Page 81 of Marriage of Revenge

He rolls away just long enough to grab something from beside the bed - a package I hadn't noticed before, probably delivered while I was too busy screaming his name in the shower. Heat floods my face at the memory, at the thought of someone hearing how completely he made me fall apart. But embarrassment fades when I see what he's holding: another bottle of vaginal moisturizer.

The care in his preparation, how he thought of everything I might need... it threatens to crack something open inside my chest. Something dangerous as hope.

The way he holds that moisturizer - like he's been planning this, thinking about my needs even while the rest of the world plots around us... it makes something warm unfold in my chest. This isn't just preparation; this is care. This has to be more than revenge, right? The Beast wouldn't think about details like this, wouldn't look at me with that mix of hunger and tenderness.

He tears the package open with that lethal grace, movements controlled despite the obvious need tensing his muscles. When his eyes find mine, they burn with something deeper than desire. "Want to make this good for you, Bell'cenda." His voice carries smoke and promise, and the way he says my nickname makes me want to believe in fairy tales again.

The applicator looks clinical in his scarred hands, but the way he offers it - like he's giving me choice, like my comfort matters... Maybe this isn't about breaking me. Maybe there's still something of Tonio left under the Beast's scars.

"Do you want to..." He pauses, and I see it - that flash of the boy who used to play piano while I danced. "You can do this part yourself. If you'd rather."

That consideration, that gentle offering of control - it makes my pulse race. Makes me hope that all his talk of revenge was just that - talk. Because surely someone planning to destroy me wouldn't be this tender, this attentive to my needs?

"I want you," I whisper, trusting him despite everything. "Please, Tonio. Take care of me."

The growl that rumbles through his chest sounds possessive and tender at once. And isn't that just perfect? Maybe we can both find redemption in this moment. Maybe some fires forge instead of destroy.

Maybe the hope blooming in my chest is trust.

CHAPTER 42—ISABELLA

As he applies themoisturizer with gentle, thorough care, his head drops to my chest. For a moment, he just listens to my heart's unsteady rhythm, his breath warm against my skin.

"Still racing like before performances," he murmurs, and something in his voice makes my throat tight. "Remember how you used to count beats backstage?"

"You'd play scales until my pulse settled," I whisper, fingers finding his hair. "Said music was better than any beta blocker."

His lips brush my collarbone, surprisingly soft. "Your heart's always been wild, Bell'cenda. Even before..." He doesn't finish, but his hand spreads over my chest like he's trying to protect what beats beneath.

This tenderness, this memory of who we were - it has to mean something, right? The Beast wouldn't remember details like this. Wouldn't care about steadying my pulse before claiming me.

When he first tries to enter me, the pain is sharp enough to make me gasp despite all his preparation. He's too big - muchbigger than I'd imagined, even after seeing him. I try to breathe through it, to endure like I did through treatments, but he notices immediately.

"Bell'cenda." His voice rough but gentle. "Don't hide pain from me. Not here. Not now."

"Well," I try for humor but my voice cracks, "guess early menopause isn't a great wedding gift, huh?" The attempt at levity falls flat as tears spill over. "The moisturizer isn't enough and you're so... I mean, I saw but..."

His forehead drops to mine, and something about that gentle contact breaks me. "I'm defective," I whisper, the words tasting like hospital air. "They told me this might happen but..." A sob catches in my throat. "God, I'm so humiliated. You did everything right and I can't even take you. Can't even do this one thing properly."

"Hey." His voice cuts through my spiral, rough yet tender in a way that makes my chest ache. When he pulls back to look at me, there's no disgust in his eyes - just that intensity that makes my pulse skip. He reaches for his bedside drawer, pulling out what looks like medical equipment. Vaginal dilators, different sizes arranged with military precision.

"When did you..." Understanding hits, making heat flood my face. "You got these after I told you? The whole fortress must know. They probably think—"

"No." The word rumbles like thunder, his whole body going rigid above me. "The only thing that matters is you. This moment. Us." His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing away tears. "I got everything you might need because I want this to be good for you. Because you deserve to feel pleasure without pain."

The fierce protectiveness in his voice, the care in his preparation... it makes something warm unfold in my chest. This can't be just about revenge, can it? The Beast wouldn't take suchcare, wouldn't think about medical details, wouldn't look at me like I'm something precious instead of broken.

"Let me take care of you," he growls, and god help me - I believe him.

He takes his time with the dilators, coating each one thoroughly with lube. "Breathe for me, Bell'cenda," he murmurs, starting with the smallest. His movements are precise, careful, but his eyes burn with something darker than desire. "That's it. Let me take care of you."

"This is probably not how you pictured deflowering your virgin bride," I manage, trying to mask nerves with sarcasm.

His growl vibrates through me. "You have no idea how fucking hot this is - getting to be your first, getting to make sure it's good for you." His free hand traces patterns on my thigh, keeping me relaxed as he works. "The way you trust me with this? Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

When he switches to a larger size, his mouth finds that spot on my neck that makes me forget about discomfort. "Still okay?"

"Better than okay," I breathe, and it's true. Each careful stretch feels less foreign, more like preparation for something I desperately want. The way he watches me, gauging every reaction, mixing pleasure with patience... it makes something warm unfold in my chest.

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