Page 29 of The Devil's Torment

It’s a possessiveness thing, that’s all. We De Vils are a proprietorial bunch, and from the moment she said, “I do”, I owned her, which means no one else can put their fucking hands on her, including my brothers.

I stride over and barge my shoulder into his, shoving him out of the way. “What are you doing?”

Christian’s temperament is pretty similar to mine. He’s chill and in control until he’s not.

His eyes flare, and he stares me down. “Making sure your wife is okay since you haven’t bothered to check on her.”

I level him with an icy glare. “I’ve been busy entertaining the guests and stopping Xan from decking Donovan.”

Christian’s attention momentarily shifts, his eyes rolling. “Not again.”

“Yes, again. Make yourself useful. Glue yourself to Saskia’s side and run interference if Donovan comes anywhere near her.”

Christian’s gaze switches from me to Victoria and back again. Then he pops a shoulder and spins on his heel, disappearing into the crowds.

“That was rude.”

“It was necessary.” I grasp her elbow and steer her onto the dance floor. Once there, I pull her into my arms, my grip bordering on brutal as I clasp her right hip.

“You know, it’s customary for a man to ask a woman to dance.”

“You’re not a woman. You’re my wife.”

She chokes a laugh. “Excuse me? I’m not a woman because I’m wearing a wedding ring?”

I heave a sigh. That came out all wrong. “I mean you’re notjusta woman. Of course, I’m going to dance with my fucking wife on our wedding day.”

“It’s still nice to be asked, Nicholas.”

Groups of swaying bodies around us part, giving us room to take up our position as the guests of honor. I stare down at Victoria, more than a foot smaller than me, her hazel eyes accentuated by gold and bronze makeup, and something shifts in my chest. It’s more than possessiveness. An urge to protect, maybe? It’s the same feeling I had the night she ended up in the hospital. The same feeling as when I planted my fist in that bastard’s face.

And it’s here now, flaming my skin like I’m a juicy steak thrown on the barbeque.

I’ve never thought of Victoria as anything more than Elizabeth’s irritating, older sister.

That’s not entirely true,a voice whispers in my ear.

Okay, fine. One memory in particular comes to mind from a few months ago. Imogen had invited Victoria to join us at our regular monthly family dinner, and she’d inadvertently sat in Christian’s chair. He’d shared a joke with her and rested his hand on her shoulder, and I’d had the same feeling then as I did a few minutes ago when he laid his hands on her again.

At the time, I’d put my feelings down to her soon-to-be status as my sister-in-law and, knowing what a player Christian could be, I’d anticipated trouble ahead if he made a move. But now… I’m starting to think it might be something else.

“Fine. Would you like to dance?”

She laughs, like she had with Christian, but there’s a brittle note to it, and her eyes don’t sparkle like they did for him.

I don’t fucking like it one bit.

“We’ve been dancing for more than a minute. I think you’ve left it a little too late for chivalry.”

Her retort stings. I’m not sure why I care what she thinks, but I do—I fucking care.

She’s too small for us to dance cheek-to-cheek, so I do the next best thing. I cradle the back of her head and press her cheek to my chest, and we sway on the spot.

“I’m sorry. This is all strange to me. New.”

She arches back, both eyebrows elevated. “What, politeness? Or being a normal human being in general?”

My chest shakes with suppressed laughter. Victoria has always been snarky and quick-witted, and it’s always grated on me. Until today. “Valid point.” I rest my chin on top of her head. “How are you doing?”

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