Until Forever Ends: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Adelaide Forrest

  I had to suspect that was the reason he didn't feed me by hand like tradition dictated.

  He smirked at me as if he could see the path my thoughts gravitated to, turning the fork to offer me the handle. I took it from him, cutting a piece off the slice of cake and raising it to his mouth. He opened, letting me slide the red velvet onto his tongue. I pulled back the fork, hating the smile that transformed his face as he chewed.

  I hated everything about him.

  My grip shifted on the fork, holding it firmly as if my life depended on it. For all I knew, it did.

  He was still chewing thoughtfully when I lifted the plate and slammed the remaining cake into his face. The ceramic shattered in my grip, and I raised the fork in my hand and drove it toward his body.

  Stabbing him in the shoulder, I winced as his flesh parted, offering resistance as the tines pushed through his suit and his skin. Like stabbing into raw meat, I fought back the urge to gag, and dropped my hold. He cursed, wiping cake from his eyes furiously and grabbing for me as I backed away and narrowly avoided his grasp.

  I didn't need a knife to stab the fucker, and he'd do well to remember that.

  "There's your fucking penance," I growled, staring down at the spot where I'd stabbed him. His eyes followed, moving to the fork sticking out of his shoulder as his shirt stained red. In the same area as his brands, I had to hope it would be memorable enough.

  It was all I had.

  "My penance?" he asked, raising a brow at me and stalking toward me slowly. I grabbed at my dress frantically, pulling the small train up and out of my way so that I could back away as I glared at him. It would be pointless to run, and I knew it, but the impulse consumed me. I didn't want to suffer through the punishment promised in his smoldering eyes.

  "You put a fucking gun to my head!" I yelled, horrified to find tears burning my throat. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

  "I did," he agreed. "And I would do it all over again to have you as my wife."

  I glared at him, watching as he gripped the handle of the fork and pulled it out of his shoulder slowly. He tossed it to the side, and I glanced over to watch it clatter on top of the island. With the red stain to the tines, I wondered if Regina would realize it was blood, or if she'd assume it was from the red velvet of the cake.

  "You told me you loved me," I whispered, forcing my feet to hold still despite the urge to flee. "You do not murder people you love, El Diablo," I hissed.

  "Is that your issue? You think because I would kill you that I cannot possibly love you?" he asked, stepping up into my space. His fingers ran through my hair gently, delicately brushing the waves back from my face. He sighed, gripping a fistful in his hand and snapping my neck back so that he could crush his mouth against mine. In a furious tangle of teeth and tongue, he swept inside and claimed me. Pulling back to glare at me, he turned my body with his grip at my hair. Leaving me no choice but to walk backwards toward our bedroom under his direction, I stumbled over my dress and only his support kept me upright.

  "You don't," I gasped.

  "My love for you is so consuming that I would die before I let you leave me," he murmured, leaning forward to nip at the end of my nose. "The words to describe what I feel for you do not exist. Do not question my love for you, mi reina. I am not the one in denial of my feelings," he said, guiding me through the open bedroom door finally.

  "I can't be in denial of feelings that don't exist," I lied, glaring up at him.

  "Such a pretty mouth to tell such ugly lies," he laughed, releasing my hair to spin me. His fingers pulled down the zipper on my wedding dress, his mouth biting into the flesh of my shoulder where his mark still tainted my skin.

  "How could I feel anything but hatred for you after today?" I asked. I turned to face him, compelling him to feel my hatred in those moments before I knew he would take whatever he wanted from me.

  He always did, and for some reason I was powerless to stop him. He made it so I didn't even want to.

  He grinned, stripping off his suit jacket. His shirt followed and then his pants and shoes until he stood naked in front of me. "Then come ride my face and tell me how much you hate me, mi reina," he laughed. My thighs clenched involuntarily, the thought of that wicked tongue of his nearly permeating the haze of my rage.

  But I held firm to it, stripping off the wedding dress I wanted no part in wearing. I stood in front of him for a moment, only allowing him the sight of my lingerie clad body for a brief moment before I shouldered passed him and made my way to the closet to grab real clothes. He lashed out a hand, grabbing me around the waist and tossing me onto the bed as I screamed my frustration. "Let me go!"

  He tore the underwear down my legs, laying on his back as I tried to scramble off the bed. He reached out with muscular arms, grasping me around the waist and lifting me while I flailed. He somehow got my legs spread so that I straddled his chest, grinning up at me victoriously before he wrapped his arms around the back of my thighs and shifted me up his body.

  The grip of his hand on top of my thigh indented my skin, holding me firm even though I tried to get away from his touch. Once he'd shifted me far enough up that my pussy rested above his mouth, he used his grip to pull my hips down into him. He devoured me without preamble, no teasing torment of his tongue exploring me to work me up to the intensity of his onslaught.

  Just his tongue sliding inside me as he fucked me with it. I reached down, grasping a fistful of hair and pulling as if I could make him stop. But he only groaned against me, pulling me down harder until all that peeked out from between my thighs were his intense eyes that he kept on mine. I looked away as pleasure consumed me, trying to shove down the building orgasm that defied all logic.

  My body belied my anger, and I felt so fucking stupid as my hips tried to shift. He loosened his grip slightly, letting my body take control as I moved slightly on his face. Giving him more ability to touch other parts of me with that sinful mouth, I slid my hips back and forth on his tongue.

  Riding his face despite my best intentions, I shoved down the guilt I felt. Rafael was all I'd ever known.

  He'd taught me about sex. He'd made me into a nightmare like him.

  Just when my orgasm was about to take over, he lifted me off his face and tossed me down onto the bed face up. Sealing his body over mine, he slid inside me in a smooth glide with an arrogant smirk on his face as I moaned. "I don't trust you not to bite my cock off," he laughed, fucking me in slow, deep thrusts as he stared down at me. "Would you miss it, wife?" he asked.

  "Fuck you," I growled, baring my teeth. He leaned forward, giving me more of his weight and taking my bottom lip between his teeth.

  "We both know you would. You need me just as much as I need you. So just fucking admit it already and stop goddamn fighting me," he growled. My eyes fell to the four puncture wounds where I'd stabbed him, a moment of fleeting regret threatening at the edges of my consciousness.

  To feel guilt for hurting him was ridiculous after everything he'd done to me.

  He kissed me, finally ceasing his verbal torment to take me the way he wanted. His drives inside me shifted us further up the bed with the force of them, until the top of my head hit the headboard. Still he kissed me, consuming me until I shattered beneath him. Hating myself, hating him.

  He followed me soon after, coming inside me and sagging his weight on top of me. "We could be happy," he murmured. "And we will be, once you admit that you love me."

  He shifted his weight off me, letting me retreat into the bathroom to clean myself up and compose myself. Staring into the mirror, I had to wonder if he was right.

  I couldn't love him. But I did.

  And at what point was fighting those feelings futile? At what point did I just give in and accept my new life?

  I didn't know if I'd ever have the answer to that question.

  26

  Isa

  My stomach rolled as I sat up in bed, the sun shining in through the windows feeling particularly
blinding as I fought back the exhaustion that battered my body. My legs ached, the joints popping as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress desperately while I tried to work up the strength to stand.

  I wanted to sleep for a week, to sprawl out and let my body recover while I rested so I wouldn't have to force it to move or feel every place that hurt.

  "You should stay in bed and rest," Rafe reprimanded as he stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

  I shook my head, pushing myself to my feet and swallowing back my queasiness. "You said I could call my family," I reminded him, moving toward the bathroom. "Please don't tell me that was a lie."

  "You can call them later today," Rafe said as I stepped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. Rafe was dressed by the time I stepped out, wrapped in my orchid satin robe. He sat in the chair next to the bed, his cell phone held in his hands. He twirled it absently and waited for me to sit on the bed in front of him. "You should spend the morning considering what you plan to tell them. It's the middle of the night for them."

  "What am I allowed to tell them?" I asked. "Can they know where I am? Can I tell them your name?"

  "You can tell them whatever you want, mi reina," he murmured, tucking my hair behind my ear as he studied the tired lines on my face. "You can tell them I kidnapped you, if that's what you want to do. It won't make a difference to me, but if you want us to be able to have a relationship with them in the future, I would suggest refraining from giving them the full truth."

  "You mean I should lie to them?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "What good will knowing all the details of our marriage do for them? They can't change it any more than you can, and no matter how we got here, you had the chance to walk away."

  I scoffed. "I just had to kill you to do it."

  He caught my chin in his grip, a soft smile transforming his face. The hostility of the day before was gone, vanished from his face, and he appeared almost serene as he gazed down at the tattoo on my arm and the rings on the finger of my opposite hand. "I meant every word when I said that I will not live without you, my wife. It may be toxic. It's probably unhinged, but it is never going to change. The greatest kindness you can do for your family is protecting them from the reality of our life together."

  I nodded, knowing there was truth to his words. My grandmother would be crushed to know that I wouldn't come home to live in Chicago and continue our legacy with the Menominee community as it was. Knowing that it was because of a crime and she was unable to help me would only break her more.

  I couldn't risk her sadness, not when the consequences of it might mean I never got to see my family again. As much as it pained me to admit it, I would only see them when Rafael determined it acceptable. "When can I see them?"

  "You mean when will I take you home to visit them? I'm not sure I can put a time stamp on that. It depends on too many factors," he said as he stood from the chair. I followed, getting dressed for the day while he watched.

  As soon as I pulled the dress over my head, he stepped into my space and claimed my lips with his. The memory of the feeling of the barrel of a gun against my temple flashed through my mind, a vivid recollection of all the toxicity that was our relationship.

  I should have thrown something at him. I should have fought off his embrace. Instead I sank into the feeling of his mouth moving against mine. The plump flesh of his bottom lip tensed lightly as it tipped up into a smile when he felt my unwavering devotion in the intimacy between us. He was nothing if not over-confident in the connection we shared.

  It didn't matter to Rafael that I still hadn't given him the words to tell him I loved him. He didn't need to hear them, because he felt them every time my body yielded to his touch.

  Even still, I'd protect the words deep inside myself. I'd shove them down to the place where I hid the secrets I kept. With the demons that lurked in my past.

  "I have to get to work," he said ruefully as he pulled his mouth away from mine. With our foreheads touching and his eyes closed peacefully, I stared up at the devil himself. I studied the peace on his face, wondering if he suddenly seemed so at ease because he'd claimed me as fully as he always wanted to.

  With his name on my skin and his rings on my finger, the last way to make me his would be to impregnate me. To breed me. And given his insistence on not using condoms, even that was an inevitability.

  "So, go," I said, a teasing lilt surprising even me as he flung his eyes open and stared down at me in amusement.

  "I don't want to be away from you," he murmured, the words caressing my skin with the freshness of minty breath.

  I smiled up at him, the demented part of me enjoying the reminder of the softer, sweeter Rafe who had showed me Ibiza before reality crashed down around us. "I think you've got it bad, Mr. Ibarra," I teased.

  He grinned down at me, running his nose up the side of mine sweetly before catching my bottom lip between his teeth and nipping me lightly. "I think you do too, Mrs. Ibarra," he said back, making my heart pause in my chest at the sound of the name. Knowing it and hearing it were two very different things, and I didn't think I'd ever get used to the sound of Rafael's surname in reference to me.

  I shouldn't be his wife. I should be single, waiting for a boring accountant to come and sweep me off my feet into a life of normalcy where I didn't have to wonder if my husband would put a gun to my head the next time I said no to him.

  Rafael was a sociopath, uncaring about how his actions affected the people around him, least of all me. He was unstable, driven by rage and violence and his own selfishness. But what did it say about me that I looked into the eyes of a nightmare and loved him?

  I was unstable too.

  "Maybe," I murmured, refusing to admit to the emotions swirling in me as he stepped back hesitantly and held out a hand for me. I tried to drive my anger higher, to get back to the place where I wanted nothing more than revenge for the way he'd terrified me. Instead, all I could think of was the warm comfort of his hand surrounding mine. Of the way he enveloped me so firmly.

  I understood why he didn't want to live without me. I might not have killed him if he didn't want to marry me so quickly, but I knew what it was to be terrified of returning to my life pre-Rafael. I never wanted to be without him, even if I spent most of my time wanting to strangle him for the things he'd done.

  He guided me through the labyrinth of a hallway, taking me to the kitchen where Regina waited with ensaimada already prepared. I took a seat at the island with Joaquin in the seat next to me but spaced far enough away that we were at opposite ends of the large counter. Rafe went for his coffee as Regina put a glass of juice in front of me with a broad smile.

  "Mrs. Ibarra," Joaquin greeted from my side, making me choke on my orange juice as I felt Rafael's intense eyes on me. He smirked, lifting his coffee to his mouth and leaning forward to snatch an ensaimada off the counter and take a bite. Leaning in with powdered sugar on his lips, he kissed me briefly before retreating down the side hall to his office and closing the door.

  Part of me wanted to exist with him. To go into the office and just be in his presence, but I knew if I was going to stay on the island, I needed to find my own way to pass the time. The moment his presence left, I turned my eyes back to the kitchen and zeroed in on the bloodstained fork where it sat on the counter next to the sink.

  "I was going to guess, based on the shattered plate I found this morning, that last night went about as well as I could expect after what he did," Regina said, tearing off a piece of her own pastry. "But you seem quite cozy."

  I hung my head in my hands, thinking over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I shook my head to try to clear it of everything running through me. "I feel like I'm losing my mind," I whispered, turning a grimace to Regina. "What's wrong with me?"

  "Why does anything have to be wrong with you, reinita?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and reaching across the island
to pat my hand with hers.

  "He put a gun to my head, and I let him fuck me. He put a gun to my head, and I smiled at him and acted like everything was okay! And then he leaves and I remember who I'm supposed to be. I remember who I was. My family is probably terrified that something happened to me, and I'm sitting here drinking orange juice."

  "You're surviving, mi reina," Joaquin said. "The strongest people adapt when life throws them a curveball. You've done that."

  I shook my head. "I'm barely holding on to the girl I used to be."

  "So don't," Regina said. "Why would you want to be that girl? Were you happy?" She paused when I didn't answer, too afraid to give voice to the answer that pulsed through my veins.

  I hadn't known what it was to be happy until I'd met Rafael. I hadn't known what it was to feel anything. Now I had a lifetime of emotions tearing me apart every second of the day, but there was no complacency with him in my life. Never a dull moment, never an instance where I didn't feel something. And I didn't know how to cope with it.

  "What is so bad about embracing the woman we all see clawing to escape the cage you've put her in?" Regina asked, reaching over to the sink and grasping the bloodied fork in her grip. "This is the woman you are meant to be," she said, tossing it onto the counter so that I had no choice but to stare down at the red stain. "You are meant to be the woman who bleeds the man who does her wrong. You are meant to be the woman who challenges him to be better and to do better for you. But more than anything?" Regina asked as tears built in her eyes. "You are meant to be whoever the fuck you want to be. Your family doesn't get to make that choice for you. Rafael doesn't get to make that choice for you. So be the woman who stabs Rafael Ibarra with a fork and doesn't fear the consequences. Be the woman who looks the devil in the eye and says ‘fuck you.’" She sniffed back her tears, wiping her face as she dropped her apron on the counter. "Be the woman I wasn't strong enough to be."