“This stays inside you.”
“We…didn’t use a condom,” I manage, realizing only now the possible consequences.
He nuzzles my neck, arching my hips into his to press us together. “And we won’t. Every time I come inside you is a chance to get you pregnant with my heir.”
I’m frozen against him. While we got married, I hadn’t considered he was serious about it. That a baby might be something he wanted with me. But I can’t.
No. Not while Sal is out there and can hurt my baby and me. Not when he always takes every bit of joy I have.
27
Adrian
In the morning, I stare down at her, so beautiful and serene spread across the white sheets. It felt good to finally take her and make her mine. Even if I saw doubts swimming in her eyes before she fell asleep in my arms. It’ll take time for her to fully trust me but getting rid of her fiancé will go a long way to help that.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her, and dress quickly. There’s something I need to do. If she hadn’t needed me, then I would have done it last night, but I couldn’t resist the plea in her eyes when she asked for me—me.
She is still passed out when I exit the bedroom and head toward the command room. As expected, when I enter, no one is there except Kai.
He’s sitting at the table with his back to me, jacketless, wearing the same clothing he wore to the party last night. When I enter the room fully, he stands, his face lined with regret and self-recrimination. He knows what needs to be done too.
He doesn’t get a warning. I hit him in the side of the face full force and send him back into the chair so hard it tips over, taking him down on top of it. A dull ache starts in my hand and then shoots into my wrist, but it doesn’t matter. Justice must be paid, and he knows what he almost cost me.
I punch him again, and he still doesn’t defend himself. But I can’t quite reach him partially under the table, lying haphazardly over the chair, so I motion at him to stand again. He follows my order without a second thought, even knowing what comes next.
I flex my hand as I question him. “Did you find Sal?”
He leans his head back to keep blood from running down his face. “No, sir. He was gone. The others are still out searching for him.”
“Then you’ve done nothing to redeem yourself. Are you ready?”
Completely resigned, he drops his hand and stares me down. Then nods.
I let the anger I felt last night course through me—the rage, the pain, but most of all, the terror. This time when my fist makes contact, he remains standing. His head merely snaps backward from the force of the hit. Pain has reached my shoulder, but it’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all compared to what she endured last night as her attacker lay on top of her. As she fought for her life from the one man I told her I could protect her from.
I grab his shirt front in my fist and move to strike him again, but something clamps onto my hand. I barely have enough presence of mind to freeze and look.
Valentina is standing there, her eyes rimmed with tears. “Stop, please,” she sobs. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
I shove at him and step back. “You’re right.” Then I take the gun off the table he loaded himself and press it to the center of his forehead. “He almost let you get raped or killed. He deserves more than a few bruises and a busted nose.”
She reaches for the barrel of the gun, and I swing it away so she can’t grab it. “Step back, Valentina, before you get hurt.”
“No. This happened to me. It should be my choice.”
Her words reach me, and I stare down at her. The white robe she’s wearing is three sizes too big and sweeps the floor with each agitated movement. Her hair is curly and frames her face in a halo of gold-tinged brown. I lower the gun and focus on containing my rage long enough to end this.
“You’re right, Angel. This is your retribution.”
I grip her wrist and press the gun into her hand. It looks ridiculously oversized in her small palm. She moves like she wants to drop it, but I cup her fingers around the pistol grip and turn her to stand in front of me. With my body behind hers, I align our arms and cup her other hand to the other side. In this position, I can help her.
“Protecting you was his job. He failed. He understands what that means for him.”
Tears are pouring down her cheeks now, and each one is like an ice pick to my gut. I hate to see her cry. Yet punishment must be dealt out. “He made a mistake. He doesn’t deserve to die for it.”