EL DIABLO II

by M. Robinson

  Most of the people in attendance for our ceremony, I didn’t know from a hole in the wall.

  But, I trusted Luciano.

  My soon to be father-in-law.

  I recognized the faces of the men who mattered, they were the only ones of importance. With an asserted expression, I gave the guests no doubt of my intentions on this day.

  There I was…

  Turning the pages, opening the next chapters of my life. In the last month, we hadn’t received any more updates on Adriana. I searched for answers, ending up with more questions than I had to begin with. The only thing I’d accomplished was settling in the darkness all around me. I lived every day waiting on orders of who to go after next. Finding satisfaction in the souls I continued to collect.

  Enemies’ blood on my hands was what I found the most gratification in. In the span of four months, I was a distant memory of who I used to be, while I embraced the ruthless man I’d become.

  No remorse.

  No pity.

  No second chances.

  I did what I was told to do.

  Kill.

  I was paying my dues. Being the son of El Diablo, my place in line started further ahead than the rest of the mad men. Although, more was expected of me since I was the spawn of The Devil. I didn’t hold back, it wasn’t in me. If I was going to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, then I was going to make damn sure nothing or no one stood in my way.

  The shoes I walked in were coated in blood.

  The suits I wore were lined with power and prestige.

  When I stepped into a room, I demanded respect.

  The sins I committed in the name of La Familia were for my benefit as much as theirs.

  I watched.

  I listened.

  I learned.

  Quickly, I realized how easy it was for me to take the throne which belonged to me.

  It. Was. Mine.

  The title.

  The authority.

  Alpha of the fucking pack.

  I was the wolf, or I was the lion, it simply depended on what day it was. I stood there and thought about the life I was leading until her very presence clutched at my soul. My fiancé began walking down the aisle as if she was made just for me and only me. Out of nowhere, I once again felt an overwhelming sense of duty when it came to her.

  Sienna Contessa Luciano, soon to be, Mrs. Martinez.

  My wife.

  I watched in awe of how gorgeous she was in a room full of heathens. How she stood out from everyone in the church. She was stunning, stealing all the air from my lungs without even trying. Her dark, black hair was pinned up high on her head with loose curls framing her beautiful face. The neckline of her white lace wedding gown was low in the front, flawlessly framing her luscious body. The dress accentuated the curves of her petite frame. Followed by the train that was at least twenty feet long behind her.

  She looked classy.

  Proper.

  Pure.

  Mine.

  I was captivated. Not just in this moment but from the first time I laid eyes on her. My father used to tell me he knew my mother was the one from the moment he met her. I never quite understood how it was possible, or if there was any chance I’d get to experience love at first sight.

  I had.

  Wanting it all or nothing.

  In the blink of an eye, there was this deep connection I felt to her like I’d known her my whole life. Not for one second did I question the emotions she pulled out of me with her snarky fucking mouth and angelic aura. Beneath it all, she was a vixen camouflaged as a saint. There was no denying the magnetic pull I felt in her presence.

  It was a tightrope, my immediate possessiveness over her. The desire to own from her mind to her heart, to every goddamn hole in her heavenly body. Each deliberate step she paced brought her closer to our future.

  To me.

  At one point, it was obvious her father started dragging her toward me. I hadn’t seen her since Luciano informed Sienna we’d be getting married. However, it didn’t stop me from thinking about her. I craved the feel of her inviting silky skin, I yearned for the smell of her tempting scent, a starving man for what was in between her legs.

  The attraction.

  The lust.

  The longing to get to know her from the inside, out.

  I counted down the days of claiming yet another thing which was mine.

  Her.

  She felt it too.

  It was why the seething glare on her face pointed openly in my direction. She wore it proudly. Her defiance for what was to come…

  Our marriage.

  It was her shield.

  Her guard.

  A fucking wall she built the size of my brass balls.

  Sienna’s rebellious arrival only made her that much more enticing in my eyes. I couldn’t wait to fucking break her. Own her. Possess her soul. Soon enough, she’d realize who was in charge.

  Me.

  Her husband.

  If she wanted to play cat and mouse, I’d be a fucking lion and pounce.

  Once she was standing in front of me and there were no more steps to be taken, Luciano lifted her veil and I sucked in a breath. Her features became more prominent beyond her expression. He fully revealed her pouty lips and big brown eyes. Exposing the authenticity of the sadness mixed with anger in her seductive, vengeful stare. She was a vision, tethering on demise over our pending nuptials.

  A mafia princess I was about to turn queen with the two simple words of, “I do.”

  She wasn’t getting out of this, I wouldn’t let her.

  Her father whispered something in her ear I couldn’t hear before he murmured in mine, “I’m handing you my blood, don’t make me spill yours.”

  I nodded, fully aware he meant it at the drop of a dime.

  After he kissed both her rosy cheeks, he firmly placed Sienna’s hands in my sturdy hold. Handing her over to me, she was literally going from her father’s hands to mine. The significance meant more to me than she could ever know.

  My moment of bliss was cut short when I realized how bad she was shaking, fuming, pissed as fuck. Her composure stated exactly how she felt without having to say a word. I couldn’t help but find her reaction entertaining. It was evident she fucking hated me, and I couldn’t have cared less if I tried. Despite my lack of giving a flying fuck she didn’t want to marry me, I wanted to show her I wasn’t her rival.

  In my last attempt of creating some sort of bridge between us, I handed her the handkerchief from the pocket of my tuxedo jacket.

  “To wipe the frown off your face,” I commiserated.

  “Why would I do that?” she spitefully argued. “This feels like my funeral.”

  The priest uncomfortably cleared his throat. He was the only person who could hear us while the choirs’ harmonies echoed in the background.

  “Careful, sweetheart. Your words are betraying your white wedding gown.”

  “Actually, no. My dress is as deceiving as this ceremony but don’t worry. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Here in the house of the God, I’ll commit the biggest depravity. My vows to you. Those will be the biggest sins of them all.”

  I tugged her toward my chest, and a surprised gasp escaped her lips. Leaning into her ear, I didn’t hesitate. Through a clenched jaw, I gritted out the reality of our marriage…

  “You’ll be my wife. I’ll be your husband. By law. In the eyes of the Lord. Our holy union will be real. So don’t for one second think our vows will be lies and won’t mean anything. Especially, to me.”

  Chapter 20

  —Cruz—

  She growled, trying to shove me away but I didn’t waver. I held onto her much tighter instead, proving who was in charge. She answered to me.

  Not the other way around.

  Except, Sienna didn’t want my compassion.

  Understanding.

  Truths.

  I was the villain.

  Her enemy.

  Nothing
more, nothing less.

  I’d be lying if I said her blatant disdain toward me wasn’t conjuring up a war with my already thin line of patience when it came to her. Not to mention my temper. She was baiting a reaction out of me, and she wouldn’t like my response. My tolerance for her fucking temper tantrums could only go so far.

  If I allowed her to continue her blatant disrespect in front of all these people, I couldn’t imagine how she’d think to treat me behind closed doors. I’d put an end to it here. Belittling me wasn’t something I’d take calmly. My short fuse was already flickering to light this church on fire, if she didn’t change her attitude real fucking quick.

  Her gaze snapped away from mine, staring at the cross that hung high behind the priest at the front of the altar. I knew what she was doing, but even Jesus couldn’t save her from me.

  For the next hour we had our traditional Italian wedding ceremony. My stubborn bride kept her concentrated stare on the minister, her regard forward, her body tense, never once glancing my way. Acting like I was of no importance. Merely fueling my uncontrollable craze, burning a hole in the floor beneath me. Each prayer from the priest only added to the tension I’d felt in my core, throbbing through my veins, unleashing the side of me she didn’t want to meet.

  At least not so soon.

  “Sienna, your groom wanted to light a candle for your mother before we proceed to the vows.”

  She jerked back, surprised by what the pastor shared. “Why?”

  “I want her blessing.”

  Right when the statement left my mouth, her eyes finally locked with mine.

  “Why would you care?” she questioned in a low voice I could only hear. “You don’t care for my consent.”

  “Yet here we are.”

  “And you think you’ve won.”

  “I don’t think. I know. You’re about to become mine.”

  “On paper.”

  “Yeah, until tonight.”

  She glared at me, clenching her jaw.

  The priest once again cleared his throat, continuing on with the candle lighting. By the time he got to the vows, her mood was worse.

  “Crucifixio, please repeat after me.”

  I didn’t need to repeat after anyone, I knew what I wanted. Before he began, I gripped onto her chin and made her look me in the eyes.

  Vowing, “I, Crucifixio Martinez, take thee, Sienna Luciano, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

  Meaning every last word, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

  —Sienna—

  I was going to pass out.

  I can’t do this! I can’t do this! I can’t do this!

  Internally freaking the hell out, I couldn’t go through with this.

  If I ran would he catch me? If I screamed would anyone care? If I prayed…would God listen and take me away from here?

  From the moment I stepped into the church it was one thing after another.

  The guests in attendance, some I recognized, others I didn’t.

  All my family and friends.

  La Famiglia.

  The security guards.

  Politicians.

  The press.

  Snap. Snap. Snap. The photographers clicked. If the videographer placed his camera in my face one more fucking time, I was going to break it.

  Why would I want footage of a day I wanted nothing more than to forget?

  This lavish ceremony must have cost my father a small fortune. I thought my sweet sixteen and graduation parties were extravagant, they didn’t hold a spot next to this ordeal.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Based off the last hour of my life, I knew the reception would be an abundance of wealth and power I never asked for. I was overwhelmed by the crowd. I was being smothered by my father and the La Famiglia, choking on my fiancé’s vows.

  And now…

  I was up. It was my turn to repeat them back to him, when all I wanted to do was bash his face in.

  I. Hate. Him.

  I’m pretty sure I blacked out when he started his declaration of lies-upon-lies which were meant to be sacred.

  How was this happening?

  “Sienna, please repeat after me,” the priest announced.

  I tried to yank my chin out of Cruz’s grasp, but the son of a bitch slid his hand to the back of my neck. Locking me in place.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t speak.

  The bastard was going to make sure my eyes stayed on his.

  “I, Sienna Luciano, take thee, Crucifixio Martinez, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

  If I reiterated those vows I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t be any better than the man who just professed them to me. More sins in the name of La Famiglia, except these would be mine to bear.

  In my heart.

  My soul.

  I’d be a sinner too.

  I refused.

  I opened my mouth to shout, to tell him, “No!” However, my lips wouldn’t move. I just stood there in a state of pure panic unable to do anything but dread this moment in time where I was seconds away from becoming a mafia wife.

  No! I. Can’t. Do. This!

  “Sienna…” the priest coaxed. “Do you take Crucifixio Martinez as your husband?”

  I shook my head. “I…I…”

  “Princesa…” Cruz warned in a voice I didn’t appreciate. Swiftly reminding me of who he was and what he stood for. In that “do as I say” stern mafioso tone I’d heard out of my father’s throat one too many times.

  I scowled, spitting fire, “I do—”

  “There,” Cruz interrupted in a harsh pitch that echoed across the vaulted ceilings and stained glass of the cathedral. “She said, ‘I do.’ Go on.”

  I jerked back, hearing those two words over-and-over again, sprinting rapidly through my mind. They vibrated into every bone in my body, crushing my spirit, my independence, my resolve.

  It shattered all around me, tumbling down like a house of cards made of saints and angels. Chaining my life, my future, my death, to this gangster.

  Once again, I found my voice. Expressing, “I do—”

  “How many times do I need to repeat myself, Father? Continue on, now.”

  “Cruz, please…” she whispered. “I’m begging you. Let me go.”

  The priest did what he was ordered to do. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

  A deep growl within my newlywed husband’s torso erupted before he forcefully gripped onto the nook of my neck. I stumbled forward as he yanked me toward him, trying to catch my footing but my hands fell upon his solid chest.

  The devil didn’t even meet me half way.

  In less than a second, his mouth crashed onto mine with a sudden passion I wasn’t anticipating. Molding us into one person. My head whooshed back from the unexpected impact, blown away by his actions and unashamed boldness.

  Instantly, my lips burned as he kissed me. Shoving his tongue into my mouth, he devoured every last inch of my lips like we weren’t in front of my father or in a church filled to the brim with family and friends.

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  Reporters, photographers, all lost their shit. This was their money shot. What they’d been waiting for, and Cruz didn’t let them down.

  With a fierce grip, his hand dug into my hair, and I inadvertently yelped from the offence on my scalp. Angling my head, he positioned it where he could prolong his assault and deepen his attack against my swollen mouth.

  This wasn’t a kiss.

  This was all claim.

  Primal.

  Heady.

  Dominant in every way.

  This wasn’t for me.

  It. Was. For. Him.

  And I was no one’s prope
rty.

  No one’s.

  I did what any respectful woman would do if she suddenly found herself in this situation

  I bit down on his tongue as hard as I fucking could.

  Until I tasted…

  Blood.

  PART III

  Chapter 21

  —Cruz—

  Don’t fuck with me.

  Her soft tongue.

  Her scent.

  Her body pressed up against mine.

  I loudly groaned, feeling her for the first time. I didn’t give a shit we were in a church among family, friends, or her father.

  El Capo.

  She was mine now.

  I could do as I pleased without anyone’s approval or opinion, and I was barely getting started. She was the taste of the forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden.

  Sienna Contessa Martinez was my sweetest goddamn sin.

  Longing for some sort of connection to her, I claimed her lips the only way I knew how. By kissing her as if my life depended on it.

  Urgent.

  Powerful.

  Intense as fuck.

  It was everything.

  She was everything.

  The water I needed to survive, the air I needed to breathe, the love I craved more than anything. The unity of our marriage was set in stone and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Her past ended the instant she became my wife.

  Our future was all that mattered, and she’d quickly learn how to march in line and accept her fate which was tied to mine now. Digging my hands into her scalp, I sucked on her tongue, savoring her indescribable taste. It wasn’t until I heard her yelp, that I was prepared for the repercussions of my brazen actions.

  She bit down, hard.

  The taste of my metallic blood instantly flooded through our mouths. My cock twitched knowing she just swallowed my blood like she would my cum. Call it sick or fucking twisted, but I didn’t give a damn.

  I growled, abruptly jerking back, yanking her hair by the nook of her neck. Still inches away from my mouth, she panted against my lips, frantically trying to gather her bearings from my tight hold. Both our bodies shook with undeniable desire. Every part of her determination hammered all around me.