Chapter Sixteen
Tomas
Alex is nothing short of a dream.
While staying away from her gave me time to think, I did nothing but think about her just about every waking second. Her image came up regularly, and the memory of her scent imposed on my senses strongly enough to make me think she was around.
And if she’s in my head that often, why should I continue to push her away?
Sharing instead of competing with Parker is new to me, an oddly satisfying part of our bond surfacing that I didn’t think possible. I love seeing her pleasure herself. It’s a distinct delight that I think about at night when I’m by myself in bed. Beating off would be better with her hands, but it arouses me more to fantasize about her—and it makes me wonder if she does the same.
Does she touch herself when she thinks of me? Is it just to get off, or does she find herself doing it compulsively?
My heart objects to the idea of her using me. With a vow between us, we would be unstoppable. I can see that playing to our advantage and providing us the peace we’ve always needed. Though Lev isn’t here to share in it, I know he’s resting somewhere in the great beyond, his soul finding peace of its own without this world weighing him down.
That’s what we need—peace. And finding that is going to be far too difficult without the right alliances. First, I need to secure Alex’s safety. Having her as my wife would provide her with the right support socially and economically while keeping her close to the group. If we’re going to share her, she has to legally belong to one of us. It might as well be me.
I sigh as I descend the stairs. My hand drifts over the banister, fingers light and echoing the movements they made on Alex’s flesh just days ago. The same hand disappears into the pocket of my jeans as I approach my father, my heart racing in my chest as sweat dots my temples. I shake my hair out of my face, stand up straight, and address my father formally, drawing his attention.
He barely looks up at me from his task of shuffling papers around the coffee table. “Yes, Tomas?”
“I still want to marry Alex.”
His hand freezes in the center of the mountainous mess. “You can’t be serious. That girl is no longer welcome in this house.”
“I don’t see why. She’s got an empire of her own, and she’d make a strong ally.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” my father snaps. “You can’t marry that silly whore.”
I grit my teeth. “She’s not a whore.”
“Fine—damaged goods. No one wants her bad luck. Do you know what kind of havoc that would wreak on our social lives? Imagine the backlash on Adelaide.”
“Don’t bring my sister into this.”
He snorts as he stands, years of aristocracy evident in his posture alone. “Your sister is as much a part of your decisions as any of us. Besides, the Persian won’t allow Felipe’s progeny to stay alive. Is that what you want? A dead wife?”
“She won’t be dead if I protect her.”
“And you think you’re going to protect her with—what, drugs?”
I glare at my father with all the might of a god getting ready to snap. With my fists clenched at my sides, I manage to contain most of my anger—enough of it, anyway. “I love her, and I want to take care of her.”
“She can take care of herself.”
“Then I won’t have to spend all my effort protecting her. Isn’t that right?”
My father chortles while crossing the room, carrying a folder with him to the desk that sits in the corner. He rifles through one of the drawers, not appearing to be looking for anything in particular, just appearing busy. “You can’t do as you please.”
“I’m doing what’s right for me.”
“And what about what’s right for your family?” He glares at me, fury dancing beneath the surface of his taut skin. “You’ve made so many enemies over what—two whores?”
A growl vibrates my chest. “You speak so low of your own wife.”
“How would you know I’m talking about your mother? Because I called her a whore?”
“Only you would dare speak so ill of someone you claim to love.”