Marked by Elisabeth Naughton Page A

he moved. He made it as far as the end of the bed and stopped. “Tell me what you were doing in that club.”
    Oh, Hades. Had she really expected him to let that one pass? Gods, she’d been fooling herself.
    “I—I was curious.”
    “Don’t lie to me, Isadora. I’m not Demetrius or your father or your humble maidservant.”
    “Handmaiden.”
    “Semantics.” His jaw tightened. “I haven’t told anyone where you were, but as your future husband, I think I have a right to know about the tendencies of my soon-to-be wife. How did you get by my guards into the human world? And why did you go there, specifically?”
    Oh, boy. Isadora pursed her lips, glanced down at the heavy covers. She couldn’t tell him about Orpheus and how he’d helped her. That would just cause too many problems. But could she tell him the rest? Indecision warred inside her. Did he already know about the half-breeds? About her father? About the reason her father and every king before him continued to send the Argonauts into the human world amid growing disapproval of the race?
    She wasn’t sure. And it wasn’t her place to tell him. Not yet. Not until her father was dead and she ruled Argolea.
    If she ruled Argolea.
    “I was just curious, Theron.” When he huffed in exasperation, she added quickly, “After my father announced our…engagement…I became nervous. You know the rules of the aristocracy. You know I’m…intact.” Though it shamed her to admit her virginity to him, she knew he suspected it, and he’d discover the truth as soon as they were married anyway, so she buried the embarrassment and went on. “I heard talk about human skin clubs such as that one. I went to see what every other gynaíka in the kingdom probably already knows. I didn’t want to displease you with my inexperience.”
    It wasn’t exactly a lie. At least not completely. She just chose to omit the fact that the idea of sex with him scared the crap out of her.
    She held her breath and waited for his response, but he only studied her with unreadable eyes. Just about the time she was sure he wasn’t going to say anything, he let out a long, frustrated breath.
    “Isadora, you cannot displease me. If anything, I’m the one who is inexperienced. This royalty, protocol, procedure, skata , I don’t know what to call it. All of it is beyond my comprehension. I know this situation isn’t what either of us expected, but it’s our responsibility to make it work.”
    His words should have comforted her. Except they were spoken in that same hard, flat, commanding voicehe always used with her. The one that made her think he was ordering her to feel at ease.
    It didn’t work that way for her.
    Resentment brewed in her veins as she studied him—those dark eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the tumble of black hair around his face. She guessed to other gynaíka he was attractive. To her he was everything she didn’t want.
    And looking closer, she saw the same thing reflected back at her.
    He didn’t want to bind himself to her any more than she wanted to be bound. He was giving up just as much as she was. More, maybe.
    She took a deep breath and eased back against the pillows, suddenly more tired than she ever remembered being.
    “You need rest, Isadora. I have business to attend to with the Argonauts, but I’ll be back for the binding ceremony in a few days. If you need me between now and then, you know how to get in touch with me.”
    Isadora nodded. Through his servant, at Lerna, his estate in the forests outside Tiyrns. She’d never seen it, but imagined it often—soaring ceilings, walls of glass, as massive and grand as he was. Would he take her there after they were married? Would she even want to go?
    Probably not, and no. Sickness pooled in her stomach as she faced the grim reality that in a matter of days they would be married. Bound together. Permanently. That part of her soul that had never been at ease clawed to be set free.
    “Good night,