When I close my eyes, I’m back on that rooftop, my life hanging in the balance. I felt every pounding heartbeat, every shudder, every scream. And still, I surrendered to him.
If that’s not trust, what is?
I find myself nodding along, surrendering to this moment too. I’m giving him everything tonight…every piece of me. I need to believe that the Angelo I’ve always known is still in there.
I open my eyes, and he leans in, his mouth hovering a breath away from mine.
“Good.” The raw edge of approval in his voice warms my skin and makes me feel slightly drunk.
I’ve pleased him, and I like it far too much.
He rewards me by tilting my head back and tracing the slope of my jaw with his lips. It’s a slow, deliberate kind of torture that he concludes when he presses a kiss beneath my ear. There’s a momentary pause as I hold my breath, marveling at just how sensitive that space is. Then, he buries his face in my neck and inhales me. It sets every nerve in my body on fire and leaves me cold and disoriented when he pulls away.
I barely register that he’s turning me in his arms until he drapes his tie over my face. As he knots it into a makeshift blindfold at the back of my head, I try to recall accounts of other marking ceremonies.Was there a blindfold?
That thought evaporates when I hear the shuffling of feet on the terrace. We’re not alone anymore, and it reminds me of something Angelo said to the witnesses. He asked them to let hismen bring him what he requires. I can only imagine what that might be.
There’s a grunt and more shuffling behind us. When I try to turn toward the sound, Angelo wraps his palm around the back of my neck, halting me.
“Leave,” he orders.
The men’s footsteps drift away, followed by the rattling of chains, before the portcullis slams into place. It’s a haunting sound that rings of finality, and I can’t help but wonder what happens now.
Angelo closes in behind me, the warmth of his body a solid presence against my back. The featherlight touch of his knuckles grazes my arm in a slow descent, all the way down to my palm. He threads his fingers through mine, lifting my arm up over his shoulder and draping it around the back of his neck.
He leaves me in that position, open and on display as his knuckles skim back down the side of my body. Goosebumps trail in his wake, and when his palm flattens over my middle and pulls me back against the heat of his erection, I release a ragged breath.
“Tonight, you’ll become mine in every sense of the word.” His honeyed words carry an edge of menace that sends a shiver down my spine.
It’s at odds with the lazy reverence of his hands as they explore my body. Two large palms glide over my hips and skim past my waist, pressing into my ribcage before they settle over the curves of my breasts. They squeeze and grope, his thumbs circling my nipples beneath the lace of my dress. A rush of heat sweeps through me as I melt against him, and he presses his lips against my neck. He kisses a path down to the hollow of my collarbone, then retraces the same track with the scrape of his teeth, biting into my skin.
My chest rises sharply, and a breathless sound escapes me. He captures it with his mouth. We shift, my arm falling back to my side as he turns me to face him. Our bodies press together, and he threads his fingers through my hair, angling my head back, and deepening the kiss. A low hum of pleasure rumbles from his chest as he sweeps his tongue across my bottom lip and then inside my mouth. He licks me, and I feel it right between my thighs. I want him to do it again and again.
A thought plays through my mind—him ripping my dress in half, sending buttons scattering as he peels it off my naked body.That’s what this kiss feels like.
My hands map the expanse of his back, all muscle and solid bones stretching beneath his shirt. I’m annoyed by the material in my way, so I fist his shirt and start to tug.
A quiet sound of amusement vibrates against me, and gradually, he pulls his lips from mine.
“Tell me what you want, Abella.” He unravels his hand from my hair and brushes his fingers against my cheek.
I’m a mess of nerves. Heart pounding. Ears thrashing. Breath hitching. I know he can see that, even if I can’t see him. But he wants to expose me and make me vulnerable.
I guess that’s what I deserve.
“You,” I breathe. “I want you.”
A grating noise echoes in the silence, and I freeze. It sounds like something scraping over stone, and I can’t tell if it’s coming from behind the castle wall or inside with us. But Angelo seems unfazed as he presses his lips to my ear.
“You will have me,cara...until death parts us.”
Those ominous words lodge deep in my chest, among the shattered remains of the same promise I once made to him.
He guides me across the terrace toward what I presume is the throne and begins the painstaking process of unbuttoningmy dress. It’s a slow, deliberate unraveling that reminds me how patient he can be—when he wants to.
I’d almost forgotten about the marking ceremony, but the shift in pace tells me that Angelo hasn’t.
When he finishes with the buttons, he traces the straps of my dress with his fingers and carefully slides them over my shoulders. The bodice slips down to my waist, and he coaxes it over my hips until it pools around my feet.
