Page 52 of The Devil's Wrath

Bile rose in my throat at the thought. Sure, I’d participated in my fair share of Hunts, but I had never felt this way about any woman like I did about her.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of their hands on you, violating you. So I kept you far away from it all. You see now why I couldn’t choose you?” My voice was strained. “I’d rather die than see you subjected to that . . . than share you with anyone.” I cupped her face. “You’re mine, little bird. I’m too selfish, too possessive to ever let another man touch you—brother or not, I’d kill them first.”

She was silent for a long moment, processing my dark revelation. “And if you refuse the Ceremony? If the chosen victor . . . the one you choose to be your . . . queen . . . doesn’t want to . . .”

“Then the elders take her. And she’s never seen again.” My jaw clenched, old memories of haunted screams in the night resurfacing. “They use her until there’s nothing left. Until she begs for death.”

Wrenly shuddered violently, curling into herself. I gathered her close, stroking her hair.

“That’s why I couldn’t choose you. Why I’ll never let you anywhere near the Hunt or those sadistic bastards. We don’t get to choose our family. We are born into it. But I’d burn the whole Brotherhood to ash before I let them lay a finger on you.”

She tilted her head up, her stormy gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I didn’t know . . . I thought . . .” A choked sob escapedher throat as she buried her face in my chest. “I didn’t understand. I thought you didn’t want me. That I wasn’t enough for you.”

“I want you. I want you so much, it consumes me. But I need to keep you separate, safe from the ugly parts of my life. From the monster inside me.” My hands trembled against her face. “Can you understand that? Can you trust me to protect you, even if I can’t always explain everything?”

She was quiet for a long moment, her face still pressed into my chest as she processed everything I had revealed. I could feel the rapid thud of her heart, the slight tremor running through her body. I held her tighter, silently willing her to understand, to not run away from the darkness inside me.

Finally, she lifted her head, her gray eyes meeting mine with a new depth of emotion swirling in their stormy depths. “I trust you. And god help me if I’m making a big mistake, but from now on, no more secrets. If I really am what you want, then I need the truth. Good or bad.”

Relief flooded through me at her words, so powerful, it nearly brought me to my knees. Despite the glimpse into the fucking black world I came from, she wasn’t running away. I gazed down at her, this incredible woman who had somehow captured my blackened heart. She trusted me, offering me a level of vulnerability and openness I had never experienced before.

I crushed her to me, burying my face in her tousled midnight hair. “No more secrets,” I vowed roughly. “You have me. All of me. The good, the bad, the fucking ugly.”

She exhaled shakily, her slender arms wrapping around my waist. “Take me home, Devil.”

SEVENTEEN

WRENLY

My entire body ached, bearing bruises from my lover on my arms, legs, and hips. In the forest, Theo had punished me, but when we returned to my house, he gently worshipped me, drew me a bath, and cleansed my skin of any traces of dirt and sin from our wild romp in nature. As I soaked in the warm, soothing water, he knelt beside the tub, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along my collarbone. His touch was featherlight, starkly contrasting the passionate, brutal way he had gripped me earlier. He washed my hair, his fingers working the shampoo into a rich foam. I closed my eyes, savoring his gentle touch. He then lathered a washcloth with lavender and eucalyptus body wash and washed my back in slow, circular motions. The warm water cascaded over my shoulders as he worked his way down, the subtle scent relaxing us both.

“Tilt your head back,” he murmured, guiding me gently back as he poured water over my hair, gently washing the suds from my hair and skin. His fingers combed through my wet tresses, making sure every last bubble was washed away. The sensation of his fingers threading through my hair as he lathered conditioner on my scalp was both intimate and soothing.

He turned the water off, helped me out of the bath, and wrapped me in a soft, fluffy towel. With utmost care, he patted my skin dry, hishands skimming reverently over my curves. I leaned into him, relishing the solid warmth of his body. “Let me take care of you,” he begged, letting his breath tickle my ear.

The experience in the woods had been sensual and intimate. It had been a push-and-pull of control and submission, hidden truths and unspoken promises. Something had changed between us. The veil had been lifted, and I saw him in a different light. When I was with him, it felt like coming home.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

I shook my head, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I wanted it . . . needed it. I need more.”

His eyes darkened with desire at my words. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

I held his gaze, my fingertips resting softly against the stubble on his cheek. “I mean every word,” I breathed. “I need to be consumed by you.”

His breath hitched at my confession. He closed his hand around my wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he drew my hand away from his face. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was husky. “If I let myself go, I might not be able to stop.”

I stepped closer, the damp towel the only barrier between my naked body and his fully clothed one. “I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered, my lips a hairsbreadth from his. “Show me what it means to be with you, Devil.Allof you.”

He took the towel from my body and let it drop to the floor. I stood bare before him, glistening with moisture from the bath. His gaze raked over me hungrily, appreciatively, as if he were seeing me for the first time all over again.

“Then I will consume you,” he promised in a low growl, “until there is nothing left but ashes.”

In one swift motion, he scooped me into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. He laid me down on the bed and crawled over me, his body hovering inches above mine. I reached for him, aching to feel his skin against me, but he caught my wrists and pinned them above my head.

“Not yet,” he admonished softly. “Let me worship you properly first.”

His head dipped, and he trailed fleeting kisses along the column of my throat, my chest, and the swell of my breasts. Each brush of his lips left tingles in its wake, igniting a slow burn deep within my core. His tongue flicked out to taste my skin, and I arched my back, silently begging for more. He lavished attention on my breasts, ribcage, and stomach, suckling and nipping, leaving red marks across my pale skin until I writhed beneath him, desperate for friction.

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