Page 76 of Marriage of Revenge

And just like that, I forget how to exist. How to move. How to be anything but aware of him. Give the Beast his trophy and run? Too late for that now.

His scent hits when he leans closer - dark spice and danger wrapped in memory. Those eyes pin me in place - midnight dark on the unscarred side, storm-wild where flames marked him. My gaze can't settle - catching on the curve of his mouth, the strongline of his jaw, the way his throat moves when he swallows. Everything about him radiates power barely contained.

When those callused fingers brush my cheek, electricity tingles through me. His touch carries threat and tenderness twisted together, sending heat racing under my skin like fever. I catch my breath, shocked by how much I still want this.

Want him.

Even knowing I shouldn't.

"Bell'cenda." The nickname hits like a physical touch, dragging me back to piano keys and practice rooms. To times before fire rewrote our story.

"That's me," I whisper, and my voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. Someone who hasn't learned how betrayal tastes. His knowing smile cuts through my defenses like a blade, illuminating everything I'm trying to hide. My pulse performs its own dangerous choreography, but for once it's not my treacherous body trying to fail me.

The space between us crackles with electricity, with all the words we can't say. His eyes drop to my lips and that hunger there makes my skin prickle with awareness. I find myself swaying toward him like I used to follow music - muscle memory responding to a different kind of dance now. Fighting this pull feels impossible, like those nights when my body turned against itself, when even breathing felt like a battle I might lose.

But this? This tangle of need and history and hurt coiling between us? It's more complicated than any medical chart. Every heartbeat carries the weight of what we were, what we lost, what we might become. Hope flutters in my chest, fragile as my first steps after treatments ended. Dangerous as trusting the Beast not to break me.

"Tonio." His old name slips out before I can catch it, and something shifts in those thunderous eyes. Like I've unlocked something we both tried to bury.

When his mouth claims mine, it's not gentle. Not sweet. Not anything like those romance novels hidden under my mattress.

The first kiss tastes like war - all conquest and claiming, his tongue demanding entrance while my body betrays me with need.

"Still taste like honeysuckle and sin," he growls against my lips, voice rough with something darker than desire. "Still surrender so sweetly."

"I never surrendered," I whisper back, the words more breathless than defiant. "Not to you. Not to anything."

The second kiss burns deeper, hungrier - his teeth grazing my bottom lip while his hands tangle in my hair, making me arch into him like I'm starving for his touch.

"Mine now," he breathes, the words vibrating against my skin. "No more running, Bell'cenda. No more lies between us."

"Then tell me the truth," I manage between racing heartbeats. "Are you still in there somewhere, Tonio? Under all this darkness?"

The third kiss undoes me completely. His mouth slants over mine with enough force to bruise, and I meet him halfway - no longer his victim but his equal in this dance of desire and destruction. My fingers find his shoulders like I'm trying to anchor myself against a storm, while his grip on my waist promises to leave marks I'll feel tomorrow.

He kisses like he's trying to devour me, to mark me from the inside out. And god help me, I let him. Because this?

This isn't about healing our past - it's about ripping it open and making it bleed. About remembering what we lost. What we might find again.

If we’re stupid enough to think the Beast remembers how to be gentle.

Somehow I'm pressed between cold stone and his burning body, the Mediterranean's roar matching the blood rushing inmy ears. When did we move? God, that moan definitely came from me - especially when his teeth graze that sensitive spot below my ear, making my hips buck against his involuntarily.

We kiss like we've done this a thousand times before, like muscle memory survived everything that burned between us. His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs, and heat pools low in my belly when he presses closer - letting me feel exactly how much he wants this. Wants me.

The raw power of him against me feels like safety and danger twisted together. My body responds with a need I never knew it could still feel, deeper than any ache treatments left behind. Every inch of me aches for more - more of his touch, his taste, the way his muscles flex under my exploring fingers.

His breath scorches my ear as he growls, "I want to taste every inch of you, Bell'cenda. Want to make you scream my name. Want to claim you in ways that'll make you forget anyone else exists." It's not a request or a threat - it's pure truth, burning away every lie we've told ourselves.

I want him too. More than air. More than survival. More than all the second chances I fought so hard to earn. Want him inside me, filling every empty space, making me whole in ways medicine never could.

And isn't that just the most dangerous truth of all?

His fingers grip my chin, tilting my face up with an authority that makes my breath catch. His thumb traces my bottom lip, rough calluses catching on sensitive skin and need pulses deep within me.

His lips trail down my jaw, my neck, each kiss a brand that makes me shiver. "I'm going to make sure it's good for you. I promise." The words rumble against my pulse point, and something in his voice makes my insides liquify. He pauses, his other hand sliding into my hair, holding me still while he nips that spot below my ear that makes my hips buck against his.

Like he can sense the anxiety coursing through my veins, the way my pulse stumbles over what-ifs. What if he sees the scars treatments left behind? What if my body betrays me again? What if I can't...

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