Dark Queen

“I’m sorry you had to see that. This is who I am, Alyssa,” I breath, her eyes flitting to mine through the mirror. “This is who you married, baby,” I tell her, the blood soaking through my suit, my hands sticky, dripping.

If she wants out, she can’t have it. There’s no way I can let her go now. I fucking love her.

“I couldn’t let him speak to you that way. You’re mine.” I exhale, my chest tightening. “And I’m yours. Can you love a monster?” I ask, my fists clenching.

She turns to face me, her brow crashing. Swallowing, she says, “You’re not a monster—you’re a king.” She launches herself at me, grasping my face. “A dark king.”

The lust in her eyes makes my cock stiffen. She isn’t afraid or horrified. She’s saturated with need.

The animal in me awakens the animal in her. My body takes over, a desperate need to be inside her.

“Fuck me, Luca. Fuck your queen,” she pants, nipping at my lips. Grabbing my tie, she pulls me to her, her ass hitting the counter.

Frantic fingers unbuckle my belt. Unzipping my slacks, she releases my cock as I gather her dress up around her waist, tearing her panties from her.

Lifting her ass, I impale her on my cock, her scream echoing around the room, making me growl in response. “Harder,” she cries, jamming her hips down on me as I thrust up.

The smeared blood on her face, painted in her hair, acts as her crown…my dark fucking queen.

After showering, fucking her again, I take our clothes to my office throwing them on the fire.

It’s a shame to watch her dress burn but necessary, maybe in the future we can have a second wedding, invite everyone to witness who she belongs to.

“Sir,” Marcos enters my office. “The dining room mess is cleared.”

There will be no signs of the slaughter that happened here tonight.

“Thank you, Marcos, where is my brother?”

Clearing his throat, he jerks his head to my drinks cabinet.

“Antonio got lost in a bottle of vodka and crashed in the study, Sir.” Antonio will act like a prick for some time before he gets over what happened, but deep down, he knows that motherfucker was a waste of life and had it coming for a long time.

“Keep someone stationed at the door to keep an eye on him.” I tell him, following him out of the office.

“Good night, Sir, and congratulations.” He tells me as I ascend the stairs.

Entering our bedroom, I curl up next to Alyssa’s sated sleeping form, never feeling so content in my entire life.

Alyssa’s soft moan makes me smile. I wish I could see inside her head, see what she’s dreaming about. To be sleeping so soundly after what she witnessed makes me think it wasn’t the first time.

She’s witnessed death before.

Snuggling into the heat of my body, her hair tickles over my chest. I move her curtain of hair from her face so I can look at her. The wedding band circles her finger. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

It’s crazy how you can avoid something, not want it, or think it will happen for you, but when it does, it’s everything. She’s changing me.

Her phone beeps on the bedside table, an incoming message.

I pick it up, checking to see if it’s that weasel, Clint. It’s from Hannah.

Simon quit. Said he’s moving away and you’re marrying Luca.

Please tell me that’s not true.

Don’t do anything until I can speak with you.

I’m home now. I want to talk to you.

Please, Alyssa.

Hovering my finger over the call button, I almost drop the phone when a fist pounds the bedroom door. “Luca, it’s your father.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Alyssa

Light floods the room. A pounding on the door rouses me from sleep, my body sore from Luca’s fucking tonight. The sight of the blood, his power, sent my libido into overdrive.

“What’s happening?” I ask him. He’s throwing on clothes, chucking a shirt at me.

“My father,” is all he says. By the look on his face, I know it’s not good news.

Rushing to put our clothes on I follow him across the house to a separate wing. There’s a gathering outside his father’s bedroom, a nurse standing with her head bowed.

“He was gone when I came in to give him his medication, sir. I’m sorry.”

Thud.

Marcello steps around the nurse, planting his hand on Luca’s shoulder. “He didn’t suffer. He went in his sleep to be with your mother,” he tells him, slapping down before releasing him.

Luca opens the door and steps forward. With my hand clutched in his, I have no choice but to follow him inside the room. It smells of illness and old people.

The old man doesn’t look like someone who ruled the criminal world like Simon suggested. His frail skin drooping over bone, his eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling…he looks like Mother did. My stomach stirs.