Page 19 of Poisonous Savage

Iopened my mouth to protest, but it felt like my tongue had turned into cotton.

Hishands, rough and calloused, slipped beneath me in a cradle of unexpected gentleness.Sheetssnaked over my skin as he tucked me in, the darkness of the roomswallowing us whole.Beforehe broke contact, he brought his hand slowly upwards until he cupped my face.Histouch lingered, deliberate, as if imprinting every curve and edge of my face into the memory of his fingertips.

"Whata damn mess we're making,"Marcomurmured, thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

Myhead spun, wine-soaked thoughts tangling with the sensation of his breath on my forehead.Theroom was hazy, but his presence cut through the fog, real and grounding.Heleaned down, lips brushing my skin in a kiss that seared rather than soothed—the mark of a beast claiming something precious.

"Fuckin' hell,Rosalind," he breathed against me, voice laced with a longing that punched right through the haze. "Mylove..."

Thewords were a growl, fierce, and possessive, but they wrapped around me like silk chains.Theyspoke of dark cells, of the blood-stained hands holding mine with care, of a world where tenderness and terror didn't mix.

Theworld swirled—a carousel of shadow and light,Marco'sface the only constant asIdrowned in a sea of wine-dark thoughts.Mymind was a battlefield, heartstrings pulled taut betweenHunter'siron grip andMarco'stender touch.

"Marco,"Idrew the word out, laden with a drunken desire that clawed at my insides, desperate for a light yet drawn to darkness.

Myeyelids fluttered, leaden, as warmth seeped from his gaze, wrapping around me.Fingerstraced an invisible line down my arm, igniting a trail of fire on my flesh.Ashudder racked through me.Whywasn't he claiming me?Didhe not want me?

"Stay," the word slipped out, but evenIcould tell how desperateIsounded.

Hedidn't move, didn't speak.Hissilhouette hanging over me.Thelonging in his stare was a tangible thing.Hewanted this.Hemust.

Momentsstretched into eternity as he watched me sink into the depths of sleep, the pull of dreams dragging me under.Andeven asIteetered on the edge of consciousness,Iknew.Knewthat the darkness had claimed me.Inanother life,I'dhave never tried to cheat on my husband.Butin another life,I'dhave never been forced to marry a man likeHunterDesmond.

Marco'stouch lingered on my skin like a phantom caress, but then his warmth was gone, the mattress easing back to its original shape as he stood.Hisshadow cut across the room, a dark figure against the pale moonlightthat filtered through the blinds.Theweight of his gaze lifted from my face, andIfelt the absence like a cold draft.

Inthe silence,Iheard the soft pad of his footsteps retreating, the creak of the floorboards, and a whispered promise of might-have-been echoing in the space between us.Mychest tightened, the tangle of emotions threatening to claw their way out.Hewas leaving, fuck, and every cell in me screamed for him to stay.

Buthe didn't.Couldn't, not withHunter'sbrand seared into my flesh, not with the heavy crown of his reign pressing down on us both.Marcostepped out into the night, the door closing behind him with a finality that knotted my insides.

Leftalone in the vast ocean of too-white blankets, my mind spiraled, teetering on the edge of sleep and burgeoning sobriety.Darknessbeckoned, pulling me under, and in that abyss, dreams twisting around my consciousness.

Hunter'spresence swallowed me there, all-encompassing, a dominion of shadows.Hisgravelly and potent voice echoed in my skull, commanding, demanding, taking.Icould feel the weight of his stare, the predatory glint in nearly black eyes that stripped me bare, andIsaw right through the façade of braveryIclung to.

"Mine," he'd growl, and theword was a shackle.

Thenlight would flicker, and there wasMarco, a beacon amidst the storm.Hishands were gentle, his strength a fortress rather than a cage.Theway he said my name, tender yet filled with an undercurrent of rebellion, tempted me.Whisperedof a life whereIwasn't just a pawn or a prize but a wife in my own right.

"Rosalind," he'd murmur, and each syllable was a brushstroke painting a future so damn enticing yet impossibly out of reach.

Torn,Iwrithed in the grasp of this fevered dream, the duel of darkness and light raging within me.Hunter, a force of nature, raw and untamed, commanding submission;Marco, a flame in the night, offering a warmth that promised redemption.

Itwas a dance, a battle, a fucking warzone inside my head.Eachman held a piece of my heart, jagged and jarring, pulling me apart even as they claimed to make me whole.

Inow belonged to the night, to the gritty reality of blood and power.Butsomewhere deep, where the remnants of innocence hid,Iyearned for the dawnMarcorepresented.Thespace to just be.Toexist outside the confines of what bound me.

Fuck, what wasIbecoming?Thelines blurred, my resolve melting away, reshaping me into something fierce,formidable, and forged in the fires of this twisted worldInow call home.

Sunshinedulled, eclipsed by the rise of a queen who thrived in the chaos, who craved the complexity of these two men—my captor and my savior.

Sleepfinally fully claimed me, a merciful oblivion, but even in the depths of slumber,Iknew.Iwas changing and evolving, and whenIemerged from the cocoon of these violent dreams,Iwouldn't be the girl who once sought solace in the light—I'dbe the woman who ruled in the dark.

HUNTER

Ipaced the room, my blood simmering with a threat that prickled under my skin.Vittowas moving against us.Fuckingbastard.Iknew he was a slimy sonofabitch.Sellingme his daughter for 'peace' but going behind my back and trying to rally the smaller mafias against me.IyankedMarcoby the arm, dragging him close, our faces inches apart. "Getthe boys strapped,"Igrowled. "Ratwas right.Vitto'smaking a move.Let'sgo kill him before he steps out."

Marconodded sharply. "They'llbe ready," he assured me.

Aswe plotted, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.Iturned, catching sight ofRosalind, my beautiful bride—aThornin name but a thorn in my fucking side.Hereyes were bloodshot, her hair a ratchet mess.Notfitting of a fucking queen.

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