Shattered Prince

Carmine looked shocked. He touched my knees and leaned forward, prying them apart. I sucked in a breath as he pulled me against him and hugged me tight. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just told him that I’d been used and abused by a bastard and forced to steal from my own papa, and he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t calling me a traitor.

He was trying to comfort me.

“I didn’t want to do it,” I said and the tears finally came. “But he made me. He said if I didn’t go along, he’d ruin me. He’d destroy my life, whatever there was of it. I wanted to do more for myself. I have dreams. I want to be a doctor and I want to help people. But Oscar ruined me, Carmine. He made me steal from my own family.”

I sobbed into his chest. He held me, stroking my hair. It felt good and horrible all at once, like I was ripping a splinter from my heart. I’d never said any of this out loud before but to put the words into the air took some of their power from me, and while I still hated myself and thought I was weak for letting Oscar get that much power of me, it eased the pain to release it. My leg throbbed, but that was a good ache. My chest burned, but it was the burn of moving on.

Carmine’s arms were strong around my body.

“I’ll find him,” he whispered gently, kissing my tears away, then kissing my legs. “I’ll bring him back. And I’ll kill him. Your father never has to know.”

“Carmine,” I said, groaning.

“I swear, Jules. He’s in my city now, and he won’t get away. I’ll cut his tongue out myself.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I told him my most shameful, horrible secret. I told him that I was a traitor—the worst thing a person could be in my family.

He was supposed to hate me. He was supposed to destroy me, tear me apart, ruin me the way I deserved. I was tainted, broken, and disgusting. I didn’t deserve his comfort.

And yet he gave it to me anyway. He kissed me, faster, deeper. I kissed him back with a shocked, shameful gasp. I whimpered as he shoved my shirt up higher, opening my legs wider, his fingers teasing my inner thigh.

He kissed my throat and neck. “I’ll kill him,” he whispered as he kissed down my chest and disappeared beneath my skirt. His lips found my legs, my knees, my inner thighs. He was gentle around the bandages before he reached my pussy, my heat radiating like a beacon.

He pushed my panties aside and licked me, top to bottom, nice and slow.

“Carmine,” I gasped. Pleasure flooded me. I was still crying, and this was fucked, so fucked. But it felt so goddamn good, and I couldn’t stop it. He licked me faster, sucking my clit, nibbling my lips. His tongue rolled inside of me, swirling around, before he slid his fingers deep and teased my clit with his lips. He sucked me and fucked me, and I gasped, back arching.

I came in a burst. It was like the pleasure washed away all the self-hatred, all the pain and longing and self-loathing. I came, and as I gasped Carmine’s name over and over, it was like a prayer, like I was calling down something bigger and stronger than myself.

I was calling to him. To Carmine. To my monster. My beast. My future.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing me as I blinked away the spots in my vision. My ears rang and I was gasping for air. “I’m right here.” He kissed me and held me, and I kissed him back as the orgasm wound its way into my brain. The pain in my leg lessened and disappeared. The knot in my gut unwound and floated into nothing.

“I’ll find him,” he whispered, biting my lower lip and staring into my eyes. “I promise. I’ll bring him to you.”

“I believe you,” I said, and I meant it.

For the first time in my life, I had hope, real hope. Not the false hope of a desperate girl, but a vision for the future, one in which I could be happy.

One in which I might have a measure of joy.

Carmine kissed me, and I melted into him.

Chapter 19

Jules

I woke with Carmine wrapped around my body. His arms hugged me tight, and I felt him against my back, his breathing steady against the nape of my neck.

It took me a few moments to blink away the sleep. Weak morning light filtered in through the window, and the clock on the nightstand said it was a little bit after seven in the morning. I gently disentangled myself from him and sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed, and stared at the floor.