Page 56 of Outcast’s Vow

“You can’t blame me for what happened there.”

“I’m not, but I need to make things clear.”

“You called me your wife. Possessive.”

“I did.”

“So I’m yours now?” she asks me, indignation explicitly written across her gorgeous face. “I thought I was merely something for you to gain power in your little secret society. An object. I thought this was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. That’s what you told me on that island’s beach.”

“I did. That’s true.”

“And now you’re zealously saying you’d kill for me?” Sylvie asks.

“Yes, I would.”

“I didn’t ask for your help with Joao.”

“You didn’t need to.”

Sylvie takes a step forward.

“Okay, so my hands might still be shaking after just then, but I refuse to make all this about your ego. Husband, you surprised me with the most perfect spa and shopping day. You’ve treated me like a queen this entire honeymoon. You’ve spoiled me like you actually desire me. You’ve done everything to prove that this is more than just an arranged, loveless marriage. So why don’t you admit it? Why don’t you say you actually like me?”

I chew the inside of my cheek.

“You think I care about you?” I ask my wife, trying to quiet the craze now fuming inside me.

She’s right. I’ve never been this possessive of anyone. Ever.

Sylvie is steadfast. She crosses her arms defiantly, staring me down with steel in her pretty eyes. I hold back the burning desire to look further down her tight body-hugging leggings.

“I think you do care about me, Baptiste,” she retorts. “Despite your protestations. You can’t keep up this stoic, cold act forever.”

“You have no proof.”

“If you didn’t care about me, then why did you come in so angry at Joao?”

“The man had his hands on my wife. You were saying no. I couldn’t tolerate that. It’s pure logic.”

“Screw your logic.”

“You needed me.”

I saw how her voice was trembling and her body shaking in his grip. I saw her eyes wide with fear as that piece of shit tried to take what he wanted.

I never, ever want to see that fear again.

“I really didn’t need you,” Sylvie retorts.

“Yes, you did. Admit it.”

“You admit you like me.”

“Sylvie.”

“Okay,” my wife says. “I admit it. I needed you.”

“Exactly.”