Scandalous Prince (Mafia Royals 2)

What could possibly gain my hatred so much?

The death of the man I loved.

And those hands, the hands that had loved me last night, seduced me, made promises—those hands were the ones that did it.

“Because I’m the one who killed him.” The words felt like a bomb as my entire body tensed, ready to fight, ready to avenge the death of the man who promised to never let me go.

And in that same breath, did exactly that.

“Does that mean…” I whispered, every muscle on alert, every synapse ready to snap me into action to avenge him, to kill this man, my husband. “…that I get to avenge him?”

“Killing me won’t bring him back, we’ve been over this,” he said. “But one thing that does kill me over and over again is how beautiful you are, and how badly I want to touch you, how desperately I want one more night—no, not one more, a dozen more, a hundred, knowing that you’ll deny me that one thing because you know how desperately I want it.”

My next breath stalled momentarily. His words affected me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. He made me feel bold, this killer in front of me, with his lies and his wicked mouth.

My body was at war with my heart because even now, I was yearning for him in a way that was sick and twisted.

“You can’t have me,” I lied.

“You promised two more nights. You took an oath, did you not?” He was closer now, though I hadn’t heard him moving. “Or are you too innocent to imagine what it would feel like to have the hands of a killer mar your perfect skin?”

It triggered me.

I hated being called innocent.

It reminded me of being powerless.

Being weak.

I sat up and stared in his general direction, my vision completely black, and then I spread my legs over the bed and lifted my chin. “A promise is a promise even with a killer like you.”

“A killer like me,” he rasped. “Funny, I imagine you prefer the monster even though you want to deny it. He wasn’t like me, you know. He wasn’t like this. He was hiding from who he was.” His hands gripped my thighs, keeping my legs apart, and then one hand gripped my chin painfully, forcing me to look up at him even though I couldn’t see anything. “He would never have done this.”

I was ready to ask what, and then he picked me up and flipped me over onto my stomach. My breasts rubbed against the sheets, and my nipples hardened to taut peaks. I let out a moan at the sound of clothes rustling, and then a rough palm was grazing my ass.

“Innocent.” His hand descended, slapping my sensitive skin so hard my eyes watered. “Little.” His hand hit again. “Violet.” Another slap sent my body arching off the bed. “Petrov.”

The final slap had me ready to commit murder, to turn around and kick him in the face, then pull him close and beg him for more.

“Pleasure and pain,” he said in a low voice. “I told you I would give you both. They go hand in hand, something you would know about me, Violet. I will give you everything you need, and that includes the pain that you don’t even realize your body begs for, so the numbness goes away, so the fight returns.” He rubbed his hand where he’d hit, and then he was gripping my thighs, pulling me back.

With one violent thrust, he was inside me.

I cried out with pleasure, hating myself for loving what he was doing, hating him for the blood on his hands, mourning Breaker in a way I’d never understood I needed.

“I’ll never be able to quit you.” He swore violently and pumped into me, both hands holding tightly to my hips and keeping me in place. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to go anywhere. The pressure building inside was making me weak. If he hadn’t been gripping me, I would have sagged to the mattress. Heat surged through me, radiating from the point where we connected and washed over my face and neck, reaching to my fingers and toes.

I clung to the sheets as my back arched. I saw him then, Breaker, I saw his smile, his protective stance, and then he was gone.

He was gone.

Gone.

I cried out.

And then I was in Valerian’s arms as I clung to him, to the only real thing right in front of me.

“No matter what happens right now,” Valerian whispered, his breath hot on my ear. “Remember, he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”

“You think I don’t know that?” My lower lip trembled, but I would not cry, not now, not naked in the arms of my husband, my enemy, his killer.

Gently, Valerian set me down on the bed and then pulled a soft blanket over my naked body.