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Both of them had a different story, truth mixed with lies, and neither of them were the wiser.
I’d swallowed down my rage as the broken, skinny girl stumbled toward me. I’d allowed her to crumple at my feet and pretended to listen to the bastard’s demands.
I would’ve killed him right there but…he wasn’t the only one trying to forge this alliance. Instead of giving into my bloodlust, I kept my smile in place, accepted the girl, and flew her back to my estate in France on my private plane.
His death would come…once I knew how many other girls he had and where I could find them.
Tess hadn’t blinked an eye as I carried yet another slave into our marital home. She merely summoned Suzette, told Mrs Sucre to get cooking, and Franco pushed open a door to one of the fifty guest rooms for this purpose as I strode through opulence and tucked the drugged-up girl into safety.
The doctor had come.
Two days into the girl’s detox and she’d finally stopped screaming. She’d now turned catatonic instead.
“You haven’t touched me since you returned from Amsterdam,” Tess murmured as she pushed me back in my chair and deliberately sat her pretty ass on my desk, squashing my paperwork. “You went without my permission. You put yourself in danger. You made me mad, Q Mercer, and you know what happens when you do that.”
I smirked and reclined. “Remind me, wife…what happens when I make you mad?”
“I make you lose your mind.”
My blood heated. “And what is your plan tonight, esclave? How are you planning on making me come undone?” My hand dropped between my legs, fisting the hard-on she caused every time I caught her scent. “Because I will be coming…whether you will too is a matter of discussion.”
“Oh, you’ll make me come, husband. You won’t have a choice.”
I chuckled and stroked myself. “Bold, Tess. Very bold.”
“You left me.” Her hands went to the belt holding her satiny, sexy dressing gown closed. The faint lilac gown had looked stunning on its hanger in the lingerie shop in Amsterdam, but on her?
She made it fucking sinful.
“You brought home another woman.” She unthreaded the bow, letting the material slip like water from her delectable skin. Skin I’d marked, bit, branded, and whipped. Skin that bloomed a perfect shade of red. Skin that always healed so I could do it all over again.
A tremor ran through me as my cock hit full mast, growing painful in my slacks. With steady hands, I reached for my belt.
Her eyes shot to where I unhooked the leather, no doubt remembering the many times I’d had her spread over my desk, her hips in the air, and the crack of my belt landing against her ass.
“Go on…” I whispered, my French accent thickening like it always did when she tempted me. “Tell me why I should tolerate you being mad at me for saving yet another slave and doing what I must to repent for what I am.”
“What you are?” With a shudder, she spread her legs, planting her heels on my rock-hard thighs. “What you are is mine. My monster. And I want to get mauled.” The gown fell away, leaving swathes of skin from collarbone to pussy. The swell of her breasts teased me, the Q branded over her heart enraged me, the inked sparrows flying over her shoulder undid me, and the wetness glimmering between her thighs fucking broke me.
I groaned. “Je vais me régaler de toi, ma femme.” (I’m going to feast on you, wife).
“Promise?” Her hand trailed down her belly, heading south.
Unzipping my slacks, I pulled my cock out, digging my thumb painfully into the tip. I couldn’t look away as she swirled her clit. Her long, wavy blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, the soft light from my desk lamp caping her in shadows and secrets.
Tess had always been beautiful. Even when she’d broken my black fucking heart, she’d been the most stunning creature I’d ever seen.
But now that she was my wife?
Now that she was mine in every way—blooded, bonded, and betrothed…I couldn’t look at another woman without comparing them. Comparing their strength to hers. Their light to hers. Her ability to make me feel when everyone else in the world made me shut down.
“Don’t you want a taste, maître?”
“Merde.” My heart pounded. My ears rushed with white noise. I wanted her moaning in pleasure and screaming in pain. I wanted to hug her and hurt her at the same time. I wanted her blood on my tongue and her cum on my fingers. I both loved and hated her. Her power. Her fight. Her undeniable claim over me.
The one girl who’d come to me unbroken.
The one girl to break me in return.
