The bond slowly begins to grow as I lift my mouth with a grin, and Pablo’s lashes flutter before he opens his brown eyes to meet my gaze.
“I have to change my boxers,” he breathes, making me chuckle.
“The best compliment is making you come hands free.”
I kiss him until we’re both panting heavily, and he drags his thumb over my swollen lips to clean off any blood left behind from my bite.
“I’ll see you when you get back,” Pablo says, sitting up as I stand. I can smell the load of cum in his boxers, and he rolls his eyes at my smugness.
“I expect your bite then.” Not only would a speck of blood fuck up my shirt, but I’ll never leave the house if we do it now. “I love you.”
“Por siempre,” he promises, watching as I stride away quickly.
Pablo and I are magnetically charged, and it’s difficult to stay away from each other for any length of time.
“Bye!” I yell to my brothers, banging out the door as I race to the car.
The clock on my rental car shows I’m running behind by fifteen minutes, and I curse myself as I drive faster than I should to the Accetta’s property. The house sits behind a large gate, and the driveway is about a mile away from it. Breathing gets harder the closer I get to Rosa, and again, I wonder if I’m meant to have met her for some reason.
Glancing in the mirror quickly, I decide I look presentable, and I climb out of the car to collect my bride to be. I will notaccept whatever bullshit Don Accetta has to say, I’m getting Rosa out of this house, even if it’s simply for a few hours.
A dour faced guard opens the door, allowing my entrance as I walk in.
“Where is my betrothed?” I ask impatiently, as if I’m not the one who's late.
“I’m here.” Walking down the stairs, Rosa could be seen from space if she wanted to be.
Her red dress swirls around her calves like her previous one, but this one clings to every curve of her body. Holy shit.
“I’d have waited,” I reply. I meant what I said to her father, I really wouldn’t mind waiting for Rosa.
“Ah, the two love birds are together at last,” Don Accetta says acerbically. I’m sure he’s tired of my regular calls and check ins, but I couldn’t care less.
I know he or someone in this house is fucking hurting her. While she’s moving better than the night we met, I swear there’s something still off about the mechanical way she says goodbye to her father.
“I’ll have her back at a decent hour,” I promise. I make no promises as to what that will actually end up being. It’s barely four in the afternoon, and I plan to get lost in a day of doing things she enjoys.
I don’t fucking care what we do. If how I’ve been feeling recently has anything to do with Rosa, then I know she hasn’t been having an easy time of things. A few hours of peace and getting to know my future wife away from prying eyes is all I want.
Laying my hand near the small of her back without actually touching her, I begin to escort her out of the house while saying my goodbyes. I am getting bad vibes from the men who coldly watch us, and I’m incredibly happy I’m wearing my weapons.
It won’t help if they all decide to open fire as I’m only one person, but I’d do my damnedest to kill as many as possible.
He needs you. Now act like it.
My chin juts up arrogantly as I confidently leave the Don’s home with Rosa beside me. Her sandals crunch across the gravel of the driveway, her toes painted a light pink today. I don’t remember them previously being this color, and it manages to soften her slightly.
I’m well aware she’s deadly, but the small detail manages to remind me she’s just a girl trying to survive in this world.
I watch as she lowers herself into the car, my eyes taking in every wince and slight hint of pain on her face.
“Hurry,” she says, barely moving her lips.
Closing the car door, I just manage not to run in front of the hood to get into my seat. Turning on the vehicle, I smoothly back up and turn around the long driveway toward the gate. It almost appears as if they’re not going to open it, but since I refuse to slow, they’re forced to.
“Thank fuck.” The whisper isn’t meant for me, so I refuse to comment on it.
“How much warrior paint are you wearing?” I ask.
