Page 3 of Ferocious Nightmare

"You didn't?" His voice was an enraged snarl, "so you didn't conspire to escape at the wedding?" He stepped forward, his black Burleti shoe trampling on the flower I'd thrown to the floor.

My throat was suddenly full, suffocating, and I knew that he was right. I should have told him the plan from the very beginning. The night I saw Rose for the first time, he’d been upset when he'd come home, and now I knew why.

He'd known all along.

"How did you know?"

"It doesn't matter how I knew, Aster. In fact, from here on out, just assume I know everything." He was so close, so angry, I could practically feel the rage vibrating off of him. "You have no idea what kind of chaos you would've created if you'd escaped. I had to change everything to make sure Bourbon and Rose were safe. Make deals with men I don't like making deals with, just to make sure Nero didn't kill them." His voice rose as he hit the wall above my head with his fist. "You almost got them killed. And you, or him, or Rose didn't trust me to tell me the truth."

"Coulter,” I whispered. Reaching forward, I touched his cheek, tracing my finger over it lightly. "I swear I was going to tell you."

"Then why didn't you?" He finally revealed a slice of softness, vulnerability in his eyes.

"I--" No other words came out. I tried again. "Rose didn't want me to tell. She said it wouldn't work if I did."

"So that's it, is it? Rose didn't trust me to know, and you trusted Rose over me."

Again my mouth opened, my tongue was all tied up, I didn't know how to answer him. "I was going to, right when you sent Dante to bring me up front, I was going to tell Rose, then talk to you."

"So you needed Rose's permission?"

Guilt, terrible and crushing, rushed through me.

He was right.

I'd trusted Rose more than him.

"I'm sorry, Coulter. You're right, I didn't trust you like I should've."

Reaching forward, he gripped my cheeks harshly, his fingers digging into them. He leaned down, his breath washing over me, smelling like mint and vodka, "For once, I thought I'd met someone different. Someone I could count on, someone who trusted me." He squeezed my cheeks harder. "But you’re just like everyone else."

“I’m not," I growled out, not liking being compared to every other woman he'd probably ever fucked.

"You're not?" His voice was mocking. He released my face, his hand lowering to my breast, cupping it. "Then prove it, baby nightmare. Prove to me that you're different." He squeezed my breast roughly and, despite his harsh words, the motion made heat pool in my belly.

Once again, my body betrayed me when it came to this man.

I met his gaze. "How?"

His hand slipped lower, his fingers grazing the edge of my dress. "I don't know, Aster. Isn't that up to you to figure out?”

"Fine," I inhaled a sharp breath as his hand slid in between my thighs, and he began to rub against my softness. "I'll prove it by marrying you."

"You have no choice in the matter," his finger slid over my slit, the lace of my G-string keeping him from really touching me like I wanted. "But are you saying you won't fight me on it?"

"Yes," I breathed, trying to keep focus on what we were talking about, but the way he was touching me was making it hard. I clutched at his tie, pulling him closer to press his body against mine. "If, as you say, it will save Rose and Bourbon, I'll marry you willingly."

"Mmm," he murmured against the top of my head, "what a good girl, Aster." His finger slipped over my clit, rubbing me there, "but that still doesn't prove that you're any different than other women. I could have a line of women willing to marry me tomorrow if I wanted to."

"I bet none of those women have Russian royalty in their blood."

"True," he grunted, and I rested my head back against the wall, closing my eyes, giving in to the sensations strumming through my body.

I hated that Coulter knew how to play me so easily.

That he probably knew how to because he'd had sex with so many other women.

I hated how he cheapened me by doing this.

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