Page 5 of Poisonous Savage

Witha pull, he led me forward, my feet reluctantly following.Eachstep towards the makeshift altar was a descent.Thepriest waited there.Nota shepherd but a harbinger, the words he'd soon recite not vows but a verdict.

Hunter'sgrip tightened like a vise that promised possession and pain.Idared a glance up at him, searching for a crack in his face, some sign of humanity.Butthere wasnothing.Nolife.Nolight.ThemoreItried to tug my hand from his, the more he squeezed until my fingers were tingling and beet red.

"Stubbornbeauty," he muttered, almost appreciatingly, as if my resistance pleased him, a challenge to be conquered.

Noaltar had ever felt less holy, the priest's presence a mere formality.Thiswasn't a union of love but a forging of chains designed to keep the powerful in power.

Thiswas it—the precipice of my old life and the dark abyss of the new.HunterDesmond'swife.Aqueen to his dark kingdom.

Iheld my breath until my lungs burned as echoes of our footfalls died away.Thepriest's droning voice cut through the tense silence.

"RosalindThorn," the priest said, monotone, bored. "Doyou take this man..."

Escapeplans swirled in my head—a dash for the door, a struggle, anything to avoid the chainsIwas about to wear.MaybeifIrun, ifIdon't comply, he will stab me with that knife he has hidden in his socks.Butmy feet were rooted, as if the marble beneath them had grown over my shoes, sealing me in this nightmare.

"Rosalind?"Hunter'svoice, a low rumble, prodded at the edges of my resolve.Itwasn't a question; it was a command.

"Speak," he growled, not loud enough for the priest or shadows lurking as guests to hear, an order.

"I-Itake this man..."Myvoice was a traitor, quivering with bottled fury rather than the fear that threatened to spill from my eyes.Icursed myself internally, rage burning through my veins, scorching the path of any tears before they could form.

"Untildeath do us part."Deathmight be the only release from the iron grasp of the man who now called himself my husband.

Hunter'sgaze bore into me, a silent challenge.Herelished the fight, the spirit in me he sought to dominate, to bend until it snapped under his will.ButIrefused to be broken.Hewould find that out.

"Goodgirl," he murmured, a smirk on his lips.

Thepriest's voice cut through the tension like a knife, slicing the moment into before and after. "Inow pronounce you husband and wife."Thosewords slammed into me.Thefinality of it.

Applauseechoed, hollow and half-hearted, from the few guests that stood witnessing this macabre union.ServantstoMr.Desmondand his ilk.Afew guards.Arandom old lady.

Hislips twitched, a cruel mimicry smile as he turned us to face the scattered applause, raising my hand above our heads, a display of victorious possession.Therewould be no reception.Nojoyous bouquet toss.Nocelebration.Wewere wed, and that was that.

Thelast whispers of the guests slithered away, leaving a void filled with our solitary presence.

"Listenclose,"Hunterturned to face me. "You'remine.Yourevery breath, your every goddamn heartbeat is under my command.Whetheryou accept it or not."

Imet the darkness head-on, turning my chin up and refusing to look away.Hislips twisted into a semblance of a smile—not warmth, but the baring of fangs.

"Isthat so?"Ishot back, tilting my head and laughing, the rude sound echoing in the expanse of the hall.

"Defiancesuits you."Heleaned closer, and his scent—sweat and some spicy cologne—filled my senses. "You'llbe such a prize to break."

Hishand settled on my waist, pulling me towards him, holding me firmly in place as he looked down atme.Myskin crawled beneath my dress.Iwanted to run, to leave, but he was bruising me as he held me.

"Breakme?"Thelaugh that bubbled up was hysterical. "Youforget,HunterDesmond, poison only works if it can corrode the spirit.Mine'sarmored with more than you know."

Hisdark gaze appraised me, taking the measure of my soul as if it were territory to conquer.Butthis land, the expanse of my will, would not yield to darkness without a fight.Anysoftness within me died; his domain over me would be nothing but ruling over a statue.

"Armoredor not," he whispered, "everyone has a weakness.I'lltear down your walls, brick by fucking brick.AndthenIwill rebuild you asIwill it."

Isquared my shoulders, my heart racing. "Thenprepare for war becauseIam no silent submissive, no passive prize.Youmay have forced me into this marriage, dragged me into your filth—but roses have thorns, remember that."

Hisnearness was oppressive, pulling and pushing me simultaneously.Andas the silence stretched taut between us,Iknew: this union would be the fight of my damn life.

"CanIgo now?"Iasked sarcastically.

"No, you cannot."Hisgrowl reverberated off the walls as he hauled me up the sweeping staircase, each step thumping into my body as he dragged me.

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