Violent Delights (White Monarch 1)

He drew away, leaving me gasping. I kept my eyes closed as the silence grew weighty between us. Why did giving into his kiss feel like walking into darkness—a temptation I knew I should resist? I half-expected a soothing whisper from him, maybe even something sweet.

I eased my eyes open. He kept my head in his hands but had his head turned toward the back of the church. “Envision me taking her with the same fervor on this, our wedding night, brother,” he said, then kissed me again.

I jerked away and slapped him. The sound of it echoed through the church—skin on skin, and Pilar’s loud gasp—whereas my regret was immediate. Cristiano glared at me, working his jaw side to side, anger clearly building within him.

Cristiano held up a hand without removing his eyes from me.

Even with the realization of what I’d done, rage burned in me. For the way he’d flaunted the kiss, something that should’ve been sacred no matter the circumstances. For how he’d used me to become even more powerful. For how he’d stolen my senses and tricked me into enjoying the kiss.

“You’ve ruined me,” I said to him, and turned to look down the aisle at Diego. “And you let him.”

I picked up my dress and strode down the aisle. If Cristiano didn’t like it, let him shoot me in the back.

“Talia,” Diego said, pressing his palms together in supplication. “Wait.”

I pushed by him. “Go to hell.”

Max blocked the door, stopping me with a curt shake of his head. There was nobody to help. Nobody but me.

I spun back and stood in front of Diego as my vision blurred with tears. “You were careless with my father’s business and careless with me. Now I’ll pay the price.”

“You saved my life,” he said. “I will forever be grateful to you.”

I grabbed the lapels of his suit to push him away, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to go to hell. I wanted him to stay with me. Diego took my wrists. I fisted the fabric and buried my face in his chest. “You know what he has planned for me.”

Without turning around, I knew Cristiano was at my back before he spoke.

“Take your hands off my wife, or I will add them to my collection.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I would soon see Cristiano’s rumored museum of body parts with my own eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Diego said and released me.

“She is mine,” Cristiano said. “Say it.”

The tie of Diego’s knot hung loose, defeated. I hated that he had put me in this position, but I hated how Cristiano rubbed it in our faces even more.

“She is yours in the eyes of God,” Diego said, “but in every other way, she is mine. Saying otherwise won’t change the fact.”

I turned from Diego to Cristiano to plead with him not to react, but he stood calm.

“As I told you before, brother,” he said, each word slow and clipped, “once this was done, there’d be no turning back. She is mine. If you, or anyone, touches her again, I will rain down a fury the likes of which not even the Maldonados have seen.”

Chills spread over every inch of my skin. He only said it to goad Diego, but his possessiveness gripped and thrilled me in ways that scared me.

Cristiano lowered his eyes and locked them on me. “Get out.”

Instinctively, I knew he wasn’t talking to me.

“Out!” Cristiano bellowed. He looked around, meeting eyes with each of his men and then Diego. “Everyone leave. You too, Max, and take the priest. I have business with my wife.”

The church emptied quickly—too quickly. I couldn’t even get a handle on my trepidation over being alone with him.

When it was just us, Cristiano walked forward until we were face to face. “Next time you slap me,” he said, “save it for the bedroom.”

I let out a shaky breath. My only comfort was being in the church. I had to believe he wouldn’t punish me for my insolence in God’s house.

He looked me up and down. “Hit me, rage against me, call me names. But I have two rules you won’t break twice. First, Diego will never touch you again. And second, you will not ever lie to me, even one more time.”

I racked my brain for what he might be referring to. “I didn’t lie,” I said quickly.

“No?” he asked. “What did you think would happen when you came to my bed and didn’t bleed?”

I swallowed my gasp and did my best to school my shock. He knew I wasn’t a virgin—yet he’d gone through with the wedding anyway? “Not every woman bleeds,” I said, careful to speak honestly.

“Not with Diego, I’m sure. He treats you like you’re breakable. I won’t. With me, you’d have bled, and perhaps you still will in other ways.” He raised his chin. “Remove your dress.”