Page 59 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
With everyone else in my life, I’ve been stone, numb, ruthless. But this wisp of a woman is making me crack.
She blinks and refocuses on me. “My father’s no saint—I’ve always known that.” She shivers again, and her robe slips a little to bare a sliver of collarbone. “Despite what Brennan says, after tonight, I’m not an innocent anymore.” Her voice is suddenly hard as steel. “I know you bought me?—”
“Bought?” I demand.
“You gave my father money, didn’t you?”
I don’t respond to that. Can’t.
“Bought,” she reiterates. “We all know it. I’ll do what I have to. Show up. Be a candidate’s wife. Do my duty. Nothing more.”
Her rejection is a sucker punch, pissing me off. “Sex?” I growl, daring her, voice rougher than I mean.
Eyes blazing—defiant, gorgeous, she unblinkingly meets my gaze. “If I have to.”
Fuuuck.
Have to?
I felt the way she responded. Heard her whimpers and pleas. She came undone for us. “Damn right you do. I have needs.”
“Vale…” Brennan warns.
But I’m past being reasonable.
I tighten my grip. Isla is throwing me off, tilting my world. I pride myself on my iron will, of being unshakeable.
She doesn’t even blink.
A sudden, savage urge overcomes me.
I want to see her belly swollen with my kid—our child. The ache is wild, and I can’t tame it.
What in the fuck is wrong with me?“In that case, wife, time to do your damn duty.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Isla
What the hell kind of dystopian nightmare is this?
“I’m fucking warning you, Vale.” Brennan clamps his hand on Dorian’s arm, his voice a low snarl, protective and edged with the same guilt I’d glimpsed in his eyes a few moments ago.
With his molten steel-gray eyes never leaving mine, Dorian shakes off Brennan in a flick of hard muscle.
My robe slips from one shoulder, and my heart slams into my ribs.
I should seize the distraction to run, to scream, but I don’t.
What’s wrong with me?Dorian’s fingers burn my shoulders—his demand echoing in my ears, savage and unhinged. “Do your damn duty.”
Instead of giving into self-preservation instincts, I continue to poke him, rattling his cage, testing how far I can push him. “I’m going back to bed.” I shrug off his grip. “Alone.”
His eyes blaze down at me, dark and frighteningly feral. I should be terrified.
“You heard me, wife.” His voice rumbles deep, vibrating through me. “It wasn’t a request or a negotiation.”
I shiver. And damn it, heat begins to uncurl deep inside me, the fury. This should turn me off, but God help me, it doesn’t.
