Page 55 of Cruel Devil

As soon as the elevator doors close behind us, I grab Nyx’s throat and shove her against the bronzed mirrors.

That sense of deja-vu flows over me again. The first day I met her, we’d been in this very elevator, Nyx still wearing her terrible disguise as I demanded she go on her knees.

That’s when she kicked me so hard in the balls I don’t know if I’m even able to father children anymore.

I had no inkling she’d become my wife.

Back then I didn’t care, because I hardly knew her.

It’s as if we’ve lived seven lifetimes together since then.

“You’ve dragged this out long enough. Tell me what the fuck happened.”

“I will, as soon as we’re?—“

I pull her forward an inch, slam her back. Her eyes flutter, but my wife made it pretty fucking clear from day one that she’s not made of glass. She usually goes for the jugular at the merest suggestion.

“Was he there? O’Brien?” My teeth are bared, and I have to push my words through them in a muted growl. “Did he touch you?”

There’s the briefest flash of something in her eyes, fuck knows what, and then Nyx looks away and gives a mirthless laugh.

“None of this is my blood, Papi. And unless you’re a hundred percent sure this fucking elevator isn’t bugged, you’ll wait until we’re in your room.” Her gaze slowly drifts back up to me. “Comprende?”

If the elevator hadn’t chimed and the doors opened, I might have kept her there longer. I like the way she looks in the bronze mirrors, glowing and golden like a Greek goddess.

It’s fucked up. When people dare to disrespect me, I want to slice off ribbons of their face until there’s nothing left but a bloody, slimy skull.

But Nyx?

Her blatant disobedience sets fire to my soul.

She yells in surprise when I bend and scoop her up, slinging her over my shoulder in one smooth motion. She immediately starts struggling, but a ringing slap to both ass cheeks settles her down.

“I know how to walk, asshole.”

“Do you? Because all you’ve done lately is run.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, propping her elbows against my shoulders. “Not everyone’s your servant. Maybe you’ll get it in your thick skull one day.”

That earns her another slap, and I swear I hear a stifled laugh.

Fuck, my heart wants to slam its way out of my chest at the sound. When she walked out of The Foundry like someone who’d just woken up from a coma, I thought O’Brien had broken her somehow.

Mentally, physically, I had no idea. But I was sure she wasn’t the same woman who’d walked in there.

Until now.

Until she laughed, and for a split second, the world felt capable of being a wondrous place where people lived happily ever after.

I open the door to my room, kicking it closed before stalking over to the bed and dropping Nyx unceremoniously on the slate-gray bedding. I barely pause to strip off the blazer and kick off my shoes before I’m on top of her, head burrowed into the side of her neck.

“Savage.” She pushes at my shoulder, but I ignore her, sliding my knee between her legs to force them open. I want answers, but I need to claim her even more, to remind her, myself, the fucking world that this woman is mine.

“Caesar!” This time she punches me in the fucking kidney.

I roll off her with a grunt, lying on my back with a hand over my torso, staring up at the ceiling.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

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