I close my eyes against the onslaught of memories, some of them still relatively fresh, some going back years. “He did all kinds of things. When I was eight, he killed my pet rabbit and made me watch. Mostly he liked to hit me. That seemed to turn him on, and sometimes he made me watch him get himself off after beating me. He often threatened to touch me, sexually, but he never did.” Thanks God for that.
Cian’s pale blue eyes brighten with rage, his neck a deep crimson. “Your parents didn’t intervene?”
“They didn’t know.” I look down at my plate. My statement is mostly true. I didn’t realize how much my father knew about what was happening between me and Matteo until quite recently. Before a few months ago, I thought Papa simply chose to look the other way. Now I suspect he put Matteo up to some of those things.
But Cian and Papa have to work together, so they need to get along. I can’t jeopardize that peace for my own selfish reasons. What happened with Matteo is in the past. Papa can’t hurt me now that I’m Cian’s wife.
Abruptly, Cian drags me around the table and into his lap. His huge body folds around mine, his arms caging me against him in a protective, but inescapable embrace.
“Just to be clear, I don’t get aroused by pain,broc meala.I do get off on being in control, of holding your pleasure captive and having you at my mercy, but I’ll never hurt you.” His breath tickles my ear.
Relief sweeps through my veins. I trust him. After how he’s treated me so far, I believe him.
I nod in acknowledgment. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I say, “My clothes, however, are in danger.”
“True.” His low chuckle vibrates in his chest, and I relax against him. “But I’ll buy you ten dresses for every one that I cut from your body.”
“Then you owe me twenty dresses,” I tease.
“I do.”
I twist in his arms, “What doesbroc mealamean?”
At this question, he simply grins.
I guess we’re done with our questions game. For now.
I plant a kiss on his lips. That chaste kiss turns into sex on the table, then another round in the shower. I simply cannot get enough of this complicated, tormented man. As different as we are in some ways, I think we have more in common than either of us realizes.
CHAPTER 10
Cian
The rest of our honeymoon we spend fucking like rabbits, eating delicious food, and talking while in each other’s arms. She’s so easy to talk to, and a really great listener. I never thought I’d be able to open up about my past, about the pain, but Elena makes it so easy to do it.
I didn’t realize how much I ached to confide in someone. Until her. She’s crawled right under my skin, burrowed deep.
This isn’t me. I don’t talk about my feelings. I usually use my fists to express myself, but with Elena all I want to do is be held in her arms and let it all come out. It’s a release I never knew I needed.
How did this arranged marriage disaster turn into newlywed bliss so quickly? I don’t know, but she’s the perfect wife for me.
We both have our own trauma that we carry inside, she just has more grace than I do. After everything her brother did to her, she’s still playful, strong, and an amazing woman. The more time I spend in Elena’s presence, the more I find myself forgetting about my past. Instead, looking forward to a happy future together. Something I thought I could never have.
She gives me hope. She’s an inspiration. An addiction.
These are early days for us and our marriage, I know that, but it seems that fate has finally decided to smile down on me. Just this once. Please, God, promise me this is real. Haven’t I fucking suffered enough in my life?
“We’re home.” I lift Elena’s fingers to my lips and kiss them. She smiles at me before her gaze shifts to the massive iron gate and the guard’s post. One glance from the man on duty and the gate slowly begins to open.
I try to see my home through her eyes. Cold, fortified, intimidating. My expression drops, realizing that the rigorous security and the massive dark stone house are anything but inviting. Add to that the rough-looking men waiting to greet us, all Irish of course, and I can see why she’s worriedly nibbling her lip.
I reassuringly squeeze her hand. “You’ll get used to them. They aren’t nearly as bad as they look—mostly. But since you’re my wife, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll always keep you safe.”
“It’s just that not so long ago we were all enemies. My father’s men killed their friends, and these men killed people I’ve known all my life. It’s going to take a while to adjust to this new reality between your people and mine.”
“We are no longer two separate people. Your family is mine, and mine is yours.” Though I know she’s right, and I’m sure that some of my men will have a hard time adjusting too. We just have to take it one day at a time.
We exit the car together, and for reasons I can’t explain I’m strangely torn between my men and my wife. For her, I want to always appear kind and attentive, but to my men, I’m their leader, stoic and powerful.
