Page 33 of The Devil's Torment

“Would you rather I was cruel? Cold? Unfeeling?”

“No. Of course not. But… you’ve always treated me as though I was a stone caught in your shoe that you couldn’t pluck out and grind into the dirt.”

He takes a deep breath, his taut chest rising and falling. Running the back of his hand down my arm, he follows the movement with his eyes, then lifts them to mine. “You’re my wife.”

“Not by choice.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take my position as your husband seriously.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means”—he leans forward and places a kiss on top of my shoulder—“it’s my job to care for you. To protect you. To kill anyone who hurts you.”

His words do funny things to my insides. I’ve always scoffed at those alpha male types who assume the position of protector. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. But I’m not going to lie, it makes me feel… cherished. Important. Like I matter.

“Would you have done the same for Beth?”

He presses his lips together in a thin line, steeped in disapproval as though by asking the question, I’ve called into question his principles.

“I would have done the same for any woman I married.”

Disappointment wells up inside me. Not only am I second best to Beth, but I’m no different to any other woman in the world. For a second there, he made me feel special, but I’m not special.

For Christ’s sake, Vicky. Pull yourself together.

I’m powerless to change the past, but I can forge a different future for myself. Nicholas may never love me the way I’d always hoped the man I married would, but this protective, considerate version of him is more than I’d dared to hope for.

“Turn around.”

The rough cadence of his words jolt me from my thoughts. Without question, I do as he asks, my heart leaping into my throat. I’m not a virgin, but this is still Nicholas, the man I’ve fantasized about sleeping with for years. That is, until he got engaged to Beth, then I severed those thoughts damned fast.

But now… I can let them roam free, even if they do come with a colossal side order of guilt. I pray that when we do find Beth’s murderer, the constant weight sitting on my chest will ease. Perhaps by getting justice for my sister I’ll shed the guilty feelings that I’m somehow betraying her by marrying and sleeping with Nicholas.

I jump when his fingers brush the bare skin of my upper back. A low chuckle vibrates in his chest.

“I never took you for skittish.”

“I’m not, usually.”

His lips brush my ear. “Relax.”

My dress loosens as he works the buttons on the bodice, his movements precise yet unhurried. The beautiful silk gown slips off my shoulders and gathers at my feet revealing ivory lingerie Eloise picked out for me.

It’ll drive him crazy,she’d pronounced when, at her insistence, I’d modeled it for her.He won’t be able to help falling in love with you.

I didn’t put her right, but regret had tasted bitter on my tongue. It still does.

His hands land on my shoulders, and I manage not to jump this time. He eases me around, but his eyes aren’t on my face. They’re roving over my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. His breathing picks up pace, and mine does, too, especially when deft fingers unfasten the remaining buttons on his shirt. A gasp shoots into my throat as he lets it slide to the floor. Intricate swirls of black ink cover his chest and arms. I’ve never seen Nicholas less than fully clothed before. I didn’t know he had tattoos, and lots of them.

“Not what you imagined?”

I swallow. “No.”

“Not quite fitting for my position in society, huh?” He smiles, his fingers going to his belt while he simultaneously kicks off his shoes. I follow his every movement, unable to drag my gaze away. His trousers slide down his legs, and he steps out of them. There are more tattoos on his thighs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got them on his back, too. His thick erection is easily visible through the black designer boxer shorts. He’s big. Bigger than Matthew, and considerably bigger than Paul from high school.That’s gonna sting.

He removes his socks then takes my hand, leading me through another door to a large bedroom with a huge bed against one wall. “We’ll be more comfortable in here.”

When he lets me go to turn down the covers, I get my first view of his muscular back. Sure enough, he’s tattooed there, too. But it’s a single image of an angel, its wings pluming up over his lats.

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