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“It was you, wasn’t it?” she asks quietly. “In the confessional. Your cologne—”
The muscles in my spine turn rigid at her observation. I did not expect her to be so… perceptive. She should know better than to ask me such a question.
“Do you mean when you begged God not to let you marry a monster?” I sneer.
“That isn’t what I meant—” She sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “You’re twisting my words around.”
I turn my gaze toward the window, stewing in my aggravation. What a disobedient little surprise she has turned out to be. Challenging me already. Refusing to wear the shoes I bought her. Questioning me as if she has a right to do so. As if a Moreno could ever possess the authority equal to a Sovereign Son. In her mind, she is probably glad for the match. This is, after all, what her family wants. Elevation. Money. Power. Attaching herself to me will give her all those things. And at her core, I have no doubt Ivy is just the same as her mother. She may have toyed with the notion of a different life, but she chose to marry me just the same. It would be foolish of me not to believe she has her own motivations, and whatever they may be, she will never have my trust.
I am relieved for her reminder of our respective roles. It is up to me to let her know this behavior will not be tolerated, and there is no reason it should wait. Ivy may have readily attached herself to me, but she will come to understand the only wedded bliss she is to receive are the punishments I dole out.
The ride is over after a few brief moments, and when Marco turns off the ignition, I tap on the glass and instruct him to leave us. He does.
The street is dark outside, only the lamplight filtering into the car. But it does little to hide the tremor in my bride’s body as I turn to her and reach for her face. I’m determined to put her in her place at once, but when she tries to hide her strange eye from me, my intentions are momentarily displaced.
“Don’t,” I warn her as she tries to adjust her hair. “I want to see it.”
She freezes, and our gazes collide. And for the first time, I realize that perhaps Angelo was right. It is difficult to hold onto my anger in the face of her beauty. As my fingers drift down to the beating pulse in her throat, I can’t decide if I want to kiss her or strangle her.
“Never hide your defects from me,” I tell her. “They are mine to enjoy now.”
“But… I hate it.” Her voice wavers.
A hollow laugh echoes from my chest. “Perhaps I quite like it.”
She seems taken aback by my strange response, as am I. My grip tightens, and then I release her. I don’t understand what she’s doing to me.
“Please,” she begs, her hand hovering near her hair.
“You seem to be under the impression that you can do as you like,” I answer coldly. “Do I need to remind you of the basic rules of The Society? The rules you swore an oath to?”
She sucks in a sharp breath and unconsciously curls into herself. She understands the meaning of my words quite clearly.
“I don’t need a reminder,” she answers softly.
“Yet, you will receive one regardless.”
Outside, I can hear the footsteps of members passing into the courtyard. The marking ceremony is set to begin momentarily. But I have a promise to keep, so it will have to wait. I open the door and gesture for Ivy.
She steps out of the car and lets out a small shriek when I hoist her up over my shoulder, her bare feet dangling beneath the fabric of her dress. We receive a few curious glances as I enter the courtyard and veer away from the chair and table waiting for her in the center. My footsteps are swift and certain as they echo down the corridor to the small, private chapel for members only.
The door creaks shut as I step inside and stalk toward the altar, where I deposit my disobedient wife onto her feet. A warm red glow from the glass votives illuminates her face as she dares a glance up at me. Frustration breeds my dark desires, blood coursing violently toward my cock and hardening it to the point of pain.
I have thought about punishing her since the temptation of marrying her sowed itself in my mind. Patience has been the only virtue I’ve possessed since the explosion. The notion that someday, every Moreno would suffer as I have. So it is difficult for me to reconcile that more than anything, right now, I want to feel her.
