Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Suddenly his hands were on my shoulders as he slowly undid the clasp that held my cape in place. Immediate relief hit me when it dropped to a heavy pool at my feet. Followed by terror and guilt.
Guilt that this was him.
Guilt that he would never have all of me.
And resentment that he’d already taken most.
And finally, terror, that he would take it again and again and again while my heart yearned for someone else.
I inhaled roughly when his hands moved to my shoulders and stayed there, and then he was coming around to face me, his mask still on, as was mine. He tilted my chin up toward him, and then he slowly moved to his knees and held out his arms. “I surrender.”
“Wh-what?”
“To my queen,” he rasped, his eyes sharp, his breathing labored. “I took what wasn’t mine last December. The ending doesn’t justify the means, and if I knew this would—” He stopped short. “—It doesn’t matter now, but I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry that you had to go through that with a stranger.” He spat the word like he hated himself. “My only wish is for you to live.” His eyes locked onto mine with a laser-like intensity that kept me rooted in place. “I need you to live, and one day, hopefully soon, I want a real smile, one that tells me it’s going to be okay, one that says we’ll make it through together, hand in hand, side by side. Tell me—” He grabbed my hands and held them firm. “Tell me I’m not too late to ask you this, to give you my soul, to tell you from day one it’s always been yours and always will be.”
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t look away either.
His mouth was so full and inviting, and my heart was so confused, so out of place in this foreign house without my friends, cousins, or family around me.
My first instinct was to text Breaker and say help, I had no clue what I was doing, and suddenly all his well-placed insults about being innocent and knowing nothing came flying back into my psyche full force.
I was innocent,
I knew nothing.
He was right.
I was a little girl with matches trying to find out how to stop the blaze I’d started with one fatal blow.
And Valerian Petrov was the fire that continued to burn despite the buckets of tears I cried in a vain attempt to put out the flames.
“Don’t cry, not for me.” His voice was hoarse as he reached into his pocket and handed me a silk handkerchief that had a white horse embroidered on it.
I almost dropped it.
“It has no meaning except… a reminder for me, for the rest of the families who align with the Italians, how easy you lose when you look at yourself instead of others.”
Wordlessly, I nodded and patted under both my eyes; I should want to ruin my makeup and throw the silk right back at him. Instead, it felt precious, like a gift I didn’t deserve, which confused me even more.
Finally, I handed it back to him with trembling hands.
He took it and then very slowly stood and moved to my back where he slowly and what felt like deliberately unbuttoned my dress, his fingers shaking too, each time he grazed my skin.
His knuckles dug into my lower back as he unfastened the final button right where my thong met my corset. And then his fingers lingered there as he shakily drew small circles with one hand near the exposed skin between the two pieces of lingerie.
I stood completely still as he continued to explore, unable to understand my own body’s reaction. My head screamed it wasn’t Breaker, but my body wanted to be loved, and my heart, as bruised as it was, said, what could be worse than what we’ve suffered? Let him heal us. Let him hold us. Let him kiss the tears away.
God, please, let him kiss the pain away along with the slow burn that was beginning to build between my thighs even though I fought it with every synapse still firing in my head.
My dress suddenly dropped to my feet, nearly coming up to my waist with how stiff it still was.
Valerian held out his hand. I took it and stepped over it, unsure what he was going to do to me next.
I was shocked silent when he brought me over to the bed, opened the giant duvet, and tucked me in. Finally, he removed my mask and set it on the nightstand, touching it with his fingertips like it was precious, all before turning to leave.
“Wait!” I grabbed his wrist, nearly pulling him on top of me. “I thought—that is, I mean I wasn’t ready but—”
“You might never be ready,” he said simply. “Besides, don’t they already have their proof from that night? You’re mine. You’ve been mine for months. Let them talk because right now, my bride needs to sleep. And I think, maybe, she needs to shed a few tears for what could have been.”