Page 136 of The Silversmith

“Wait!” I panicked, not ready to watch her go. Hating myself for the fact that I had been so preoccupied trying to steady my heartbeat and calm my cock that I’d neglected to ask her name. “You haven’t told me your name.”

She paused in the doorway, her body stiffening.

Without turning back, she rushed out, “You can call me Ella.”

Chapter thirty-two

Gavin Smyth - Present Day

Many years had passed since anyone had tried to cross me. Molochai himself didn’t try without his magic. Admittedly, Felix’s betrayal stung a bit more than I would’ve liked, considering I’d known him since the day he was born and was his sole provider of income and resources. Yet here he was, betraying me.

Needless to say, I didn’t fucking like it.

Especially not where my wife was concerned.

The Morton family had done their best to help me find where she’d been kept over the years, but every generation had grown a little more feeble and flighty than the last. I’d all but given up on their efforts after the untimely death of Felix’s father, Nigel. The family had been paid well by me for so long that Felix had taken over the search without hesitation, even though his father had been killed during my employment. But then, I’d found my Ella. I could have called Felix off the search immediately. I should have, and I didn’t.

I had been a bit… distracted.

Now, as I stood glaring at the shivering, gutless shirk of a man before me, I regretted that.

I wouldn’t regret killing him, though.

Deep into the forest, where I’d dragged him, no one would hear his cries for mercy. Most importantly, she wouldn’t hear. I had upset her enough tonight.

“Molochai has my wife, does he?” I questioned coolly, circling him slowly.

Felix kept his eyes trained on the ground and nodded.

“Have you seen her?”

Felix nodded again, but I saw his lip tremble before he sputtered out, “Just bring him the girl, and you’ll get your wife back.”

My fists clenched, knuckles cracked, and I stared at him blankly. Made it look like I was contemplating it. Let him stew.

“Simeon’s daughter…” Felix swallowed nervously and nodded back toward the inn. “I see the appeal.”

I lifted an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on. To give me more reasons to enjoy killing him.

“She’s… she’s something.”

I chuckled and nodded. As if I didn’t know. As if I didn’t spend every moment in her presence refraining from ripping her clothes off, laying her down in the middle of the fucking forest, and taking her for myself. Spreading open those soft, warm thighs and feasting on her sweetness until she screamed my name. Until she felt no pain, no fear, no sadness, no burdens. Only me.

Some things—like the way she turned me into a fucking animal—never changed.

“What does she look like?” I asked him coolly. “You said you’ve seen her, my wife.”

“She’s… beautiful.”

“What color is her hair?” I pressed. “Her eyes? Is she short? Tall? Thin? Young? Old? If she’s so beautiful, I’m sure you took your time admiring like you did with,” my mouth curled into a sneer, “Simeon’s daughter.”

That fucking lie.

“I only saw her for a second,” Felix rushed out.

White-hot rage seared through me and escaped in a frustrated, guttural growl. A culmination of the feral flames of lust and love and pain trapped within me that—begging for liberation—became fury.

He howled when I fastened my hands on his jacket and thrust him against the trunk of a thick oak. “What did he promise you, Felix?”