a cruel, pained smirk touching his lips. ‘You have no idea that your husband is a fucking animal who wants to devour you. And that’s the only reason you’re still walking.’