Page 45 of Deadly Wrath

Motivate me, Marshall. I need it, while I soak my bruised ego.

The steaming water pours into the massive tub, fogging the mirror and turning the whole room into a sauna. The second I sink in, I let out a hiss. Holy shit. It burns—my poor, abused ass screams from the heat. But at the same time, it feels good. That deep, bone-melting kind of heat that makes me want to melt into a puddleand never get up. Painful, but in a hurts-so-good kinda way.

I glance around, searching for something to add to the water because bubbles feel like the solution right now. My eyes land on a fancy-pants silver tray filled with pretty glass bottles and soaps sitting by the tub. Of course, Paola stocked this bathroom like I’m an influencer, about to film a ‘Get Ready With Me.’

I grab the calming lavender oil and pour a generous amount in. The scent hits me instantly, warm, kinda earthy, and way too relaxing for how messy my life is right now. I sink deeper, letting the heat and lavender seep into my skin, my muscles unwinding with every second. My brain is still loud as hell, but the water helps.

Minutes turn into… well, I don’t even know. I soak until the water isn’t hot and my skin’s gone full prune mode. My ass doesn’t hurt anymore, but still, I don’t wanna get out. With a dramatic, soul-crushing sigh, I drag myself out of the water.

I snatch the towel and wrap it tightly around my chest, the soft fabric clinging to my damp skin while I drip all over the floor. I go to grab the robe I brought in, but I don’t see it anywhere. I do a quick scan of the bathroom, but it’s not in here.Crap, I must’ve dropped it in the room.

With my towel wrapped tight, I pad out of the bathroom, expecting to grab my stuff and head back in the bathroom.

What the…? How is it worse than before I got in the bath? Boxes and garment bags are everywhere, piled on the bed and scattered across the floor. It was a mess before, but now it looks like a department store after a category-five hurricane.

I’m still standing here with my mouth open and brain buffering, trying to process the crime scene, when—

BANG. The door slams open.

I mean, it slams so hard it bounces off the wall with a crack so loud, I damn near jump out of my skin, my heart is fully trying to exit my body.

“Holy—” I flinch, my fingers clutching the towel like my life depends on it, eyes snapping to him.

Alonzo fills the doorway, andhe lookspissed.He’s holding garment bags and a box under his arm, and his face is twisted like he just smelled something nasty. I mean, he always looks like that, but right now, he’s about two seconds from smashing something.

Sure enough, he tosses the bags to the floor like trash, muttering a string of curses I don’t fully catch but don’t need to. Then his eyes find me, and his expression darkens.

I barely get a word out before—WHAM. The box slams into my chest so hard it sends me crashing back into the wall. Pain explodes through my ribs, and the air whooshes out of my lungs, and I crumple to the floor, gasping and wheezing for air.

I can’t even curse him out or get a single word past the burning in my chest. I feel a bit dazed, but Alonzo doesn’t care. He sneers, stomps on one of the boxes on the floor, and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

I sit here, still stunned and humiliated. Tears well up, hot and unwelcome, but I’m too shaken to wipe them away. My chest heaves as I force in breath after breath, trying to steady myself.

It takes a minute, maybe longer, before my trembling fingers find the robe on the floor. With a shaky breath, I press my palm to the wall and push myself upright. My hand drags along the surface for balance while my legs threaten to give out beneath me.

My shaky legs carry me back into the bathroom. I slam the door shut, the lock clicking into place. I face the mirror and stare at two angry red marks where the corners of the box jabbed into my chest.

Asshole.

I brace myself against the sink, then splash cold water on my face, forcing the anger and hurt down.

I slide on the panties and robe and realize dressed is a generous term. The robe is more of a suggestion than an actual piece of clothing, and the panties are missing critical coverage in the crotch area. The robe barely makes it past my ass, and my thighs strain against the fabric. I let out an exasperated sigh, then press my ear against the bathroom door, making sure that asshole didn’t come back before I step out. There has to be something in one of those boxes that fully covers my body.

I crack the door open and step out, but freeze when I realize I’m not alone. My eyes, like the thirsty little bitches they are, shamelessly drink in every inch of my Warden’s shirtless, inked back and that annoyingly perfect ass, barely hidden by the grey sweats slung low on his hips. The definition of every girl’s wet dream.

21

Liv

Alessio stands in my room with his back to me, casually inspecting something in his hands. My stomach knots as I quietly creep closer, wondering what the hell he’s looking at.

He turns, and his eyes sweep over me, pausing at the barely-there robe I’m wearing, with my legs exposed. And there, swinging from his hands, is a jumbo double-sided dildo.

My jaw drops.“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, crossing my arms instinctively, only to realize that makes the robe ride up higher. But more importantly, I really hope he doesn’t think he’s using that monster cock on me.

Alessio’s lips twitch, his gaze still shamelessly looking me up and down, stopping at my very exposed legs.

“Just checking out your purchases,” he says, deadpan, holding up the extra-large, double-sided dildo like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

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