by Cora Reilly
I took a step back, bristling. “So you’re going to crush my throat too?” I was like a cornered dog, biting and snapping, but my opponent was a wolf. A very big and dangerous wolf.
A cold smile twisted his lips. “No, that would defy the purpose of our marriage, don’t you think?”
I shuddered. Of course it would. He couldn’t kill me. At least not if he wanted to maintain peace between Chicago and New York. That didn’t mean he couldn’t beat or force himself on me. “I don’t think my father would be happy if you hurt me.”
The look in his eyes made me take another step back. “Is that a threat?”
I averted my eyes from his. My father might risk war over my death—not because he loved me, but to keep face—but definitely not over a few bruises or rape. For my father it wouldn’t even be rape; Luca was my husband and my body was his to take whenever he wanted. “No,” I said softly. I hated myself for being submissive, like a bitch bowing to her alpha, almost as much as I hated him for making me do it.
“But you deny me what’s mine?”
I glared. Damn being submissive. Damn my father for selling me off like cattle, and damn Luca for accepting the offer. “I can’t deny you something that you don’t have the right to take in the first place. My body doesn’t belong to you. It’s mine.”
He will kill me. The thought shot through my mind a second before Luca drew himself up before me. Six foot five was scarily tall. I saw his hand move in my peripheral vision and flinched in anticipation of the blow, my eyes slamming shut. Nothing happened. The only sound was Luca’s harsh breathing and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I risked a peek up at him. Luca was staring at me, his eyes like a stormy summer sky. “I could take what I want,” he said, but the viciousness was gone from his voice.
There was no use denying it. He was much stronger than me. And even if I screamed nobody would come to my aid. Many men in my and Luca’s family would probably even hold me down to make it easier for him, not that Luca would have any trouble restraining me. “You could,” I admitted. “And I would hate you for it until the end of my days.”
He smirked. “Do you think I care about that? This isn’t a marriage of love. And you already hate me. I can see it in your eyes.”
He was right on both counts. This wasn’t about love and I hated him already, but hearing him say it crushed the last bit of foolish hope I had. I didn’t say anything.
He gestured at the squeaky clean sheets of the bed. “You heard what my father said about our tradition?”
My blood turned ice cold. I had, but until now I’d put it out of my mind. My courage had been for nothing. I stepped up to the bed and stared down at the sheets, my eyes boring into the spot where the proof of my lost virginity would have to be. Tomorrow morning the women of Luca’s family would knock at our door and take the sheets to present to Luca’s and my father, so they could inspect the proof of our consummated marriage. It was a sick tradition, but it wasn’t one I could evade. The fight drained out of me.
I could hear Luca coming up behind me. He grasped my shoulders and I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t make a sound. But my fight not to cry was a losing battle. The first tears already clung to my lashes, then dripped onto my skin and burned a trail down my cheeks and chin. Luca slid his hands over my collarbones, then down to the edge of my dress. My lips quivered and I could feel a tear dropping from my chin. Luca’s hands tensed against my body.
For a moment, neither of us moved. He turned me to face him and pushed my chin up. His cold gray eyes scanned my face. My cheeks were wet with silent tears but I made no sound, only returned his gaze. He dropped his hands, jerked back with a string of Italian curses, and then he drove his fist into the wall. I gasped and jumped back, pressing my lips together as I watched Luca’s back. He was facing the wall, shoulders heaving. I quickly wiped the tears off my face.
You’ve done it. You’ve made him really angry.
My eyes darted toward the door. Maybe I could reach it before Luca. Maybe I could even get outside before he caught up with me, but I’d never make it off the premises. He turned around and removed his vest, revealing a black knife and gun holster. His fingers closed around the handle of the knife, his knuckles already turning red from the impact with the wall, and he pulled it out. The blade was curved like a claw: short, sharp and deadly. It was black like the handle, so it couldn’t easily be seen in the dark. A karambit knife for close combat. Who knew Fabiano’s obsession with knives would ever be of use to me? Now I could at least identify the knife that would cut me open. Hysteric laughter wanted to fight its way out of my throat, but I swallowed it.
Luca stared intently at the blade. Was he trying to decide which part of me to slice open first?
Beg him. But I knew it wouldn’t save me. People probably begged him all the time, and from what I heard it never saved them. Luca didn’t show mercy. He would become the next Capo dei Capi in New York, and he would rule with cold brutality.
Luca came toward me and I flinched. A dark smile curled his lips. He pressed the sharp tip of the knife into the soft skin below the crook of his arm, drawing blood. My lips parted in surprise. He put the knife down on the small table between the two armchairs, grabbed a glass and held his wound over it, then watched his blood drip down without a flicker of emotion before finally disappearing in the adjoining bathroom.
I heard water running and then he returned into the bedroom. The mix of water and blood in the glass had a light red color. He approached the bed, dipped his fingers into the liquid and then smeared it onto the center of the sheet. My cheeks flushed with realization. I approached him slowly and stopped when I was still out of arm’s reach, not that it would do me much good. I stared down at the stained sheets. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“They want blood. They get blood.”
“Why the water?”
“Blood doesn’t always look the same.” He would know.
“Is it enough blood?”
“Did you expect a bloodbath?” He gave me a sardonic smile. “It’s sex, not a knife fight.”
He will fuck you bloody. The words were burnt into my brain, but I didn’t repeat them.
Just how many virgins have you taken to know about this? And how many of them came willingly into your bed? The words lay on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn’t suicidal.
“Won’t they know that it’s your blood?”
“No.” He walked back over to the table and poured Scotch into the glass with the remaining water and blood. His eyes held mine as he downed it in one gulp. I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust. Was he trying to intimidate me? Drinking blood really wasn’t necessary for that. I’d been terrified of him before I’d ever met him. I’d probably still be terrified of him when I bowed my head over his open casket.
“What about a DNA test?”
He laughed. It wasn’t exactly a joyful sound. “They will take me by my word. Nobody will doubt that I’ve taken your virginity the moment we were alone. They won’t because I am who I am.”
Yes, you are. Then why did you spare me? Another thought to never leave my lips. But Luca must have been thinking the same because his dark brows drew together as his eyes roamed the length of my body.
I stiffened and took a step back.
“No,” he said in a low voice. I froze. “That is the fifth time you shied back from me tonight.” He set down the glass and took the knife in his hand. Then he advanced on me. “Did your father never teach you to hide your fear from monsters? They give chase if you run.”
Maybe he expected me to contradict his claim to be a monster, but I wasn’t that good a liar. If there were monsters, the men in my world were among them. When he arrived in front of me, I had to tilt my head back to look him in the face.
“That blood on the sheets needs a story,” he said simply as he brought the knife up. I flinched and he murmured, “That’s six times.”
He hooked the blade under the edge of the bodice of my wedding d
ress and slowly moved the knife down. The fabric gave way until it finally pooled at my feet. The blade never once touched my skin. “It’s tradition in our family to undress the bride like this.”
His family had many disgusting traditions.
Finally I stood before him in my tight white corset with its laces in the back and my panties with the bow over my butt. Goose bumps covered every inch of my body. Luca’s gaze was like fire on my skin. I drew back.
“Seven,” he said quietly.
Anger surged through me. If he was tired of me flinching away from him, then maybe he should stop being so intimidating.
“Turn around.”
I did as he ordered, and the sharp intake of his breath made me regret it instantly. He moved closer, and I felt a gentle tug on the bow that was holding my panties up. A present to unwrap. How could any man possibly resist? The words of Luca’s stepmother popped unwantedly into my head. I knew that below the bow, the top of my butt would be exposed. Say something to distract him from that stupid bow over your butt.
“You already bled for me,” I said in a shaky voice, and then almost inaudibly, “Please don’t.” My father would be ashamed of my open display of weakness. But he was a man. The world was his for the taking. Women were his for the taking. And we women were always supposed to give without protest.
Luca didn’t say anything, but his knuckles brushed the skin between my shoulder blades as he raised the knife to my corset. With a hiss the fabric came apart under the blade. I brought my hands up before that barrier of protection could fall as well and pressed the corset against my chest.
Luca wrapped his arm across my chest possessively, trapping my arm under his and gripped my shoulder, pressing me against him. I gasped when something hard poked me in the lower back. That wasn’t his gun. Heat flooded my cheeks and fear gripped my body.
His lips brushed my ear. “Tonight you beg me to spare you, but one day you’re going to beg me to fuck you.” No. Never, I swore to myself. His breath was hot against my skin, and I closed my eyes. “Don’t think because I don’t claim my rights tonight that you aren’t mine, Aria. No other man will ever have what belongs to me. You are mine.” I nodded, but he wasn’t done yet. “If I catch a man kissing you, I’ll cut out his tongue. If I catch a man touching you, I’ll cut off his fingers, one at a time. If I catch a guy fucking you, I’ll cut off his dick and his balls, and I’ll feed them to him. And I’ll make you watch.”
He dropped his arm and stepped back. From the corner of my eye, I watched him stride over to the armchair and sink down in it. He reached for the bottle of Scotch and poured himself a generous amount. Before he could change his mind, I quickly walked into the bathroom, closed the door and turned the lock, then cringed at how stupid that was. A lock wasn’t any protection from him; neither was a door. Nothing in this world could protect me.
I scrutinized my face in the mirror. My eyes were red and my cheeks wet. I let the remains of my corset drop to the floor and picked up the nightgown that one of the servants had folded on the chair for me. A choked laugh escaped my mouth after I’d put it on over my bow panties. The part over my breasts was made from lace, but at least it wasn’t see-through, unlike the entire middle of the nightgown. It was the finest gossamer I’d ever seen, and it didn’t leave anything to the imagination. My bare stomach and the panties were on display. It ended above my knees with a hem of more lace. I could just as well walk out of this room naked and be done with it, but I wasn’t that brave.
I washed my makeup off, brushed my teeth, let down my hair, and when I couldn’t prolong the inevitable any longer, I grabbed the door handle. Would it be so bad if I slept in the bathroom?
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom. Luca was still sitting in the armchair. The Scotch bottle was almost half-empty. Drunk men were never a good thing. His eyes found me and he laughed without humor. “That’s what you choose to wear when you don’t want me to fuck you?”
I flushed at his crude language. It was the Scotch talking, but I couldn’t tell him to stop drinking. I was toeing the line as it was. “I didn’t choose it.” I crossed my arms, torn between staying on my feet and slipping under the covers of the bed. But lying down felt like a bad idea. I didn’t want to make myself any more vulnerable than I already was. Yet standing in front of Luca half-naked wasn’t the best choice either.
“My stepmother?” he asked.
I nodded simply. He put down his glass and rose. Of course, I flinched. His expression darkened. He didn’t say anything as he walked past me into the bathroom, not even when I gasped as his arm brushed mine. The moment the door closed, I released a harsh breath. Slowly I approached the bed, my eyes finding the light red stain. I perched on the edge of the mattress. Water was running in the bathroom, but eventually Luca would come back out.
I lay down on the edge of the mattress, turned on my side and pulled the covers up to my chin, then squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to fall asleep. I wanted this day to end, even if it was only the beginning of many hellish days and nights to come.
The water stopped and a few minutes later Luca emerged from the bathroom. I tried to make my breathing even to appear as if I was already sleeping. I risked a quick peek through half-closed eyes, my face mostly covered by the blanket, and turned to stone. Luca was only wearing black briefs. And if Luca was impressive when dressed, he was a whole new level of intimidating when half-naked. He was pure muscle and his skin was littered with scars, some thin and long as if a knife had sliced cleanly through, and some round and rigid as if a bullet had torn into his flesh. Letters were inked into the skin over his heart. I couldn’t read them from afar, but I had a feeling it was their motto. “Born in blood. Sworn in blood. I enter alive and I leave dead.”
He walked over to the main light switch and turned it off, bathing us in darkness. Suddenly I felt like I was alone in a forest at night, knowing that somewhere something was stalking me. The bed dipped under Luca’s weight, and I clutched the edge of the bedframe. I pressed my lips together, allowing myself only shallow breaths.
The mattress shifted when Luca lay down. I held my breath, waiting for him to reach out for me and take what was his. Would it always be like this? Would I be miserable for the rest of my life? My nights filled with fear?
The pressure of the last few weeks, or maybe even years, crashed down on me. Helplessness, fear and anger washed over me. Hatred for my father filled me up, but even worse was the hot knife of disappointment and sadness. He’d given me to a man he didn’t know anything about, except for his reputation as a skilled killer; he’d offered me to the enemy to do with as he pleased. The man who should have protected me from harm had shoved me into the arms of a monster for the sole purpose of securing power.
Hot tears spilled out of my eyes, but the weight on my chest didn’t lift. It grew heavier and heavier until I couldn’t hold it in anymore and a gasped sob burst out of me. Get yourself under control, Aria. I tried to fight it, but another choked sob slipped past my lips.
“Will you cry all night?” came Luca’s cold voice out of the blackness. Of course, he wasn’t asleep yet. For a man in his position, it was best to always keep an eye open.
I buried my face into the pillow but now that the floodgates had opened, I couldn’t close them again.
“I can’t see how you could possibly have cried any worse, if I’d taken you. Maybe I should fuck you to give you a real reason to cry.”
I pulled my legs up against my chest, making myself as small as possible. I knew I needed to stop. I hadn’t been beaten or worse, but I couldn’t get a grip on my emotions.
Luca moved and a soft light flooded the room. He’d turned on the lamp on his nightstand. I waited. I knew he was watching me, but I kept my face pressed against the pillow. Maybe he’d leave the room if he got fed up with the noise. He touched my arm, and I jerked so violently that I would have fallen off the bed if Luca hadn’t pulled me toward him.
“That’s enough,” he said in a low voice.
That voice. I stilled immediately and let him roll me onto my back. Slowly I uncurled my legs and arms, and lay as unmoving as a corpse.
“Look at me,” he ordered, and I did. Was that the voice that had made him notorious? “I want you to stop crying. I want you to stop flinching from my touch.”
I nodded numbly.
He shook his head. “That nod means nothing. Don’t you think I recognize fear when it stares back at me? The moment I turn out the light, you’ll be back to crying as if I’d fucking raped you.”
I didn’t know what he wanted me to do. It wasn’t as if I enjoyed being scared out of my mind. Not that fear was the only reason for my breakdown, but he wouldn’t understand. How could he possibly understand that I felt like my life was ripped away from me? My sisters, Fabiano, my family, Chicago; they were all I had ever known, and now I had to give them up.
“So to give you peace of mind and shut you up, I’m going to swear an oath.”
I licked my lips, tasting the saltiness of tears on them. Luca’s fingers tensed on my arm. “An oath?” I whispered.
He took my hand and pressed my palm against the tattoo over his heart. I exhaled as his muscles flexed under my touch. He was warm, the skin much softer than I’d anticipated.
“Born in blood, sworn in blood, I swear that I won’t try to steal your virginity or harm you in any way tonight.” His lips quirked and he nodded toward the cut on his arm. “I already bled for you, so that seals it. Born in blood. Sworn in blood.” He covered my hand with his over the tattoo, looking at me expectantly.
“Born in blood, sworn in blood,” I said softly. He released my hand and I lowered it to my stomach, stunned and confused. An oath was a big deal. Without another word, he extinguished the light and returned to his side of the bed.
I listened to his rhythmic breathing, knowing that he wasn’t asleep. I closed my eyes. He wouldn’t break his oath.
CHAPTER SEVEN