Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
People could be so ill-advised that way. They had no idea how terribly possessive Mykos could be. And how adorably, inexplicably jealous.
But she did.
Because there was that one day when he had surprised her with a visit, intending to have lunch with her. She had been sitting on the bench outside the science building, going over her notes with her lab partner, Kyle. She hadn't thought anything of it. Kyle was nice enough—a little awkward, prone to talking about molecular biology in a way that made her eyes glaze over, but harmless.
They were mid-conversation when a familiar black car pulled up at the curb.
Maika's heart did the thing it always did when she saw her husband, which was try to leap out of her ribcage like it had somewhere important to be. He stepped out of the car in a dark suit, and the entire courtyard seemed to go quiet, because Mykos Ravensworth didn't walk into a space. He commanded it. Heads turned. Conversations died. A girl walking past actually stumbled on the pavement, and Maika couldn't even judge her for it.
Kyle, who had been in the middle of explaining something about cell division, trailed off when he noticed Maika wasn't looking at him anymore.
"Hey, are you—" Kyle turned to follow her gaze, and his face went white.
Because Mykos was already standing in front of them, and he was smiling. It was the kind of smile that had absolutely nothing to do with warmth and everything to do with the fact that another man had been sitting next to his wife.
"I don't believe we've met." Mykos extended his hand. "Mykos Ravensworth. Maika's husband."
Kyle shook his hand once, mumbled something that might have been "nice to meet you," gathered his notes with the speed of a man who had just remembered an urgent appointment on the other side of the planet, and was gone.
Maika opened her mouth. "He's just my lab part—"
But Mykos had already taken her hand and pulled her to her feet, and then he was walking, and she was half-walking, half-stumbling to keep up, and the next thing she knew, they were in an empty classroom, and the door was locked, and his mouth was on her neck, and—
"M-Mykos, we're in a school—"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. His answer was his teeth against her skin, and she stopped protesting after that, because honestly, what was the point?
It was only when she saw her reflection in the mirror that night—
It was only then she realized how he had flagrantly branded the side of her neck with his mark.
"M-Mykos!"
He leaned one shoulder against the doorway of their en-suite, barechested and beautiful, as he met her gaze through the mirror. "What is it?"
She was torn between exasperation and amusement. "Don't pretend you don't know." She pointed to the side of her neck. "You just..."
"What?"
"Marked me!"
"So?"
"W-What do you mean 'so'?" she sputtered. "Can't you see it's so...obvious?"
"And what if it is?" he questioned. "Do you not want people to know you're mine?"
"No, of course not—"
"What's the problem then?"
You.
The word popped in her mind out of nowhere.
And it was true.
The problem was him.
Because she realized at that moment she wanted the whole world to have no mistake about it either.
Mykos Ravensworth was hers.
A WEEK LATER, MYKOS took her to dinner, and she dressed with care for the occasion because he told her it was going to be a very special night. She thought he meant they were going to celebrate something special (like maybe Mykos telling her he had fallen in love with her?), but instead it was so much worse.
"I d-don't think I can do this," she blurted out.
They were standing outside a hotel that looked like it belonged in a movie. Through the glass doors, she could see a ballroom filled with men and women who probably had more money in their wallets right now than she had ever seen in her entire life. She could hear the clink of glasses, the hum of conversation, the kind of background noise that screamed you don't belong here.
"Of course you can."
"No, really, I can't."
She turned around to walk away, but Mykos took hold of her shoulders and spun her around to face him again. His hands were warm through the fabric of her dress, and his golden eyes were level with hers.
"You can do this."
"But I'm just a college student," she protested, "while everyone inside that ballroom are all rich and powerful—"
"Then you're in familiar company," he drawled, "since you married someone who perfectly fits that description."
"Mykos! I'm not joking—"
"Neither am I, matia mou. You are my wife, Maika. They are the ones who should pay their respects to you, not the other way around." His voice turned brisk. "Now, enough of this. I want the world to know you're mine."
He offered her his arm. She took it, mostly because her knees were shaking and she needed something to hold on to.