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My wife.

I blink open my eyes and look down at her, too exhausted to move, breathing like she can’t get enough oxygen. Neither can I for that matter.

I really did this. I married my enemy, and soon, she will be carrying my child.

The world tilts, and I collapse beside her with a grunt.

16

Ivy

I can’t lift my head. This headpiece he’s put on me is too heavy. I feel him pull out, feel his come—no, our come. I came too. I came. And I feel it gush out of me.

My legs dangle off the edge of the bed. I’m lying facedown, unable to move. Barely able to breathe.

He doesn’t speak, but I hear his breathing. It’s ragged like mine. He’s spent. Having my sight taken away makes my other senses work harder. They have to pick up the slack, and I need to remain on my guard with this man.

This man.

He is your husband.

As if I didn’t know.

I think he’s getting dressed. I hear a zipper. I still don’t move. My eyes are open, but all I see is black, and all I feel is a throbbing pain between my legs.

He took me violently.

And you came.

Violently.

He shifts my weight, lifting me to lie farther up on the bed. My head lolls as I try to manage the weight of this thing. I put my hands to it, but he takes my raw wrists and untangles the rope, freeing me of it before setting my arms on either side of me with a single-word command. “No.”

“Please.”

“Don’t make me bind you again.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You can breathe. Just relax.”

He tugs something out from under me, then pulls one leg open.

I gasp, try to scoot away, but his fingers dig into that thigh as he wipes between my legs.

“I wonder if Eli will be pleased to see how I bled his daughter,” he says.

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard right.

Is he satisfied with the blood? I wonder. I know there’s much of it. He’d be happy to see my tears too, I’m sure, and I’d happily give them to him if he’d only take this damn thing off me.

“Stay,” he says like he’d command a dog. I guess he’s finished cleaning me.

I stay. I can’t move anyway. And as my body settles, I become aware of every ache. I hear him walk, hear a door open, water run. He’s back a moment later, his hands around my arms lifting me. I hold onto his biceps, feel his strength beneath my hands, my forehead almost falling into his shoulder.

“You’ll learn to carry it when you’re on your knees.” He deposits me on the floor, carpet rough beneath my knees. I sit back on my heels and place one hand on the floor to support myself.

What more does he want from me?

“Close your eyes.”

I do. I don’t even know why. It’s not like he can see. But I’m tired. I’m so tired. This day and this night have drained me.

He lifts the thing off me, and I reach up to touch my face, dry my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

“I’ve seen your face,” I say and when I feel him move away, I open my eyes and watch him. His shirt is undone. I see his jacket strewn over a chair.

I watch as he puts the ornate mask into a glass case like it’s something sacred and it takes me a moment to realize he’s watching me in the tarnished mirror. Our eyes meet but it’s so dark with just the candles and the black walls that I can’t see him clearly.

“And you’d like to see it again?” he asks. “I doubt that. Bow your head and lower your eyes. Now.”

“You don’t know me,” I tell him but do as he says.

“Don’t I?” He crosses the room to the door. I watch him from behind my lashes. “This will be your room. You’ll stay in it until I come for you.”

“When will that be? When you need another fuck?”

He puts his hand to the doorknob, and I see him cock his head. He turns a little. It’s the skull side.

I lift my head. I can’t not look at the shadows of the flickering candles playing across his face.

“You should be more careful, Ivy.”

“Or what? You’ll put that thing on me again? Tattoo me again? Brand me this time? Make me marry you all over again? You’ve taken everything. Done everything there is to do.”

“I’ve only just begun.”

I snort.

He walks back into the room, back toward me and I find myself leaning away. Watching him come to me, his face uncovered, a half-living-half-dead man, it’s a little terrifying.

“Lower your gaze. I won’t say it again.”

“No.” My heart pounds against my chest like it wants out before the attack that is surely coming.

“No?”

I shake my head.

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if that's bravery or stupidity.”


Tags: A. Zavarelli, Natasha Knight The Society Trilogy Billionaire Romance