Wild Heir (Fated Royals 4)

“Please, please, please,” I sobbed. “Stop. Please just leave me alone!”

“Fuck almighty. Stop fighting me, Valeria. I saw you faint once. You don’t have to fucking demonstrate it again.” He planted his knees in the snow, lowering me to the ground, planting one hand on either side of my shoulders and staring down at me.

Fighting back tears, trying my best to quell this wave of panic, of terror, of hope, of so much uncertainty, I clapped one hand over my mouth to stop myself from sobbing.

I hated this feeling, this whirlwind of emotions, and I was desperate to pull myself together. But it was no use. The emotions were coming and there was no way to stop them. He searched my face with concern when he saw a trickle of tears spill down my cheeks.

Vasile eased down onto me, letting my hips take some but not all of his massive weight. He brushed aside my tears. Though he was being tender, he still looked furious. And who could blame him? It had become nearly a daily occurrence that I either tried to bolt or fight him tooth and nail.

Still, I wouldn’t apologize for it. He’d have done the same if our roles were reversed, I was certain of it. I never apologized to an opponent in fencing and I wouldn’t do it with him.

He slipped one of his hands behind my head, keeping it off the snowy ground, and pulled me in for a kiss that felt desperate and greedy. But I was still so angry and upside down that even that was unwelcome, and I tried to shove him off me, keeping my lips tight and my cheek turned.

“Leave me alone!” I growled, clawing at him and kicking hard to get him away from me. “How dare you think you could just kiss me and everything is forgiven.”

He recoiled from my wild lunges and squirms just enough for me to open up my hand and wallop him with a ferocious smack on his cheek.

The crack of my palm against his face rang out through the still forest air. The sting of the slap shocked me as much as it shocked him and he stared at me with a look in his eye that absolutely petrified me.

So much anger, so much fury. So much need and love and hate.

I saw something break loose inside him, like a beast being uncaged. With both hands he tried to yank down my britches and I fought him even harder, well aware of his powerful erection pushing into me though his pants. I could see in his eyes what he was thinking—I was his, and he was going to take me. By force if that was what it took.

“Nooooo!” I screamed, gritting my teeth but he met my scream with a grunt, his hands working me toward naked and my flesh burned at the swirl of emotions.

I froze, stuck between yes and no. Between wanting and fearing. The idea of him doing that, of him taking me against my will… it was almost too forbidden a thought to let my mind glide over. And yet, and yet…

He hovered over me like an animal about to go in for the kill. My bare ass pressed against the snow. He was one tug away from my pants being completely off.

“Don’t you dare!” I snarled at him, my shrieks echoing through the wintry air. “Don’t you dare!”

For an instant, I didn’t know if he would listen to me. His hunger looked unstoppable. Ruthless and terrifying.

The fire in his eyes made it clear that he didn’t know what he was about to do either. And I too was torn between wanting to be forgiven…softly.

Or punished. Violently.

But suddenly he took a deep, steadying breath. That wild danger that I’d seen in him dissipated, just slightly, and he shifted his weight so he sat up more fully on his knees, putting some distance between us. He let go of my britches and pressed his hands to his face.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he growled into his palms.

“Not as crazy as you make me,” I said. “Gangster. Mobster. Murderer. Gambler.”

Disentangling his body from mine, he yanked my pants back up and brought me back up to sitting, helping me to slowly get my head back up above my heart.

Then, after a moment, he helped me up to standing as well. Keeping his arm tight around me, he led me back through our scuffed tracks toward where Vela stood. From his saddle bag, he took a length of rope and turned to me. The muscles of his jaw flexed and fluttered impatiently.

“When you have my ring on your finger, then are you going to stop fighting me so goddamned much?”

Setting my teeth, I stared up at him. “Probably not.”

“Listen. I’m re-joining the business, yes, but things are going to change. That was my condition. My father wants the same things I do. I’m going to put a stop to the less savory parts of the business. It will take time, but Jesus, again Valeria, trust me, will you? I will do what’s right and best for us. For my family. That includes you in case you haven’t figured that out yet. Married or not, you are part of me already.”