AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Darla
It was written in black cursive scripture, nestled along the rest of his tattoos. My husband wore it like a badge of honour. Grand gestures were a big part of our marriage and this one was truly one for the books. He got it two weeks after I was discharged from the hospital.
I’d be lying if I said the sight of it didn’t swarm me with heat.
“We have to come here every year,” I demanded as Zeno bent his head to kiss my stomach. His rough exhale hit my puckered scar and I delved my fingers into his hair, trying to release the tension. I knew rage filled him whenever he glanced at the healed wound, but the past was in the past. “I’ve decided to use this island as a source of inspiration for my new novel.”
When he raised his head, I was relieved to see a bit of the madness replaced by heady lust. “Then we shall come here every year, wife.”
“No more games, Zeno,” I begged, pulling his face up to mine for a kiss. “Je te veux.”
He sipped my whimpers while rubbing his dick tip over my swollen folds, already wet from just staring at my beautifully bronzed punisher.
When he finally thrust inside, I cried out, my red nails digging into his shoulders. “Zeno!”
“Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, pinching my nipples. He loved the new heaviness of my breasts. Played and suckled them at every chance. “Tell me who you belong to now and always.”
“Je suis à toi, et tu es à moi.”
Our forever vow dancing in the air, Zeno braided our fingers together and brought them above my head. He rocked into me slowly, mimicking the soft crashing waves. My legs tightened around his waist as the tempo increased and Zeno’s wet lips stole kisses from mine.
We made love all night long and promised each other the moon, the stars, and the universe.
After celebrating my twenty-eighth birthday overseas, Zeno and I returned to Montardor beginning September. I didn’t realize how badly I needed a vacation after the shitshow we experienced.
My husband suggested we move to his penthouse, but I refused. The estate became my home and I wasn’t about to let one ghost drive me away. When I closed my eyes, I no longer saw fire or that moment Benjamin spun around to shoot me. For one bad memory of Benjamin, I had countless good ones with Céline, Éva, Yves, and Zeno.
The De la Croixes were still reeling—still healing—from Benjamin’s death and betrayal. Last week, I caught Éva crying in the library. My sister-in-law said she missed Benjamin and harboured guilt for it. At sixteen years old, Éva was still a child and not fully exposed to the world’s cruel ways. She understood Benjamin did something horrible, but her heart was still taking time to catch up. Céline and Yves took the situation the hardest, considering Benjamin was their child. Sometimes I’d catch Yves staring at Benjamin’s picture with a stoic expression. Other times I’d catch Céline quietly crying in the parlour when no one was around. My heart ached for them. On the bright side, one evening I saw them both spread-eagle under a tree in the courtyard, high as kites after smoking a few blunts. Their slurred banter and laughter reminded me that better days were ahead of us.
My husband had also made peace with Benjamin’s death, though I could tell he would never forgive his little brother.
September flew by in the blink of an eye.
At my last ultrasound, Zeno and I found out we were having a little boy.
I cried, completely ecstatic, and Zeno kissed my temple, saying I made him the happiest man on earth.
This wasn’t just our first child.
This was the next heir to the De la Croix dynasty.
The thought of my son inheriting all of this was a scary feat, but we would cross that bridge when the time was near.
“I want to name him Apollo,” I whispered one night in my conservatory room. “Apollo De la Croix.”
Zeno pressed his big palm on my stomach and rubbed protectively. “I think that’s a wonderful name, Darla.”
Cerberus, who lay by our feet, lifted his downy head at the name, silently giving us his approval as well.
In our little slice of heaven, I felt whole, happy and utterly fulfilled.
My summer came to a perfect end withCorrupted By You’smassive success, making me a New York Times bestselling author.
Before we knew it, fall was upon us.
It was October and the coveted Halloween festival in South Side, Montardor, started tonight.
I took my time getting ready while my husband wrapped up business in his office. He promised me early dinner, a horror movie, and then a stroll in the festival.
