by Cora Kenborn
She was my wife, not my whore.
But El Muerte would. El Muerte would shove her to her knees and fuck her mouth until she begged for mercy.
But there would be none.
El Muerte knew no mercy.
He would get off on her struggle. She’d call him the devil, and he’d laugh because it was true. Then the devil would take what was his and drive inside her so hard all of Mexico would hear her scream.
“Dios mío.” Opening my eyes, I found myself braced against the wall, stroking my already hard cock through the thin layer of my pants.
Fuck this.
Pushing off the wall, I stalked toward the attached bathroom, ripping buttons and tearing fabric as I went. By the time I made it to the shower, my dick was already in my fist again. I didn’t bother to wait for the water to warm up before ducking under the spray. It could’ve been straight from fucking Antarctica. I didn’t care.
My body was on fire.
Images of Eden’s naked body spun through my mind as I slammed a hand against the tile and viciously worked my cock with the other. I didn’t bother with soap. I wanted it as rough and raw and fucked up as we were.
I was almost there. My dick throbbed with need, and the more my head filled with sadistic thoughts of punishing the woman I loved, the harder I jerked.
“Dios mío, fuck...yes, Cereza!”
“Val?”
My hand froze, and I opened my eyes to see Eden standing there, her blue eyes as wide as her rounded mouth. The barrier between fantasy and reality came crashing down when I realized, in my rush to release, I didn’t bother closing the shower door.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her palms together under her chin in what looked to be prayer. For what, I had no idea. If it was forgiveness, she’d come to the wrong place. “I didn’t mean to barge in. I…I heard a loud noise and shouting. I thought…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes lowered to my ass. “I guess everything’s fine.”
We’ll see about that.
Pushing off the tile, I turned to face her, my hand still wrapped around my swollen cock. “Is it? You tell me, Cereza.”
A bright red stain burned her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, that fucking pink tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip as I continued to stroke myself.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you are,” I taunted, her eyes still transfixed on my hand. “Why is that, Eden?”
“I told you, I heard—”
“You heard shouting; I know. But once you walked in here, you and I both know what kind of shouting you heard. You heard me call your name while getting myself off, and you know what I think, Cereza?” She shook her head, and I smirked as her eyes bobbed along with my hand. “I think hearing it made that wall inside your head crack even more.” Caught up in my own web, my voice became thick and rough. “I think you remembered how much you used to love this.” Grabbing her wrist, I wrapped her small hand around my cock. “And the unspeakable things it does to you.” Eden resisted at first, then quickly let out a shuddering breath as I worked our hands in tandem up and down my shaft.
“You’re wrong,” she groaned.
“Prove it.”
Her hand stilled. “What?”
“Lift up your dress and show me your pussy.” I flashed her a wicked smile. “If it’s not dripping wet for me right now, I’ll never touch you again.”
Eden stood her ground, glaring at me a few moments before pulling her hand away and balling it against her chest. “That’s not fair.”
“Why? Because you don’t like to be tested, or because you know you’ll fail?”
My smile widened. Not because of the fury spreading across her face like a sparked wildfire, but because I knew I’d lit the match. This was my Eden. The woman never backed down from a challenge—sanity and safety be damned.
Her eyes burned holes into me as she fisted the hem of her loose black dress and jerked it up to her waist. My dick wept at the sight of her, but it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t see through panties, mi amor.”
“You’re an asshole.” The insult was barely past her lips before she tucked her dress into one hand and shoved the lacy black thong down her legs with the other. “Are you happy now?”
Fuck me.
It’d been nine months since I’d seen her like this—bare and offered to me on a silver platter. Primal instinct almost drove me to shove her against the wall and fuck her until neither of us could walk, but I held back.
“No.” Stepping out of the shower, I knelt in front of her, my mouth watering.
“Val, what are you…” Eden’s breath caught in her throat as I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me. Burying my nose between her legs, I drew in a slow, deep breath, smiling as she shivered.
I’d know that sweet scent anywhere.
“Liar.” I didn’t care about permission. I slipped my tongue in between her folds and the second her taste hit my mouth, I became a man unleashed. I was starving, and Eden’s pussy was my feast. I devoured her as she gasped, her knees almost buckling.
“Val! Don’t!” she begged, grabbing handfuls of my hair. “Don’t… Stop! Don’t… stop… don’t stop. God, don’t stop.”
Her groans only fed the beast, prompting me to thrust two fingers inside her and pump hard as my tongue tortured her clit. Instead of pushing me away, she dug her fingers in my wet hair even more and ground herself against my face. And when I made my wife come, it wasn’t sweet or euphoric. It was rough and brutal and beautifully violent.
But I still wasn’t done.
Rising to my feet, I dragged her limp body back into the shower with me and pushed her against the tile. Eden’s eyes were still glazed over when I grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up, seconds away from reclaiming what was mine.
But that would be El Muerte’s conquest, not mine.
So, at the last moment, I pressed my forehead against hers, water streaming between us. “Tell me to fuck you.”
She hesitated, and my arms shook with the strain of holding back. Finally, she lifted her eyes and locked her arms around my neck. “Fuck me.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before I drove into her so hard, she lost her grip around my neck and clawed my shoulders in an effort to keep up with my manic thrusts. Maybe I was trying to fuck through the wall in her head. Maybe I was trying to fuck away nine months of sadism and solitude. Or maybe I was trying to fuck some goddamn sense back into both of us.
“Fuck!” I swore with every brutal thrust. “Remember me, Cereza. Remember us!”
Her only response was to dig her nails deeper into my back. “Shit! I’m coming again!”
I claimed her mouth, taking the kiss she’d denied me for so long. She reciprocated, our tongues frantic and out of control. It was like coming home.
We kissed and fucked until I flung us both of us over the edge, coming harder than I’d ever come in my life.
When we both caught our breath, she slowly dropped her legs to the shower floor, and I saw it coming. It rolled in like a storm cloud, bringing with it a torrential downpour of misery and a tornado of shit.
The shield.
Twisting out of my arms, Eden backed up, her dress and hair dripping wet. “I, uh…”
She barely cleared the shower door before I hooked her arm. “The first time I touched you, you were handcuffed to a bed.”
“Stop.”
“I taught you to shoot in Monterrey. We spent the entire morning filling tin cans full of bullets. You damn near took out a flock of birds.”
“Please don’t…” She pleaded while twisting, but I held firm.
“When I woke up in the hospital after being shot, you were there. What did you say to me, Eden?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do!” I roared. “You said, ‘I’m not running from you anymore. I’m running toward you. Wake up and catch me.’” My chest heaved with the weight of those words. “Well, now it
’s your turn, Cereza. Wake the fuck up and catch me!”
“I’m sorry, Val. This...all this…” Finally pulling away, she hugged her arms across her chest and lowered her eyes. “It was a mistake.”
She couldn’t even look at me. I’d just been inside her, and she couldn’t even fucking look me in the eye. It was the final straw. Nine months of mental torture finally came to a head and boiled over.
Letting out a roar, I slammed my palm against the tile then stormed out of the shower and into the bedroom. Ignoring her incessant calls of my name, I jerked the nightstand open and pulled out a switchblade. Popping the button, I held up the nine-inch blade and shoved it in front of her face. “Here, take it.”
She staggered back. “What?”
“I’ll never give you a divorce, Eden. So, if you want out of this marriage, you’ll have to kill me. So, go ahead. Do it, Cereza.” I shoved the blade at her again. “But you only get one shot, so don’t fuck up. Go right for the heart and get it over with.”
The shock that coated her eyes faded, and something much more familiar filled them. Her nostrils flared seconds before she batted the knife out of her face with surprising force. “Don’t tempt me, Danger,” she hissed. “I already stabbed you with a fork. Don’t think I won’t trade up.”
My mind blanked as her words sank in. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Valentin
All the breath whooshed from Eden’s chest as she stumbled backward into the chest of drawers.
She remembered.
“You called me Danger.”
“I don’t—”
“Only you call me that, Eden. From the first day we met, you’ve called me that. You can’t talk your way out of this. You remember.” Realizing I was still standing there stark naked, I dropped the knife and pointed to the three small white vertical scars on my bicep. “Not only that, you remember this. This is the scar you gave me when you stabbed me with that fork you just mentioned.” My mind reeled as I took a step toward her. “Why are you fighting this?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Flashes have been coming back to me. Some are like snapshots, and some are like thirty-second commercials. Some I understand, and some I don’t. I know I loved you, Val. I know I married you and gave you children. What I don’t know is why.”
“What the fuck do you mean why?”
“I’ve read all about El Muerte. I’ve listened to everyone in your family tell me the events of my life over and over until I’m sick of them. You kidnapped me. Your sister had my brother murdered. I… I killed a man.” With tears now streaming down her face, my strong, independent wife, paused and angrily swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “So yes, Valentin… Why? Why did I choose this life with you? Why would I bring children into a world with guns and violence? One where their father comes home coated in the blood of dead men? I need you to explain it to me.”
I wished to God I could. But she asked the one thing of me that I couldn’t give her.
Fuck this space between us. Taking her face in my hands, I forced her eyes on mine. “Cereza, I love you. I fucking need you—by my side and in my bed.”
Her tears rolled harder as she held onto my wrists. “I know you do. And I’m trying, Val. I really am. But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“What if my memory never comes back? What if all I’ll ever have are these momentary flashes of a life that belongs to someone else? Would you still love me? If I can never truly accept who and what you are, would you still want me by your side, or just in your bed?”
It was another question I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think about that. Not thinking about it was the only thing keeping me from sinking completely into the pit of hell.
Kissing her forehead, I released her face and retrieved my pants from the floor. “You need some sleep,” I said, putting them on while avoiding her eye. “I’ll have Luisa attend to the children tonight.” Just as I turned to leave, she called out to me.
“You never answered my question.”
Standing there with my back to her, I spoke the only truth I could. “My love for you is unconditional, Eden. Whether you ever return it or not, that will never change.”
“And the rest?”
“You’re my wife, and my wife will always belong by my side.”
“I feel that Val. I feel it so deep in my soul I can’t even explain it to you.” Her words choked in her throat. “My heart knows it loves you, but what if my head never believes it? What if I can’t ever say it back?”
I stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. Whether or not you ever remember what we had together, I’ll win you back. I’ll make you fall in love with me again. A new me. A new us. I already told you I won’t give you a divorce, and your only other option expired five minutes ago. Besides, you have nowhere else to go.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “You’re dead, Eden. According to a piece of paper filed away in the Harris County court of records, Eden Lachey met an untimely death in an unfortunate house fire after being kidnapped by yours truly. Your brother and father are dead, and as far as your mother goes, well, Santi would have a better guess as to where she is than you. So, you see, my love, you have no option. I’m your family. I’m your home. And like it or not, I’m the man you can’t make yourself stay away from. Even now.”
“I’m a prisoner of my own mind and now one in your house?”
For some fucked up reason, I smiled at that. “Not this time, Cereza. You’ll stay because we’re destined. You’ll choose me again, and finally, there will be no question as to why. You belong with me, Eden, and I promise on my mother’s grave I’ll not only spend the rest of my life making you believe that, but I’ll also spill blood for every tear you’ve shed.”
A week consisted of seven days. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but when living with a woman whose mood changed as dramatically as night and day, it felt like a lifetime. One day she remembered long stretches of her life and we spent hours in bed fucking like animals, and the next, she hid in her room, avoiding me like I was the antichrist.
Which, to be fair, I suppose in a way, I was.
Semantics.
It didn’t matter. I’d never give up on her. Even if it took the rest of my life, I’d find a way to break the walls inside her mind. A man never stopped fighting for what was his.
However, I didn’t forget the promise I made to her. It was only the fourth promise I’d ever made, and like the third, I’d keep it or die trying.
Revenge for her tears.
Revenge for our suffering.
Revenge for being denied the life she promised me.
In seven days, I’d determined revenge wasn’t a raid of a border and simple execution. That was too simple. Too quick. Too painless. If there was one thing I’d learned from my bastard of a father and the sadistic fuck who raised my sister, it was that true revenge was a disease that infected an entire bloodline, ripping it apart at the seams.
The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.
With Eden out for the day with Leighton, I made my way into Santi’s room, where, as usual, I found him playing with his firetruck. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up.
“Hi, papá.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I just smiled and sat in the white rocking chair tucked away in the corner of his room. With a simple pat on my knee, Santi dropped what he was doing and dutifully crawled into my lap.
Obedience was a strong trait. He’d learn quickly.
I stroked his dark hair as he tugged at the buttons on my shirt. “Remember everything I told you nine months ago, Santi?” I didn’t wait for a response. “I was wrong. Not about the empire. I’m still building that for you and your sister. But your hands are going to be stained. We aren’t good men, son, and we’re not made to be fair. We’re not descendants of the devil; we a
re the devil.”
“Debil,” he repeated with a toothy grin.
“Carrera men don’t rely on fate,” I continued. “No one in this world is innocent. We punish everyone. You are a Carrera, Santiago. I build for you. I kill for you. I steal for you. And I will die for you. One day, you will be El Muerte, and you will claim revenge in the name of your family. You will spill blood. And you, my son, will avenge what Dante Santiago did to your mother.”
Epilogue
Santiago Carrera
Sixteen years later
“Please don’t fucking sing.”
I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth before I was pelted with a very off-key rendition of Feliz Cumpleaños. I didn’t know why I bothered. This family did whatever the hell it wanted. It always had. Case in point, the triple-layer chocolate cake headed my way with an inferno of fire blazing on top of it.
I stopped caring about birthdays years ago. Sixteen years ago, to be exact. Having your nanny write your birthday on the calendar just so your mother knew when it was kind of did that to a kid. Not that she didn’t try. Mamá busted her ass to ensure Lola and I didn’t feel the trickle-down effect of what happened to her.
But it was inevitable. No family went through that kind of battle without some major scars. Birthdays just happened to be a big fat, jagged one of mine.
“Blow out the candles, fuckface.”
“Lola!” Mamá scolded her from behind the flames, but I heard the laughter in her voice. Typical. My little shit of a sister got away with everything. Contrary to what she thought, being born thirty-five thousand feet in the air didn’t give her ego a free pass to hang out on a damn pedestal.
Of course, I guess I couldn’t blame her. She was a product of her environment. Another manifestation of Carrera guilt. Mamá almost died having her, so she got to be a mouthy bitch.
Sure. Made perfect sense to me.
I flipped a middle finger at her, and in return, she flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and smiled.