She swallowed hard and kept her back to him. “You should never keep a lady waiting.”
“Right you are,” he replied. She felt him pace slowly back and forth, a panther measuring up its prize. “I hope you are not leaving. I promise that if you stay, it will be more than worth your time.”
She spun around, and beholding him, her response escaped her. Only a few paces away, she now understood how large and magnificent a man Pantera was. He was Hercules. A sheer, black, sleeveless robe accentuated his brawny form, revealing his hard chest and chiseled belly and freeing his bulging shoulders and muscled arms. The wrap hanging low about his narrow hips hinted at his chiseled thighs, robust calves, and sizeable, flaccid organ.
Unlike her tawny Roman complexion, his milky-white skin glowed pink in the red light. Wet, shoulder-length blond hair perfectly framed his gorgeous, clean-shaven face, the boyishness of which was belied by two striking features. The first was his deep blue eyes, as cold and unforgiving as the bottom of the sea. The second was his mouth which, when speaking or smiling, had a feral quality, with his unusually sharp and long canines.
“A young matron, I see, and beautiful,” he said. “How long have you been married?”
“A year,” Octavia lied.
“And already bored.” He towered in front of her now. “I love the scent of lilac.” With her mind unsettled, she hadn’t noticed him moving toward her. He held her shoulders, kissed her softly on the lips, and her knees buckled. He wrapped his arms around her before she could fall and kissed her more forcefully this time, his lips and tongue opening her mouth. Shivering, all she could do was close her eyes and follow his lead, because she had never kissed anyone in passion before.
A fog obscured much of what happened next. All she knew was that she was lying naked on the divan, with Pantera standing at its foot, naked as well, his member erect and intimidating. He slowly crawled up the divan over her. She came to her senses and said, “The light. I prefer that you put out the light.”
He stopped and smirked. “As you wish, Lady.” He got up and snuffed out the two lamps behind the drapes. The room was dark, but there was still enough light seeping in from under the portiere for Octavia to make out Pantera’s figure as he returned to the divan.
She had completely regained her bearings and shot out her right arm and grasped the dagger’s hilt, dislodging it from the cushion. Pantera hovered over her on all fours. He leaned down and kissed her on the left earlobe and proceeded to make his way down her neck, nibbling, biting, and kissing. His warm, moist breath on her throat was intoxicating, but she resisted.
She shifted to the right ever so slightly and thrust the dagger with all her might at his neck.
Terror.
Octavia’s arm quivered; she couldn’t move it, her wrist burning with pain. Tears welled in her eyes with desperation. Pantera had caught her wrist in the air with his left hand and was holding it away from him. She saw a flash of light when he snatched her by the throat with his right hand. She gasped for air.
