Page 28 of Savage Devotion

The comparison to my father ignites something savage inside me. In an instant, all my conflicted feelings vanish, replaced by pure, white-hot rage.

Then, without another thought, I lunge forward, aiming for the vulnerable hollow of his throat.

Dante blocks the strike with his forearm, his expression shifting from amusement to something darker. I follow through with a knee toward his groin, a move he narrowly evades by shifting his hips with a jump.

"Finally," he breathes, the word almost reverent. "The real Castellano fight emerges."

A weird part of me recognizes I'm not striking with the lethal swipes my father taught me.

I'm testing him, challenging him, perhaps even playing with him in some dark, twisted dance neither of us fully understands yet.

"If I wanted you truly dead," I hiss, circling him, "you wouldn't see it coming."

I slash again, the blade whistling through air as he steps back. His movements are fluid, controlled, the practiced response of a man intimately familiar with violence.

"You think I'd make it easy for you?" I spit, circling him with the knife extended. "That I'd just accept my cage like a good little pet?"

"I'd be disappointed if you did." His smile is genuine now, a flash of white teeth in the dimness. "Where would be the pleasure in breaking something already weak? When will you learn that I know you better than you know yourself?"

"You're a liar!" I attack again, this time aiming for his ribs with more venom than before.

But the asshole catches my wrist and uses my momentum to spin me around and slam me against the wall. My chest meets the hard surface with enough force to drive the breath from my lungs, the knife clattering from my grip as he pins me with all his weight.

His body presses against mine from behind, his breath hot against my ear. "Excellent form. Your father taught you well."

"Fuck you," I gasp, struggling against his iron hold.

"You have spirit, Francesca," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. "It's what I admire most about you."

One large hand wraps around my throat, not squeezing but simply holding, his thumb resting against my pulse point. I can feel his erection pressing against my ass.

"That's right. Can you feel what you do to me?" he asks, voice rough with desire. "Violence turns to lust so easily. And between us, that's a power no one else will ever hold."

God help me, he's right.

Despite my hatred, despite my rage, my body responds to his dominance with treacherous heat. My nipples tighten against the wall, wetness gathering between my thighs as his hand tightens slightly around my throat.

"This isn't what you think it is," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my back where his chest presses against me. "No, Francesca. It's so much more. This is chemistry. Primal lust. Undeniable passion." His free hand slides down my side, gathering the material of my dress. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

The offer of choice, this small concession of power… that's what fucking undoes me.

I remain silent, my breathing shallow beneath his hand as he bunches fabric at my hips, exposing my lace-covered ass to the cool air.

"I thought so," he murmurs, satisfaction evident in his tone.

In one fluid motion, he spins me to face him, capturing both my wrists in one large hand and pinning them above my head.With his free hand, he loosens his tie, sliding the silk from around his neck.

"Three weeks in my presence, and yet you still need to learn consequences, princess," he says, wrapping the expensive fabric around my wrists. "Sweet ones, this time."

Bound and trapped between his body and the wall, I should feel terrified. Instead, a dark anticipation coils in my belly as he lifts me, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries me into my bedroom.

He lays me on the bed, my hands still tied together, his body covering mine with delicious weight. His mouth finds my throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin as his hands push my dress higher.

"I should punish you for trying to kill me," he says against my collarbone, his day-old stubble rough against my flesh. "But I find myself wanting to reward your courage instead."

His hand slides between my thighs, finding me embarrassingly wet through the thin lace of my panties. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind rebels."

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