“Did…are you…fucking hell!” He runs a hand over his mouth and inhales deep, as though gearing up for something. “I’ve never been a smooth talker. That’s Rafael’s shit, but I can’t get the fucking words out, never mind correctly.”
I wait. Apprehension settles over me, and it’s partially due to seeing Maximus unsure of himself. He’s always in control, in command of his actions, and nothing is done out of emotion. Right now he’s acting human, and it’s different, out of character for him.
“Did they…touch you?” His voice is hoarse, a scratchy cotton instead of the silken tone I’ve grown accustomed to hearing.
I tilt my head. “Are you asking for me or for yourself?”
“Son of a bitch! Are you fucking with me right now?” He resumes his pacing, but it’s faster now. “Jesus Christ and all the saints. You were abducted by the French mob, Emilia. For fuck’s sake.”
“I’m sorry if having ausedwife isn’t what you wanted,” I say. He whips his head toward me as though I’ve slapped him. I squint at him, holding his stare, though it’s intimidating. “But you knew from the beginning I was defective. It’s part of your plan, to have me committed, so me being defiled and insane shouldn’t matter to you.”
The hurt and anger inside me heat until they’re about to bubble over. I get to my feet with the intent to get away from Maximus. Just looking at him pains me, and the fact I wish he’d hold me infuriates me. He’s a horrible person, yet the need for his comfort pulls me to him. Damn him and those moments of gentleness. They teased me, giving me dreams that turned into nightmares.
And I need to wake the fuck up.
My steps carry me to the door, powered by emotion. There’s nothing logical about what I’m doing, but I don’t care. I can’t be around him for another minute, and the very thought of being in the same room, let alone sharing a bed, causes my insides to fume.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
His voice is dangerous. It only serves to increase my speed. I grip the door handle and wrench it open, but it halts after a foot, the arc of the door coming to such a sudden stop it’s jarring. Maximus grips the back of my neck, pinching my skin, and then curls his arm inward to swing me around to face him. I stare up at him in a stupor as he slides his hand to my throat right before slamming me into the door. The locks click into place, both for the door and for my chance at escape.
He brings his face close to mine, and his angry breaths brush my lips. “I said, where in the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His hold on me isn’t tight enough to where I can’t speak, but I don’t want to. The words hook themselves in my throat and dig into my tongue, eliciting a sharp pain. If I let them out, they’ll only do more damage. Instead of parting my lips, I press them together.
“There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.” He runs this thumb up and down the side of my neck, and if he didn’t look like he wanted to murder me, I’d mistake that touch for a caress. “You are my wife, and I will always come for you and bring you back.”
Under different circumstances, his words would be considered romantic, loving even, but they’re not. I steel my heart against them, reinforcing the walls he destroyed with temporary kindness.
“Now,” he says, “tell me what I want to know. Did they rape you?”
I give a subtle shake of my head. This is a small acquiescence, and I allow it because Maximus is unstable right now. It’s one thing to provoke him but another to engage in a battle where he’d crush me.
He surprises me by squeezing his eyes shut, his face a canvas that has streaks of both pain and relief. Then he drops his head into the curve of my neck, resting his forehead on my shoulder. “Thank fuck.” His agonized whisper skims my collarbone, and my pulse races all the more. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” He clenches the hand on my throat, and I hold my breath.
But when he grabs me between the legs, I let the breath out as a silent cry.
“This,” he says, dipping his fingers into my panties, “is mine.”
I’m drenched. This savage, feral side of Maximus excites me like nothing else. Maybe it’s wrong or maybe it’s acceptable, but that doesn’t matter. I only care about what I want, and when he thrusts two fingers inside me, I groan.
“So fucking wet.” He lifts his head to give me a licentious grin. “Say what you will, wife, but your cunt knows it’s master. Now tell me where you were planning on going?”
As determined as I am to remain silent and keep Maximus from knowing my inner thoughts, I’m powerless against what he does to my body. He fucks me with his fingers until I’m sagging against the door, only held up by his hand on my throat. Pleasure overwhelms me, heightened by the raw emotions coming from both him and me. He’s using my need for release to coerce me into giving him what he wants, and we’ve danced this dance before—him leading and me following.
Maximus repeats the question and accentuates each word with a tap to my clit. I’m panting, the streams of air short and cut off, but one carries a word. “Away.”
He stops all movement. “Away where?”
Another single word, another nail in my coffin of vulnerability. “Anywhere.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Anywhere you aren’t,” I grit out.
Can the universe stop spinning for a single moment? If that’s a possibility, it happens right then and there. I glare at Maximus, letting my eyes convey everything I can’t say. His gaze flashes with something that could be pain. Then it hardens, darkens.
“No.” He shakes his head as if that will make his message clearer, more definitive. “Never.”
