The Devil I Crave (Devil's Knights 2)

Luca stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders. “Choose them.” He pressed his lips to my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “The queen must accept her Knights.”

The Knights circled me, dropped to the ground on their knees with the hoods of their cloaks covering their lowered heads.

I glanced over my shoulder at Luca, fear shaking through me. “How many do I have to choose?”

His thumb stroked my cheek. “It’s up to you, my queen.”

I stood in front of the Knights, my naked body on display. Luca was my first kiss, first sexual encounter, first everything. My first and only love. I was doing this because I was in love with him. I wanted to make him happy and become his queen.

I moved toward the man in front of me. Even with his hood down, I knew it was Marcello. I could sense him anywhere. Like Luca, he was a part of me. I had a different connection with each of the Knights. From the moment I met them, I felt that spark and knew I belonged with them.

I shoved the hood off Marcello’s head, and his eyes met mine with a fierceness I’d never seen on his handsome face. He looked so damn sexy I licked my lips, and he returned the gesture as he studied my body with care.

“I choose you, Marcello Salvatore.” I moved my hand to his cheek and smiled. “Do you swear to protect your queen, now and forever?”

He nodded. “I do.”

* * *

“Marcello,” I screamed as I shot up from the bed, clutching my chest.

Fear shot down my trembling arms and stirred in my belly. My heart raced as fast as a pack of wolves, moving at full speed. I rolled onto my side and looked over at the armchair by the window, where Marcello usually sat, and drank his scotch as he watched me sketch.

For the first time in weeks, Marcello wasn’t by my side. My chest ached from the loss. I needed to see him, so I climbed out of bed and headed toward the door. Roman hadn’t survived the attack. His replacement, a twenty-something guy, named Dom, stood outside of my bedroom with his back against the wall.

He stared at me, arms crossed over his chest. Dressed in a black suit, he had dark hair, olive skin, and a scar that ran down his neck. He looked dangerous and kind of scared me. But he was here for my protection. Supposedly, he was one of Marcello’s best men.

Dom pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me. “Everything okay, Miss Wellington?”

“Yes.” I stepped into the hallway, closing the distance. “I need to see Marcello. Where is his room?”

He tipped his head to the right. “Mr. Salvatore moved him into the room beside you.”

That wasn’t his actual bedroom. Marcello slept on the top floor of this monstrous house, but I’d never seen the place where he laid his head at night. We weren’t there yet.

I thanked Dom, then headed toward Marcello’s temporary bedroom. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The room mirrored mine and had a balcony that overlooked the bay and an ensuite bathroom.

Leaving the door open a crack, I used the light from the hallway sconces to lead the way. Marcello slept in a four-poster bed under a mound of blankets. There was a hospital bed beside it, and I guessed the medical staff left it there in case shit went south, and they needed to move him.

He had monitors, IVs, and a bunch of shit running to his body. Avoiding the machines, I hopped onto the mattress on the other side and rested my head on the pillow beside him. Just being next to him made me feel safe. Like I could finally breathe.

I slipped my fingers between his and watched him sleep, staring at his chest rising and falling beneath the covers. So fucking thankful he survived the attack. He breathed softly and moved a little when I stroked his skin with my fingers.

After a while, I stopped fighting sleep. My eyelids grew heavy, and I closed my eyes, consumed by the sound of Marcello’s breathing.

He was alive.

* * *

A hand slipped beneath my shirt, fingers traveled up my stomach, inching toward my breasts. Eyes closed, I laid my head on the pillow and let him touch me. Let him roll his thumb over my painfully sore nipple. This was a nice dream, the perfect escape from reality. He felt so good, his hands warm and rough and possessive as he claimed me.

I opened my eyes. Marcello was asleep beside me, touching me without even knowing it. At least I thought he was sleeping. I still craved him, but I didn’t want him like this. Not when he was in an unconscious state.