Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

C ONTRARY TO HER belief that the week would speed towards the moment she married Ares, Odessa thought it crawled by treacle-slowly. So slowly so that she came within a whisper of suggesting they bring the date forward.

She only held her tongue because, despite her bravado, nerves were killing her.

Also because her feigned flippancy seemed to get under Ares's skin, and for some insane reason she preferred his brooding watchfulness and rasped interrogation about every aspect of her wedding planning to his icy aloofness.

It had started when he'd shown her the breathtaking private island where they were to wed. The punch of pure joy on seeing the setting, plucked straight from every daydream she'd ever harboured about her wedding day, had disturbed her enough to scramble to hide it, inadvertently sparking a restive reaction in him. Almost as if he needed regular evidence that she meant to keep her word.

She'd made a game of providing it, having no qualms about interrupting his work day to ask his opinion about linen colour themes or primary flower choices.

It was a situation Sergios had found hilarious, egging her on with winks and approving nods.

Their one serious clash had come when she'd protested that she didn't want anything from him when their marriage ended. That had drawn a sceptical glare that had sent his lawyers scrambling away to give them privacy. And in the ensuing twenty minutes she'd discovered just how cynical this new, mega-successful Ares had become.

No, he didn't believe her pious claim not to want anything from him.

No, he wasn't about to accept that she wouldn't sue him for a stake of his fortune further down the line.

Yes, her protests were useless.

To shut him up, Odessa had signed the prenup that granted her twenty million euros should they divorce. A fortune most people would give their eye-teeth for, but to her would mean she was leaving something vital behind.

They'd carried on like that until now, the morning before the wedding, when a less formally dressed but still furnace-hot Ares entered the living room where she was watching TV with Sergios after breakfast—although the old man had already dozed off in his favourite chair.

‘Are you ready?' he drawled, his gaze shifting over her in that mildly possessive way he'd taken to using when looking at her, then returning to her face and her puzzled frown. ‘Did you check your phone?'

She grabbed the sleek new phone he'd handed her the morning after their arrival. There, tucked away in a text box, was his prompt about a ten a.m. appointment.

‘Where are we going? Do I need to change?'

His gaze slid down her floral wraparound dress to the matching wedge heels. ‘You're fine as you are. We're going to see my private doctor.'

‘I'm to be checked over to see if I fit my brood mare status, am I?' she blurted before she could stop herself.

The time she'd had to dwell on what was happening was taking its toll on her nerves.

He slanted her an enigmatic look. ‘The examination isn't for just you. It's for both of us.'

Surprise snatched her breath away. ‘You're getting checked too?'

‘Indeed. If only to make sure my robust stallion status is at premium level.'

It took her a startling moment to realise he was cracking a joke. Her lips curved in response, her heart leaping. For a second while Ares had forgotten himself she'd caught a glimmer of the younger man she remembered.

Even after his amusement waned, she let that memory sustain her. Let it shore her up to withstand this older version's more dynamic battering of her senses.

That glimmer made another fleeting appearance when they were both pronounced rudely healthy two hours later, and a layer of tension left his shoulders.

In contrast, her own heartbeat escalated when she noticed that his gaze had grown even more brooding, the hand he placed on her back as they left his doctor's office that much more possessive. Even in the car and heading home he kept her close, his eyes pinned on her in a way that made her hackles rise.

‘You're acting strangely. Is something wrong?'

He cupped her jaw in his strong hand, his hold making her feel far too delicate, its gentleness opening those vulnerable spaces within her she needed to keep shut.

‘Not at all. I'm appreciating the fact that nothing stands in our way now. You're mine. There's no getting away from me now, glykia mou .'

The raw, primitive throb of possessiveness should have alarmed her. And yet, unlike every dark omen visited upon her in the past, Ares's words made her heart race with fevered yearning.

No matter the circumstances that had triggered this, the end result would be special and life-changing. A secret yearning brought to life.

If the trend of her cycle went according to plan, she could be pregnant by this time next month.

‘There's one thing we need to discuss.' She cursed the heat rushing into her face, but the subject was too important to ignore. ‘How I'm going to get pregnant. I'm assuming it'll be through IVF—'

The wicked and humourless laugh dried her words. ‘No, agapita . You assume wrong. When I said everything about this marriage would be real, I meant it. And everything includes your presence in my bed every night until we are absolutely certain my seed is growing in your womb. Even then, I reserve the right to perform my marital duties.'

She gaped at him, askance, while the feverish cyclone inside her swirled higher. ‘But...why? You don't even want me that way.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘And how did you come to that conclusion?'

‘Come off it, Ares. At this point I'm fairly sure you don't even like me!'

A muscle ticked at his temple. ‘Do I need to like you to put a baby in your belly?' he asked.

But the query wasn't as clinical as the words suggested. And beneath the steady, almost mocking regard, she sensed he wasn't quite as calm as he projected.

It was almost admirable—to a point.

‘How did I not see this crafty version of you back then?' she murmured.

His mouth twisted and his thumb drifted almost absentmindedly over her cheek. ‘Perhaps you preferred to see your own version of the truth. I have always been like this.'

Her fists bunched. She refused to accept that she'd been so hoodwinked. ‘I don't believe that I could've been so blind.'

‘Then that's on you, Odessa.'

They stared each other down for an age, then she sucked in a breath. ‘Then maybe I should be thankful things turned out the way they did.'

His face shuttered completely, and he withdrew his touch a moment later. ‘Indeed. But it doesn't change the fact that you'll come to me on our wedding night and I will possess you completely.'

Ismene was halfway between Athens and Crete, east of Santorini. The four-square-kilometre jewel in the South Aegean was the stuff of fairy tales and endless opulence, with its reality far surpassing what the pictures had promised.

As they circled the island in preparation to land, Odessa spotted the beginnings of a marquee and a flower-festooned arched trellis on one pristine lawn a short distance from a white sandy beach, and that punch of illicit excitement returned.

‘If I had my way we'd be married before sundown tonight,' Ares murmured beside her, making her jolt as his breath washed over her ear. ‘But my father insists I must not be a complete brute about the entire thing, so you'll get to find your bearings, rest and enjoy your last night as a free woman.'

He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

Her stomach dipped with the altitude of the landing plane, and a thrill lanced her, despite knowing he was putting on a show for Sergios, who watched them with another indulgent smile.

The villa was a single-storey sprawling gem, with more inviting outdoor terraces than she could count, all of them showcasing a breath-catching view and an open invitation to bask in the gorgeous Greek sun.

The staff of six, headed by a buxom grey-haired matriarch in her sixties, greeted her with halting Italian and Ares and Sergios with lyrical Greek, their beckoning leading them to a large table laid out with refreshments.

Whether intended or not, the table overlooked the part of the garden being decorated for the wedding.

‘Interested in seeing all your hard work up close?' Ares asked, his gaze intent on her face as he handed her a sparkling drink.

The force with which she wanted to say yes almost sucked the breath from her. It was that rabid yearning that made her hesitate. She couldn't afford for her feelings to become embroiled in this.

‘It's your wedding. Some would say it's your absolute right to interfere,' he said.

‘The organiser has been very accommodating, but I think I'm this close to earning myself a Bridezilla label,' she murmured.

Sergios slid her a plate of sugar-coated snacks. ‘Nonsense. You have a kind heart, mikros . That is what I've always liked about you. But Ares is right. You have a right to see to it that your special day is exactly as you want, ne ?'

She smiled at him, his words warming her as always. ‘Okay,' she replied, and then her heart thudded harder as they both rose with her.

Together they approached the lawn where the stunning wedding arch had been constructed, the white and purple flowers she'd settled on expertly woven into the trellis. She'd known the end result would be any bride's dream. And even if she wasn't the dreamy bride, she couldn't stop her heart fluttering at the knowledge that she was about to marry Ares Zanelis, the man of her deepest fantasies.

After which she'd be just a brood mare, forced to accept the trappings of marriage so Ares could ensure his bloodline and please his father.

‘It all looks perfect,' she said, despite the vice tightening in her chest. She tagged on a smile for Sergios's sake. Ares, she ignored, not risking a glance his way in case he caught her anguish.

Forcing herself to eat a few bites of the refreshments, she allowed the conversation between the two men to wash over her.

The reappearance of the housekeeper brought a hidden sigh of relief.

‘Demeter will show you to our suite,' Ares told her. ‘We'll have dinner early tonight.'

Her eyes widened at the ‘our' , but she couldn't ask the question bubbling on her tongue. His pointed look answered her anyway. They would be sharing sleeping space for the foreseeable future. At the very least until he'd planted his seed in her womb.

She turned away, hoping he didn't see her flush at the thought.

It turned out she needn't have been so disturbed by the prospect of sharing a bed with Ares. The suite was vast, and as she followed Demeter into the sprawling space she realised there were two bedrooms, linked by a sumptuous private living area, a wraparound terrace and even a plunge pool that could easily accommodate a dozen people.

It was easy enough to identify Ares's domain from the bold slate-grey and white colour scheme. And as Demeter showed her to where her things had been unpacked and neatly placed in the white and soft lilac themed dressing room that matched the second bedroom, she told herself that the hollow feeling in her belly had nothing to with the anti-climax of realising she wouldn't be sharing a bed with Ares immediately.

That it was merely relief...

Starting as she meant to carry on, Odessa latched on to one excuse after another for the next twelve hours.

When Ares didn't show up for dinner, a twinkly-eyed Sergios eagerly cited the fact that his son had decided to honour the tradition of not seeing his bride the night before the wedding.

Then, in the morning, she excused the butterflies in her belly as indigestion rather than pre-wedding jitters.

Even the tears that filled her eyes when the wedding couturier inserted the last diamond hairpin into the elaborate up-do, set the stylish veil on her head and finally allowed Odessa to catch the first glimpse of herself in her bridal gown, she excused as over-tiredness and the fraught situation.

Not the fact that the dress was plucked straight out of her dreams and had made her heart leap the first time she'd spotted it, its halter-neck silk overlaid with delicate lace that cinched in at the waist, moulded her hips and flared slightly at the knees to end in a short train.

Not the fact that underneath it she wore her mother's locket and couldn't help but yearn for her presence today.

And most definitely not the fact that the man whose name she would be taking an hour from now continued to be the only man her conscious and subconscious continued to conjure up every time she dared to dwell on who her ideal husband and the father of her children would be.

All that denial threatened to bubble over and explode when, finally ready, she stepped out of the suite and found Sergios waiting, looking nervous and hopeful and so endearing in his tuxedo, with a rosette of the same tiny flowers that were woven into her bouquet and hair inserted into his lapel.

His gaze swept over her, and Odessa was almost certain he blinked back tears.

Before she could speak, he grasped her hands. ‘I know this isn't tradition, but it would be my honour to escort you down the aisle—if you'll let me?'

Odessa swallowed a lump in her throat. ‘Are...are you sure?'

He squeezed her fingers, his voice gruff as he said, ‘ Ne, mikros. Very much.'

Pressing her lips together to stop emotion bubbling free, and wishing her own father had taken a single leaf out of this man's book when he'd been alive, she smiled shakily. ‘Thank you.'

That shakiness continued as they went down the stairs to the hall, to be flanked by smiling household staff, organisers and wait-staff, who murmured genial wishes, and then outside to join the small but impressive gathering of people she didn't know, invited by Ares to witness his marriage.

Then every scrap of her attention was captured by the man who stood beneath the immaculate arch, his complete focus riveted on her, with not a single sign of the nerves eating her alive on his face.

He wore a bespoke slate grey suit, its lines falling on his form with mouth-watering perfection.

His gaze flicked to his father for a nanosecond, a potent look passing between them before those eyes returned to her. Locked.

It was almost as if she was all he could see. All he wanted to see.

Under other fantastical circumstances Odessa might have allowed herself to be swept away into sheer bliss by that look. But she knew what it meant. It was a look of pure conquest. She'd handed herself over on a platter and he intended to devour every last piece of her.

When they finally reached the top of the aisle, father and son exchanged another long, speaking look, which was topped off with an approving nod from Sergios.

Then Ares was facing her, grasping the hands his father had just released, raising the one bearing his dazzling engagement ring to his lips.

The resulting electricity only added to the fireworks occurring within her, and again Odessa had to caution herself that it was all for show—the same as when he raked her with a heated gaze and murmured throatily, ‘You look exquisite, eros mou ,' in a way that made the priest smile and nod, thoroughly ignorant and approving the compliment.

She tried not to let those fanciful fireworks consume her as they repeated the vows that would bind them together. She scrambled for pragmatism when afterwards they walked back down the white-carpeted aisle and into the marquee overlooking the ocean where their reception was to be held. It was decorated with lavish ice sculptures, and priceless caviar and vintage champagne flowed.

And she clawed that pragmatism especially close when Ares took her in his arms, possessiveness blazing in his eyes and running through the body that he pulled dizzyingly tight against her as they swayed in their first dance.

‘Once again I find myself wishing time and everyone away,' he murmured in her ear, and the twist of his mouth in an attempt at humour was immediately eroded by the heated purpose in his eyes.

‘Because you want this to be over as quickly as possible?' she ventured, even while the see-sawing in her belly made a mockery of that flippant response.

The heat intensified. ‘On the contrary... When we're finally alone I'll wish for time to stand still, so I can savour the moment.'

The thick layers of anticipation and exultation were hard to dismiss when they ruffled her own unsettled emotions so expertly.

‘Gloating is a sin,' she told him. ‘You know that, right?'

His flawless teeth flashed in unabashed elation as he pressed her closer still, his breath brushing her cheek as he said, ‘I welcome the punishment. Because nothing and no one will stop me from savouring every inch of you, matia mou . As much as I have wished to deny it, I can't help but accept that I've waited a long time for this moment. And make no mistake: I mean to take it.'

There was nothing to say to that, even if she'd managed to speak above the traitorous currents rushing through her while she battled for her heart to remain above this erotic and emotional fray.

The battle continued as Ares handed her over to his father for the next dance, and as they were toasted and showered with gifts from well-wishers. And then, once Ares had draped a flawless diamond bracelet on her wrist, and drawn the requisite gasps from their guests, he was swinging her into his arms and striding off with her to raucous applause.

He didn't stop until he'd crossed the threshold into his... their ...suite.

When she glanced longingly at her side of the room, he intercepted the look and shook his head. ‘Oh, no. You won't be returning there for quite some time,' he rasped in her ear.

Her foundations had grown shaky, but she still fought on. ‘Can we talk about this?'

‘No. The time for talking is over. Accept it. Unless you mean to go back on your word?' he dared, his eyes blazing into hers.

Hating him a little, for knowing the exact buttons to push, she raised her chin. ‘Never.'

The slightest tinge of relief in his eyes was wiped away by triumph as he strode up to the bed, then slid her down to her feet. She couldn't fail to notice the hard, screamingly male angles of his body, or easily dismiss their effect on her.

Nor could she fail to take in how imposing his king-sized bed was up close. She'd only looked at it briefly when Demeter had escorted her to her room yesterday. Now, the waist-high mattress festooned with pillows and sleek sheets evoked images that sent pulses of fire though her veins, burning her from the inside out.

But while she was dying with nerves at the thought of the unknown—because she'd only done this once before, in a furtive, shamefully unremarkable three-minute fumble that had left her mourning the gift she'd so carelessly thrown away—Ares was simply...watching her.

As if now he had her he wanted to stretch out the inevitable.

Well, she didn't.

In a blind need to stop the rollercoaster, she reached for the diamond bracelet he'd gifted her just an hour ago.

His hand flashed out, stopped her. ‘No. Leave that on. In fact...'

He caught her wrist and tugged her after him towards a painting she suspected would more than hold its own at the Uffizi.

‘What are you doing?' she asked, when he pressed a hidden button and the painting sprang a couple of inches away from the wall.

Behind it she saw a state-of-the-art safe, inserted into the wall. With a thumbprint and a swiftly entered code, the thick door popped open. Ares released her long enough to pull out two pouches and a large oblong box that screamed more priceless jewellery.

She was proved right when, after sliding his hand around her waist and nudging her to the bed, he upended the contents of all three, leaving her wide eyed, mouth agape.

‘Indulging another fantasy. What else?' he answered her belatedly.

‘A fantasy?' she echoed, part of her not wanting to know what that might have been because it would make what was happening so much more unbearable.

His gaze turned a touch heavy, almost contemplative. ‘I left Alghero with little above a pittance in my pocket, but with big ambitions and perhaps foolish dreams.' He shrugged. ‘One of those was to drape you in diamonds at the very first opportunity,' he rasped.

Pain stung her heart. ‘But you left without telling me—'

He pressed his fingers to her lips and his jaw clenched a touch before he released it.

‘I don't wish to start this with disharmony. Turn around,' he instructed.

She complied—partly because she wanted a reprieve from the intensity in his eyes. But the touch of his fingers at her nape, brushing her bare skin as he freed the silk-covered buttons one by one, was torture in itself.

The dress pooled at her feet, leaving her clad in only a pair of white lace panties that barely covered the lower half of her butt cheeks.

Ares inhaled sharply and she felt the agitated rise and fall of his chest, felt her skin burning with the ferocity of his regard.

‘ Thee mou. You are Aphrodite herself,' he breathed, a moment before firm hands gripped her waist and tugged her back against the hot pillar of his body.

It was her turn to lose her breath. The sensation of being plastered against him was so searing, and so divine, a moan escaped before she could stop herself.

He caressed her waist for several seconds, then leaned past her and plucked the first gem set off the bed. The cold touch of a platinum chain puckered her nipples and beaded her skin. She glanced down, her eyes widening at the sight of a diamond-studded body chain, at the centre of which hung a shorter pendant chain that ended in a thumb-sized teardrop diamond.

She was so busy being awestruck at this very personal, very erotic piece of jewellery, she didn't notice her panties were halfway down her thighs until Ares lifted her free of them.

Blushing, she drew her hands up to shield herself.

He caught her wrists and firmly drew them away, then turned her around. ‘No, yineka mou . Your breathtaking body was made to wear priceless diamonds,' he muttered thickly, and then his gaze roved her body, his breathing turning harsher as he took in her naked diamond-ornamented form. ‘You are even better than I dreamt you'd be.'

Before she could even begin to grasp the fact that he'd dreamed of this, he was continuing, almost to himself.

‘Perhaps I should commission more of these...'

‘Please don't.'

His head reared up, eyebrows rising. ‘Why not? Most women would—'

She snatched her hands from his, blind and hot jealousy punching her in the chest. ‘I'm not "most women". I think the earlier we establish that, the better it will be for both of us.'

He leaned forward, brushed the tip of her nose with his, then inhaled deeply. For whatever reason, the move immediately calmed her roiling emotions.

‘ Ne , you're right. You're my wife. And as such you hold a special place.'

Somewhat mollified, she bit her tongue against further protests. She'd learned a long time ago that an intransigent Ares was as immovable as Vesuvius.

‘I will have one made for here...' He trailed the fingers of both hands over her clavicle, then down between her breasts to the upper curve of her waist. ‘And then another to pay homage to this glorious piece of heaven.'

His arms circled under her waist to her bottom, grabbing both globes in his hands before he let loose a deep, throaty groan.

‘Ares...'

‘I'm in two minds about how to decorate these, though...'

He dipped his head, flicked his tongue over one nipple, then sealed his hot mouth over it. Heated arrows shot between her legs, stinging and dampening her core with such sweet pleasure she cried out, her hands darting up to grab his shoulders before her weakened knees gave way.

‘ Dio ...please.' A full-body tremor shook through her.

‘Please what, matia mou ?' he muttered, his tongue still shamelessly lapping at her painfully aroused buds.

She convulsed, her nails digging into him. ‘You...you don't need to torture me. You already have what you want.'

‘And what's that?' he asked, with a hint of tightness in his tone.

‘Me. You have me. Can't that be enough?'

He straightened, replaced his mouth with his hands, and moulded her breasts as he took his time to consider that.

‘No. Not until my seed is fully implanted and growing in your womb. Then I may consider this thing halfway to being successful.'

With that, he nudged her firmly backwards, watched her tumble onto the bed with triumph blazing in his eyes. Then he was prowling over her, dragging her up until she lay there, displayed like the sacrifice he fully meant her to be, in the middle of his bed.

He reared back then, settling on his knees and tugging off his jacket. He watched her with fixated intensity. Tossing it away, he undid several shirt buttons, then ditched his undressing and grabbed the next piece of jewellery.

An anklet.

Shamefully aroused, Odessa watched him tug one of her legs up. One large hand circled her ankle, brought her leg up to rest her foot against his bare chest, while the other trailed the delicate anklet which bore the same yellow teardrop diamond as its centrepiece up her inner thigh.

Shivers racked her body, drawing a wicked smile to his arousal-etched face. ‘You're so intoxicatingly responsive...' he rasped thickly.

After securing the piece, he raised her foot, dropped a kiss on her instep, then slowly widened her legs until her core was bare to his rabid gaze.

Until he couldn't miss how wet, how thoroughly turned on she was.

‘I've waited a long time for this,' he breathed. There was a heavy vein of satisfaction in his voice, but also a sliver of bittersweetness to his confession.

‘You don't sound happy about it.'

‘As much as the end result is satisfactory, if I'd had my way it would've happened much sooner.'

Her heart lurched. She opened her mouth—to say what, exactly, she wasn't sure. It wasn't to apologise again. At this point Odessa deemed she'd served whatever penance she deserved for her actions on her eighteenth birthday.

As much as it hurt, the ball was in Ares's court.

His thumb slid a little roughly, insistent, over her mouth from top to bottom, then along her lower lip. His breathing intensified as she parted her lips, her body surging into stinging life as he explored her with the avidity of pirates exploring their loot.

For the longest time they simply existed in that thickened bubble of sensate touch, their breaths mingling as arousal mounted.

‘Suck,' he ordered gruffly, sliding his thumb tightly between her lips.

She closed her lips immediately, her nipples peaking and a soft moan floating up from her throat at the dirty, sublime sensation.

‘Theos...' he cursed, voice hoarse, eyes so dark they were almost black.

Odessa's face flamed as triumph blazed in his eyes, unable to look away as he undid his belt and tugged down his zipper. Then—again as if he couldn't help himself—he abandoned his undressing and trailed his fingers down her body from throat to midriff, to circle her belly button before slowing his caress to pause where the diamond lay against her mound. His eyes rising to lock on hers, he slipped his fingers lower, lower, until his hand completely covered her femininity.

‘Mine.'

Primal. Raw. Absolute.

Her every nerve-ending shuddered at this visceral possessiveness.

‘Say it,' he insisted.

‘Y-yours,' she whispered, drowning in sensation.

Sliding his thumb out of her mouth, he dropped forward and then onto one elbow, hazel eyes still locked on hers, his fingers between her thighs.

He caressed her while slowly plucking the pins out of her hair. The diamond fasteners scattered onto the bed, each one glinting and sparkling as her restless body moved under his expert ministrations. And even as he took his time to spread her hair all over his pillow, whispering sensual Greek words in her ear, the fingers between her thighs moved faster, strumming that nerve-filled nub and driving her to the pinnacle of insanity.

Odessa's cries grew louder as sensation built and built and built . As the tension gripping her body reached fever-pitch and she had no choice but to dig her fingers into his thick biceps, to hold on as heady and terrifying bliss rushed at her.

‘Ne...' he encouraged, his fingers spearing into her hair to hold her still, to direct her gaze to his, before he commanded huskily, ‘Give it up, Odessa. Come for me. Now. '

Pleasure annihilated her, and it was made more electrifying by his rapt absorption in her every reaction, the way he hungrily devoured her surrender, then fused his lips to hers as her climax abated.

Her breathing was still worryingly agitated when she felt him rise, his fingers leaving her. It made her want to protest. But she knew he wasn't done with her. And that mortifying need for more turned her head, let her watch him as he finally shook off his remaining clothes.

Ares in his early twenties had been breathtaking. A decade later, with time and intelligence and maturity thrown into the mix, his raw masculinity was utterly enthralling.

‘You like what you see?' he asked, his hands braced on his hips, positively entrenched in his confidence and unabashed about his impressive erection.

Heat suffused her face, drawing low, deep laughter from him as she dragged her gaze away.

‘It's okay...you don't need to answer. I can tell for myself.'

Her eyes flew to his and he held them for a moment before staring blatantly at her peaked nipples and her twisting thighs. As much as she wanted to deny her body's reaction, it was no use. He knew how overwhelmingly he affected her. What was the point in hiding it?

She forced herself to relax her limbs, felt her own confidence growing when she saw her effect on him. It was a good time to be reminded that back then he'd seemed captivated by her. Not as much as she'd been by him, but enough for her to accept that perhaps, all these years later, this thing wasn't one-sided.

After all, would he still be so incensed about that kiss on her eighteenth birthday if he didn't care?

Buoyed by the reminder, she raised her hands and raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her sweat-sheened skin.

Fierce dark eyes followed the movement, and then she watched him swallow. Watched him jerk forward onto the bed, as if compelled by a power beyond him, to resume his position between her thighs.

Her confidence threatened to falter then. Because he was big. Overwhelming. Once again she was so focused on him that he was all she could see. All she could feel .

And when he took her mouth in a bold kiss, he was all she could taste.

The kiss was decadent. Control-wrecking.

The slide of his hand down the same path it had taken a handful of minutes ago reignited barely banked flames. Higher. More ferocious.

His hair-roughened thighs parted her smooth ones...

And there, among the priceless diamonds, the greedy grasping and sliding of flesh, the devilishly sublime feasting and quickly snatched breaths, Ares Zanelis finally possessed the forbidden princess he'd coveted for far too long and against all logical reasoning.

He basked in her smooth, silkiness. Exulted in her hitched breath as he entered her for the first time and her sublime, warm, tight sheath momentarily addled his brain before a deep breath restored a fraction of his mental prowess.

It was enough for him to luxuriate in her hungry cries, her broken demands for more and then for mercy. To watch her glorious mane ripple on his sheets in the way he'd yearned to see for so long. To watch his diamonds glitter on her skin the way he'd vowed they would an aeon ago, battling for supremacy against her sublime beauty and failing to outshine Odessa Santella...

No, Odessa Zanelis.

And even in this, Ares smugly concluded, his name sounded better alongside hers.

Wherever you are in hell, old man, I hope this makes you burn faster.

He drove harder into her, roared when she screamed his name and clung to him as if he were the last raft in a world-ending tempest. Then he held on, by a very thin thread, as she tumbled once again into a shattering climax around him.

He let go too, then, allowing utter mindlessness to consume him completely, knowing that while the reprieve was welcome—greedily embraced, even—the gnawing, obscene hunger that continued to grow within him would still be waiting once this victory was absorbed.

That perhaps it would even be worse.

Because he was beginning to accept that things between him and Odessa might not be as cut and dried as he'd intended...