Page 28 of Outcast’s Vow

As for Fabien, he can’t be here. He’s yet to be initiated into the Order, but I’m sure his day will come soon.

The grand old building we’re under is the headquarters of the Castaways Order, having replaced the original founding headquarters in Venice, Italy, over a hundred years ago. Sylvie must be familiar with this mansion. This is her father’s domain, after all. Being the daughter of the Supreme Elder grants her precious knowledge of the Castaways few outsiders would ever be allowed. The male-only Order will never admit women, but Sylvie and the other daughters of Castaways Elders are the closest it would get to female representation.

But she won’t get the better of me. Even if I can’t shake this strange new hold she seems to have over me.

I can’t have her breaking my defenses. Love ruins men. I’ve seen it happen firsthand. I won’t let it wreck me.

Even if she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Oh, there are so many things I’d like to do to her now as she stands in front of me, and she doesn’t have a clue how hard it is to hold back. I’d love to rip off her clothes. I would love to hear her moan my name in that sweet voice of hers.

She’s glaring at me as blood from the tattoo’s inking drips down my bare chest. And I’m liking the bite in her eyes.

“I bet you’re loving this,” she says to me. The first words that aren’t straight from the wedding script. I’m almost proud she’s the first one to crack.

Elders of the Order drift past us. One older gentleman congratulates us, shaking my hand before heading to converse with the Supreme Elder.

“As much as you are, Your Highness,” I say, pitching it low for her alone.

Sylvie turns her head. Her mouth is barely an inch from mine.

“I bet you’re thinking about how you’ve hit a home run with me, aren’t you? Look at you with the daughter of the Supreme Elder, in front of all these important men. I bet you’re thinking you’re set up for life now.”

She’s so close I can feel the heat of her words before she speaks them. I can’t help but smirk.

“Yeah, something like that. Doesn’t that thrill you?”

I let my gaze drag over her, slow.

She notices.

And I notice the tightness in her perfect jaw. Just from the effect of my presence.

“Well, I’m not a medal to be brandished about,” she says, crisp as champagne. “You get that straight, Mr. Tremblay.”

“You’re more than happy to keep reminding me,” I shoot back. “You’re also more than happy to pretend you’re not one, even when you use the benefits.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Listen to me…”

“I am listening,” I retort.

Something flickers across her face at that. Small and involuntary.

And for a second, we both stop pretending we aren’t standing on the edge of something.

“Another thing you need to get straight,” she says. “I’m not going to let you use me for physical satisfaction, or whatever it is you were saying the other day. We’re equals, remember? This marriage we’re signing up for today is going to be a two-way street.”

The phrase lands like a match being struck.

I don’t move. I don’t blink.

“Is it?” I ask, low. “A two-way street, huh?”

Sylvie’s chest rises and falls.