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Markos set the empty glass in the sink. He had a change of clothing fisted in his left hand. “I’m serious. I’ve told the village you are off limits, but don’t tempt fate by continuing your nightly skinny-dipping sessions.”

The warning in his voice only made me want to try again, to see what he would really do.

“It doesn’t matter what you said, Iosif has it in his head that we’re destined to wed,” I spewed bitterly.

It wasn’t the shadows that made his eyes darken and jaw clench tight.

“So youdidknow about that.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I did.”

“Then why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be at his mother’s house, not having nocturnal trysts with another man?”

Markos stretched his head to the side. Vertebrae popped under the pressure. “There are forces at play that are out of my control, but—” He stepped forward, captured a strand of my hair, and twisted it around his finger. “Where you stay isn’t one of them.”

His body was angled to the side, and only half of his face was visible. I studied the hard lines and sharp curves. It would be all too easy to spring onto the tips of my toes and close the distance. I wanted to. The fire in my veins begged me to.

“Goodnight, Serena. Sleep well.” With a tug on my hair, he let me go.

I gulped air that didn’t fill my lungs. The energy swirling around us was heady and his scent intoxicating. But he was moving, exiting the kitchen.

“Wait!” I sprang to the fridge, plucked out the container of soup. “Take this.”

He chuckled, the sound making my insides do little flips. “I thought I was starving.”

“I hope you do.” I dropped it in his outstretched palm. “But it won’t be because of me.”

“So angry, little one,” he mused. “I pity the man who you set your sights on.”

“It won’t be Iosif.”

“No, it won’t.” With that cryptic response, Markos left. But his presence lingered, haunting me and making it hard to breathe.

Chapter 12 – Markos

The container of soup was a talisman. My fingers gripped the cool glass, grounding me to the future. When tonight’s business was over, I would sit on the shore and sip it. A reward for what I was about to endure.

Half of the Twelve were already gathered at our secluded peninsula. As I scanned the scene, my eyes landed on Iosif. Instantly, a surge of anger coursed through me, my shoulders tensed, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The lad had done exactly what he’d been told. He proposed to my girl.

She’s not my anything.

I twisted my neck, cracking the tight joints. Serena might not be mine, but I would be damned if I let the youngest of us take her. He might be halfway through his twenties, but he preferred to spend his time with video games and TV shows. He wouldn’t know how to please a hellcat like Serena.

A hot wave of anger coursed through my veins as I imagined his hands gripping her shoulders, his mouth finding those full lips—his body claiming hers. My fists clenched involuntarily, and my jaw tightened as if trying to contain the storm of fury building within me.

“Markos, get over here,” Atlas barked.

Setting my soup and change of clothes in a safe place, I stepped into the semi-circle of faces. A portion of them shared the same blood that surged through my veins. The others had been ever-present figures in my life. That, and that alone, entitled them to what they were about to do to me. Together, we ruled this portion of earth, and tonight, our brand of justice would be served.

I didn’t blame them for what was going to happen.

But that didn’t make it easier to quell the fight in my bones. I wasn’t a creature who took punishment lightly.

“Strip.” The king was not to be disobeyed.

Shucking my shirt, I grumbled, “Where the hell are the others?”

Waiting for the inevitable, chit-chatting with the punishment looming over me, was not my idea of fun.