But he didn’t stop. The worst part wasn’t the violence or their screams. It wasn’t the way they begged and pleaded for mercy. None of that made her blood run cold.
Not like his smile did.
He enjoyed hurting them.
He reveled in how they were so weak in the presence of a strength like his.
The Temple and what it stood for before this moment began to drift from her thoughts. Everything faded except for the knowledge he was not so different.
Fabiana didn’t look at him as she moved down the stairs and away from the Temple. Away from him. She only stopped for a moment at his side.
“You’re just like Primo,” she whispered. “You enjoyed their pain like they enjoyed mine.”
He let her leave, and the screams kept on.
She just sat on the stairs leading to the front door of the estate and pulled her knees up to her chest to hide her face. She heard Adonis approach but didn’t look up at him.
“Fabiana.”
“Don’t.”
Adonis sighed roughly. “They deserved what I did.”
“Where do you want me to go?”
This is what he wanted, right? Someone who bowed and listened to every order. She could do that and survive. She knew how to survive.
Instead of answering, he lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. She didn’t notice the décor, didn’t care to. He’d do what he needed to, and that would be it.
“I am not him, but you will have to pay attention to see that.”
Fabiana kept her face buried in his chest, his heartbeat oddly soothing in her turmoil. He took them through a room before opening several doors as he continued forward and upstairs. The directions were confusing, and she didn’t try to keep the sense of where they were. Eventually, he placed her on a bed.
“Yes, this is our room. Yes, you will sleep here beside me like you’re supposed to. No, I will not take you the way they did.”
She only nodded.
Adonis growled in frustration and ripped his shirt from his body. Peering at him through her lashes, her mouth went dry at his exposed chest and stomach. He should have been riddled with old scars and puckered flesh—they would have matched him—but he was smooth, golden perfection of lines and muscle.
He wasn’t overly defined, something she found pleasing, but enough so he had a V at his groin and a light dusting of hair that ran from his stomach to underneath his slacks. He had no tattoos like so many men chose to have, nothing identifying to mar the perfection of him. When he lifted his hands to his slacks, Fabiana pinched her eyes closed.
“Don’t stop looking,pequeña. See what now belongs to you.”
And she did. Goddess, but she opened her eyes. Slowly, he opened the button to his slacks and pushed them off his hips with his briefs and stepped out of the pool of fabric that had fallen to the floor.
The rest of him was as perfect as the top half. His legs were powerful but built leaner, like a runner ready to take off at any moment. Goddess, the man even had nice feet.
“Stop hiding.”
Okay, maybe she was.
She forced her gaze up to his cock. It hung between his legs, impressive, even in a relaxed state. No transition of skin color to be found, just a long shaft widening as it approached the broad head.
“Would you like to see it closer?”
Fabiana nodded before she could catch herself.
What was she doing?
