Page 48 of Beautifully Damned
And fuck me, I did. I wanted to try. I meant it when I said it, but I don’t know how to hold something without breaking it.
“Anything to get into your pants,” I snap. It flies out before I can stop it. It’s a lie. A big fat lie that I regret the second it comes out of my mouth.
She bends at the waist, cackling with laughter. Then she straightens, wiping a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Let’s see,” she mutters. “A coward...” one finger goes up, “a liar...” another, “and a monster.”
She walks closer to me, until we are nose to nose, her chin tilts up.
“While you lied,” she begins, “I didn’t. I told you the truth from the start. I told you you’d be nothing more than practice. A trial fuck before I move on to a man better suited for me.”
Something in me snaps—violent, primal, like a goddamn animal breaking free of its cage. I grab her, slam her back against the nearest wall so hard a painting crashes to the floor beside us. Her eyes widen.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I growl, my voice a roar.
“Exactly what you heard.”
Who is this woman?
This isn’t the quiet girl who was dropped at my door like a sacrificial lamb. This isn't the soft thing I toyed with once, twice. This one’s fire and poison and fucking pride. She's not afraid of what I might do. And what the fuck I might do? Because the mere thought of her going to bed hungry, of tears tracking down that stubborn face, feels like a blade slicing my guts. And the idea of some other man—touching her, feeding her, spoiling her?
It burns. Itblisters.
She has damned me.
I grab her face, my fingers digging into her cheeks until her lips squish together.
“No one,” I breathe, “will ever make you feel the way I do.”
She glares straight through me. “You’re right. They’ll make me feel even better. Maybe draw me a bath. Bring me roses the morning after.”
The image that flashes through my mind of another man between her thighs, another man holding her, whispering soft nothings just to taste what I’ve broken open, makes my blood turn molten. I slam my fists into the wall beside her head.
“I’ll bring you their dicks,” I snarl, “their hands. Their fucking tongues. In gift boxes. Wrapped up nice and neat for you.”
I mean it. I fucking mean every word. I’d burn their cities. Rip their empires down brick by brick if they even looked at her like I do. I’d start a war—two, three, ten. Just so she could staymine. I’d tear the Bratva down in the process without a care in the world. My father is rolling in his grave.
Mine what, though? My lover? I don’t even know if I can give her love. My toy? I haven’t been able to sleep, to breathe, tofunctionsince I tossed her aside like one.
“We already established you’re a liar and a coward, didn’t we?” She scoffs.
That goddamn smart mouth. I can’t take another word from her. I throw her over my shoulder and storm down the stairs. She pounds her fists against my back, kicking and screaming.
She needs to eat.
BeforeIdo.
?Chapter XXXI?
Ayla
I just stood up to the devil. A few weeks ago, I would’ve shrunk into myself and prayed he’d look away before my legs gave out. But something clawed its way out of me tonight. I think that a part of me realized the only way to live around Roman is to stop playing the victim he wants.
But I know deep down—he wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically. If Roman was that kind of monster, he would’ve shown his hand long ago.
He deposits me on a dining chair, and I notice we are not alone. Lola sits across from me. She’s the same girl who had helped me that first day I was dragged here. Next to her is Mikhail, Roman’s brother.
Everyone here knows Lola’s story. I’ve overheard enough whispers to piece it together—how she brought Mikhail back into the Bratva, how even the cruelest men in this house bend when it comes to her. She’s adored. And Mikhail looks at her like she’s his entire goddamn universe.
