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Fuck.
That sound did shit to me.
Sure, it reminded me that I felt like I was robbing the goddamn cradle, even though Dec had reminded me for the twenty millionth time that she was legal, that today was her birthday, but also, I liked it.
It suited her.
I’d only just been thinking of rumpling her, and there she went and did it for me.
Her eyes sparkled as she whispered, “Svetlanaisa slut, isn’t she?”
There was braggadocio lacing each word, like she was being daring, like she had to whisper just in case someone was listening…but no one was listening.
And they wouldn’t.
I’d just locked us in here.
The second part of the ceremony, the shit that made this legal, wasn’t about to go down until I had answers.
I wasn’t necessarily a patient man, but Inessa, by the justification that she was mine and that I had to look after her because she was my wife, deserved patience.
“Yeah, she’s a slut. And those nails look like they could do damage,” I rasped, leaning back against the door. I might have looked relaxed, but I wasn’t—if I found a single scratch from those claws on Inessa’s body later, I’d be pulling them off each goddamn finger.
As the bloodthirsty thought drifted through my mind, I crossed my feet at the ankles, and I saw her take in my posture, and recognize my game—I wasn’t moving until she told me what I wanted to know.
She blinked, fluttering long lashes that weren’t fake, even if the rest of her makeup was, and whispered, “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
In all honesty, she couldn’t have picked anything worse to say.
I gritted my teeth. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes turned sad, and she tipped her head down. “They all say that.”
Rage flushed through me, and I surged onto my feet and stalked toward her, not stopping until she backed up and into the desk, and I had her pinned in place.
With a delicacy that I was only known for when it came to killing people behind a scope a thousand yards away, I reached up and held her chin in place. “I will never hurt you, and no one else ever will either.”
She tugged her chin free from my two-fingered hold, and something told me that behind the war paint she had slathered on, she was blushing—not with nerves, but anger.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I hadn’t said the word ‘promise,’ but the childlike request had my mouth turning down at the edges.
“My father never beats my mother,” I proffered, hoping she’d find comfort in that. “And Finn, who you’ll meet later—”
“I know who Finn is. I know most of your family,” she commented dryly. “It’s just you I don’t know.”
I shrugged, unapologetic. “I didn’t want to get married, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to get married to an eighteen-year-old.”
Her eyes widened, even as she muttered, “Be grateful the age was specified. If Papa could have, he’d have married me off to you at sixteen.”
My top lip curled in disgust. Disgraceful bastard.
Though she’d shrugged off my hold on her chin, she hadn’t moved away, and though her skirts were between us, my body leaned into hers, her heat leaching into me and mine into hers.
Mingling.
Morphing into one unit.
