How do you protect your loved ones when you're the one putting them in danger? Simple, you leave.
I thought when I walked away I would be able to keep everyone out of harm's way, but my plans are falling to pieces and soon enough everyone is in more danger than before. Now I have to swallow my pride and ask for help from the one person I swore I wouldn’t—my husband.
He will not let me go.
I am his obssession, his toy.
But I don’t want to play.
So much has happened, wrongs committed by both of us. Lies have been told, secrets brought to light, and irrevocable pains caused. Can we trust each other again or will this be the end of something that neither of us wanted to start with?
Be Warned: anal sex, orgies, public exhibition, multiple partners
She shakes her head, and her dark gaze lances straight through me. “I won’t kneel for you, or for anyone until I want to.”
There’s my queen.
And then…
I smile darkly at the cousin I haven’t been listening to as I swallow back my pride, rubbing my fingers over the small of Willow’s back, not listening to a word my cousin says at my father’s funeral. Nodding in all the wrong places, I dismiss him halfway through his diatribe, gripping Willow’s hip.
“How long?” I murmur, my comment aimed at Dom where he stands statue-like to one side.
“Whenever you call it, sir,” he mutters, fixing the front of his pants.
So I’m not the only one who remembers.
“Have you heard from Thalia?” My house healer and rescued trafficked victim is the woman I know he holds a lone candle for. Last night, Willow offered a fun distraction for us both, though I can’t help the light barb.
Dom snarls softly, following the cousin and cupping the back of his neck with his hand.
“What is he doing?” Willow stares.
I wince. “Something unpleasant.”
Whatever Dom has on the man, his punishment may as well be written in triplicate for the pain he will endure in the next hour.
An hour I endure in as much pain as Willow shifts on her feet. “Rafe, I need to visit the bathroom.”
“Hold it,” I command in a harsh whisper.
“No, I really need to—” She grips my hand, digging her nails in to express her urgency.
“Then you will have to wait,” I say evenly, ignoring her plight as I gesture to an aunt I haven’t seen in at least a decade, a fake smile fixed on my face. I introduce my wife, letting her wilt a little under the aunt’s extreme glare, until I am tired of my own games.
A kerfuffle at the doorway drags my attention away from the torture I’m putting us both through.
“Rafe—” Willow starts, stepping forward.
I hold out a hand as Dom reappears, dragging the obsequious cousin looking much the worse for wear, his bow tie hanging askew. Blood trickles in a thin line from his temple.
“Wait,” I murmur, shooing the aunt away.
“I found your mole. The one on this side of the ocean at least. The other appears to be a little mouse infesting Connor’s house.” Dom throws the cousin at my feet, an open blade in his palm.
“Appreciate it.” I nod, unmoving, not admitting I hadn’t realized he was looking for deviants from the expected loyalty on my behalf this trip.
Get your head in the game, Gallo, or someone will lop it right off.
“He’s not for you.” To my surprise, he passes the blade to Willow. “He had a hand in supplying the device that destroyed the boutique you were in that day. Amongst other small things. If you would like.” He offers her the knife handle first, along with the man’s existence.
The room stills, watching her.
I still.
And wait.
Willow is no stranger to this life, or the blood we walk in each day, pretending its stain doesn’t attach to our souls. Her parents’ death, her uncle, her tormentors … the list goes on. The man she flayed with me, like an artiste.
Hesitantly, Willow takes the blade, her gaze skittering across the gathering, their eyes all weighing on her in my father’s house—our house—judging.
I know why Dom decided to pull this here and now, in front of the masses who don’t understand her worth. It’s also his way of saying thank you for last night when he used her body as his own personal plaything for his pleasure. Now, he presents her with an offering, a devoted, oversized kitten gifting a trophy to his mistress.
Unwilling to break the impasse between them, I gently rest my fingertips along her spine, trailing there with little pressure, simply a reminder that she is not alone in whatever she chooses to do here.
Her back straightens imperceptible to everyone else at my touch, though I feel it in my fingertips. “He destroyed Christine’s business? She was so lovely.” Her liquid gaze dips to the cousin who fawned over her hand earlier. “You had a hand in that. You must be so sorry,” she coos beguilingly as her knees bend. Willow kneels beside him, tracing the flat of the blade along his cheek, tapping it there with each word. “You are so sorry, aren’t you, cousin?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he stammers. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”
He reaches to touch her but I bat the man’s hand away with a growl. Tears course down his pinked face as she taps the blade there. I roll my lips, willing her to act, but unsure what she has in mind. Dom gave her the power, and this gathering, for a few silent moments, became her rodeo.
And by God does she own it.
“Of course you are,” she agrees, sliding Dom’s blade to his throat and parting the skin like butter.
And with that simply he gurgles his final breath.
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