“Promise me whatever terrible things you do, they’re never to innocent people. That you have lines you won’t cross, codes you won’t violate. Promise me that the monster has rules.”
The request is fair. More than fair. “I promise. No innocents. No women or children. No unnecessary cruelty. Just—” How to explain the necessity of violence in this world? “Just what needs to be done to protect what’s mine and maintain order.”
“Then I can live with it.” Her hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together. “Because the alternative, living without you, is worse than any nightmare.”
“You’re sure? No doubts?”
“Alessandro, I watched you disembowel a man yesterday and my first thought was gratitude. I think we’re past doubts.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Besides, someone has to make sure you eat breakfast and change your bandages. Clearly, you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself.”
The laugh that escapes is surprised and genuine. “You’re insane.”
“We’ve established that. But I’m your brand of insane, which is what matters.”
“My brand of insane,” the words are repeated, testing them. “I like that.”
“Good. Now—” She tugs me back toward the bed. “We have a few hours before your men come to check on us. I suggest we make good use of them.”
“Is that so?” The predatory satisfaction that rises is immediate. “And what exactly did you have in mind, tesoro?”
“Well—” Her hands slide up my chest. “You did promise to show me everything. And I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of what ‘everything’ means to a man like you.”
“Elena.” Her name comes out as a warning. “You’re playing with fire again.”
“I told you, I like the burn.”
Any remaining control shatters. Hands grip her hips, lifting her, carrying her to the bed. She gasps, half surprise, half anticipation and the sound goes straight through me.
“If we do this now, it’s going to be different than the penthouse.” The words come out dark, promising. “The fear from yesterday, the rage, the desperate need to reaffirm you’re alive and mine, it’s all going to come out. And tesoro, I won’t be gentle.”
“Good.” Her legs wrap around my waist. “I don’t want gentle. I want everything you’ve been holding back. Every dark desire, every possessive need, every bit of the monster who saved me. Give it all to me.”
Cristo. She’s going to be the death of me.
But what a way to die.
The shirt she’s wearing, my shirt, gets stripped off in one motion. Her bruised wrists catch my attention, the marks from zip ties darkening to purple. Rage flares fresh at the reminder of what those animals did, what they planned to do.
“Mine.” The word comes out possessive, primal. “These marks, I’m going to cover them with my own. Replace every reminder of them with reminders of me.”
“Yes.” Her breath hitches as my mouth finds the bruises, kissing, marking, claiming. “Yours. Only yours.”
My hands map her body, every curve, every hollow, every place that makes her gasp. This isn’t the exploratory claiming of the penthouse. This is reaffirmation. Possession. The desperate need to erase every moment of yesterday’s terror with pleasure so intense she forgets how to be afraid.
“Tell me your limits,” the demand comes between kisses. “Tell me if there’s anything off the table.”
“No limits.” Her hands are already working my belt. “Take what you want. I trust you.”
The trust in those words does something to my chest. She trusts me, The Shadow, the monster, the man covered in yesterday’s blood, to take her body and use it however I want. To push boundaries and demand submission and show her exactly what being mine truly means.
“Safe word still red?”
“Yes, sir.”
Elena’s use of sir, makes my cock go hard.
“Good. Because you’re going to need it before I’m done with you.”
She shivers beneath me, anticipation making her pupils dilate. My hand slides up her thigh, feeling her tremble.
