Chapter 37
Forsaken
THE REQUIEM | Past
Wow.” The breath leaves me all at once.
I step out onto the open balcony as the wind catches the hem of my dress and swirls the loose waves of my hair across my face. I brush the strands back, my eyes widening.
From up here, the chaotic world is reduced to a grid of glittering amber streetlights and tiny, ant-like headlights crawling through the veins of the avenues.
The horizon stretches out infinitely. It is high…
so high that looking straight down over the sleek glass railing gives me that familiar, brief lurch of vertigo in the pit of my stomach, but it doesn’t terrify me.
Not like the window ledge.
“Like it?”
Zagreus’s voice vibrates against the small of my back as he steps up behind me.
I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder, a teasing smile tugging at my lips.
“The view is passable. I suppose.” I look back out at the vast rooftop expanse, taking in the private setup…
a dimly lit, linen-draped table surrounded by soft candlelight that flickers defiantly against the wind.
“Don’t tell me you rented out this entire rooftop just to keep me from asking questions. ”
“I didn’t rent it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding into his pockets as he leans against the railing beside me, his grey eyes reflecting the city lights. And the whole of our world.
I blink, shifting my gaze back to him. “Oh? A reservation, then?”
“I own the building, Mrs. Vitale.”
A startled laugh escapes me as I turn fully, leaning my lower back against the glass balustrade, crossing my arms as I look him up and down.
“You own the whole building? Just how much money do you actually make, Mr. Vitale? Should I be worried I’m keeping company with a billionaire who has too much free time? ”
Zagreus’s mouth twitches into a dangerous smirk.
He takes a single step forward, crowding into my personal space until the heat of him blocks out the cool night breeze.
“I make enough to ensure you never have to wear anything but lace and silk, if that’s what you’re asking. And as for my free time…”
Before I can retort, his hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping firmly around my waist. He pulls me flush against his chest. My hands instinctively fly to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as my breath hitches.
“I always have time for you,” he growls softly.
My husband doesn’t offer me much time. His hand moves up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb tilting my chin upward, and then his mouth crashes down onto mine.
I smile into the roughness of his kiss as his tongue slides past my lips, tasting me, claiming my mouth with an intensity that makes my knees go weak. I whimper into the kiss, my fingers anchoring into his hair, pulling him closer as the internal shadows of the morning melt away.
With Zagreus, the world narrows down to the taste of him, the hard line of his jaw, and the absolute certainty of his touch.
When he finally pulls back, both of our breaths are uneven. His grey eyes are dark, dilated, full of a heat that makes my pulse race.
“Dinner first,” he rasps, though his gaze stays locked on my lips. “Before I lose my mind completely.”
The dinner table is ready for us, but as we move toward it, the smooth click of the pavilion doors draws my eyes to a waiter slipping out onto the roof. He carries two heavy, leather-bound menus, his gaze fixed politely on the floor to grant us a shred of privacy after what he just witnessed.
Before I can even slide into my seat, Zagreus steps in. He grips the edges of the chair and pulls it, with me in it, closer to his side of the table until our knees are practically locked.
The waiter hesitates for a fraction of a second, clearing his throat softly as he sets the menus down. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Vitale. The chef has prepared a bespoke tasting menu for tonight, but if you would prefer to look over the standard options—”
“Leave the menus,” Zagreus interrupts, dismissive of the third wheel in our space. His grey eyes never leave my face. “And give us ten minutes before the first course.”
“Of course, sir.” The waiter bows his head and retreats quickly.
The moment we are alone, Zagreus leans over the armrest of his chair, crowding right back into my perimeter. The candlelight catches the sharp angle of his jaw.
“You aren’t even looking at the menu,” I murmur, my heart doing that familiar, erratic dance against my ribs. I reach for the leather binder just to give my hands something to do. “How do you know what you want to eat?”
“I already know exactly what I want to eat,” he rasps, his thumb catching my lower lip, tugging it down just enough to expose the damp swell where he kissed me moments ago. His gaze drops, tracking the movement.
And I know it has absolutely nothing to do with what the chef is cooking back there.
A blush creeps up my neck. “Zagreus. We are in public. Sort of.”
“My building, my roof, my wife,” he counters smoothly as a devastating, lazy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
He leans closer, his breath fanning warm against my ear as his hand slides down to grip my thigh under the table, his fingers squeezing firmly through the fabric of my dress.
“I could eat you right here, Mrs. Vitale. Piece by piece. And I don’t think you’d survive every single bite. ”
“I suppose you are hungry,” I say breathlessly, laughing as I try to maintain some semblance of composure. “But you’ll just have to wait.”
He rumbles, amused, his fingers giving my thigh one last squeeze under the table before he finally relents, leaning back into his chair just as the ten minutes expire.
Right on cue, the pavilion doors slide open again. The waiter returns, accompanied by a server carrying a sleek tray.
For him, it’s a perfectly prepared plate of Penne a la Vodka, the rich, fragrant tomato and cream sauce on top—a classic favorite of his.
For me, they set down a stunning plate of truffle mushroom risotto, the rich aroma drifting up into the cool night air.
Along with the food, a bottle of deep, ruby-red Amarone wine is uncorked.
The moment the staff disappears again, I reach for my glass, needing the liquid courage to combat the sheer heat radiating from my husband. I take a long, deep sip, the wine hitting me in the space of a breath, on an empty stomach. A soft, airy giggle escapes my lips as I set the glass back down.
“I can already feel myself drowning in this alcohol,” I tease, my cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink.
“Careful, Dolcezza,” Zagreus murmurs, twirling a piece of penne onto his fork but keeping his grey eyes anchored firmly on mine. “Though I don’t mind you a little breathless and clumsy. It makes it easier to keep you right where I want you.”
“You’re terrible,” I whisper, taking a bite of my risotto, the rich flavor exploding on my tongue. “And completely shameless.”
“I’m a man who knows what he likes,” he says smoothly, taking a bite of his pasta, his gaze tracking the movement of my lips as I swallow. “And right now, all I can think about is how much better you taste than anything on these plates.”
My breath hitches, the blush spreading rapidly down my neck. “Zagreus, eat your dinner.”
He smirks, his eyes darkening. “I plan to. But the moment we are back inside, I’m going to open those gorgeous thighs of yours, spread your lower lips wide, and eat every single drop of you until you’re screaming my name under this sky.”
I look away, trying to hide the furious heat burning across my face, completely undone by just how ruthless my husband is when he wants something.
“You’re shameless.”
“When it comes to you? Yeah, I am.”
I roll my eyes, though my thighs clench tight. I can imagine him having his way with me.
I ignore his presence, or try to, as the waiter brings a plate of rich, dark chocolate fondant and sets it between us with a side of fresh cream and deep red strawberries resting on the edge.
I raise my brow. “Wow, you really want to get laid.”
He chuckles darkly. “Desperately.”
I shake my head.
“You have something…” Zagreus murmurs.
“Where?”
I reach up to wipe my lower lip.
“Allow me.” He dips his index finger into the thick, sweet cream, and before I can protest, he leans across the small table and smears it across the center of my collarbone, right where the lace of my dress dips low.
My breath catches, a shiver rippling down my spine.
Oh.
His eyes darken to the colour of a stormy sea as he stands up from his chair. He stops right beside my chair. His hand stretches back out to the low table nearby, dragging the forgotten dessert platter into our space. The rich scent of dark chocolate and ripe strawberries fills the air.
“You think you’re ready for me to just take you?” Zagreus asks, as he picks up a ripe strawberry, rolling it between his fingers as his eyes trail down the length of my body. “We’re going to take our time. Every single second of it.”
A wave of rebellion surges through me, fueled by the wine and the certainty of his obsession. I don’t want to just sit here and be consumed; I want to push him just as hard as he pushes me.
I shift on the leather cushion, get on my knees and make him sit on the chair and crawl forward until I am directly between his thighs. I look up at him through my lashes, my heart hammering a fierce rhythm as I reach out and take the strawberry from his hand.
“Who said you get to make all the rules?” I whisper.
Zagreus’s hands grip the edges of the chair, his knuckles turning white as his grey eyes darken to near-black. A low, warning growl vibrates in his chest, his jaw tightening as he watches me take control of the space between us.
“Careful, baby,” he rasps. “You’re playing with an absolute monster right now, and I promise you; I don’t break easily.”
“Then let’s see how much you can take,” I reply, my fingers sliding up his chest to unbutton his shirt, determined to unravel every bit of his control.
I part the fabric of his shirt, my nails scraping lightly against the hardness of his chest. His heart thuds rapidly and heavily beneath my palms.
I reach back toward the platter, my fingers wrapping around the stem of a deep red strawberry.
Keeping my gaze locked onto his stormy grey eyes, I drag the fruit slowly down my own body, intentionally coating it in the slick, tight heat.
The contrast of the cool fruit against my burning skin makes me gasp, but I don’t break eye contact.
“You think you’re the only one who can play dirty?” I whisper as a wicked, rebellious smile breaks across my face.
His knuckles turn white where he grips the edges of the chair. “Selene,” he warns, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous register.
Ignoring his warning, I lean closer, crowding into his lap until the rigid, demanding length of him presses against my thigh. I bring the strawberry up to his face, resting it right against his lower lip. “Open,” I command softly.
He complies, his teeth catching the fruit as I push it into his mouth. He chews slowly, swallowing the sweetness mixed with the taste of my arousal. The dominance in his gaze should make me shrink back, but instead, it only fuels the wild, reckless fire in my veins.
Driven by the urge to completely undo him, my hands go to the fastening of his trousers. My fingers brush against his heated skin until he frees himself, thick and fully aroused. The sight of him makes my core ache with a fierce, empty longing, but I refuse to give in just yet.
I reach for the small bowl of dark chocolate fondants.
Dipping my fingers into the thick, warm sweetness, I look up at him through my lashes before deliberately smearing the dark chocolate down the heavy shaft of his cock.
Zagreus’s head snaps back against the headrest. “Dio cane,” he growls, his entire upper body stiffening as his abdominal muscles ripple beneath my hands. “You have no idea what you’re doing to yourself right now.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I murmur.
I lean down, the scent of rich cacao and raw masculinity filling my senses.
I wrap my hand around the base of him, and I press my tongue against the warm, chocolate-coated skin.
I lick upward, tasting the bitter sweetness combined with the salt of his skin.
I take him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the crown, cleaning the dark traces.
A ragged gasp breaks from his lips. His large hands fly to my hair, his fingers anchoring firmly into the loose waves at the back of my head. He doesn’t pull me away; instead, he guides the movement, as I continue to slick him with my tongue.
“You’re a wicked little creature, aren’t you?
” he rasps down at me, as he tugs slightly on my hair, forcing my face up so I have to look into his dilated, near-black eyes.
“Look at you, on your knees in front of me, covered in tattered lace and acting like a little slut just to see me lose control.”
My thighs clench. I love it. I want him to pull the truth right out of me.
“Is this what you wanted, Selene?” he asks darkly, his thumb coming down to rough up my wet lips, smearing the leftover chocolate across my mouth. “To be ruined? To have me look down at you and tell you exactly what you are? You’re mine. Completely undone by me, begging for it on the floor.”
“Yes,” I sob out softly and lean up, chasing his touch, my fingers clawing at his knees. “Will you give it to me, please…”
“Please what?” he growls, standing up abruptly and pulling me up by my waist until I am flush against him.
In one swift motion, he turns us around, pinning me flat against the nearby stone pillar, his body crowding over me.
“You wanted to play the master, Dolcezza, but you’re just a beautiful, fragile thing meant to be broken by me. ”
I smile. “Then break me, ’cause I am all yours, Mr. Vitale, forever and always.”