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I heard her slight intake of breath. I avoided cursing in her presence, until now. Breaking us had broken me. I wasn’t the same man. I’d gone ahead and done everything in my power to wreck the beautiful thing that was us, and I’d spend the rest of my life building it back, giving her whatever she wanted, worshipping her pussy until my last dying breath.
She might be the one physically kneeling, but I was the one figuratively on my knees. I might be the one commanding her to crawl to me, but I’d crawled back to her, tail between my legs. I’d fucked up, and I would not rest until I owned her and bound her to me for all eternity. They would speak about us and about our rule over this goddamn sun-drenched land she loved so much.
She slapped the parquet floor.
The tight skirt bunched and tightened around her wide hips, but she didn’t dare tug at it to give herself space to move more comfortably. Not without my permission, she wouldn’t, and I wasn’t about to give it to her. But that was the reward of owning a submissive treasure like Clara. I didn’t have to be perfect around her, I just had to be me. It was so simple, yet damn monumental. She didn’t love me perfect. She loved me as I was.
I released the breath strangled in my throat and praised her with a good girl.
Her lips opened, and I feared what would come out of her mouth. Perhaps a plea to release her. Or a declaration that it could never work between us. I couldn’t allow those words to be said. I didn’t know how much more restraint I had, but I couldn’t stand to hear any denials coming out of her mouth.
Hands clenched to my sides, I growled, “Not a word. Come here now. Unless you want me to tan that sweet ass of yours before fucking it raw.”
I was at the end of my rope, a rope so frayed from the distance I’d built between us, it’d snap in a second if she didn’t start moving.
My power over her was only, and always would be, an undeserved gift she benevolently granted me like the fucking queen she was. Realizing my desperation, and deciding to show mercy, she planted one hand in front of her and began to sway those sexy hips of hers.
The time it took for her to cross the floor was excruciating, the silk thigh highs catching between the planks of wood.
The instant she was within arm’s reach, I seized her by the bun, unraveled her hair, and dragged her to me. I dropped onto a gilded chair near the door, spread my legs open, and hauled her close.
Once she was trapped between my legs with her cheek resting against my inner thigh, I leaned back. Releasing a pent-up breath, I gazed down at her beautiful face lifted toward mine, her gaze a whirlwind of emotion. Excitement, adulation, apprehension.
Caressing her hair, I said, “That’s right, my queen, this is where you’re supposed to be. Now say whatever bullshit you have to say.”
She licked her lips and stared up at me. Worry bled through her gaze and trepidation prickled at my nape. But with her near me, bracketed between my thighs, eyes on me, I felt like I could conquer anything.
“My father arranged for me to marry Grigore,” she breathed out.
My stomach dropped down to the floor.
Instinctively, my hand twisted in her hair, pulling her closer to me. Fury ricocheted through me. Not because of Grigore. Grigore was dead. But the arranged marriage part. Her father could easily replace Grigore with another Hagi man.
She swallowed, but never backing down, she continued, “He knows. I’m not a virgin anymore. To get in front of the scandal, he’s put out rumors that Grigore and I have fallen in love.”
My entire body stiffened.
“Like hell he has,” I ground out.
Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes, falling indiscriminately as she went on, “There’s nothing I can do. He’s furious with me. He feels I betrayed him and our clan. Ruined his plans for my succession. It’s part mitigation strategy, part punishment. Okay, mostly punishment. You know how Romanians are when they feel betrayed.”
A brittle smile spread over my lips.
“It’s fucking perfect,” I said, my voice harsh and guttural. My mind was racing, flipping through the different scenarios of how I could use this to our advantage.
Her jaw dropped.
“What?” she hissed, gaze turning deadly.
“If he’s willing to marry you to that bastard, then he’s opened the door to marriage, period.”
“He means for me to marry him. I already explained, it’s a punishment.”
I clucked confidently. “No one punishes you but me.”
I smoothed my hand over the veins of golden honey streaking through her thick mass of hair. Dipping my hand underneath it, I massaged the base of her skull. Despite the tension in her body, she melted under my touch. A little sigh of pleasure slipped between her lips, and my heart swelled at the proof that I could give her comfort during the worst of times. I was her haven, as she was mine.
“He hasn’t declared your engagement yet,” I stated.
“Not yet, no. But any day now. There’s a wedding in a few days. The entire clan will gather for it. I expect he’ll do it then.”
She sniffed and her eyes darted away from mine.
Taking her by the hair, I hauled her up as I leaned down and smashed my lips against hers. Our tongues met, and I inhaled her taste, sweet as ever. Everything about her taste spoke of home and hearth. Our tongues entwined and then dueled for dominance. As always, I won.
When we finally broke away, breathing heavily, I stared deep into her eyes and said, “First off, Grigore is dead. I slit his throat. As for your father, he’ll have news to declare alright. He’ll be declaring me as your husband.”
