Bad Medicine (Underworld Kings)

I gulp, my knees weakening. Damn him.

“I didn’t say anything other than the truth. You could have anyone, so why kidnap me to get off?” I ask, and then add, “Or is there another reason? Is it truly a ransom you want? To use me against my father? Does my husband have something on you? There has to be another reason. You could have any woman you’d ever possibly want.”

He laughs, and it’s sinister. Next thing I know, his front is to my back, and his lips are against my neck. He nips, releasing a yelp from me.

“I don’t want another woman. The sooner you get that through your head, the sooner I will give you what you are dying for.”

“And… and what’s that?” I stutter.

“Mmm. My cock. Pounding into you. I’m going to fill that emptiness inside you. I want you in my bed, in my home, and in my fucking hands until we are taken from this earth.”

I swallow, then moan. Never, ever have I felt this desired, and I would be a fool to say I don’t enjoy it.

“DeLuca, please. You have to let me go. We can’t do this.” I finally let the less vocal side of me speak.

He growls, reaching up and grasping my neck, adding enough pressure to get my attention to fixate on his words.

“You’re mine now. I won’t let you go. Ever. And I don’t care if that means you fucking hate me for the rest of our lives, but you are mine. That will never change.” He releases me, and I gasp for air.

He steps back, and I turn to face him, suddenly angry with him. How could he think I could love him or want to stay when he says he doesn’t care if it causes me hate in my heart?

“You’re no different than the man I married, are you?”

This has his eyes filling with rage, his neck growing red. But I don’t care.

“I’m capable of loving someone. I crave it—to be loved and have love. To be someone’s everything. But all I seem to get are men who want to control me and make me hate them. I thought I saw something in you. I really did. But you’re right. I will always hate you. You can keep me here like a prisoner, but I will never love a man who forces me to leave everything that meant something to me.” I storm off again, completely derailed once more. I trusted him for a brief moment when he showed me grace with the wardrobe and offered me the garden, but I was a fool—a truly blinded fool. I’m nothing but a piece of property, a trophy to him.

“Arabella, get back here now!” he yells after me, but I keep going, making it into the house through a haze of tears and… hurt.

“Piccolina, don’t you dare slam that fucking door.” He’s almost caught up to me, just a few feet back when I enter the bedroom. I go to do just that—slam the door—and luckily, I shut it just before he can make it inside.

I lock it and scream, “I hope my father finds you! I would rather be in the arms of my husband than you.” That stops the pounding, and it does something else. I feel instant regret. Pain.

He must feel it too, because he falls silent. I let the tears fall and my breaths catch as I stare at the closed door, waiting for him to break it down. But it doesn’t come. Instead, the sound of his fleeting steps does. I fall to the ground then and cry nothing but painful sobs.

What now?

14

DeLuca

Her words enraged me, then fucking broke me. I don’t break for anyone or anything, but with her, I snap, crumble, and dissolve at her feet. How dare she say she would rather be back with Ferro, or any man for that matter?

Doesn’t she know who I am?

Doesn’t she know what those words do to me?

But then I remember—no. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what’s going on or who the hell I am aside from the man who kidnapped her.

I slam my office door and walk to my desk. When I step up to it, the rage boils over, and I swipe everything off my desk, glass breaking and papers flying before settling in a mess on the floor. Slamming my fist down, I curse. “Fuck!”

I’m supposed to hold all the fucking cards here, yet she’s playing with a full hand. I’m losing. She’s making me unstable, mentally and emotionally. She’s right. I could have anyone, and anyone would be easy to tame and control but Arabella. No, she can’t be. And truth be told, I don’t want to control her outside of what she wants. I know she desires for me to control her in the bedroom and obsess over her outside of it, but when it comes to her heart—that, she wants to give of her own free will. So why don’t I just fucking give her that?