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She closed her eyes briefly, taking another sip of her drink. “We had a huge argument the night before he died. I accused him of hiding things from me. Things got ugly and he struck me out of anger, storming out a few minutes later. I threw my ring after him and told him I never wanted to see him again.”
“The fucking son of a bitch. I’ll enjoy ripping out his throat with my bare hands.”
She stared at me with hard, cold eyes, never blinking.
“If you’re trying to look into my soul—”
“You have no soul,” she interrupted. “None. And your heart is pitch black.”
“Interesting for a woman who’s only known me a few hours. Also interesting given our conversations.”
“I know your type. You enjoy displaying your power, using violence as your only tool of interrogation as well as intimidation. And our conversations were all lies, beautiful acting by a man with no understanding of love or humanity. I applaud you, Alessandro. You had me fooled for a little while. Shame on me.”
I gave her words consideration. “Perhaps you are right, at least with regard to my penchant for violence. However, utilizing intellectual conversation with basic thugs hasn’t been well received.” When she started to retort, I held up a finger. “Our conversations were real, Sierra. You can’t deny what you felt any more than I can. There is a connection that cannot be denied, a hunger that leaves us both breathless. However, what I can’t do is allow the enjoyment of our passion to interfere with what needs to be done.”
Her eyes shimmered from the words I’d said as well as the admittance I’d made.
I’d meant every word.
She was a woman who’d awakened the beast, dragging him from the depths of darkness, enticing his sadistic hungers. However, the thought of hurting her wasn’t something I would allow to happen. She was a precious creature, a delicate flower.
A woman who defied the odds, holding a warrior’s heart.
She was also a liability—one I couldn’t afford, but didn’t want to be without.
My appetites were extreme, too much for a woman of Sierra’s nature. Even though I sensed she enjoyed the darkness, she couldn’t handle my brand of kink. It would destroy her. Yet I couldn’t get past the raging desire rushing through my system like wildfire.
The need to fuck her.
Shackle her.
Discipline her.
Mark her.
My hunger knew no bounds.
She was right, able to see through my façade. I was a sick man capable of vile things. Yet it drew her like a moth to a flame. Too bad when we were finished, we might be burned to a crisp. Did I care at this point? The answer was a solid no. I continued to remind myself that I took what I wanted, and this vivacious woman would never be free of me.
Her expression was pensive but there was more than a hint of raging desire sizzling her senses, keeping her excited to learn what I had planned.
Filthy, sadistic things.
The thought kept my cock aching and my mouth watering for another taste. Soon…
“Then maybe you need to enter into another business.” She allowed the words to hang, dragging her tongue across her lips. Did she have any idea what she did drove me insane? Did she understand that with the simple touch of her hand or the way she defied me whenever the mood struck her dragged out the beast? “What Tristen did wasn’t right, but I think he was pushed by you, by circumstances,” she continued.
“You grieved for him.” My tone was dark, angry. I wanted the man dead, his head on a platter, partially for what he’d done to her. She hadn’t deserved to be caught in the middle.
What the fuck was I thinking? Was she hiding something from me? If so, I would find out and she would be punished.
Whatever the case, I’d need to keep this feisty woman close until I discovered the truth.
She’d become an unexpected gift, a sweet taste that I could use to my benefit. The thought of breaking down her walls, exposing every vulnerability was far too delicious to ignore. An idea was born, one that my family would consider blasphemous. However, if handled correctly, the ultimate goal could be achieved. I’d also have an opportunity of indulging in my passions over and over again.
Even if I was playing a dangerous game, leaving a noose looped around my neck.
“Yes, but not for the man he’d become. For the man I’d met. I couldn’t make sense of how things had gotten so ugly. At least now I know. At least now I no longer need to feel the ugliness inside of me, festering into sores that have never healed. Guilt. My God. Guilt almost consumed me for four fucking years,” she half laughed, her face twisting from the revelations, anger replacing sadness. “I believed in some crazy unexplainable way that I was the cause of his death, when that isn’t the case.”
