Anyone else would be dead already.
While Mass stands there like a king in front of his subjects.
“Please, I can’t?—”
Mass turns me. He stares into my eyes and there’s a flicker of emotion. I saw that look once, two years ago, in the middle of the night. I was slick with sweat and aching with pleasure and pain.He was naked and warm, his body chiseled and iron, glorious and horrible.
That night, he looked at me like he couldn’t look away.
Now it’s like he’s giving in to a nightmarish addiction.
“You already did,” he says.
And pulls me into a rough kiss.
I’m too shocked to do anything. I’m still covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem to care. Blood smears from my cheeks to his face as his tongue fills my mouth. His taste assaults me, spicy and warm like whiskey on a hot night. I remember this kiss. I dream about it all the time.
I hate it so much I could puke down his throat.
He pulls back before I think to bite his tongue off.
“Lucy, get my daughter,” Mass orders. He drags me down the aisle, walking at a brisk pace.
“No!” I scream, trying to pull away. “Please, don’t touch her! Don’t you dare!”
The woman in armor and slacks approaches my mother. To her credit, Mama doesn’t hand Rosie over right away. Instead, she stares defiantly.
But it’s Gabriel who lightly touches her. Gabriel, his face twisted in sorrow, tears glistening in his normally stoic eyes. He takes my daughter from Mama, kisses Rosie’s little cheeks, and hands her over.
“No! You bastard! You fucking bastard!” I screech at him, trying to pull free. “Don’t give her to them! Don’t do it!”
But it’s too late. Lucy takes my baby in her arms and marches after us. The soldiers fall in last as I’m marched away from my wedding, from the murder of my fiancé, from my own funeral.
“You shouldn’t have kept her from me,” Mass says, dragging me along as I sob and stumble after him. “But now you’re both mine.”
I taste ash and blood on my tongue.
MASS
Two Years Earlier
Massimo Cardone, 40
I hate cominginto the city. The place writhes like a pit filled with worms. People are everywhere. Difficult, pain-in-my-ass people. If I had my way, I’d remain at the Fortress and send my orders out into the world. But sometimes business isn’t done that way.
Especially when I’ve made important promises to people I refuse to let down.
Lucy taps away on her phone, not speaking. She stares at the screen with her lips pursed. Sometimes I hate her. She’s the reason I’m here. She convinced me that this deal is a good one and I’d only be able to seal it in person. I’m aware that I’m blaming the messenger, but still.
“You’re doing it again,” she says without looking up.
“Doing what?”
“Brooding.”
“I don’t brood.” I turn and stare out the window. Midnight in New York City. A light rain mists the dirty streets.
“You’re right. I must be thinking of some other famously difficult Dragon.”
