Page 35 of Savage Vows
I hold still, my hand braced beside her head, my cock throbbing but unmoving. I search her face for a long second, then lean down to kiss her temple.
“Alright,” I murmur. “We won’t.”
Before she can say anything, I reach over to the nightstand, grab the small knife I keep there, and prick the side of my hand. Just enough to make a few dark drops well up.
I let them fall onto the white sheet beside her hip.
Her eyes widen. “Dante…”
I smirk, tucking the blade away and kissing her again, softer this time. “That should satisfy them.”
I tuck myself back into my trousers, the ache between my legs still heavy, and glance at the wall. I know they’re listening. Hell, I made sure they’d have something to hear. None of it was fake—her soft cries, the way she gasped my name…still echoing in my head like a song I can’t stop playing.
I knock twice against the wall—the signal they’ve been waiting for—and pull on my shirt.
When I open the door, the cool air from the hallway hits me. My family is there, just like I knew they would be.
My father stands front and center, arms crossed, a rare hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good,” he says simply, with a small nod that means more than any speech could.
My uncles crowd in behind him, clapping me on the back, offering crude congratulations that I barely hear. I keep my expression easy, maybe even a little smug, though my mind is still on her—the taste of her, the way she trembled under my mouth.
I glance over my shoulder, into the room.
Adriana is sitting on the bed, the baby doll still clinging to her curves, the white sheet pulled around her in modesty. Her hair’smussed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. She just stares at me, silent, like she’s not sure whether to hate me or…something else.
I give her one last look before I turn back to the hallway. My family is still talking around me, but the only thing I can hear is the sound of her moans, playing over and over in my head.
I stand there in the hallway, letting them slap my back, letting them believe what they want. My father’s pleased look is worth more to them than the truth—and the truth is, if I’d taken her, it wouldn’t have been for their damn satisfaction.
I can still see her in my mind—sheet clutched to her chest, eyes fixed on me like she’s trying to read something I’ll never say out loud. Not hate, not exactly. Not trust either. Something in between.
My aunts step into the room, all smiles, acting like they’re just here to fuss over the bride. One of them moves to Adriana, murmuring something I can’t hear as she helps her into a bathrobe, drawing it closed over the baby doll. The other heads straight for the bed, gathering the stained sheet like it’s some holy relic.
Adriana keeps her eyes down, letting them guide her, her hair falling forward to shield her face. I watch the curve of her neck, the way her fingers clutch the robe at the collar.
I should look away. I don’t.
My jaw tightens, heat crawling under my skin. I haven’t wanted someone this violently in my life—not just to fuck, but to consume, to make mine in a way that leaves no room for anyone else.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Because wanting her like that…it’s dangerous. Not just for her. For me. For both of us.
One of my uncles leans back, swirling his glass. “Surprised she’s still pure, after being away so long,” he says with a knowing sneer. “Most girls would’ve found a way to…entertain themselves.”
Liam’s eyes flick to me before he answers. “I spoke to her brother,” he says. “He told me she went away to study.”
My father snorts into his glass. “Education,” he says, like the word itself leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “Books don’t make a wife. She’ll learn quickly enough what her purpose is now.”
He turns his gaze on me, all weight and command. “You will show her her place, son. You will make sure she never forgets what this arrangement means.”
The whiskey suddenly tastes bitter in my mouth.
I give him a slow nod, because that’s what’s expected, but the words grind against something in me I can’t quite name. I can still see Adriana in that baby doll, clutching the robe, her eyes meeting mine for just a second before she looked away.
They want her to be a possession. I’m not sure I can see her that way anymore.
I take another drink, hiding my thoughts behind the rim of the glass, but the heat in my chest has nothing to do with the whiskey.
