Page 2 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

The only appropriate word is captive.

His deep, husky voice sends shivers down my spine, and revulsion runs through me at his touch, the rose thorns digging sharper this time, and I wince in pain, finding no wiggle room in his hold to step back and throw away the stupid bouquet I never wanted in the first place. “Will you take me as your beloved husband and promise to cherish and love me till the day I die?” A sinister smile widens his mouth while he winks at me. “Or, in other words, till death do us part?” His thumb slides over my cheek gently, evoking fear inside me, reminding me how this hand can kill someone with just one strike.

I twist my face to the side, avoiding his caress, but he tightens his fingers on me, digging them painfully into my skin, and a whimper of distress escapes me. “The choice is yours, querida.” He prolongs the last word, as if tasting it on his tongue when he addresses me.

I wish to slap him hard, so he won’t call me his darling again, then fist the skirt of my dress and, with my high heels clicking soundly on the marble floor, run through the heavy, wooden doors at the end of the church’s hallway to hide far away from here.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

He won’t chase me, granting me my freedom he has promised from the very beginning, and with time I can forget all the events that have happened, like a bad dream that should have never even involved me.

However, all this musing has no point.

I stay silent, waves of shock rushing through me while I will myself to say the words everyone expects, yet they seem to get stuck in my throat, not wanting to be spoken for the destruction they might cause in my life.

The groom sighs, winking at me. “Querida, I’m starting to get bored. And it’s never a good sign.” Someone clears their throat, and I shift my focus to the bench on the left where a blond-haired man flips a knife between his fingers while the man next to him, bound in tight, black ropes, groans in pain, blood seeping from various wounds on his torso and head.

The blond man puts the sharp tip to his victim’s neck and nicks the skin, chuckling quietly, finding amusement in how his victim bursts into tears, his eyes pleading for mercy he will never get from the likes of them.

The victim mumbles something through the tape covering his mouth, and I don’t have to read minds to know what he thinks.

Or rather asks of me.

After everything he put me through… he still expects me to do it.

“Choose, Briseis,” the groom says, boredom lacing his tone as he snaps my head back to him so his hot breath fans my face, his lips inches away from mine. “Either become my wife or I’ll kill your father.” He waits a bit and adds, “Choose wisely. Don’t bargain with the devil if you are not ready for the consequences, mi amor.”

Yes, Santiago Cortez has given me a choice.

But no matter the outcome… my soul will be crushed like a porcelain mug hitting the floor.

Turning away from him, I focus my attention on the priest and finally find the strength to utter the words that cut me from inside out, while self-loathing fills my entire being along with hate that burns brighter with each passing second toward the man standing next to me. “I do.”

My life has become a nightmare.

Because a sinner decided to own me.

Chapter One

“All the things you do should bring you pleasure.

Otherwise, what’s the point of them?”

Santiago

Chicago, Illinois

Santiago

Whistling loudly, I step inside the arena, and a grin spreads across my mouth when the familiar energy of doom and chaos settles over me, joined by the smell of desperation and fear twitching my nostrils.

Fear has a certain kind of scent only a true hunter can detect, floating in the air invisibly, yet it rushes the adrenaline through my blood in anticipation of a fresh kill.

After all, there is no greater pleasure in this world for me than the destruction I bring to my victims, as true glory lies in their cries of pain.

Inhaling deeply, I open my arms wide and say, “Let the light touch the darkness.” The minute the words slip past my lips, one by one, the lights above turn on, brightening the place so much a person might go blind from it.

If you are delusional enough, you might think your end found you, and Dios somehow allowed you into heaven, not suspecting you’re in purgatory engaging in foreplay before endless hell, where el diablo awaits you.

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