“They are coming.”
“My cousin is coming for me,” I say out loud in a low whisper.
I don’t even realize the words have left my mouth as the hallway spins and I feel Frankie tighten his grip on me. He leans in, his mouth barely brushing my ear, and his voice drops so low it makes my knees weak.
“You’re not going anywhere, Little Datura. Not now that I’ve had a taste.”
His words hit straight through me, like electricity, sent straight to my core. I should be horrified. I should scream and fight…give him the rage I know my cousin would want. I’m frozen though, as his hand slides over my hip, making my pulse spike and heat food through me. I’m not sure if it’s a threat or a promise…maybe both? Whatever it is, I like it. There’s a raw need in his touch that I’ve never experienced before. Is this what it feels like to be possessed? If it is, I want him to possess every part of me. My thighs involuntarily squeeze together as I remember how he looked at me in the gym. How his touch was rough yet somehow it felt as though he was worshipping me at the same time. This man has violence and reverence tangled so tightly together I can’t tell them apart and maybe I never will. Maybe he never wants me to.
The entire foyer is pure chaos. Guards speaking rapidly and Pita looking just as confused as I feel. Part of me wants to run upstairs, lock the door to my bedroom and curl up withAndre’s letter. The other part of me wants to see how far Frankie will go if I push him. I’m fully aware I’m stepping into dangerous territory. This is the guard my future husband has sent to protect me, after-all. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to see where this could go. What would it mean to be wanted so bad he’d kill or die for me? Would he?
“I don’t belong to you, remember?” I whisper as I turn from the chaotic scene around us and look up at him. “And when my cousin comes for me, I won't belong to your boss either.”
I expect anger but instead I watch as a small smirk forms at his lips and a flicker of something unreadable plays in his gaze. He thinks this is funny.
He leans down so close I can feel his lips brush my skin as his mouth whispers into my ear, sending a shiver throughout my whole body.
“Careful, Datura. You might be eating those words later.”
I don’t even realize my eyes are shut and that my breathing has stopped until I feel the heat of his body leave mine. By the time I’ve opened them back up again, he’s already gone and I’m still standing here feeling just as confused as before.
Chapter Fourteen
Liana
Ipace my bedroom two weeks before the wedding, the plush rug inside my closet, swallowing the sound of my steps as I cut a restless line back and forth, over and over, my fingers trailing over every dress. Silk, lace, cotton…all textures, all fabrics, yet none of them are right for this. Anxiety knots around my ribs, a spring wound tight and winding tighter. The low hum of cicadas filter in from the cracked window. That sound is the only thing breaking the quiet, but it’s no comfort for me, not right now at least. I catch my own reflection in the full-length mirror and scowl. My face is pale, my long, dark hair loose and wild, and my eyes are shadowed by sleepless worry. I can’t help but look away, disgusted with myself. I should be choosing an outfit for each event on my schedule in the days before the wedding, but I can’t bring myself to pick out anything. I still have hope my cousin will come and save me. That he will find a way to get me out of here…that maybe I can convince Frankie to come with me. I shake my head at that last stupid thought. There’s no way Rio’s guard will come with me and it’s naive of me to think otherwise.
‘Get it together, Liana.’
A knock at the door snaps me out of it, making me jump out of my skin. It’s like I’m afraid someone can hear my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call with uncertainty as I exit the closet and turn towards the door, watching it open.
Frankie stands there filling the doorway with his broad shoulders, blocking the light behind him as his eyes sweep over me with that usual, unsettling stillness. He doesn’t speak, making me tug at the t-shirt I’m wearing nervously. He just leans into the doorframe, crossing his arms, looking like he’s trying not to intrude but also making it clear he’s not leaving without saying what he came to say. I eye him but don’t speak a word. I’m still annoyed with his demeanor and the way he acts around me. His hot and cold back and forth is frustrating. I watch his arms flex and for a minute I’m almost pulled back into that lustful trance he captures me in every time he’s around…almost. Then I remember I’m still due to be married in two weeks and that anxiety I’ve had all day creeps back in.
“You’re wearing a path in that carpet,” he says finally, lips twitching into a half-smile that’s more tired than amused.
There’s something careful about his face, something that says he’s noticed more than just the pacing but I don’t give a damn. I don’t care how tired he is. He isn’t the one who is marrying a stranger and I don’t need his small talk or jokes right now. I roll my eyes and turn away from him letting out a snarky laugh as I tug at the hem of my shirt again.
“Guess I’m a little nervous. You know…because I’m about to marry a stranger in less than a month.”
“‘A little is putting it mildly,” he shoots back, still teasing.
He clearly didn’t catch my snark which only serves to piss me off more. I turn back aroundwith a glare.
“In case you haven’t taken the hint, I’m not in the mood for your jokes today.”
He straightens immediately, steps into the room, and walks towards me. I back away from him just as he comes closer, causing him to stop and stare at me with confusion. I don’t need him coming any closer and smothering me with my own lustful thoughts right now. I need to stay angry. I want to stay angry, dammit.
“Why don’t we get out of here for a while? Clear your head. Phoenix nightlife might be what you need,” he says softly.
Now it’s my turn to look confused. I blink, thrown by the suggestion. I thought we were on a full lockdown now that my cousin all but declared he was coming for me. What has changed? I know he won’t speak to me about Andre. I know because I’ve tried incessantly over the past couple of weeks. Every time, he shuts down before storming off angrily and disappearing for days. When he comes back, he’s always bruised and battered. I try a different tactic instead.
“Nightlife? Frankie, I’m getting married in two weeks.”
His brow arches, and for a split second there’s something sharp in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can name it. In its place is a cocky sparkle instead.
“Exactly,” he says with an even tone. “All the more reason to have a little fun before everything changes.”
