Page 48 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)
Chapter 47
MELODY
Marlin’s bedroom is the creepiest part of the house.
A California king bed sits in the centre of the room, it’s sheets so fine I can practically taste the cost from here. A large mirror and walk-in closet are to the left of the ensuite bathroom that boasts the same dark purple paint as the rest of the bedroom.
It’s easily the size of our entire ground floor. And yet, the bare walls and sparse shelf space has unease creeping over my skin.
“Where is all your stuff?”
Scanning the nightstand next to his bed, the only thing that looks remotely personal is a puzzle book sitting on top the stack of textbooks.
I frown, looking from the dog-eared paperback to the man disappearing inside the walk-in closet.
“This is it. ”
I follow the echo of his voice and peek inside an abnormally large closet. Rows of dress shirts and dress pants are meticulously hung from hangers while an entire wall is dedicated to his shoes. Everything is organized by colour, from the box of ties to the box of spare shoelaces.
It’s everything I was expecting his closet to look like, except it feels...
Empty. Achingly lonely.
There isn’t a splash of personality among any of the fine clothing hanging around me. Just rows and rows of expensive suits that look like something you would find at a high-end shopping mall.
“Don’t you have any hobbies?”
“I have many hobbies.” Marlin doesn’t look at me as he unbuttons his shirt, “None of them happen to be materialistic.”
I don’t say anything as I watch him pull off his shirt. His unforgiving back muscles flex with the movement, the sharp lighting of the closet drawing my attention to faded marks covering his lower back.
“Is your mother always like that?”
“No. She was much more charming tonight.” He chuckles softly, “When she gets in one of her moods, not many survive the night.”
Closing the distance between us, I reach out and touch the jagged lines etched along his skin.
“I meant, does she always treat you like that? ”
His muscles tense beneath my touch. Any sense of amusement drains from his body as I lightly graze the bumpy ridge of his stretch marks.
Up close, they’re hideous. Long strips of warped tissue that bear a sickening purple colour. It is the only part of Marlin’s body that falls beyond the realm of perfection, and I find myself wishing there were more.
More evidence of the little boy he once was.
“These must have hurt.” Pressing my lips against his stretch marks, I kiss the skin that never got the chance to heal, “I’ve never seen them before.”
“That’s because I am usually the one behind you.”
I ignore the taunt, “You probably made up some terrible story of how you got them.”
“I told the kids at school the Sea Witch was fond of her belt collection. Liked to test out her new leather on my back.”
A small laugh escapes me, “Did anyone believe you?”
“More than you would think.”
Staring up at him, I marvel at the amount of pain he must have gone through to get to that height. The amount of suffering he went through alone because his mother couldn’t be bothered to care about anyone other than herself.
“How bad was it?”
He lifts a brow, “The rumours?”
“The growing pains.”
There’s a beat of silence .
“Nothing that I couldn’t handle.” A grin hits that handsome face, “If I had known you were this small, I wouldn’t have bothered growing at all.”
Laughter bursts out of me, and I swear those eyes glow a shade brighter.
“You’re such a dick.”
“I believe that is the size you are most fond of.”
A stupid smile hits my face when I flip him off.
“So, this is it? Marlin Seaborn’s great suit collection?”
Sweeping my eyes back over the rows of designer clothes, I can’t fight the feeling of disappointment.
I wanted more. More of him, more clues as to who he is beneath those suits.
I wanted to see beyond the wealthy, untouchable surface.
“Do you know how much these dress shirts cost?” Marlin walks over and pulls out a sleeve for my inspection, “Custom-tailored and imported from the finest silk shop in town.”
“Sounds like you need to work on budgeting.” A disbelieving laugh escapes me, “What do you need all this for, anyways?”
“Is it wrong for a man to take pride in his appearance?”
“Of course not, but this is a bit obsessive. It’s like you’re...”
The words shrivel up on my tongue when Marlin pulls out an honest-to-God ironing board. It’s worn from years of use, the faded blue material speaking to the number of times he’s used it.
And suddenly I understand.
Long, strong fingers carefully pinch the grey material, folding the shirt so perfect creases line the side. He plugs in the iron and smooths the material down, following the same pattern of steps for each and every crease.
“It’s your armour.” I say the words quietly.
He shoots me a bemused glance, “Unfortunately, silk does not hold up well against a knife. Calista has tested that fact on many occasions.”
I stare at him, taking in the perfectly styled white hair and violet eyes. Such rare and distinct features that nobody would ever think twice about whose son he is.
“What happened to your father?”
The iron pauses mid-air before continuing on its way.
“If you were listening at dinner, you would already know the answer.” His tone is colder, a little harsher than before.
“He left you.”
“He made his choice.” His eyes stay trained on the expensive material, “As did I.”
My eyes drop to the line of his tattoo, the dark ink flexing with the muscles running along his forearm.
The anchor burying itself deep in the sand.
“You choose to stay.” I swallow thickly, “You choose to stay with your mother.”
Marlin lifts up the shirt and tilts his head, studying the creases from every angle.
“There are two types of people in this world, little saint. Those who are easy to love and those who are not. ”
He grimaces, touching a crease before putting it back on the ironing board, “Those who fall into the latter category can either accept their fate or fight it, uselessly holding on to the hope that one day someone will return the favour.”
I watch him re-fold the dress shirt, painstakingly stroking the iron so the creases are nothing short of perfection.
“The Sea Witch is many things, but she is not a fool. She knew this life was the inevitable outcome.”
The rows of expensive suits hang silently around us, echoing the hollowness of his words.
“Did you?” A ball lodges in my throat, “Did you know this would be the outcome?”
Silence stretches out between us. Marlin sets the iron down and unplugs it, finally satisfied his shirt is up to standard.
I watch the most feared man in Wolf Hollow lay out his clothes for the day ahead, carefully picking out a pair of dress pants and matching shoes as if he was choosing which weapons to take into battle.
The cold press of his ring suddenly digs into my skin. I freeze, feeling the sharp edge scrape a line from my bicep to my wrist before he takes my hand.
“I think,” Marlin flicks out a tiny razor blade, “You already know the answer to that question.”
My heart is in my throat when he shimmies the blade under my fingernail. I can’t look away from the tentacles tearing through the face of a skull, the silhouette of his family crest shifting with each twist of the ring .
A spec of dirt gets pried free, the residue of his grave still lingering on my body. Marlin extracts the blade slowly, being careful not to draw a single drop of blood.
Guilt swarms my system as our eyes meet, mistrusting violet meeting apologetic blue.
My throat tightens, “Marlin, I’m sorry. I found the report by accident and-
“Don’t go searching for a sob story, little saint. I am the monster you have always found me to be.”
The mistrust hardens into something cold and ugly as the gates to Marlin’s past shutter close. He takes a step back, staring at me as if I was the one who took a blade to his skin.
As if I was the one who wasn’t careful enough not to draw blood.
I swallow hard, refusing to break his penetrating stare, “I’ve never called you a monster.”
“No.” A cruel, mocking smile hits his lips, “You’ve called me much worse.”
“Marlin, I-
“Every assumption you’ve made about me is true.” His eyes darken as they flick down my dress, “I am a bad man, little saint. One that you should fear.”
The air gets vacuumed from the room when Marlin reaches out and slides the strap of my dress over my shoulder.
“I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak, breathless response .
Another strap glides down my shoulder, loosening the material around my boobs. My skin flairs to life as Marlin leans down and brushes his lips across my exposed collarbone.
“You should be.” Pressing his nose against my neck, he breathes me in, “You should be scared of how often you plague my mind. How many times I wake up thinking about ways to see your face.”
My breathing is thick and heavy, my chest heaving with each ragged breath.
“You should be scared of how much I want you, little saint. How much I crave the feeling of your pulse trapped beneath my fist. The sound of your pleas when I’m inside you.”
His lips skim up the column of my neck, pressing a kiss right on my fluttering pulse. A whimper leaks out when he bites down, claiming my body with his teeth and chasing my pleasure with his tongue.
“I’m not scared.”
My legs are shaking, trembling to the point where I can barely keep myself standing. Marlin presses in closer, cornering me against the wall so there’s nowhere for me to go.
“Are you lying again, little saint?” The rumble of his laughter fills my ear, “You know I love it when you lie to me.”
He tugs at the bow between my breasts and the dress falls to the floor. A fire lights up his eyes as they sweep over my bare body, melting every fibre until I’m nothing more than a puddle at his feet.
“You didn’t feel like wearing underwear to dinner? ”
I shake my head, “Didn’t think the eels would appreciate them.”
A gorgeous fucking smile takes over his face. It pierces right through my soul, casting a light on the shadows and bringing every carnal desire to life.
He’s looking at me like I’m his favourite puzzle.
Like I’m his only puzzle.
“My beautiful little saint.” He strokes the curve of my hip, watching me squirm under his touch, “Just waiting for me to take what’s mine.”
The teasing pressure of his fingers has slickness building between my thighs. I’m fucking soaked by the time his lips finally latch onto mine, the desire and need bleeding from his mouth to my own.
It’s an overload of sensations, the rough stroke of his tongue and the gentle stroke of his fingers. I’m a moaning, throbbing mess when he pushes two fingers inside me, his soft strokes turning savage as he mauls me with his mouth.
“Take what’s yours.”
It’s a plea and a promise rolled in one.
Marlin picks me up and pins me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding down on the bulge sticking out of his dress pants. A guttural sound escapes the back of his throat, and I swallow it whole, drowning and clinging to the man who hides behind the monster .
His dress pants fall to the floor and suddenly he’s inside me. Filling me, consuming me, owning me until I have no choice but to scream his name.
“Louder, little saint.” His breath is hot in my ear, his thrusts forcing me back against the wall, “I want my ears ringing with my name on your lips.”
My nails are tearing at his skin, trying to claw through the layers keeping us apart. Marlin matches my vicious energy, pulling my hair and biting my neck as if he’s the one who can’t stand the barrier between us.
I shriek when he pinches my clit, sending tingles of pain through the waves of pleasure.
“Ask me nicely, little saint.” His thumb smooths over my throbbing bud, massaging the sting from the spot, “Ask me nicely and I’ll let you come.”
I don’t want to come. I want to stay trapped in this lust-filled bubble, fused to Marlin’s body and his mind.
His thrusts are getting more aggressive, the sound of slapping skin ringing through the enclosed space. I can feel him losing control, unravelling beneath my fingertips and the tight clench of my pussy.
I don’t care what he says.
Marlin Seaborn is fucking mine.