Page 115 of Vicious Kingdom

That small, determined act of defiance unlocked the cage where I kept my inner beast.

With a roar of pure rage, I lashed out. My fist connected with the mirror.

It cracked, spider webs of broken glass shooting across the frame as small fragments rained on the marble countertop.

Annaliese scooted out from my hold. Her fingers clawed at her back as she struggled back into the dress. Pain was scrawled over her face from something that should be a simple task.

Cursing, I closed the distance. My hands, so capable of destruction, were tender as I pulled the dress over her shoulders. Fingers fumbled at the zipper, slipping once to catch the tiny guide. When I finally managed to pull it up, Annaliese rounded on me.

“You can’t attack him, Leo.” She pushed my chest. “He’s too popular. It would be disastrous! And you’re already in enough hot water with your business.”

I had no intention of letting him walk away. No, when I caught him, he was dead. It would look like an accident; no one would know it was me. I was about to tell her that. To force her to give me a name.

There was a choice that lay before me.

Push her and risk the fragile bond that needed to grow stronger between us. The alternative was that I bottle my rage—for now.

Because one way or another, that sonofabitch was dead. Right now, Annaliese needed me to be gentle, to take care of her needs.

“What can I do?” I asked, dropping my hands to the side. “Those look like they hurt. Do you want to see a doctor?”

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, garbled a sound, then shut it.

We stood there, breathing hard, and watching one another.

“I’m serious, Anna, tell me what you need.”

She stepped into me and fisted my suit jacket. “Just this.”

At her insistent tug, I bent. Her mouth crashed into mine.

Her lips were soft but demanding, a wild desperation in the way she pressed against me. I met her urgency with my own, one hand sliding to cradle the back of her neck while the other settled gently at her waist, mindful of her injuries. I tasted her need, her fear, the words she couldn't say. She pressed closer, fingers climbing to tangle in my hair, pulling me down with surprising strength.

I groaned against her mouth, parting my lips as her tongue sought entrance. The sweet taste of champagne lingered between us, but beneath it was something uniquely Annaliese—honey and sunshine and a hint of danger. My heart hammered against my ribs as if trying to break free and join with hers.

Annaliese’s breath hitched when I deepened the kiss, her body arching into mine despite her injuries. She was fire in my arms, consuming everything in her path. My self-control, my anger, my sanity. All of it burned away, leaving nothing but raw need.

I wanted to bury myself inside her, to claim her. To consume and be consumed by her fire until nothing remained of either of us but ash and satisfaction. My dick hardened with painful intensity as I pressed her against the counter, careful of her bruises yet desperate to feel every inch of her against me.

“Anna,” I whispered against her lips. “I want—”

The bathroom door swung open with a bang.

“Oh my WORD!” Janet’s shrill voice sliced through our moment like a knife. “Annaliese Baldwin! In the ladies’ room? With your own husband?”

We broke apart, Annaliese’s cheeks flushed pink with desire. I kept my body angled to shield her from the interruption, rage simmering beneath my skin.

“I know, I know!” Annaliese laughed.

“You’re supposed to be with a caterer, or some foreign dignitary,” Janet teased, ignoring my warning growl. “But I’ll admit, it’s nice to see someone obsessed with their spouse for a change. Oh! What happened to the mirror!”

After an animated exchange of social pleasantries, we escaped the bathroom.

Annaliese sagged into me. “You asked me what I needed? Can we go home, and can I soak in the bath?”

I shifted. “I don’t have a bathtub.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” she sighed. “Just a heating pad and bed then.”