Page 3 of Marked for Life

She hesitates for a fraction of a second—long enough for the rage to flare—before obeying, setting the book down and rising gracefully. She moves toward me with the quiet, learned compliance of someone who understands resistance is futile. Yet even as she approaches, I can see it in her eyes—that part of her that remains untouched. Hidden.

Unacceptable.

I circle her slowly, letting my gaze rake over her. The dress she wears—chosen by me—clings to her curves, thin enough to reveal the marks on her neck and the tattoo on her hip that declares my ownership. Her hair is long, falling past her shoulders, exactly as I prefer it. Her posture is perfect, head slightly bowed, hands folded in front of her. On the surface, she is the picture of submission. But I know better.

I stop in front of her, tilting her chin up so her eyes meet mine. “Where are you?” I demand quietly. “Your body is here. But your mind?”

Confusion flashes briefly before she smooths it away. “I’m right here,” she answers softly. “I was just reading.”

A lie. Small, but still a lie. Her thoughts were somewhere else—somewhere separate from me. And that is intolerable.

“No,” I murmur, my grip tightening on her chin. “You’re drifting. Holding something back. Creating space where there should be none.” My other hand slides to her waist, pulling her against me with enough force to make her gasp. “I don’t accept distance, Hannah. Not from you. Not ever.”

Her breath quickens. “I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t apologize,” I cut her off coldly. “Correct it.”

Her throat works as she swallows. Good. Fear. Fear is honest. Fear is reverence. And if fear is what it takes to shatter that last remaining piece of independence, then so be it.

Without another word, I scoop her up, cradling her like something fragile yet entirely mine, and carry her to the bed. She doesn’t struggle. She’s learned not to. I deposit her onto the mattress with controlled force, my body humming with the need to eliminate every trace of separation between us.

“Dante, I?—”

“Silence,” I snap, already stripping off my jacket, my tie. “No words. No thoughts. Only submission. Complete submission.”

I undress with methodical precision, watching her face as her breathing shallows, her pupils dilate. I’ve trained her body to respond to me this way—to fear and desire in equal measure. But it’s not enough. Not while her mind still shelters somewhere I cannot touch.

“Stand,” I command once I’m bare. She does, shaky but obedient. “Remove the dress.”

Her hands tremble slightly as she obeys, peeling the fabric away and letting it pool at her feet. She’s left in the simple white undergarments I selected—deliberately innocent, a stark contrast to the complete dominance I impose upon her.

“All of it,” I clarify darkly.

The last barrier falls. She stands naked, vulnerable, branded with my name and my child, and yet—still—some part of her remains out of reach. I see it in her eyes. The distance. The unyielding sliver of independence. And I know, with cold certainty, that tonight I will obliterate it.

“On the bed. On your back.”

She complies immediately, her breath shuddering as she positions herself for me. But her eyes drift toward the ceiling—away from me. Another small act of defiance. Another sign of distance.

I’m on her in seconds, my body caging hers, my hand gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Eyes on me, Hannah. Always.”

Her gaze snaps back, wide and full of the fear she tries to conceal. Better. Fear is something I can use. Fear ensures compliance. Fear bridges the distance.

“Who am I to you?” I demand, my voice a low growl against her lips.

“My husband,” she breathes, barely audible.

“More.” My fingers tighten, my control slipping. “What else?”

Her hesitation is infuriating, but eventually, she breaks. “My owner,” she whispers. “The man who owns me.”

Satisfaction floods me like wildfire. “Yes,” I murmur darkly, my mouth descending on hers. “And I will own you, Hannah. Completely. There will be no part of you left unclaimed. No thought. No desire. No distance. Only me.”

And tonight, I will make certain of it.

Satisfaction floods me like wildfire. "Yes," I murmur darkly, my mouth descending on hers. "And I will own you, Hannah. Completely. There will be no part of you left unclaimed. No thought. No desire. No distance. Only me."

And tonight, I will make certain of it.

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