ROMAN: Fury of Her King (Kings of the Blood Book 2) (2 page)

 “Our time is up, General. There is much more I need to
explain but your heart is beating its last. Your death is nigh. Know that I am
watching and waiting for you to rise. Know that your purpose is true and just,
blessed by the King of the Gods.”

Viktoras gripped the hilt of the spear and asked, “Do you,
Romanus, wish to live the life of a King of the Blood? Do you accept the destiny
written by the gods in your name?”

“Yesssss,” Romanus slurred as his world turned to darkness.

Pain unlike any other wracked his broken body as the Commander
removed the spear from his chest. The last breath left his body at the same
time his heart beat its last beat and he heard his Commander’s voice utter, “Go
forth, brave warrior. Die so that you might live and fulfill your honor bound
destiny.”

And so it began as it had ended, on a cold dark night in the
middle of the desert…

the true life of Roman Marinos.

 

 

Chapter
One

Present day…

 


Why’d you come in here lookin’ like that? In your cowboy boots
and your painted-on jeans. All decked out like a cowgirl's dream. Why'd you
come in here looking like that? Here comes my baby, draggin' my heart behind.
He's drivin' me cra…”
 Her best Dolly Parton imitation, complete with
line dancing, at least the best she could in her navy blue pinstriped suit and
matching stilettos, was cut short by the sound of a masculine chuckle followed
by, “I believe the word is crazy.” He smiled that cool, calm, ‘I know I’m good
looking’ smile that curled her toes as he walked into her office like he owned
the place.

Sitting in the chair across from her desk, Roman Marinos, the
gorgeous, arrogant, most eligible bachelor in the world, twirled his index
finger in the air and said, “Please, don’t stop on my account,” he raised his
left eyebrow just so and looked her up and down before adding, “I was quite
enjoying the show.”

Snapping her mouth shut to save what little dignity she had left,
Cynthia St. James straightened her skirt, buttoned her suit jacket, and sat
down in her chair attempting to regain the dignity her impromptu concert had
taken from her. She thought about explaining that it had been a real bitch of a
day and she just needed to blow off some steam before diving into the pile of
FDA test results from their newest prototype. Instead, she went with her
patented snark.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing here. I told you I had other plans
for this evening and wouldn’t be attending the KI/Roma Tech party.” Cyn refused
to look up. She’d barely avoided the magnetism of his amber gaze when he’d
shocked her by walking into her office. There was no way she was going for two.

Roman made her nervous, more nervous than she’d ever been in her
life. There was something old world about him that stood out even more than his
custom made tuxedo or Italian leather loafers. He was her kryptonite. She had
no doubt if he crooked his little finger just-so that she would be all tied up
in her underwear and unable to string more than two words together at a time.
She hadn’t worked her way up from part-time receptionist to top sales consultant
in six years in a male dominated industry just to be turned into a quivering
mass of goo by the first sexy man who showed the least bit of interest.

It didn’t matter that he was six-foot-four with shoulders that
rivaled Mr. Universe’s, a bum that made her mouth water, and no doubt six-pack
abs she could bounce a quarter off of. She wondered how much a man had to work
out to look that good then pushed the thought out of her head.

She didn’t have to look up to know his wavy brown hair with its
roguish mussed-up style still had the golden streaks that gave the man an
ethereal glow. Nor would even one glance help her to not dream about his
perfectly bowed lips touching every inch of her body. Nope, keeping her eyes on
the papers on her desk didn’t drive away the image of those amazing
whiskey-colored eyes. All that not looking up did was possibly save her from
making a bigger fool out of herself…
possibly
.

She knew she needed to get the hell outta dodge before he did
something she wouldn’t be able to resist. It was bad enough that he was sitting
across from her looking better than homemade sin and smelling better than apple
pie on Grandma’s windowsill. Her resistance was already trying to make a
discreet exit, no matter how much she repeated, 
“you will resist, you
will resist, you will resist,”
 in her head.  There was no doubt
that if the man said two more words with his panty-dropping accent, she’d be a
goner.

Pushing back her chair and standing in one sweeping motion, Cyn
hot-footed it around the corner of her desk farthest from Roman and made a
beeline for the door. Unfortunately, the object of her desire could move faster
than the speed of light and cut her off at the pass. Picking her up, he held
her against the wall with one hand under her bum and his hips pressed to hers
while kicking her office door shut.

Fire was brewing in the depth of those damnable hypnotic hazel
eyes of his as he growled through gritted teeth, “Gods be damned, Cynthia. Why
do you insist on being so stubborn? Do you enjoy tormenting me so?”

His chest heaved against hers as he balled his free hand into a
fist and ground it into the wall beside her head to maintain their balance. She
could feel the heat of his body. His scent, a soft woodsy, manly aroma, filled
her senses. Roman narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. She could almost see
the thoughts whipping through his brilliant mind and it made the perfect male
specimen before her all the more intoxicating.

Cyn knew she’d pushed all the wrong buttons. Had refused all of
his advances and was witnessing a side of Roman Marinos few had ever seen. He
was the calm, cool playboy who laughed in the face of hostile takeovers and
drank hundred-year-old scotch with warlords from third world countries. He
didn’t rattle easily, but little ol’ Cynthia St. James from Muleshoe, Texas had
somehow slipped under his perfectly polished veneer. It was a heady feeling and
she had to admit she liked what she saw. The unfiltered version topped the
buttoned-up business one hands down.

Call me a masochist but this man is better than homemade sin when
he’s mad.

Scared out of her mind, she placed her hands on both sides of his
face, closed the scant inches between their lips, and kissed the man of her
dreams as if it was her last act on earth.

It was an explosion of passion and pent up desire that grew hotter
and burnt brighter every second their lips touched. Cyn may have started this
encounter, but Roman quickly took over, demanding entrance and accepting
nothing less than her unconditional surrender to what was happening between
them.

A burst of pure, white hot electricity sped through her body at
the first touch of his tongue to hers, forcing a low moan from her throat as
proof of her arousal warmed her from the inside out. Her fingers tangled in his
hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let him go. Her legs wound around his
waist, locking her body to his, reveling in the way her soft, round curves fit
perfectly against the hard muscular planes of his body. Her nipples pebbled to
hard sensitive peaks that rubbed against the lace cups of her bra as her body
moved against his. Goose bumps rose up and down her arms; the sensory overload
so great she saw stars. Not only did his taste illicit visions of devouring
every single inch of his delectable body, but it drove Cyn to heights of
arousal she’d never thought possible. There would be no going back; Roman
Marinos was now her only addiction. He was unlike any other man she’d ever
known, better than cake and more sinful than chocolate. His kisses were what
romance novels could only hint at.

The need to feel more, to experience all she’d dreamt of since
first meeting him, forced Cyn to roll her hips against his. Roman tore his
mouth from hers, gasping as he mimicked her movements, the proof of his
excitement colliding with her swollen nub.

“Oh my God, Roman…” Cyn mewled as he nipped and tasted along her
jawline then down her neck, whispering the words she longed to hear.

“Yes, 
fýlakas tis kardiás mou, 
yes. Cynthia, you
drive me crazy. I cannot get enough of you. You haunt my every thought.
Please 
gíne dikós mou pánta
.”

She had no idea what language he was speaking or what he was saying,
but with his lips on her heated flesh and his rumbling baritone vibrating
through her body, she didn’t care if it was pig Latin as long as he promised
never to stop. Lost to their passion, needing more, she slid her hands under
his jacket and pushed the elegant fabric as far off his shoulders as it would
go, irritated that she couldn’t remove it completely but not wanting him to
remove his hands from her bottom. Reaching for the buttons of his perfectly
tailored white cotton shirt, she slowly slid them loose as his lips found their
way under the collar of her jacket and nipped at the tender skin at the top of
her shoulder.

Somewhere off in the distance, the sound of the bell indicating
the elevator was stopping at the sixteenth floor broke through her euphoria,
dimming the lust and desire Roman’s kiss rose within her. Cyn’s fingers stilled
and her breath caught in her throat as she heard the doors of the lift open and
the tell-tale sounds of heels hitting the marble tile. Pushing at his chest and
moving her body as far to the side as she could to get his attention, she
whispered loudly, “Roman, stop. Someone’s coming.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled as his lips once again found her neck.

Putting her hands on both sides of his face, the irony of which
was not lost on her since this was the same action that had started her present
predicament, Cyn forcibly pulled his head up and looked into his dreamy eyes,
all but snarling, “I 
do 
care. I work here and this,” she
looked down at their joined bodies and immediately released her legs from his
hips, “is really, 
really
 unprofessional.” 

Any other time the cheeky grin that crossed his lips would’ve made
her smile but, in this instance, she thought about kneeing him in the crotch.
When he spoke, his accent was more pronounced and his voice deeper with an
almost growly quality that did funny things to her stomach, but it was his
words that made her heart beat even faster than his kiss ever could’ve. “I will
let you down on one condition.”

He paused and Cyn thought about waiting him out, but the footsteps
in the hall were growing ever closer and she truly did 
not
 want
to be caught 
in flagrante delicto
 by a coworker. Time forcing
her hand, she asked with a sigh, “What is it? Anything. Just let me down…
please
.”

Kissing the tip of her nose, he chuckled, “Have dinner with me
tomorrow night, eight o’clock, my home.”

Her mind went blank. Her eyes felt like they would pop out of her
head, closely followed by her heart as it beat against her chest. This man, a
multi-millionaire, who made women swoon by simply walking by, the one she
dreamt of on a nightly basis, who could kiss like a demon and looked better
than any man had a right to, wanted to have dinner with her, Cynthia St. James,
curvy pharmaceutical rep from a small town in the middle of nowhere.

The sounds of the footsteps approaching her door snapped her back
to reality and her response from her lips, “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just let me
down.” She gave another shove against his chest for emphasis.

Yeah, that sounded nonchalant. Oh, crap, who the hell am I
kidding?

Nodding, he moved his hands from her bum and held her waist,
carefully helping her to stand before stepping away. No sooner had his hands
left her body than Adele pushed open the door and called, “Hey, girlie, you workin…”

Her best friend and long-time assistant’s eyes grew bigger than
saucers and a shit-eating grin crossed her face as she winked at Cyn and asked,
“Am I interrupting?” She gave a little wag of her finger for added effect.

“No,” Cyn barked at the precise moment Roman said, “Yes.”

She shot him a look, to which he winked, then looked back at Adele
and said, “Mr. Marinos…”

Cutting her off midsentence, Roman smiled, “Was just leaving.” He
stepped forward, held out his hand to Adele and after kissing her knuckles,
looked back to Cyn.

She could see the embers of the arousal from their kiss still
burning in his eyes. Her body continued to tingle from his touch but once again
it was his words that made her pulse race and her thighs press together of
their own accord. “Be ready at seven-thirty. Dress casually. I’ll send my car
for you. And Cynthia,” he leveled his gaze and cocked his eyebrow, “please do
not make me come and get you...again.” He paused and lifted just the corner of
his mouth in a half smirk. “For if you do…”

Cyn held her breath, willing him to continue, needing to hear what
he had to say but also fearful that everything was quickly spinning out of
control. Three long seconds ticked by before he finally winked and just above a
whisper said, “The price of defiance will be high.” He turned and left without
another word.

She felt light-headed. Roman Marinos had just invited her to
dinner…at his house…all alone… after kissing her like…well, like she’d never
been kissed before. Cyn wanted to be excited. She wanted to squeal and act all
girlie and talk to Adele about what she should wear but the truth of the matter
was, she was scared out of her wits.

Cyn was what her sorority sisters had called a ‘good girl’. When
they were all going to frat parties and hopping from bed to bed she had been
studying for exams and writing term papers. It had always been her dream to
leave the small town she grew up in and have a career like all the women she
read about in her favorite books.

Having been raised to the age of ten by a single father after the
loss of her mother to cancer at five, and then her grandfather after her dad
died of a heart attack, Cyn had always promised herself she’d be
self-sufficient and make both her parents and her grandpa proud. Family may
have been sparse for her but they’d all been great people who’d instilled good
values and a sense of purpose in her. They had given her the ability to dream
and to make her dreams her goals. Once those goals were in sight, she’d done
everything to achieve them. Dating came second to good grades and contacts that
would help her once she’d graduated.

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