Page 20 of Possession

My heart seizes.

Boz gives the priest a chin lift before settling his dark eyes on me.

I’m frozen in a way I might never thaw.

I didn’t realize how much he was supporting my weight until he lets me go. His hands are warm on my clammy skin as he claims my face with force. I’m pulled to my toes when he lowers his face to mine.

Then our lips touch.

No.

But they don’t just touch.

This is no simple kiss.

It’s a declaration. He’s proving he’s entitled to me.

And, probably sooner than later, all of me.

His tongue presses through my lips to taste mine. Firm. Demanding. Audacious.

He’s proving to me—and everyone else in the room—that I’m his.

I’m nothing more than a barter.

He takes, and he takes.

I begin to lose myself in more than one way when he finally lets me go.

His stare lingers as I settle back on flat, bare feet to catch my breath.

I haven’t breathed easy since the day Alamandos Marino’s men took my parents and me from our home in San Diego. And now I’m married to a different man than the one I was promised to.

“Congratulations,” the priest mutters.

“That’s done.” Alamandos exhales as if my new marriage was one thing to check off his to-do list.

It occurs to me that this is it. I’ve lost myself. I’ll never be Landyn Alba again, but even worse, I’ll probably never be myself again. I might not be married to a Marino like I thought I would be right now, but I am married into a cartel, nonetheless.

Boz turns to Alamandos and claims my hand in his big one. “I’ve got to get back to Damian’s, make sure whatever attack today didn’t extend to the business. I’ll call if there’s a problem. Until then, get some rest. Let me know if you need help with funeral arrangements. I’ll be here for anything you need.”

Alamandos grips Boz’s shoulder again. “The only thing I want is revenge, Boz. Fast. You’re my number two. Make it happen.”

“You know I will.”

“We’ll touch base tomorrow.” Alamandos drops his arm and shoots me a glare before Boz pulls me toward the double doors of the office.

With a firm, possessive hold on me, Boz gives every man we pass a simple chin lift. I’m not surprised no one congratulates us on our new marriage.

I’d accept condolences.

And just like that, we leave through the same heavy iron gates. Boz opens the passenger door of the Escalade and watches me climb in. I don’t know where we’re going, but it can’t be worse than this place.

I turn to look at him when he doesn’t shut my door. He says nothing.

“What?” I demand.

He pulls in a big breath before turning his head to look out into the darkness. When he looks back at me, he mutters, “Fucking unreal.”

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