Page 40 of Torn By Fate

Serafina marched away, heels clacking against the floor with each angry step.

I licked my lips, the taste of her pussy still lingering on my tongue. I brought my hand up, holding my damp fingers to my nose, and I inhaled. My eyes closed as the scent of her filled my senses.

I breathed in again.

My wife smelled divine.

CHAPTER TEN

SERAFINA

The ceiling had nothing to offer me but the same answer it had given me for the past six hours since I had been in bed: absolutely nothing.

I lay in the dark, sheets twisted around my legs like restraints I hadn’t asked for, staring at the blank expanse of plaster above the bed. I turned my head and glanced at the small ticking clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning. The hour when the world stopped pretending and the truth, along with the monsters, crawled out from beneath the floorboards of your mind to sit on your chest.

And my unpleasant truth was… I could still feel his hands on me.

Not metaphorically or in some poetic, tortured way. Physically.

The ghost of Adrian’s fingers lingered on my hip where he’d gripped me, possessive and certain, pulling me against him like I was something he’d already decided to keep. The phantom weight of his palm at the base of my throat, thumb pressed against my pulse point as if measuring the rate at which my body betrayed me.

I pressed my own hand to my sternum now, feeling the traitorous rhythm beneath my ribs. Thud. It was steady and calm.

As though my heart hadn’t been so erratic before at his mere presence, his torturous touch.

Stop it.

It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t desire. It was a tactical error, a foolish mistake… a momentary lapse in my solid judgment, and I wouldn’t let it stand.

“Damn it,” I whispered into the darkness. I hated the thought that his touch could undo me in such a traitorous way.

I had orchestrated this vengeance far too perfectly to let my body betray me like this. It wouldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t allow it.

I was better than this. I was stronger than this.

The phantom feel of fire licking over my skin, and the smell of charred flesh was enough to cauterize whatever warmth Adrian’s memory had left behind.

I had a plan. A meticulous, patient, devastating plan. My husband—the man who destroyed everything I had, who stole every bit of happiness in my life—would break.

His impending fall was inevitable.

Adrian Salvatore would die.

I was going to make sure of that.

With a frustrated sigh, I stood and crossed to the window of my hotel room, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Darkness stretched beyond it, the streets below nearly lifeless at this late hour.

I had moved again this morning, trading one motel for another in Monaco. It was beautiful here. I loved the city, the glittering coastline, the quiet luxury… and the illusion of safety.

But I couldn’t stay.

I had already overstayed my welcome.

I knew Adrian would find me again, if he hadn’t already.

I kept moving because despite how much I hated to admit it, some twisted part of me had been enjoying the chase. The constant movement, the pure adrenaline, and the sick knowledge that my husband was tearing through countries and every hiding place I could find just to catch a glimpse of me… to simply watch me as he kept his distance.

But Adrian wasn’t the only reason I was running.