Page 12 of Promised to the Night

Weren’t virgins supposed to be shy? To act with more dignity?

I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t got to ask any. It wasn’t a topic of conversation amongst my handful of acquaintances at school. People were too scared of the Blackthorne name to get too close to me. And I couldn’t exactly ask my husband about the proper way to behave now.

It was times like this I wished I had a sister. I’d been cursed with brothers instead. All the good they did me. Noah was a notorious playboy... until he met his match in Sunday. And West... well, he might understand men better than I did, but I couldn’t discuss this with him. He was too young. He wouldn’t know much more than me at eighteen, surely. Right?

I swallowed back a scream of frustration, feeling so bloody stupid. I was smart.Reallysmart. Top of my class. But when it came to anything of actual value, I was a useless ninny. I couldn’t be any more of a bluestocking romance heroine if I put on a corset and a Regency frock.

Oh, but Gavin would look dashing with a pair of breeches and one of those puffy shirts, my traitorous thoughts interrupted.

“Stop. It,” I growled to myself, pacing back and forth in front of the empty fireplace. “You are a Blackthorne. Get yourself together. You are better than this, Roslyn.”

Right. I needed a shower. They always made everything better. I did my best thinking in the isolation of my shower stall. The water rushing over my skin, heating my body, the only sound the spray on tile. No one else to intrude. Whatever my problem, I always felt better after taking one. More in control. More myself. And right now, I desperately needed to feel like anything other than a confused little virgin.

I pulled my wedding dress off, leaving a trail of petticoats in my wake as I moved to the bathroom and turned on the water.

As I stood beneath the steamy spray, my thoughts raced and my determination grew. He’d wanted me. I’d felt his hardness against my hip, heard his rough voice, thick with desire. Gavin Donoghue wasn’t operating under some misguided disgust at my wantonness. Something more had to be going on. Was he worried he’d hurt me when he took my virginity? Did he need me to be more gentle and assure him I was ready?

Maybe the intensity of his feelings had caught him off guard. This was an arranged marriage after all, not a love match. Perhaps he was reeling from the discovery as much as I was?

Did he need reassurance that I wanted him, that he wasn’t alone in his need for me?

I could give him that. I’d give him the family he so clearly didn’t have. Gavin needed someone to love him. To fix those broken edges that made him so sharp. I could do that for him.

I would.

In fact, I would start doing it right forking now.

* * *

I caughthis scent as soon as I stepped into the hall. Leather and ink, the smoky bite of tobacco. Those were things uniquely Gavin. I’d never again set foot in a library and not think of him. Thankfully, my father’s bloodline afforded me enhanced senses even though I’d never fully transition into a vampire. I latched on to those distinct aromas and chased the trail my husband had left for me.

I knew I’d reached his room because his scent was saturated here—and fresh. I knocked on the heavy wooden door, fighting the nerves attempting to overtake me.

“Gavin? It’s me.”

No answer.

Be bold, Roslyn.

Instead of knocking again, I pushed inside. It took less than a second to determine he wasn’t there, but a newly discovered rebellious streak had me shutting the door and moving further into my husband’s private sanctuary.

So this was where he spent his time. It suited him. Rich woods, plush carpeting, all dark and masculine decor. Gavin’s jacket from our wedding lay draped across the bed, and on instinct, I picked it up and brought the fabric to my nose. My nipples pebbled at the memory of him so close, whispering dirty promises in my ear, his teeth on my neck.

“What do you think you’re doing, you filthy little thing?” His voice was a harsh rasp across my skin, making me gasp in surprise and drop the coat. I whirled around, an apology already on my lips, but I was alone.

My brows knit in confusion until Gavin’s voice sounded again.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself?”

This time, I realized it came from the laptop he’d left open on his desk.

“I’m sorry, Master. I ache for you. Please. Touch me. I... I need you.”

“Silence!” The crack of a whip accompanied the barked command. “You do not have permission to speak unless it is to use your safe word. You know the rules.”

I moved closer to the screen, absolutely transfixed by the sight before me. Gavin and another man faced away from the camera, both of them nude.

He trailed the end of his whip along the other man’s bloody back. “Unless you are actively seeking punishment. And you know howdisappointedthat sort of behavior makes me. Do you want to disappoint me?”

---