Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 125681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Thank God the walls, carpet, and bed coverings were white or the space might have blinded me. The bed—which was big enough to sleep ten—was piled high with soft white pillows and sheets. The floor was covered in a deep white carpet.
I walked forward.
Cain shut the bedroom door and locked it.
I spotted another door that was open. I crossed the room and peeked inside. A high-end bathroom greeted my eyes. It had large his-and-her sinks complete with gold faucets. Marble outlined both. A large chandelier hung above them.
I stepped inside and saw a massive marble statue encasing the toilet in his huge hands. The toilet and statue appeared to be one unified sculpture.
But does it flush?
I went over to it and pulled down the handle. The toilet roared as it flushed, and the marble god gazed at me.
Cain spoke behind me, “His name is Sterquilinus.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “The god of poop?”
“The god of odor and manure.”
“What’s his story?”
“He has no epic story. His genealogy is unclear.”
I smirked. “That’s bullshit.”
“He would have liked that comment. I think that it’s odd that they have him over the toilet. He’s a Roman god, not a Greek one.”
“That’s the only reason why you think it’s odd?” I walked over to the shower that was also done in gold and marble. “Why did you study Greek and Roman gods so much in the seminary?”
“It’s one of the world’s earlier religions. Romans and Greeks believed in thousands of god-spirits. All these mystical beings needed to be bribed and flattered for life to proceed smoothly.”
I spotted a statue on the right of the luxurious shower. It was a woman in a flowing robe, marble water rose around her. “And is this the goddess of showers?”
“I believe that’s Cloacina. Many refereed to her as the Cleanser. Honestly, she was the goddess of sewers, but we shouldn’t tell the home owners that either.”
I looked at him. “How many gods do you remember?”
“Everything in Roman and Greek life was attached to a god. Spiniensis was the god over clearing thorns in gardens.”
I headed to the door. “Your memory is pretty amazing.”
He watched me leave the bathroom. “Cardea is the goddess of door hinges.”
“Did they really need that one?”
“Of course. Robigus is the god of rust.”
“If I was a Roman or Greek at that time I might have been struck down by lighting. There’s no way I would have remembered to pray to the right god.”
“The entire system was so complicated that many often said prayers that basically were addressed, ‘to whom it may concern.’”
I faced him. “They were afraid to piss the wrong god off?”
“Damn right they were.” His gaze shifted to heated. “Take off your clothes.”
I backed up. “Why?”
“I want you naked.”
I swallowed. “That’s it?”
“What else would there be?”
I touched the part of my shirt covering the bandage and hiding his sliced name in my skin. “There could be a whole lot, Cain. Your soul coffin isn’t here, but. . .your knives probably are.”
He licked his lips. “They are.”
“Will we be doing any cutting or—”
“You’re constantly worried about being hurt.”
“Like any sane person.”
“Well, there’s no time for knives. I need my rest.” He pulled off his shirt.
Those huge muscles came into view. He was beautifully sculpted and stacked with masculine power—his shoulders, pectorals, chest, abs, and arms. It enraged me.
And my name greeted me too—all carved into his chest in shaped by jagged scars.
How could I forgot about that?
My fantasies of escape withered away. My throat went dry. Fear gripped my heart as a nervous shiver ran through me.
If I escaped, he would chase.
If I hid, he would find me.
That’s right. I’m going to have to. . .kill him.
My heart ached.
I turned away and undressed.
How the hell will I do that?
A million thoughts raced through my mind, but none left me in a happy place. To kill Cain would be to push me toward insanity. I felt so ashamed to admit that even after everything—his cutting and kidnapping. . .his making me orgasm against my will—I didn’t have it in me to kill him.
There’s good parts to him too. . . Am I crazy for thinking that? Am I. . .that fucked up?
Setting Dr. Fuzzy down, I folded my shirt and placed it on the white end table by the huge bed. Next, I slipped off my jeans.
Cain made no noise behind me, which told me he was close.
In fact. . .as I unhooked my bra, I could feel the warmth of him near. The fabric of my bra rubbed against my bare skin as I pulled it off. I set it next to my shirt and jeans. With only my panties on, I hugged myself and turned around.
Cain stood right there. Barely three inches away. And he was now completely naked. Although his dick wasn’t hard, it hung long and thick between his big thighs.