Page 152 of Black Castle

Say what now?

She stares in defiance at him across the room, her brows pinched in irritation, fingers clenching around the polished wooden edge of the bed.

He exhales tiredly. “Don’t make this difficult, Mrs. Raskovic.”

With an uneager sigh, she lifts herself off the bed, the muscles in her calf snapping as she drags her feet across the room to him.

Barely an arm’s length away from him, he pulls her by her wrist to his lap, one hand immediately snaking around her waist, holding her in place.

And even though she has so much anger and resentment trapped inside her, she can’t help yet again as her body defies her resolve. Being so close to him has a way of shattering her defense. One whiff of his intoxicating cologne makes her lightheaded.

“My darling wife,” he teases and heat spreads across her exposed thigh where his free hand rests, tingles shooting up her spine when he runs the tip of his nose along the curve of her neck.

“Kenji,” she whispers, her eyes burning, her heart aching not for anything else, but for the fact that no matter how she fights this today, she will still bend to his desire, give him anything he asks because she is so stupid she can’t even make her body cooperate with her head.

How badly has the world made her feel worthless that she can no longer fight the slightest attention given to her body?

“It’s our wedding night,” he murmurs, his tone growing raspy as he presses his lips to a sensitive spot below her ear, his palm squeezing her thigh sensually. “Keep another man’s name off your lips.”

Her eyes squeeze shut to stop the embarrassing sound sitting on her throat, hands clenched tightly on the hem of her skirt as he assaults her neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

She can feel the heat pooling between her thighs. And if his exploring palm dives further under her skirt, he would feel just how much amidst the chaos, she wants him.

How is she supposed to maintain the rage inside her, prove to him that this isn’t the end when she falls apart at the mere touch of his hand? How will he take her seriously if she rebels and fights but can’t stop moaning his name and begging for more of him?

Really, what sort of cruel fate is this? How is she still sexually attracted to a man who murdered multiple, forced a human heart down her throat, and pressed a gun to her best friend’s head?

Is she really human herself at this point?

“I need…” She violently bites down a moan by sinking her canine into her lower lip, almost drawing blood. “I need to know if he’s okay.”

Hissing, he pulls his head away, a disapproving look blending into the darkening ember of his eyes.

“He is fine,” he bites out. “Back at his home, fucking fine!”

“Okay.” She nods, her palms laying flat on her thighs, her chest heaving. She knows he isn’t lying. His eyes show genuineness. That information relieves her a little. She couldn’t have slept well today, not knowing how he was doing, if he was alive or dead.

She scans the room, looking anywhere else but his face. Her body still carries the residue of the fire he has lit with his touch.

“Why are you acting so miserable?” he suddenly asks, and it isn’t out of spite, but curiosity. And she wonders what the mystery is when the answer is clearly there.

“Forgive me for not leaping in joy,” she says, bitter sarcasm lacing her tone as she glares at him. “After all, it has always been my dream to marry a man who threatens me with my friend’s life, subdues me into cannibalism and oh, who also killed two of my teachers!”

He scoffs, his finger trailing mindless, phantom lines on her thigh. “Am I really that bad? Do you think I’ll be such a terrible husband?”

She looks away instead of answering him. Then she suddenly feels his fingers curling under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“We are never gonna be holding hands and running into the sunset.” His hand drops from her chin and returns to her thigh. “You will definitely not be happy with me. But one thing is for sure, I’ll give you power.”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t waver. His storm-dark gaze locks onto hers, dragging her under, pulling her into the relentless abyss of him. She feels herself spiraling, caught in the violent whirlpool of his sanity, unable to fight the current.

“I’m gonna make you so powerful.” His voice is thick with promise, dark with conviction—more than a vow, more than an oath. It feels like blood seeping into stone, irreversible. “So fucking powerful that no one will ever dare to stand against you.”

His words strike like thunderclaps, sending shivers cascading down her back, rippling through her bones. Her heart slams against her ribs, each beat an echo of something both terrifying and exhilarating.

“You pretend to be simple, to want simple things.” His gaze flickers with something wild. Something knowing, as his hand lifts—slow, deliberate—to press a fingertip against a spot just above her left breast. “But I see through you.” Her breath stutters. “Deep down, you crave it just like I do.” His voice dips lower, coiling around her like smoke. “Power.”

His touch lingers. A silent claim, a branding against her skin.

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