Page 66 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

With them all surrounding me now, I come to a temporary decision, so I won’t go insane during the duration of this marriage. Acting hysterical and brooding won’t get me anywhere; not to mention, antagonizing the bad guys is never a good idea. Only with a cool head and rational mind can I survive among the monsters, playing the part assigned to me while preparing an escape.

Their power in this city and country is almost absolute, so running to the police would be a fool’s job. Besides, he sort of promised never to touch me without my permission, right?

So I’m safe in this regard; as long as I keep my head low and follow the rules, this should be a piece of cake. Even though he never put an end date to this marriage, I know it will come.

Monsters don’t get attached to their toys for long, finding much more interest in acquiring new ones for their collection.

Santiago laces his hand with mine, pulling me to the corridor leading to the exit as he addresses Remi. “Take Jimena home.” Without bothering to wait for a reply, he drags me outside, moving so quickly I have to run a little in my high heels to keep up with him, and within seconds, I breathe in the fresh autumn air, welcoming the harsh wind slapping me on my cheeks and cooling my heated skin.

Santiago doesn’t let me enjoy it for long though, as he ushers me to get in through the open car door, the driver George standing with a wide smile on his mouth. “Congratulations, Mrs. Cortez.”

Mrs. Cortez.

How odd to hear someone call me by the name I doodled on my sketchbooks as a teenager while I allowed myself to dream about Santiago and his haunting blue eyes.

I should have crushed on Prince Charming, because clearly I get what I want—just gotta write it in my sketchbook!

Grabbing my flowing skirt, I get inside, settling all the silk around me, and he closes the door. When the other one opens and Santiago gets in, he slides up the screen separating us from the front seat just in time for George to drive away from the church. In minutes, we’re on the narrow road leading to the highway that should take us to Chicago in around twenty minutes.

Resting my head on the seat, I wince, rubbing my head near the veil clip that’s been digging in for an hour now and probably bruised my scalp. Not to mention it pulls my hair so tight my eyes hurt.

Santiago grabs my palm, pushing it out of the way as he leans closer, unclipping the veil from my head, and I groan in pleasure when instant relief comes, not even caring that he rubs the sore spot before dropping the veil on my lap. “Why did you put the damn thing on if it hurt you?” he asks, dangerous notes lacing his tone, and I glance at him, surprised to see anger flashing on his face.

My discomfort displeases him so much?

I burst out laughing while his brow rises in question, although a weird satisfaction settles in his eyes in the way they look at me ever since I said I do. “It’s funny you care, since you gave me this.” I point at the light red marks on my throat only stinging a little now and then extend my bruised wrists. “And those too.”

An unreadable expression crosses his features, and he clasps my wrists, bringing them to his mouth and kissing the bruised flesh, the betraying goose bumps breaking on my skin and my breath hitching. “Lo siento, Briseis.” My heart pangs at his apology, but then burns with fury when he adds, “Sometimes prey need to know how to stay put.”

I snatch them away. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckles. “Ah, the fire is back. I started to think you swallowed your tongue back in the church.”

I open my mouth to retaliate, when I remember my earlier resolve, intending to act smart and not let this man ruffle my feathers. Taking a deep breath, I brush away his statement and ask a question of my own. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Dread flips my stomach at this. “To your parents’ mansion?”

“No.”

Groaning inwardly in frustration, my nails itching to rake his fucking smug face, I invite him to elaborate on the subject. “So by home, you mean…?”

“My house. What else?”

He takes out a cigarette from his pocket, ready to light it, but I snatch it away, fisting and dropping it on the floor. “Don’t smoke when I’m around.” I might follow the rules, but I refuse to be a doormat in this marriage, letting him stomp all over me.

Santiago taps on his chin with his index finger. “Nicotine brings me pleasure and a temporary reprieve from the darkness that’s my life.” I blink at this, never expecting him to share something like this with me. “However, I’m inclined to not smoke in your company.”

“Good,” I say, resting my head on the window and focusing on the ever-changing scenery, realizing we’re almost inside the city. Only, instead of driving straight, George takes a turn to the right.

“Everything has a price, Briseis. What do you offer in exchange?” My head swings toward him, and a sinister grin shapes his mouth, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper scorching my skin. “Pleasure of the flesh?”

Our eyes stare at one another. Momentarily, images from the library pop in my head: how he gripped my hips, thrusting inside me, all while lust filled my every pore, the need for him so strong I thought I’d go mad without his muscled body pinning me to the desk. My cheeks flush and need zaps through me, going straight to my core, and I gasp at the unexpected desire flaming inside me from one memory alone.

“What is it that you want, querida?” He threads his fingers in my hair, tugging me toward him, and my palms land on his chest, while he shifts closer, his mouth inches away from mine. “My tongue tracing the walls of your pussy before sucking on your clit?” My nails dig into his chest, my fingers fisting the lapels of his jacket holding on to him, and my eyes close, despising him for putting additional images in my head. “Or my fingers pushing inside you, stretching you for my dick straining behind my zipper?” My core clenches, and a raspy breath escapes me, yet he still continues to talk, his soft murmurs so sinful they should be forbidden. “Would you like that, querida, me fucking you hard and fast?”

He nips on my chin, his teeth sinking into my flesh before he glides his tongue over it, soothing the sting yet intensifying the lust shaking my system. “Or agonizingly slow until you whimper underneath me from need, and even then I’ll deny you, sliding into you until your pussy clamps around me, squeezing the cum out of me?”

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