Page 86 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“Do you kill only bad people?” I ask, and the energy changes, becoming darker, and his smile vanishes. His eyes become crystal-clear, coldness slipping into them, and he pushes back, kicking open the shower stall as he gets out.

I watch him through the steam and glass, studying the rigid posture of his back, the scars even more visible under such harsh light while he toes off his shoes and spins around, his hands on his sweatpants plastered against his legs.

I imagine my dress is no better, weighing on me, and I long to shimmy out of it, but I can’t.

During the day, I can’t pretend like this darkness doesn't exist and give myself freely to the monster.

“We aren't living in a fairy tale, Briseis.”

I get out of the shower, standing in front of him, water dripping from me onto the floor. “Why can’t you just answer my question?” I almost yell the last part, and his laughter sends chills down my spine for how mocking it is.

“So you can build an image in your head that allows you to give in to this relationship without any guilt or fear?” He steps closer, his presence empowering me once again while steam rises around us, making us breathe heavily, but I can’t peel my stare from his. “Lo siento, querida. I won’t do it. I’m not a beast who will magically turn into a prince if you give me just a dash of affection.” He threads his fingers in my wet strands, and I gasp when he pulls me toward the mirror, showcasing us in our full glory. He pushes my front against the counter so I have no other choice but to put my hands on it, maintaining my balance. He stands right behind me, his pelvis pressing into my ass, and angles my head in a way so I can't avoid his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “I kill those who I think deserve it.” He puts his other palm on my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulse. “Ah, it makes your heart beat faster in fear. Scary thought, isn't it? Who I find deserving of death and torture. They cry, beg, plead, and I never listen. Killing them all because, in my eyes, they don't deserve a second chance.”

The air sticks in my throat, my pulse speeding up as a slight shiver travels through me, awakening every hair on my body. My head screams at me to get away from him, run somewhere far away so the monster won’t find me, although I know it won’t help me.

This kind of monster has hunted for so long nothing can stop him from catching his prey.

He lets me go only to spin me around, and our chests bump against each other as he traps me in yet another cage. “Have no illusions about who I am. You’re my wife, and you’ll stay that way. You can either accept the beast or wait for the prince who will never fucking show up. If he does, I’ll kill him.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper, hating the possessiveness and truthfulness of his last statement. This man would kill any guy who so much as hints of wanting me, and it’s madness on a whole different level. “You kill people for your own amusement. I didn't choose you.” But even though I say these words, I don't feel like they ring true.

He said those who deserve it in his eyes. Surely, innocent people don't deserve it in his eyes? He grew up in a loving household. Could it be that he kills those who he thinks hurt those less fortunate?

Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?

“Tough, because I’m all you’ve got. Tell me, Briseis, who else gave a fuck about you all these years?” His reply cuts through my musing, and I wince when he fists my hair again, tilting my head back, and he moves forward, his hips digging into mine while our lips are inches apart. “No one. You played the good girl persona all your life, and how did life repay you, besides dealing you a shitty hand?”

I close my eyes, avoiding his probing gaze while pushing away internally all my bad memories and how little happiness I had. Even when I broke my leg as a child, no one cuddled me or told me everything would be okay. I had to bear it for hours before someone finally summoned a doctor.

“Stop resisting this pull and accept this relationship, knowing that the monster in a castle won’t ever let anyone treat you like dirt under their nails.” His fingers scrape my scalp, so I open my eyes again as he leans closer, his lips brushing mine now. “You cannot put boundaries on this, because I won’t allow it. I will use this body shamelessly, fucking you into submission, and you’ll hate yourself every single time.”

My breath becomes raspy, a protest stuck in my throat, because I know he’s right.

After last night, he won’t let me shy away from him for however long he plans to have this obsession with me.

How many times will I sleep with him until I start to hate myself with a passion rivaling what’s exploding between us?

Self-loathing has been a constant in my life since the day I spoke my first word, and it’s an unbearable emotion; it drains people so much they start to think everyone around them is right.

Results might be catastrophic.

If I accept this relationship and give it a chance, trying to understand the man who became my husband, I might find answers to my questions and live peacefully, even if his deeds scare me. What other choice is there really, when I’m his captive, even though he has given me wife status?

But is he hurting me? Or am I hurt by what he does and consider it wrong because he isn't a saint, and I fell a long time ago for a sinner who doesn’t match my description of the prince?

Either way, he’s right.

I’m going to accept this twist of fate, try to survive among the thorns, and hope the beast in this castle isn’t a monster.

Because it’s the only way to stay sane.

Palming his head, looking into his eyes as they flare with desire, I join our mouths, tracing his lips with the tip of my tongue before slipping it inside, seeking his.

I moan when his hands fall to my waist, squeezing it harshly and pressing us firmer together, his hard-on pushing against my needy core, making all the thoughts fly far away.

Regaining his control, he changes tactics, devouring me with his open-mouth, passionate kiss that sends a hot flush through my body, electrifying my nerve endings and spreading fire through my blood.

Melting into his arms under such heat, I circle his neck, rising on my tiptoes and wanting to meet each stroke while slowly rubbing myself on him, enjoying the heavy bulge pressing on my clit only adding to the pleasure slowly building between my folds.

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