by Lee Savino
“For a time.” He rose from the bed, towering over her. Even with his physical proximity, she still wasn’t afraid of him. “In my world, sometimes manipulation is necessary to keep people safe.”
“And you want me to enter that world.”
“Be with me, Cora. Be with me.” He entreated her, and he looked like a man asking a lover. Not a kingpin making a deal.
“You know now.” She said. “You know I wouldn’t betray you.”
“You gave me this beautiful gift.” He reached out hesitantly, and touched her hair. Her breath caught in her throat at his tenderness. She’d never seem him act so unsure before.
Slowly, he knelt before her. She stood nervously in place, wanting to touch him, hold him, tell him it was okay. But she waited as he spoke in a halting voice. “I can’t erase what I’ve done. What I have to do. The sort of man I am.” His dark head tipped up to look at her face. “But I can love you.”
Her own knees weakened. He noticed her wobble, and he gathered her close, resting his forehead on her belly. Cora breathed with great care.
“Your innocence called to me the first time I saw you. I wanted you. I had to possess you. But in the end…” He bowed his head to her. “You possessed me.”
She stroked his hair in response. The darkness pressed on her, waiting. She had to make a decision.
She felt like she had been sleeping for a long time. But now, awakened, she knew the one answer to all the questions. And it satisfied it all.
“I love you,” she told him, told herself. And, trembled when Marcus’ lips pressed her skin in voiceless passion. I want you.
“You asked me a question some time ago,” Cora’s words came with shreds of shuddered breath, “in a beautiful garden.”
Marcus rose. Taking her hands, he guided them, and soon freed himself of his shirt. Silk rippled to the floor and Cora’s heart beat faster. Underneath her lover’s business armor lay an athlete’s form. Her fingers traced the linear muscle, tempting and bare. Marcus’ own fingers were sweet on her jaw and face.
“Marcus,” Cora said, though it was becoming hard to breathe. “I want to tell you my answer.”
But even as her mouth parted, Marcus met it with his own. The two clung to one another, wishing their bodies could lose all boundaries of skin and bone, and merge. Cora forgot all words as Marcus gathered her up and carried her like a bride to his bedroom.
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Coming soon--Book two:
Awakening, A Novel of Olympus
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“Who’s there?” Cora jerked away from the balcony ledge and peered into the shadows beyond the French doors. She wasn’t afraid, only startled. She could hear loud laughter and talking drift up from the party downstairs. If she screamed someone would hear her.
The young man approaching her looked familiar. Cora’s eyes widened as she recognized the famous singer. “Chris? What are you doing here?”
At his name, the Orphan came forward quickly. He wore his usual outfit, well fitted jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His clothes looked more rumpled than usual, but his presence still held that hypnotic aura she remembered.
Then he spoke, panic in his voice. “They’ve taken her.”
Cora stepped close, stopped. The young man’s eyes were wild. “What? Who’s been taken?”
“Iris. My fiancé.” The Orphan ran a hand through his curls, a move she recognized from his performance onstage. Now it conveyed more worry than rock god charisma. “She left—she was only supposed to be gone a few hours. It’s been two days. I don’t know where she is.”
Cora clutched her wrap around her more tightly. Her party dress, though fashionable, wasn’t designed to keep out the night chill. Here on the balcony, the city at their feet, the wind reached them more easily. “Did she call or leave a message or anything?”
“No,” he rasped miserably. “She’s gone. Please, you have to believe me.”
“I believe you,” Cora said automatically. The singer’s soulful gaze, beloved by so many women, implored her to. “Did you go to the police?”
The Orphan shook his head. “They won’t let me.”
“Who’s they?” Cora asked, even though she knew. AJ, the creepy producer. Maybe even Thane and Hype, the club manager’s at Elysium.
“My manager says it’s not safe for me to leave the hotel.” The Orphan was explaining. “They won’t even let me alone. I had a concert last night, and three this weekend. I have a contract to fulfill, they say. They won’t let me out.” He gazed at her, his hypnotic aura holding her spellbound. “We were going to elope. They say she probably got cold feet, and that’s why she left.”
Realization struck Cora, and she jerked backwards. “You think they found out you wanted to leave, and they took her. They’re holding her hostage.”
The singer doubled over almost like he was in pain. “It’s my fault.” he moaned. He stumbled backwards until he hit the wall of the building. The sounds of the party below almost washed his words away.
Cora crouched down to where he cowered in the shadows. “Ok, it’s ok.”
“You’re the only one I can talk to. No one else will listen.” The singer whispered brokenly. “Please, you have to help her. Before it’s too late.”
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