Page 65 of Beautifully Damned
~Ayla, I know this is a huge step. But we can disappear from all of this. I have new identities, a house, and work. I care about you more than this world you’re trapped in. I was raised to protect you, and this is me doing it. If you agree, meet me in the gardens at midnight. We’ll vanish.~
I swear something bursts in my left eye. She’s pale, eyes darting between me and the paper.
“What is that?” she stammers.
I hold the tickets out to her. She takes them reluctantly, like my hands might bite.
And then it hits me where I’ve seen that bastard’s face before. The hospital. That day I caughthim, “the nurse,” wheeling her out.It was him.Always hovering aroundmy wife.
I rip the tickets from her hand, tearing them apart, and lift her clean off the floor before tossing her onto the bed.
“I didn’t know,” she gasps. “I swear I didn’t. I don’t know what he was thinking. I won’t see him or speak to him again. But please, Roman… don’t hurt him.”
I crawl over her, caging her in. My mouth finds her throat, my teeth dragging over skin until I taste salt. Hickeys bloom under my tongue, marks that shout mine. Only mine to spoil. Mine to ruin. Mine to protect.
She shoves at my chest. “Get off me!”
My teeth close harder on a patch of skin, making her gasp. “Who do you belong to?”
“If I say you, will you promise not to hurt Emir?”
Promise? No. I’ll be in the gardens at midnight. Where he planned to take her from me. And I’ll make sure he dies slow enough to regret every thought he’s ever had about her.
My hands explore her body, staking my claim without words. But rage blinds me. I forget for a moment that the first time I took her was stained in violence.
Her hand disappears under the bed. Then steel flashes. Pain blooms white-hot in my stomach…she fucking stabbed me.
I don’t feel anger. Not even betrayal. I feelpride.
Good. Fight me, little lamb. Show me you can survive the devil.
I roll off her, one hand clamping the wound. Blood seeps warm between my fingers. She’s still gripping the knife, knuckles bone-white.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh my god, what have I done?” she screeches.
I cross the small gap between us, cupping her face in both hands. One of them is soaked in my blood, staining her cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just told your husband you weren’t in the mood.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re insane. You’re making me insane.”
“No, Ayla. You’re becoming a woman who can stand in the dark without running.”
I nip at her cheek, feeling the shiver run through her. “Answer me something.”
She swallows and presses her hands over my wound, stopping the flow of blood. “Ask.”
“Were you ever going to run with him? Now, or when he was playing nurse?”
Her throat works as she swallows. “Never. When he came to the hospital, I told him it was a mistake. I didn’t know about these tickets. My answer would have been no.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m serving my time. If I leave, I’ll burn down everything I walk away from.”
Not the answer I want. I want her to say becauseI belong to you. Because I’myour wife. BecauseI love you. Words I know I don’t deserve.
I step back. “There’s nowhere in this world you can go that I won’t find you, wife.”
And I leave her standing there with my blood on her hands.
