“I know all of that, but I want to hear it from you,” he cuts in.
I jack a brow high and it’s hard not to cross my arms in irritation. Instead, I take a deep breath and say, “Then stop interrupting me.”
His jaw clenches so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Magnus. It had to be Magnus.”
“Rafael—”
“Brothers if you don’t mind.” The words come out as a growl, low and dangerous and possessive in a way that sends heat rushing through my body despite the trauma of the past hour.
“I need to have a conversation with my wife.” His hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my ruined braid.
I look to Rowan and Drake who stand back, hands cupped in front of them witnessing Rafael’s possessive touch on me. Drake winks at me and then they are both gone, leaving me to Rafael’s mercy.
Ten
Rafael
She is not mine. Not yet. Not officially.
But every cell in my body screams otherwise.
My pulse ratchets up. Watching her wrap her arms around Drake sends something dark and primal clawing through my chest, a possessive rage that has no business existing in a man who has spent two weeks holding this woman without claiming her.
I couldn’t bring myself to. As heartless as the public thinks I am, I've seem to have found a heart somewhere between the time I took her and now.
I keep my feet planted by the window because if I move, if I cross this room while another man's arms are around her, I will do something that cannot be undone. Drake is my brother in every way that matters, and I would put a bullet between the eyes of any man who threatened him. But right now, watching Persia press her face against his chest and thank him for protecting her, I want to tear him apart with my bare hands.
This is not rational. This is not the cold, calculating man I have spent decades becoming.
This is something else entirely, and it terrifies me more than any enemy ever has.
She releases Drake and moves to Rowan, who accepts her embrace with the stiff awkwardness of a man who has forgotten what human warmth feels like. I know the feeling. Before Persia Fiore walked into my club with tears on her face and desperation in her eyes, I had forgotten too.
My brothers leave without a word, reading the violence coiling in my muscles with the ease of men who have watched me destroy empires and enemies alike. The elevator doors close behind them, and then she turns, and the sweetest angel I have ever shared breathing space with gives me her full attention.
Two weeks. I have had two weeks of this woman in my bed, two weeks of holding her in the dark hours before dawn, two weeks of breathing in her scent and feeling her body mold against mine like she was made to fit there. Two weeks of trying to convince myself that I deserve her.
And every single night, when I curl myself around her and pull her into me, I know the truth. If I touch her, if I dirty her with everything I am and everything I have done, I will be responsible for destroying something pure. For killing an angel.
But looking at her now, with her hair falling loose from its braid and her blouse torn at the shoulder and someone else's blood on her skirt, I realize that keeping my distance has not protected her at all. Magnus found her anyway. The fucker has been a problem in my side for years now and he’s only growing more powerful.
I pause. She has on one of my suit shirts. The buttons are open to reveal a cute tank top. The sleeves are rolled up and the way she has the ends tied around her waist is sexy.
The animal in me roars with pride to know she’s wearing my clothes.
The only way to keep her safe is to make her mine in every way that matters. To claim her so completely that no man alive would dare touch what belongs to Rafael Milano.
My hands find her face, tilting her chin up so I can examine every inch of her for damage. Her aqua eyes are wide and still carrying the glassy sheen of adrenaline, her pulse fluttering visibly in the delicate column of her throat.
“Are you hurt?” This time when I ask, I wait for her to answer instead of cutting her off. The question comes out rougher than I intend, scraping against my vocal cords like broken glass. I try again. “Worrying about people I care for is new to me. Let me try that again. Are you hurt, little dove?”
A delicate smile moves over her soft lips tempting me to kiss her. That will come later, right now I need to hear her speak so I can settle the animals inside me thirsting for blood.
She wraps her fingers around mine where I have her face captured in my palms. “No, Rafael. Your brothers moved fast and effectively in protecting me and eliminating the threat.”
Magnus is a man who doesn’t like to be challenged. He thinks once he claims something as his, everyone else needs to step back. I know because this isn’t the first time I’ve taken something the man wanted out from under him.
“Oh?”
