Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Now, The Society offers him a table full of food and a throne as if that will smooth things over. Tension lingers in the air, and I imagine Angelo giving them a Spartan-style death as he hurtles each of them over the cliff. But instead, he dismisses them.
“You can all take your leave.”
A long, uncomfortable silence follows before the representative replies. “Mr. Vitale, it’s our job to witness—”
“And you’ll take my word that it’s done,” Angelo replies bluntly. “Now, let my men bring me what I require. Then lower the portcullis and go.”
Unsurprisingly, the men do as he says. As they shuffle through the archway, Angelo unknots his tie and pulls it loose from his collar. When he lifts his gaze to mine, the heat smoldering behind those dark eyes leaves little doubt about his intentions tonight.
He will take me, and I will burn for it.
When he closes the distance between us, my body stirs with awareness. Every inhale becomes a little more shallow as my nerves pulse to life—waiting, craving, remembering.
His warm fingers graze my jaw, angling my face up to his. “Do you trust me, cara?”
That question is deceptively soft, and I can’t help but wonder if this is a trap. The concept of trust in this particular setting varies wildly. Do I trust him not to throw me off the cliff? Probably. Do I trust him not to use the brand? Definitely. But if not those things, then what?
I search his eyes, looking for the slightest hint of malice, but right now…I find none. All I see are the ghosts of a thousand memories time and distance haven’t erased. I’ve known him through almost every season of my life…except the one that altered us the most. We’re two different people standing at a literal precipice, and now, I have new memories with him I’ll never be able to forget.
When I close my eyes, I’m back on that rooftop, my life hanging in the balance. I felt every pounding heartbeat, every shudder, every scream. And still, I surrendered to him.
If that’s not trust, what is?
I find myself nodding along, surrendering to this moment too. I’m giving him everything tonight…every piece of me. I need to believe that the Angelo I’ve always known is still in there.
I open my eyes, and he leans in, his mouth hovering a breath away from mine.
“Good.” The raw edge of approval in his voice warms my skin and makes me feel slightly drunk.
I’ve pleased him, and I like it far too much.
He rewards me by tilting my head back and tracing the slope of my jaw with his lips. It’s a slow, deliberate kind of torture that he concludes when he presses a kiss beneath my ear. There’s a momentary pause as I hold my breath, marveling at just how sensitive that space is. Then, he buries his face in my neck and inhales me. It sets every nerve in my body on fire and leaves me cold and disoriented when he pulls away.
I barely register that he’s turning me in his arms until he drapes his tie over my face. As he knots it into a makeshift blindfold at the back of my head, I try to recall accounts of other marking ceremonies. Was there a blindfold?
That thought evaporates when I hear the shuffling of feet on the terrace. We’re not alone anymore, and it reminds me of something Angelo said to the witnesses. He asked them to let his men bring him what he requires. I can only imagine what that might be.
There’s a grunt and more shuffling behind us. When I try to turn toward the sound, Angelo wraps his palm around the back of my neck, halting me.
“Leave,” he orders.
The men’s footsteps drift away, followed by the rattling of chains, before the portcullis slams into place. It’s a haunting sound that rings of finality, and I can’t help but wonder what happens now.
Angelo closes in behind me, the warmth of his body a solid presence against my back. The featherlight touch of his knuckles grazes my arm in a slow descent, all the way down to my palm. He threads his fingers through mine, lifting my arm up over his shoulder and draping it around the back of his neck.
He leaves me in that position, open and on display as his knuckles skim back down the side of my body. Goosebumps trail in his wake, and when his palm flattens over my middle and pulls me back against the heat of his erection, I release a ragged breath.
“Tonight, you’ll become mine in every sense of the word.” His honeyed words carry an edge of menace that sends a shiver down my spine.
It’s at odds with the lazy reverence of his hands as they explore my body. Two large palms glide over my hips and skim past my waist, pressing into my ribcage before they settle over the curves of my breasts. They squeeze and grope, his thumbs circling my nipples beneath the lace of my dress. A rush of heat sweeps through me as I melt against him, and he presses his lips against my neck. He kisses a path down to the hollow of my collarbone, then retraces the same track with the scrape of his teeth, biting into my skin.