Page 63 of Brutal Vows

I let a smile dance on my lips when I pull up the next screen. “This is information that is going to change everything.”

Thirty-Five

The plane is burstingwith people, but surprisingly, it is oddly quiet in the cabin. There are only a few hushed whispers among the men, but most of the soldiers have their eyes closed to get as much sleep as possible before landing in Rome.

Vitali has me tucked in a plush blanket, his lap pillowing my head as he runs his fingers through my hair. It isn’t much longer before we land in Rome. I’ve managed to gain a few hours’ sleep off and on, but the anxiety bubbling inside of me keeps me on edge.

They murmur quietly to keep from disturbing me, but it doesn’t matter, sleep isn’t going to come for me anymore. The plan is simple. Which is how plans need to be. If they become too complicated with too many moving parts, then things could easily go awry.

Simple. Always simple.

But then why does everything feel so complicated? It’s as if the ground beneath me is shaking in warning and I can’t catch my footing. Like the breath is stuck in my lungs and the air my body desperately craves is suffocating me.

I’ve never believed in omens, but it is as if one is hanging over my head, taunting me.

Closing my eyes, I try to ward off the ominous thread of doubt slipping through me. I clutch the blanket tighter to my chin and snuggle into Vitali’s lap. Then, before I know it, sleep claims me.

I’m not sure how long I was out, but when I open my eyes again, a bright light causes me to wince when it catches me in the eye. Blinking, I rub at my tired eyes before sitting up, the comfortable feeling of sheets beneath me a stark difference from the cool leather of the plane seat I’d fallen asleep in.

“Buongiorno, principessa,” Vitali greets me, a wide smile on his face. I yawn and give him a sleepy smile as he hands me a cup of espresso. The first sip is bold, intense, and unapologetic, and I groan in appreciation. It’s been months since I’ve tasted the pure perfection of lingering bitterness clinging to my palate. Coffee in America is about convenience. In Italy, coffee is something to be savored.

“Grazie,marito.” The way his eyes deepen with hunger as he licks his lips when I call him husband in Italian has my thighs clenching beneath the satin sheets. I take another sip and let out a peaceful sigh. “What is on the agenda today?”

“The men are getting prepped and ready for departure,” he tells me as he sits on the edge of the bed. “We’ll hit your father tonight. Tomas will join us once everything is clear.”

I nod my head and finish off the rest of the espresso.

“But first,” he clears his throat. “You are getting a tracker embedded.”

My brows bury themselves in my hairline at his rather audacious statement.

“No, I’m not,” I growl at him. “You can’t just chip me like some dog.”

Vitali huffs a breath. “We all have one,” he tells me. “Even Vanya.”

“Evaline didn’t have hers embedded,” I point out.

“Because Kenzo didn’t have any other choice but to put it in her wedding ring at the time.” He shifts on the bed so that he is facing me more. “The doctor who does the chips was unavailable, and now she can’t get it because she’s pregnant.”

I scoff. “And what? We just happened to bring the doctor with us?”

He smirks and pulls out a large metal syringe from his pocket.

“Oh hell no!” I scoot back against the headboard and kick out my feet, but it doesn’t do anything but get them stuck in the sheets. “You aren’t getting that thing anywhere near me.”

His smirk deepens, and he stands up, syringe at the ready.

“It will be over quickly,piccola cerva,” he promises. “You’ll barely feel it.”

“Feel this, asshole.” I toss the espresso cup and saucer at his head, but he effortlessly dodges it, as if he were expecting that exact response. I scurry toward the opposite side of the bed, but he’s already grabbing onto my ankle and dragging me toward him. With surprising ease, he flips me fully on my stomach before dragging me until I’m bent over the edge of the bed, ass in the air on display.

He hovers over me, his body pressed against my back. I can’t help but squirm when I feel his erection pressing against the curve of my panty-clad ass. “If you are a good girl,” he whispers, licking the shell of my ear. “I’ll reward you.” He trails his tongue down the side of my neck,eliciting a moan from me. “Be a bad girl and I will have to punish you.”

I wish I could say that my panties aren’t soaked at him threatening to punish me, but they are. One of his hands trails along my back until it comes to a stop at my panty line. Slowly, he pulls the lace down my legs until they pool at my ankles. He straightens himself slightly before he kneels behind me. I jerk when he kisses my right cheek and then my left.

He leaves several kisses across my ass, licking and nipping at my skin, running his nose along the cleft until his face is hovering above my pussy. He parts my thighs until I am completely on display for him. When he tilts my hips up, I groan when the edge of the bed connects with my swollen clit.

He slides his tongue into me, making me forget why I am even in this position in the first place. All I feel is his mouth and tongue as he devours me. Everything he does to me feels sinful and wicked. It feels wrong but in the best way possible. His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me even wider, tilting me more for his eager pleasure. The long, slow licks he is giving me are making my eyes roll back in my head and pulling sounds from me I’ve never known were possible.

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