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I would kiss her wounds. Pay homage to her suffering. And perhaps, I could soothe the strain in my own chest. My blood ran warm with the desire to make it better in the only way I could show comfort right now.
Leaving the scene of the carnage, I emerged in the hall. Adrian and Iryna were in a heated whispered discussion that stopped the moment I stepped through the door. Without looking at me, Iryna turned and stalked down the hall. Her guard trailed after her.
“I’ve inherited a sister,” Adrian commented dryly, looking me up and down.
“For the time being,” I responded, the hard edge in my voice more from pain than from my sister’s cold shoulder. “What Iryna did was dangerous. I can’t have war in my home.”
“This is serious, Con.”
“It is.”
“Your wife had better be worth it.”
“She is.” Talia was mine. Mine to save, mine to cherish. My enemy.My wife.
“Gustave will strike,” Adrian’s prophecy rung out, heralding Talia’s entrance.
Her dark hair was smoothed, and fresh powder covered the marks on her skin. If I didn’t notice her heavy breathing, it would seem she hadn’t just battled for her life. She was like me, forcing her scars into hiding, always presenting an implacable front. As I caught her fierce gaze, I snarled, “I know. And we’ll be ready.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, cuz.” Adrian smacked my back, purposely hitting a sore spot, as he turned and left.
I didn’t give him any more attention. I was locked in a reverent stare with my bride. “I do,” I whispered, holding out my hand to Talia—who smiled back and laced her fingers through mine.
Chapter 43 – Constantine
As we drove away fromthe Grantham Opera House, there was a pregnant silence. It was pungent, filling every crack in the vehicle. The occasional streetlight cast a momentary streak of clarity in the otherwise sepulchral interior. Each time the light flickered, I observed Talia’s features grow more haunted.
She was looking out the window, watching the nighttime landscape rush by, lost in her thoughts. As much as I wanted to pull Talia toward me, slide my hands under her gown, and make the miles pass in utter pleasure, it wasn’t possible right now. I was exhausted, mentally as well as physically.
Instead, we sat in an awkward silence, one that I couldn’t bridge. I hated how weak this wound made me. Sitting down made me feel only slightly better. The sharp stabs I’d felt at the opera house had subdued to a dull ache, and the cloying sweat that had broken out over my entire body when I came upon Talia and my sister fighting was now dry and sticky.
My phone chimed. It was an email from my shipping company’s operations manager. Odd. If he was working this late something was amiss. Normally lower-level management and associates handled crises on the weekends. Letting out a long breath, I opened the message to find three of our ships were stuck at sea because some customs officer wasn’t letting them have access to port. A phone call to an official should have cleared their passage, but according to my operations manager, the usual protocols weren’t working because this officer was playing vigilante.Just great.
“Did you know the whole time?” Talia’s words cut through the email I was typing in reply, shaking me out of the business world.
I turned slightly to look at her. I knew exactly what she meant. “That you were here to kill me?”
