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We’re in this together now. Our souls are twisted around each other, and they’ll continue to grow that way for the rest of our lives.
He’s been trying to tell me that, but I couldn’t believe him. I believe him now.
He pins me to the shower wall and kisses me. He runs his knuckles over the curve of my jaw before grabbing my throat.
I feel my pulse beating in my throat where his hand rests.
He smiles.
He feels it, too.
Never one to deny me the things I want, he slides his hand down to grab my thigh. He lifts it, wraps it around his hip, and guides his cock to my entrance.
I hiss as he pushes into me. My bruised and tender flesh stings, but it feels so good.
“I love you, Silvan.”
I just felt the need to tell him.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His lips quirk. “I love you, too.”
___
We spend Friday night and Saturday in New Hampshire, but Silvan drives us home Sunday afternoon. His parents invited us over for Sunday night dinner, and while I didn’t much enjoy the last one, I figure we should probably go.
I’ll have to get over Silvan’s dad threatening my life and get more comfortable being around him because I’ll be part of the family in a much more official capacity soon.
Silvan gave me a ring before we left the New Hampshire house. His grandma’s ring.
It’s a darkly beautiful ring with an unhappy history, but I think we can breathe new life into it and improve upon its legacy.
He said when his grandfather married his grandmother, he didn’t marry her because he loved her. He married her because his brother did.
She was his trophy, a wrathful token he could snatch away from the kid who had unknowingly stolen his birthright.
A wrathful and proud man, he had this ring custom made for his stolen bride to serve as an endless taunt. He bought her the biggest, most expensive ruby he could find. Silvan said they call it a pigeon’s blood ruby, that it’s the most coveted ruby inthe world because of how rare they are. He had the stone cut and crafted in this shape suggestive of a heart and set in a particular and peculiar way, with a smaller band underneath to symbolize her, and a slightly thicker, more dominant band above it, like arms gripping the stolen heart and keeping it—and her—captive.
Silvan said James wanted her to wear this ring as a constant reminder that he kept her heart in a cage, that she belonged to him and always would.
I guess she still had unresolved feelings for the brother he had ripped her away from, and Silvan’s grandfather must’ve been similarly bad at sharing his wife’s affections.
It’s an extremely valuable ring, but one Silvan’s father hated. When his mother died, he wouldn’t give it to Melanie and sully her lovely finger with it because it was a ring crafted by hate and vengeance.
I think it’s perfect.
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, but I even think it’s romantic that they’re both holding the same heart.
Whatever dark legacy this ring was born from, it’s one-of-a-kind, just like the man I’m marrying.
I’m nervous on my way over to the mansion, my tummy aching and tumbling.
Silvan wants to tell his parents our good news, but as understanding as they’ve been about the whiplash pace of our courtship so far, I think they might have some objections about us getting engaged so quickly. His dad might even take issue with Silvan giving me his mother’s ring.
I look down at it now, the dark glint of the moonlight hitting the rare stone.
I wonder what the woman who wore it before me felt when she looked down at this ring. For a split second, I can almost feel it. A claustrophobic feeling, colossal regret. Fear. Anguish.
What have I done?
