Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure where I’d even start,” I say.
“How about the beginning?” Mariella suggests. “You met him at Sanctum, right? Was it just a random encounter?”
“I did meet him at Sanctum, but it wasn’t random. I was working through some stuff, so my request for a partner was pretty specific.”
I don’t feel the need to shy away from this part, because I’ve spent years unburdening myself of shame. It’s the reason why I started writing an anonymous sex column in The Society’s digital publication, The Fifth House. It was healing for me in some ways, but I also wanted to help other women who came from a similar background of repression.
“There were dynamics I wanted to explore,” I explain. “But I’d never really had the opportunity. I wanted rules and structure. I wanted someone who could liberate me from my thoughts, without asking nicely.”
“And let me guess. Marco couldn’t understand the difference between dominant and domineering?”
I can’t help but laugh at the painful accuracy. He’s always been ego-driven, and he’s used to getting his way because of his name. He never understood that power can be taken, but control can only be given freely.
“I actually knew Bran first,” I admit. “I didn’t meet Marco until after our arrangement ended, and he wasn’t the type I wanted to explore with.”
“But Bran was?”
“He was different.” I close my eyes, and a shiver moves through me as I recall our time together. “He understood how to give me direction, and he was willing to take things at a pace I was comfortable with. We never even had sex, but he gave me the most mind- blowing orgasms of my life. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was built like a Viking, and dominant in that ruin-you-for-anyone-else kind of way.”
“Why did you end it?” she asks.
“It got way too real,” I confess. “Being with him was addicting, but terrifying. When I felt myself starting to trust him too much…I ran.”
“So that’s how you ended up with predictable Marco?”
“Yes. You don’t have to tell me how dysfunctional that is. I already know.”
“I have no room to say anything on that subject.” She tips her head back and stares up at the ceiling. “The thought of trusting the unknown terrifies me too.”
“Is that why you haven’t had another relationship?”
A shadow passes over her features before she gives me a subtle nod. “Ares made a fool out of me. It’s hard to come back from that, but especially when he destroys any potential for me to be happy. If he isn’t fucking up my prospects’ lives, he’s disappearing them entirely.”
I release a rough exhalation as I acknowledge her. Mariella fell for her family’s biggest rival, and it didn’t end well. I don’t know what actually happened between them, but whenever this topic comes up, I can’t help feeling like a terrible friend.
I can’t even despise Ares Stavros on her behalf because I owe him a debt of gratitude I can never repay. He saved my life, but at the same time, he complicates it.
Mariella thinks his men found me as a stray on the street, and that’s why they took me to her. But if the Vitales ever knew I was associated with Ares, I’d probably never be welcome in this house again.
“Are you ever going to check that text?” Mariella asks, interrupting me from my thoughts.
“Oh.” I glance down at my phone, remembering Bran sent me something.
When I unlock the screen, Mariella leans over to take a peek. “What was the reason for the name again?”
“Anonymous connections at Sanctum only know each other by their alias,” I explain. “Mythological figures are common. Mine is Morrigan, and his is Bran The Blessed.”
“Do you mean to tell me you still don’t know his real name?”
“I don’t even know what his face looks like. That was our agreement.”
“Wow,” she murmurs. “That’s kind of hot.”
“It is. It also helps keep things emotionally neutral.”
Or at least, it’s supposed to.
“So what did he send you? I’m invested now.”
When I open the message, I’m not surprised to find a random photo with no context. It’s a glass of whiskey on a bar top, and the room is dimly lit with a soft LED glow that feels weirdly familiar.
“What’s up with that?” Mariella asks.
“It’s a game we play.” Amusement softens my voice. “We send each other random photos, and the other person has to guess what it means.”
I tap out a reply, going with the first thing that pops into my mind.
Morrigan: Business or pleasure?
Bran: Your turn.
I blink at the screen, confused by his lack of answer. Usually, he’ll give me something to go off of.
While I think it over, I peek around the room, noticing an empty wine glass on the coffee table. It’s a good representation of my current mood, so I snap a photo and send it to him.