The beautiful bastard smirked, flashing me a hint of fang.
“Are you certain this is what you want, lass? It cannae be undone.” The High Chancellor looked me squarely in the eye, and the concern flickering within his features had my belly clenching.
I knew what he was telling me. His thoughts telegraphed as easily as if he said the words aloud even without the benefit of the mind reading abilities my family shared... all except me, of course. The Donoghues were vile, wicked creatures. Selfish and hateful. Nothing about them was redeemable, and I was a lamb willingly venturing into their den.
But I wouldn’t let my brothers die if I could save them with the simple act of marriage. Especially when the thought of being Gavin’s wife was doing such lovely things to my insides. Not all monsters were necessarily the things lurking in our nightmares. Some could be tamed.
Perhaps I’d be the one to tame Gavin Donoghue.
ChapterTwo
GAVIN
She was the most perfect creature I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t wait to destroy her. My cock was a length of steel in my trousers. I could already picture her painted in pain and pleasure, her skin my canvas, her cries my symphony. I was desperate to know what she’d look like with tears trembling on those thick lashes, cheeks flushed, lips parted on a moan. My cum streaked across her thighs, a complement to the pink welts she’d beg me to leave on her skin.
I’ve never wanted to own anything so badly as I did the woman standing across from me.
Roslyn Blackthorne would be my masterpiece. My toy. My Duchess.
Mine to break and put back together.
Mine to keep.
Mine.
I itched to reach out and take her by the wrist, lead her straight to hell right here and now, but I had to show restraint. Now was not the time. I’d have her soon enough. These things needed to be done a certain way. There were customs to observe. After all, she wasn’t simply going to be my submissive. She would be my wife. A different thing altogether.
My father’s fingers brushed the top of my hand like the wings of a butterfly. If it weren’t necessary, he wouldn’t even have done that much. But touch was required to allow his voice to run through my head.
“Are you really willing to tie yourself to this creature for all of her life? She may have the blood of the sun, but she’s–“
“Think of the benefits of this, Father. She will bring us more power than we’ve ever had. We can overthrow the Blackthornes. Unseat them. Take what we want.”
“A marriage in name only, then? You’ll get her with child and then lock her away?”
I would lock her away, yes, but not in the same sense my father was thinking. He didn’t need to know exactly how depraved his son was, though, so I simply agreed.
“Exactly.”
His lips lifted, approval shimmering along our mental bond. Perhaps I wasn’t the most depraved among us after all. Disgust curled my lip, and I shrugged off the light brush of his fingers. I couldn’t stand being touched, least of all by him. Not when every memory of the Duke’s attention ended in my pain.
It didn’t take a licensed therapist to diagnose the reason for my predilections. My need for control. To administer pain but never receive it. To find pleasure once when my dominance was absolute. I was very aware I had daddy issues.
“Your highness, Lord Donoghue, do you both enter into this betrothal of your own free will?” the High Chancellor asked. It didn’t escape me that he made a point of using our antiquated titles. No one called me Lord anything anymore, and the Blackthornes, though they may be royalty, never required their honorifics be used.
Roslyn came toward me, her gaze downcast, head bowed slightly. God, but the things it did to my cock to see her like that. But then she stumbled, falling to her hands and knees on the cool stone floor.
“Rosie!” her brother called, stepping forward to assist her.
“I’ve got her,” I murmured, reaching down to tip her chin up. “Are you all right?”
Her breath hitched, her pupils flaring as she met my gaze. “Y-yes, my lord.”
Oh yes. I liked that very much.
Keeping hold of her chin, I brushed the pad of my thumb over her plump lower lip. “So what do you think, petal? Do you really want me as your husband?”
“Yes,” she whispered, then more firmly, “I do.”