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I crouched before her, trying to capture her unfocused gaze. A scowl twisted my features when I noted the red spray that marred her cheek, and I lifted my thumb to brush it away. She flinched from my raised hand, and my scowl deepened.
“I didn’t want to go with him,” she said, her voice small and breathless. “I swear I didn’t.”
Fuck, she was scared of me. Scared of the beast who’d just killed to possess her.
I swallowed a frustrated growl and struggled to gentle my tone, to soothe her. “I know, nenita.” I’d seen the bastard hit her. She’d tried to get away from him.
Her shoulders sagged under the weight of relief at my reassurance. She really had been terrified that I’d hurt her.
My stomach tightened. I couldn’t stand the sight of blood on her bronze cheek for one more second, the mark of violence marring her perfection.
I reached into my pocket and retrieved a handkerchief, lifting it slowly so as not to spook her. She finally looked into my eyes, capturing me with her shining, tawny gaze. Her lashes were dark and wet with tears, and her breath hitched as she struggled to draw in air.
Handling her with tender care, I brushed the cloth over her cheek, wiping away the blood and tears. She shivered, and her dark brows drew together in confusion, as though she couldn’t comprehend this gentle treatment.
Fresh anger burned in my chest. How many men had hurt her in the past? On the night of the coup, she’d mentioned that her life would be better now that her brother was dead.
I regarded the red smear on the white handkerchief with disgust, loathing the gore that’d touched her pure perfection. No one would hurt my wife ever again.
Her gaze followed mine, and she shuddered when she looked down at the stained cloth. No, not the cloth. My hands. My knuckles were split where they’d smashed into Carlos’ face, and my blood mingled with his. I quickly wrapped the handkerchief around my fist, hiding the distressing sight from her.
“Get her inside.” Stefano’s command jerked my focus away from her. I hadn’t noticed anything that was happening around us, but as I glanced at our surroundings, I noted a cluster of suit-clad men enclosing our position. My brothers had come to defend us from any further threats. Someone had already removed the bodies, making quick work to cover up the murders that’d just taken place outside the church.
“I’ll escort her down the aisle myself,” Stefano continued, reading the possessiveness in my eyes. I didn’t want to let go of her for one second. Not when she’d just been threatened.
But if my ruthless boss was offering to protect her, I could release her from my arms for a few minutes. No one would dare to touch her when the merciless head of our cartel personally guarded her.
Her jaw went slack, and she looked down at her wedding dress, as though she couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Did she think that the ceremony wouldn’t go forward because that little shit had to die?
My heart hardened. Only minutes ago, I’d dreaded this marriage. Part of me knew I still didn’t want it, but seeing Carlos try to steal her from me had fucked with my head. All I could think about was protecting her. Keeping her.
She was mine.
My hands bracketed her waist. She was so delicate in my grip, and I carefully guided her back up to her feet. “Come inside, tesoro. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She nodded, but her lovely eyes lost focus again, her mind taking her somewhere else. Reluctantly, I passed her into Stefano’s care. I’d have her back in my arms within minutes. Somehow, I’d endure the separation until she joined me at the altar.
The blood of my enemy stained her white dress, awakening something feral and hungry deep inside my soul. That little bastard, Carlos, had tried to take what was mine. His neck snapping in my hands had felt good. The adrenaline high from the violence on the church steps still flooded my system, buzzing through my veins.
I hadn’t liked the sight of gore splattering her bronze cheek, but I did like the blood on her wedding dress.
My bride. I’d fought for her. I’d claimed her. She was mine.
As she walked down the aisle, floating toward me like a blood-soaked angel, I forgot all about my resentment over this marriage. I forgot to hate the fact that she was my bride. Possessiveness swelled inside me, burning away the helpless rage that’d tormented me ever since Stefano had decreed our punishment.
Stefano placed her dainty hands in mine. They were so small and fragile in my grip, my knuckles still raw and red from beating Carlos to death.
Savage satisfaction burned in my chest. It felt right to hold her like this. To claim her in front of the entire cartel. From now on, no one would touch her but me. They would all know that she was mine.
