Page 25 of These Deadly Vows

Asshole is a real pain in my ass.

Adeline slides off the table, glaring at me as though looks could kill. Luckily for me, they can’t.

Chapter Seven

I know Ghost wants to break me, but I’m a Ricci and we don’t bow. Not easily. He may have gotten my tears and my virginity. My dignity is debatable. He fucked me raw and full of hate. I expected no less.

He’s soulless and heartless.

Crude.

Despicable.

A man without honor.

A criminal.

And yet a sick and animalistic part of me enjoyed the act of him defiling me. Deflowering me and shredding all my innocence with his brutality. My body betrayed me, and the bastard knew there was a side of me who got enjoyment. Pleasure in the pain.

Then there’s that bitch. His whore. The smug satisfaction she wore when informing me I was wearing her clothing. I’d never felt such rage. Such hatred for another woman. I’ve never been jealous. Never have had a reason to be. There’s something about her that rubs me wrong.

The way her gaze lingers on my husband a little too long makes me want to claw her eyes out of her head. I’m not a violent person by nature, despite my upbringing. Yet every time I look at her, all I have are cruel thoughts of all the ways I could kill her.

At least I’m able to return the smug expression as Axe escorts me back to the elevator. He doesn’t speak to me, and I hope he doesn’t. I’m in no mood for making conversation. He’s handsome in that rough bad boy way. Dirty blond hair that reaches his shoulders. Tattoos along his neck and sleeving both arms. His facial hair is surprisingly neat and trim compared to his unruly appearance.

I step into the elevator with him. His presence sucking up most of the air. There’s an arrogance about him as he watches me from the corner of his eye while pretending he doesn’t even notice me.

The ride up is awkward and filled with a tense silence. Neither of us wanting to make the first attempt at being polite. He’s pissed about being my babysitter and I’m simply mad at the world. The muscle in his jaw tics as we pass floor after floor.

The second the elevator doors open back to the penthouse, I dart to the bedroom upstairs, shutting the door behind me and locking it. The first thing I do is rush to the bathroom to kneel at the porcelain throne. Bile burns at the back of my throat. I choke on my tears as the scenes of the night loop through my thoughts.

Roberto attempting to rape me and losing his head. My being forced to marry Ghost. The way my father stared at me as I plunged the knife into his chest. My bastard of a husband fucking me in front of his club.

The humiliation coats my inner thighs.

A cold sweat clings to the base of my neck.

Dry heaving, I have nothing on my stomach to throw up. Nothing but liquor.

I shove two fingers down my throat and force myself to vomit, needing to purge myself of the memories.

My shame.

Shame for what I did.

Shame for what is to become of me.

A biker’s whore.

A violent shudder ripples through me as I arch my back and retch until all that is left is foaming spit. I flush the toilet and drop to the tile floor on my ass. Shivers dance across my skin and I fling off the tee I’m wearing.

A knock on the bedroom door has me wanting to scream. I can’t even mourn in peace.

“You all right in there?” A gruff voice questions. One I’m assuming belongs to Axe.

Wiping my eyes, I pick myself up off the floor.

“I’m fine.”

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