Chapter 2

Olympia's POV

As I looked up at him, my eyes, addled with intoxication, tried to keep up with his grandeur. He was a real behemoth, with chiseled cheekbones that could cut glass and arms that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. His athletic frame radiated power, and his smirk hinted at a thousand secrets. I was entranced; my tipsy brain couldn't pull away from this sight.

"Like what you see?" he goaded, his voice low and husky, as he did so, raking me back to reality. My mouth was open, an embarrassing epitome of utter shock. I whipped my face away, trying to regain some of my lost dignity, but he would not allow me to just walk off so easily.

He held my chin with a firm but light touch, twisting my face back to his. Our eyes met, and in those few moments, I felt the room spin with me. "Who are you?" I said back, my voice cracking like a brittle autumn leaf.

He leaned closer, the mysterious aura surrounding him, like a moth into flame. "Just a passerby guy witnessing a beautiful lady sitting at the bar all alone, drinking it out to the extreme, crying silently," he murmured, hugging me close, as his breath did goodness to my skin, leaving a mark like that of a summer wind.

I froze, my heart suspended in time. How did he know these things? I thought I had been so careful, crying myself to sleep every night behind a mask of booze and indifference. Yet this stranger saw through it all, his piercing gaze unraveling the façade.

As our eyes held each other, totally everything melted away finally, till none afterward couldn't remain—simply both of us, enfolded in a sea of secrets and unanswered questions. Who was this mysterious stranger, and why did I feel an uncontrollable pull towards him? I needed to find out the truth so badly, but he lay before me as a mystery—a riddle for me to solve.

I peered into his eyes and suspected that he was lying to me. Such that he was really calling me pretty? So I am looking into his facial expression now for some lie detector. His face reveals nothing but a warm, forgivable smile.

"Stop lying," I said between the tears and rage. "I know I look bad, speckled with dirt and drops of blood and whatnot. Don't lie to me."

He chortled, his lips easing into a grin, and my heart fluttered. "I'm serious," he grumbled, his voice dipping low and husky. "Beautiful, darlin'. Even like this."

My eyes drifted down to his mouth; so full and inviting. I wanted to kiss him, to feel his mouth on mine, but something wouldn't let my wants continue.

"Why in the hell are you doing this?" I thought, like he was really provoking me. "Why in the world are you making me feel like this?"

But then he spoke, breaking the spell. "If you desire something, I'd suggest acting on it."

Something inside me snapped, and I grabbed his face, pulling him close, and pressed my lips to his. Our tongues entwined, and we kissed with much fervor, pressing our bodies desperately towards each other. In that moment, I was lost as awareness slipped aside; I forgot where we were. The feel of his skin against mine was the only thing in my mind.

With every kiss, my need for him increased. I wanted to feel the bare expanse of his skin against mine, to have both our bare bodies brush against each other. I began tugging at his shirt, as if needing that barrier between us removed.

However, he stopped me with his hands reaching toward mine, holding me. "We were in a bar," he said huskily, full of desire but that was going to stop me anyway.

I whined in objections, not wanting it to stop, not wanting to let go of this moment. Not giving in himself, he held firm, his eyes locked on mine, the gaze burning with intensity.

Just let me know whether this version is okay.

"Then let's get out of here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper but laced with a sense of urgency. His eyes widened with surprise, as if he hadn't expected me to be that bold.

"Are you sure?" he questioned again; there was a depth in his voice, hoarse, and his eyes blazed. I nodded, beginning to feel something like impatience engulf me. I wanted him, and I wanted him now.

I burrowed deeper into his arms as his warmth wrapped around me. "Once I claim you," he breathed against my ear, "you will be mine—all mine." The words sent shivers down my spine, and this time, I didn't even hesitate. I nodded again, my heart hammering with eagerness.

"Are you sure?" he said again, the eyes searching out mine for any sign of doubt. Only, by then, I had already cleared my mind. I wanted him, and I was ready in every sense to give in to him.

"Just take me already," I breathed. His eyes glinted red, and with another growl, his lips crashed down on mine in a rather fierce kiss that was full of possession.

The world around shattered, leaving the two of us, adrift amidst its intensity of feeling. "MINE," he growled softly, his voice into my mind like an echo, calling me totally to his body and soul.

My eyes flickered open, sharp pain greeting me with a groan. I reclined against the headboard and tried to sit up slowly. My head was pretty foggy from the remains of last night's sprees. The room spun around; my stomach churned at the unease.

I had had a real good going at reckless abandon, and now I was paying for it in a big way—not too pretty. I looked down at myself and all the way down to my naked body; except that I tightly held the duvet through my body.

My heart started racing.

What the hell happened last night?

For crying out loud, did I just get drunk, or is there more to the tale?

The images were all hazy, and my mind was a swirl of confusion. Just as I was beginning to piece together the events that occurred last night, I heard a low groan from beside me. I froze; my senses on high alert, my fear spiked. Slowly, I turned toward the stranger lying in my bed, and my eyes widened in shock.

A man's back was turned toward me, his muscles flexing beneath his skin as he stirred. A million questions raced through my mind. Who was this man, what did we do the night before, and why were my innards feeling like they had been emptied deader than yesterday's giblets?

Whenever I would try to move, flashes of stinging pain went through my legs; they felt metallic and heavy. I couldn't shake off that feeling of wrongness that inhabited this room.

And now, as though I was to meet my fate that night, I waited with bated breath for this stranger to turn his face toward me, to reveal whatever it was that would answer so many questions. But he did not move, and the silence returned, building my unease.

What had I gotten myself into?

I was seated in a stunned silence, telling myself in low whispers, "This must be kept to myself, not a soul should come to learn of this."

My head was cluttered, going forward and backward in frantic efforts to remember what I did the previous night. But my thoughts were a dead end, totally sealed in security. I labored in recollection, but in vain; trying to think back was like trying to hold loose sand in one's fist—the more I tried, the more I failed to capture events.

A shrug. "Anyway," I thought, "it's done. What good is trying to picture it?" It wouldn't alter the fact; it wouldn't erase the black.

Best drop the subject and get away while the new acquaintance was still asleep and I was sitting here in another embarrassing scene, or before my set missed me. I'd hardly made my decision before the stranger had stirred; his hand came out like a vice, wrapping around my waist. I gasped as my heart started racing, fighting the urge to scream.

Then I saw his face. By this the memories I had so been trying to recall opened like the key turning in a lock. I remembered the bar, the drinks, the laughter, and the stranger with the platinum gaze; I remembered just how the feeling had come into my body as his hand connected with mine. My mind reeled with what I did, what I gave in to. And just as I grasped the truth, his eyes flickered open, locking onto mine with so much intensity that my blood ran cold.

"Now you're mine!"