Chapter 5 Esmerelda
ESMERELDA
The sun pierces through the gap in the drapes.
I pull the duvet over my head and groan.
I need at least another fifteen hours of sleep after spending the entire day and most of the night faking it being the “happiest day of my life”, but once I’m awake, I’m awake.
Even if I could go back to sleep, the dread that sits like a stone in my stomach won’t let me.
I’m married. Married! To my enemy, no less.
Every day will be spent pretending I’m in love with a man whose mere presence fills me with an all-consuming anger instead of the marriage filled with love and mutual respect I sometimes dreamed about.
Even if I had a lapse in judgment and was nice to Marcus after he eased my mind about consummating the marriage, it doesn’t mean things have changed for me.
Prior to the wedding, if anyone had asked me what my future looked like, I’d have taken a knife in the eye before admitting I wanted the fairytale wedding with the happily ever after.
In short, the marriage my parents have. I mean, who doesn’t want a life with someone who loves you unconditionally?
Someone who looks at your achievements with pride instead of the disdain I’ve faced from my adversaries my whole life.
Who wouldn’t want a husband to worship your body when you’re in your twenties or when you’re in your eighties?
Marcus is so unaffected by me that the craving for more in my life nearly crushes me, and it’s only been one day.
Not that I’m affected by him, but still.
I sit up in the bed, unable to bear the pressure in my chest. Bringing up my knees, I clutch them to me, rubbing the satin pajama bottoms as I look around the room.
To anyone else, the luxurious room would be warm and inviting.
With wooden floors, a stone fireplace, and a large round tub in anticipation of romance, the room is the perfect honeymoon suite.
I bet whoever made up the room would never have guessed the bride and groom would be sleeping in separate locations the night of the wedding.
My husband is currently sleeping on the pull-out couch in the sitting room.
Idiot. I hope he has a stiff back when he wakes up.
We’re adults, for crying out loud. What does he think I’m going to do?
Jump his bones the moment he falls asleep after taking the time to reassure me he has no plan to consummate our marriage?
That’s the thing I hate most about being a shifter.
The fact that Marcus will be able to figure out what I’m feeling by using his heightened sense of smell puts me at a real disadvantage. Humans do not have to deal with this.
I smirk to myself as I flex the hand encased in the protective glove.
Maybe he isn’t entirely idiotic for sleeping on the pull-out.
I lift the edge of the mattress and feel under it, breathing out a sigh of relief when the silver dagger brushes against my glove.
I may not have jumped his bones, but I wouldn’t have hesitated to use my dagger against him if he tried to kill me in my sleep.
I head into the bathroom to pee and get ready for the day.
As I brush my teeth, I contemplate not only spending the day with Marcus, but the rest of our lives.
The thought is almost crippling, so I give myself another ten seconds to wallow.
I need to accept my fate and make the best of the situation.
As I stare at myself in the mirror, I don’t like the dead look in my eyes.
I definitely need a pick-me-up. And what better way to do that than on the beach, soaking up some rays?
A smile that is easily the most genuine smile I’ve had since being told I had to marry Marcus spreads across my face.
Here, I can be myself without the eyes of any of the council members on me.
I highly doubt they would send someone to spy on us while in St. Lucia.
I walk back into the bedroom and open the closet door.
When we arrived last night, my clothes were neatly unpacked in the wardrobe.
Thank goodness I didn’t bring any of my toys with on “honeymoon”.
That would’ve sparked a few questions from whoever did the unpacking.
I suppose they could’ve thought Marcus and I were a little kinky…
I burst out laughing, imagining Marcus being even remotely kinky.
He probably wouldn’t even know how to turn a vibrator on.
Feeling considerably better, I slip out of my PJs and put on my bright orange bathing suit, before slipping on a white cover-up.
Sliding on my sandals, I complete the outfit with a floppy sun hat and decide to go get my lazy-assed husband up.
The day is too beautiful to be spent indoors.
I rip open the bedroom door, intent on slamming it shut and startling Marcus awake, but Marcus is already up.
He glances up from the book he’s reading and raises his eyebrows at me.
He’s dressed and ready for the day in jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
The leather straps he wears on his right wrist bring my attention to his corded forearms. I’m not going to lie, I’m a sucker for defined forearms. It’s a pity they’re wasted on Marcus.
I’m so enamored with the rolled-up sleeve/leather strap combo that it takes me a minute to realize that not only is he reading on vacation, but he’s reading inside.
Not on the stunning porch hammock or on one of the loungers in the private garden.
On the couch. Sitting ramrod straight like he’s reading to the alpha.
“Where are you going?” Marcus stares pointedly at my outfit.
“To the beach, of course. It’s a gorgeous day.”
He frowns. “I’d prefer to go to the Morne Fortune Museum and Art Gallery.”
I head over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup, then snag a piece of toast. Taking a bite, I mumble around the mouthful of bread. “Off you go, then. Unless you need me to hold your hand?”
He sighs and stands, making his way over to the table. After refilling his own cup, he pops a raspberry in his mouth and pointedly chews and swallows before speaking. I stifle a laugh. I have manners, Mister. I just don’t respect you enough to use them.
“We should stick together in the event we are being observed.”
“Who is going to follow us all the way here to make sure we’re playing nice together?”
He ignores me and fiddles with his tablet, then slides it closer to me.
I don’t believe what I’m seeing. The moment we grabbed our luggage from the carousel, two people began following us.
It’s hard to see their faces, as they are wearing hoodies and sunglasses. I look up at Marcus. “Council members?”
“More than likely.”
“I guess you better put something more casual on, if we’re heading to the beach.”
“Very presumptuous of you to think we’re going to do what you want to do.”
I sigh. “Look at the beautiful weather. Why would you want to spend a day like this in a boring museum?”
“You’ve obviously never been, have you?”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Not my thing.”
“There’s plenty of opportunity to be in the sun with some of the features outside the museum.”
“Have you been?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would you want to see it again? Surely if you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen all you need to see.”
“I like the tranquility.” Marcus stares into his cup, his brow creasing, then straightens his shoulders and chugs his coffee, the moment of vulnerability now gone from his face. “I suppose one could say the same for the beach. You’ve seen it once…”
I put my cup down on the table, having lost my taste for the brew. It was cold anyway. “Fine. How about a compromise?” Damn it, I’m getting soft.
“What do you propose?”
“We’ll go to your boring museum for two hours, then head to the beach.”
“You know, you might enjoy introducing a little bit of culture into your life.”
Ignoring him, I turn on my heel. “I’m going to change.”
If given the choice, I’d rather set myself on fire than go to a museum, but that flash of vulnerability got me in the feels.
The two-hour compromise turned into just over three hours, but I’ll admit I quite enjoyed the museum. Marcus explained each piece, and when he did, his entire expression changed. He looked relaxed and peaceful. And instead of being bored out of my mind, I found the morning interesting.
But now it’s time to hit the waves. We put our beach bag in a cabana, and Marcus pulls out his tablet to start reading.
The beach isn’t all that busy. I guess since it’s a work week, folks are locked away in their offices.
There’s an older man throwing a ball to a gorgeous chocolate lab as he makes his way up the golden sand, a few surfers, and a woman painting.
I waste no time as I pull off my shorts and T-shirt, revealing my swimsuit.
I slather on some sunscreen and am tempted to ask Marcus to help me with my back, but when I glance over, he has his back to me and is taking off his shirt.
I just about swallow my own tongue when I see the defined muscles of his back rippling as he shrugs the shirt off.
He turns around, and I quickly look away but not before I get a brief glimpse of his abs. Holy crap on a cracker. He is toned and ripped and…
Right, that’s enough of that. I make short work of covering my back. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it myself, and now that I’m married to the enemy, it won’t be the last. Marcus stretches out on a lounger and reaches for his trusty tablet again.
I stifle a scoff. Lame.
Too concerned I’ll babble incoherently if I try to speak right now, I wordlessly sprint across the warm sand and wade into the cool waves.
The contrasting temperatures feel glorious on my skin, and it shocks the stupidity out of my brain.
I’ve seen toned bodies before. I shouldn’t be acting like it’s the first time I’ve seen a six-pack.
I dive under the water, determined to put Marcus and his very defined body out of my mind. When I resurface, I turn on my back and float on the shimmering water. Closing my eyes against the glaring sun, I allow the weightlessness to free my mind from the uncertainty of my future with Marcus.
I float like that for a while before I dive back into the waves, playing the childhood game my brothers and I used to play where we counted the waves.
Supposedly, the strongest wave is the seventh wave.
I don’t really believe that anymore, but it’s hella fun.
I get lost in splashing around in the crisp, salty water, feeling freer than I have in the last month.
When wave number five comes in like a tidal wave, it knocks me off my feet and sends me sprawling onto the shore.
I lift my head out of the water and start laughing my head off. I have sand absolutely everywhere.
I stand, my hair covering my face and spluttering water as I giggle.
Brushing the hair from my face, I look to see if Marcus noticed my flub and find him all but glaring at me.
What the hell is his problem? He shakes his head and looks down at his screen.
Is pretty boy offended by fun? Whatever, fuck him.
He can keep reading, I’m here to have a good time.
A notion he probably knows nothing about.