by Karin Tabke
Her gaze focused on Tony’s handsome features. There was nothing subtle about the set of his square jaw or the burn behind his hazel eyes. His fists opened and closed as he methodically made his way down the stairway, his glare never once leaving her current intended’s.
Sophia looked up at Mateo and saw the same intensity in his eyes. She didn’t know how he’d managed to get close enough to Javier to kill him, but the mere fact that he had spoke volumes of his prowess. If these two went to fists only one would survive, and she was not willing to risk her cousin’s life.
Placing her hand on Mateo’s chest, she raised her other in the stop position to Tony. “No, Tony, I accept this man’s claim.”
Continuing his stride toward her, he shook his head. “I do not, nor does the family. He’s an unknown, an outsider and therefore not trustworthy.” He stopped several yards from her and, like the big brother she always thought him to be, held out his hand to her. “Come, mi hija, I will save you from this”—he looked at Mateo and spit on the floor—“pretender.”
When Mateo didn’t react to Tony’s insult, she looked up at him and her blood chilled in her veins. His face had hardened to granite. His gold-colored eyes flared with fire. Ever so slightly, he nodded to her, then said slowly to her cousin, “If you do not walk away now, you never will.”
Sophia blinked and in that time Tony lunged, hitting el loco in the chest, knocking him several feet across the room. They hit the tile floor with a sickening thud and went sliding into the wall.
“Papa!” she cried, looking up at her father. Her next words caught in her throat. His dark eyes shone brightly with bloodlust. He would never stop the fight. It was to the death and to the victor went the spoils.
Furious that her father, who said he was a modern man but still lived in the dark ages when it came to family business, would jeopardize Tony’s life, Sophia pushed through the throng of spectators to the two men fighting over her.
Mateo had Tony against the wall and slammed a meaty fist into his face. Blood sprayed in a high arc, spattering Sophia and anyone near her. Tony kneed Mateo in the groin, pushed off him and, hunching low, turned and slammed him in the gut with a roundhouse kick. Mateo doubled over, but then charged Tony, catching him in the gut with his shoulder. The momentum of Mateo’s charge forced Tony into the edge of the fountain. The sickening sound of cracking ribs made her wince. Tony grunted in pain, but Mateo was relentless. He brought his knee up and caught Tony in the chin, straightening him up, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved his face down on his knee. It was a vicious move that cost Tony his balance.
Mateo took full advantage of the damage.
But Tony was not done—he pulled a knife from his sleeve and viciously sliced into Mateo’s shoulder.
Mateo groaned in what Sophia knew must be excruciating pain. If Tony struck a vital vein the damage would be irreparable. She should be glad Tony was making quick work of the pretender. But she had allowed Mateo under her skin. It was why she picked him at the club. Maybe it was because when she threw herself at him he didn’t take advantage of her, even though she was sure he was using her to get to her father. Maybe it was because when he touched her, he made her feel things she’d never felt. Maybe it was because, despite the whys and hows of their meeting, there was something between them, something she couldn’t put her finger on but something special. At least for her. Whatever it was, it was there, demanding she save the crazy stranger’s life.
Wringing her hands, she looked at her father, intending to demand he intercede. But the words never came. Tony’s gurgled death groan stopped her cold.
Whirling around, she caught her breath. Both of Mateo’s hands were wrapped tightly around Tony’s neck, squeezing the life out of him.
The studded silver on the supple black leather vambraces flashed under the late-morning sunlight. The power and heraldry they represented struck her as barbaric. Blood for blood had destroyed the lives of everyone she loved. With her it would end!
Running to Mateo, she slid down onto her knees and grabbed his granite-hard forearms. “Please! Mateo,” she cried. “Spare him! Spare him and I’ll do whatever you want!”
“To the end!” her father bellowed behind her.
“Please,” she pleaded, ignoring her father. “For me, don’t kill him.”
Bloody and heaving, Mateo released her half-dead cousin, and as he did he held out his bloody hand to her.
Instinctively she took it.
“You swear it?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.
Swallowing hard, Sophia nodded. “I swear it on Tony’s life.”
Mateo released his hold and pulled her to him standing, his bright eyes flaring with triumph. “Then I swear to you, I will kill any man or woman who tries to take you from me.” He crushed her to his lips and kissed her in a deep, soul-sucking kiss. In that instant, Sophia understood what it meant to have value. She’d never felt valued by Javier, nor by the one man she wanted above all others to value her: her father.
Instead, this stranger who had killed her fiancé, who had stood up to her father and who had nearly killed her beloved cousin was now the man who stood between her and anyone who would threaten her.
There was something heady and primal knowing he would kill for her. That he wanted her enough to lose a body part for the right to her. She knew it in his kiss. The way his hungry lips refused to relinquish hers. He stirred a passion in her she had only glimpsed at the club.
She kissed him back. Melding her body tightly to his, wanting undeniable proof that he was there for her and only her.
When Sophia broke their kiss, she stared up into the stormy topaz eyes above her. Pulling farther back from him, her eyes searched his for the truth. “Why are you really here?”
The angry storm in his eyes shifted dramatically to a deeper, internal tempest. “I have not stopped thinking about you since I saw you strut across that dance floor in that pink dress.”
Her lips quirked. Was he a masochist? “You’re here because of lust?”
His lips crooked into a devilish smile.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she held his gaze. “I think you’re a liar.” She nipped at his bottom lip, drawing blood. His eyes narrowed and she laughed. “You think I’m a scared little girl who needs protection from a man like you?”
“I would never hurt you,” he rasped.
His words washed warmly through her, tipping her off balance. She wasn’t prepared for his candor or the passion behind it. If she believed he wasn’t using her for a greater goal she would melt right then and there. But the boss’s daughter was not stupid. Desperate for love, yes, but not stupid. “I’ll never love you because I’ll never trust you.”
But that didn’t change the fact that in her world, she belonged to him now, not because of the family’s ridiculous blood-for-blood credo but for the simple fact that she’d asked him to save a life that was precious to her in exchange for her submission. And he’d agreed.
His lips drew tight into a thin line. “I don’t need you to love me, I just need you to want me the way I want you.”
Heat thrummed through her at his words. “The only thing I want is my freedom. Give me that and perhaps things can be different between us.”
“Free you so that your father forces another man on you?”
She wiggled out of his arms. “I would honor his choice.”
“Good or bad, right or wrong, I’m your only choice.” His eyes darkened. “And whether you’ll admit it to yourself or not, you like the choice.”
Tightening his arm around her waist, he drew her boldly to his chest. Her lips parted in protest but from the corner of her eye, she could see her father’s disapproving stare, and she didn’t want to suffer his wrath again. Or the embarrassment of being mauled in front of the family.
“The body doesn’t lie, Sophia. You know you desire me
.”
“My desire is to kill you,” she hissed as she fought the urge to drag her nipples across his hard chest.
“I will die a happy man, then.” He smiled, catching her off guard.
He was loco. How could he stand there in the presence of the most powerful man in California and tease her about sex and dying?
“The padre is here. Let the nuptials commence!” her father announced.
Inwardly, she groaned. This was not happening! But—she had given her word, and if there was one thing she did take from her Dumas heritage it was that once given, your word was not retractable. Honor was everything, even if it was meted out in blood.
“Papa, please, give me an hour to shower and change into something more appropriate.” She was wearing a knee-length black jersey skirt, a white blood-spattered cotton shirt and sandals.
“There will be time for that later,” he sternly said.
Mateo took her hand and pulled her against him. “Let’s get this over with.”
She shot him a glare. “He says as if he’s going to be castrated.”
Squeezing her hand, Mateo laughed. “I’m thinking of my dick, but not like that.” He winked at her. That one small gesture went miles in serving to calm her nerves.
As they turned to make their way to the padre, who stood stoically beneath the high arch on the west side of the courtyard holding his Bible, Sophia suddenly was roughly grabbed from behind by Tony, who had regained his strength. Using her as a human shield, he locked his arm around her neck . “She will marry me!” he shouted to her father. “Me!”
“Tony,” Sophia gasped, fighting for air. “Don’t do this.”
Sophia caught Mateo’s deadly glare.
“Out of my way, pretender,” Tony sneered.
“You have crossed a line you can never uncross, Antonio,” her father snarled.
No matter how fond of Tony she was, Sophia refused to be a pawn any longer.
“Let me go, Tony,” she commanded.
“Marry me, Sophia. Marry me and I’ll set you free.”
Grabbing Tony’s forearm, digging her nails deeply into it, Sophia twisted just as he let her go. Pushing her behind him he hurled his blade at Mateo. It narrowly missed Mateo’s shoulder, but it gave him the opening he needed. In a move so quick it was a blur, Mateo hurled a deadly stiletto at her cousin, the blade penetrating Tony’s right eye, embedding itself to the hilt in his brain.
Tony’s look of shock matched hers. He reached for her, then dropped to his knees, then fell face-first to the tile.
“No,” she cried. “Not Tony!” Emotion swelled like a storm in her chest. She raised shocked eyes to Mateo’s, who stood staunchly unmoving.
He turned from her and addressed the stunned crowd that had not dispersed. “Let this serve as warning to any man or woman who would cause harm to Sophia. Touch her, I will kill you.”
He turned back to Sophia. “Never ask me again to spare a man who would jeopardize your safety.”
Sophia had no comeback. There was none. It was a nightmare. She glanced down at Tony, but turned away, unable to look at the broken body of yet another family member who had died by the blood-for-blood code. Would it ever stop?
“Clean this mess up,” her father directed the group of household staff that had gathered behind her. He grasped her hand, placed it in Mateo’s, who now stood silent, agitated but watchful, and directed them to the padre, who stood in slack-jawed horror on the other side of the courtyard.
There was nothing any of them could do. It was the Dumas way.
For obvious reasons, Father Hernandez hastened to the vows. When Mateo was asked to put a ring on Sophia’s finger, they looked blankly at each other. He let go of her hands, which he had been instructed to hold, and unclasped the gold chain and crucifix from around his neck and placed it around hers.
“I don’t have a ring, but this was given to me by my mother and therefore is more precious to me.”
Emotion knotted hard in Sophia’s belly. When it was her turn to exchange a ring, she unclasped the gold chain with the Blessed Mother pendant dangling from the end. It was a gift she had never intended to share, had never intended to remove from her neck. She cherished it above all her possessions, but despite the fact she did not love the man she was about to marry, it seemed appropriate at the moment. “My mother gave this to me right before she left me. She told me the Blessed Mother held all the answers.” She fastened it around his neck. “It’s my most precious possession. Don’t lose it or I will kill you.”
When the priest pronounced them man and wife, Sophia stiffened. While this stranger was not her choice of a husband, she could not ignore the bizarre circumstances that placed him before her. So she accepted him. However, though her father was a good Catholic only when it served him to be, for her, religion wasn’t a part-time deal. It was important to her, and her father had given his word that when she married, she would have a full-blown Catholic ceremony and not the public humiliation of the proof of blood ceremony generations before her had had to endure. What just happened was the abbreviated version of a Catholic ceremony. She wanted it all.
Drawing from Mateo’s confidence and the knowledge that he would defend her demand because she wanted it, she turned to her father. “You promised me a high mass on my wedding day.”
“I also promised you Javier as a husband.” His eyes darkened as he looked at Mateo. “You may accept him in the eyes of God, mi hija, but I will not accept him until the blood proof is presented. Only then, in the eyes of Dumas, will your union be official.”
Sophia gasped, the meaning of what he implied unconscionable to her. “You would not dare!”
His anger rose but so did hers. She would not be humiliated like that! She had embraced her father’s archaic dogma. Not that she had a choice, but this was the twenty-first century not the dark ages. She would not allow him to subject her to the ridiculous ceremony that was meant to prove, first, that she was a virgin, and second, that her husband could get it up and ejaculate using no form of barrier birth control when he did so. She would not allow her father to humiliate her in front of his council of elders and Father Hernandez.
“What is the blood proof?” Mateo asked, looking to her for clarification.
“Proof of my virginity via public consummation,” she softly said.
Mateo looked at her father, incredulous. “You want me to fuck your daughter in front of everyone in this room?”
Dumas nodded. “It is our custom.”
“Not mine, Papa! We had a deal!” Sophia cried. She was not an animal. She would not do it!
When he raised his hand as if to strike her, Mateo snarled and shoved her father against the wall. “She’s mine now, and I protect what’s mine.”
Her father flung Mateo from him as if he were nothing but a gnat.
“She will not truly belong to you until the blood is let and the proof presented.” He turned his ferocious glare on her. “The longer you wait, Daughter, the longer we all wait.”
Sophia stood rooted to the floor. She would not do it.
“Sophia,” Mateo said, bending to whisper in her ear. “Trust me to make this as painless as possible for us both.”
“I won’t be bullied by him any longer.”
“Once we . . . get past this, your father will have to kill me to bully you again.” His words shimmered through her and if she were not so upset she would have fallen in love with him on the spot for his sincerity. But she didn’t trust him.
Exhaling loudly, she nodded. And only because she was Dumas did she capitulate. Sophia swallowed hard and nodded again. It was best to get it over with. Once done, she could move on.
“To the atrium, Daughter; there you will have some privacy,” her father said, his tone compassionate. Her head snapped back at his empathy. “To ease your embarrassment only Father Hernandez a
nd two council members will observe from the other side of the glass.”
Mateo made a nasty sound but held out his hand to her. Swallowing hard, Sophia took it and proceeded to the large circular atrium on the other side of the courtyard. Tucked into a corner was a wide chaise her mother had always enjoyed lying on as she read. Two-story-tall bougainvillea grew along the glass walls. Angel’s trumpets and orchids mingled with ferns and sago palms, filling the room with lovely fragrances and lush views.
As they entered, one of the maids ran ahead and spread a large white sheet on the chaise, then scurried out of the room, closing the glass door behind her.
“I don’t have a condom,” Mateo said.
Sophia wanted to laugh, but the urge to cry was too overwhelming. “Even if you did, you would be forbidden to use it.”
“Why?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders and began to unbutton her shirt. “Because after I prove I’m a virgin, it’s your job to impregnate me as soon as possible. You can’t do that with a condom.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, I didn’t—”
“Sign up for that?” She shot him a glare. “How did you think you were going to walk in here and take your place at the top of the food chain, then? Kill Javier, fuck me for fun, all the while getting the nod from my father?”
“I’m here because of you.”
“Well, buddy,” she said as she slapped him on the back, “you got me. Now get to it or my father will kill you.”
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. Her eyes raked his muscled physique. The sight of his wide shoulders and defined chest that tapered down to a narrow, muscled waist warmed her blood. His forearms were tatted with intricate designs and subtly colored, as was his right pectoral. Short, dark hair started at his belly button and trailed down to the top button of his jeans. Aside from a long, thick scar that ran from the top of his right oblique down into his jeans, his tan skin was smooth and, she knew, warm.