Page 90 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Ignoring his statement for fear of screaming at him to wake the hell up and see what his employer does, I grip my silky skirt and climb inside the car, gathering the material around me, while the title he just bestowed on me swirls in my head.

From now on, the world will know me as Mrs. Reyes with all the hoopla attached to it. While I imagine a lot of women dream of marrying one of them, the title brings nothing but sadness to me.

I thought if I were to wear someone else’s surname, it would be because of love and not blackmail.

Remi gets in from the opposite side, his powerful presence shrinking the space around us. His masculine scent mixed with cologne disturbs my senses, reminding me of his hard body pressing against me, driving me insane.

“Home, Van,” he orders, unbuttoning his suit jacket and flipping it open while adjusting the AC on us.

“Where is home exactly?” I ask. Dread sinks into me as I imagine some weird-ass house with torture devices like the ones in his dungeon. Or worse… what if the dungeon is where he stays the most?

Murderers love to stay close to their trophies, right?

“You’ll see.”

Groaning in frustration and wishing to claw his face for being so non-freaking-chalant about all this, I bite my tongue and sigh in resignation when the screen lifts, blocking our conversation from the driver.

Even Van is not in the mood for my questions, it seems.

Looking through the window, I see him driving away from the church before getting on the highway with hundreds of cars, the lights shimmering all around us. He drives the vehicle at a steady speed, letting my thoughts drift away.

Mainly how I’m going to survive this wedding night with a man who intends to claim what is his given right, or at least he thinks so.

Somehow, when Amalia proposed this marriage to fix my mess, I didn’t think beyond the wedding. I never considered the consequences either, thinking he just needed a distraction until my twin safely marries who she wants.

However, Remi married me, really married me, so he has his expectations. Fear washes over me just thinking about it.

He proved to me he can be charming when he wishes to, and what if he shows me so much of that part of his personality I develop the captive syndrome even more?

Then another thought occurs to me.

My father.

Oh my God.

Once the media hears one of the horsemen married, the news will spread instantly, which means my father will know about this marriage that’s nothing but a farce! He’ll be furious and hurt.

I clench the skirt of my dress hard, closing my eyes in resignation while contemplating that particular conversation, and wince when my nails dig into my palm.

“You’re hurting yourself.” Remi’s husky voice snaps me out of the thoughts about my depressing future. He places his palm above mine, rubbing my bruised flesh. “Don’t do that again.” He holds my stare, his brown eyes filled with an expression I can’t name. “Don’t hurt what’s mine. I don’t react to it well.”

My stomach flutters, the electricity zapping through me at his touch, while anger mixes with it all, and a hollow chuckle escapes me. “No. I assume you prefer to be the one to punish and hurt your victims.” My voice hitches on the last part, his hideous crimes popping into my brain and coating with darkness any sweet words he might utter my way.

He fists my dress, pulling me hard toward him, and I gasp. His other hand wraps around my neck in a possessive hold while my splayed palms rest on his chest. Anger crosses his face, and with fascination, I watch his jaw tic while his brooding stare sends an odd longing through me. I almost welcome the outburst of emotion from this man who seems unbothered by anything or anyone.

And yet with me, he seems almost human.

He leans forward, his hot breath fanning my ear as he whispers, “I’ve given you my family name.” His lips slide to my neck, biting on the flesh and making me gasp. Then he soothes it with a long lick. His fingers dig into my waist while his other hand grips my veil. My back arches, exposing my neck to his hungry mouth. “Claimed you in front of the two brotherhoods.”

My fingers clench his shirt, tremors rushing all over me as my mind screams for me to push him away. But I stay close to him, welcoming his every touch.

“Fucked you so hard you screamed till your voice turned hoarse and your pussy wrapped around my dick tight, milking the cum out of me.” His softly spoken lustful words send scorching heat through my body, burning my insides while his lips travel to the underside of my chin where his tongue leaves imprints on me.

I groan when his hand shifts upward, cupping my breast through the dress. His thumb and finger squeeze my nipple, earning him a moan, while he nips on my chin, his teeth scraping over my skin, adding gasoline to the fire that’s our mutual desire. My core clenches when he glides his tongue over my lips, sucking on the lower one and tugging on it.

“The only thing I haven’t claimed yet is your pretty, full mouth. Would you like that, darling?” he asks, pressing his lips to mine, catching my gasp and pushing his tongue inside, licking mine, but yet not fully kissing. “Wrapping those lips of yours around my cock until my cum fills your mouth?”

The air hitches in my throat at the image he presents in my head. My thighs rub against each other while need consumes me, demanding to be met, wanting to have this man at my mercy.

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