Page 5 of His Queen

When he looks at me again, I can see it in his eyes—the possession, the intensity of our love that’s nothing short of perfect, and it’s all mine. All his. All ours.

We stay there for a few long moments, our connection soaring, my blood singing from him, the quiet lyrics of a love song that’s just ours pouring from my soul. I reach for him, cupping his cheeks, pinching my eyes closed as I let the feeling overtake me. It’s something I’ll never get used to or grow tired of—being able to love him so openly and irrevocably. There is nothing I won’t do for him. There isn’t a second in this lifetime that I won’t love him. “I will,” I whisper, and he breathes out in relief, and I’m forced to choke out, “but not now.”

“Why not now?”

I place my palm against his cheek. “Because we just found each other. I want it to be us for just a little longer.”

His lips curl up in a grin. “Is this you being possessive, Mrs. Del Rossa? That you don’t even want to share me with our children?”

“I will one day.” I smile. “But for now, I want you all to myself. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me? My wife wants me all for herself to do with as she pleases. Show me a husband who wouldn’t be okay with that.” He leans in and kisses me with a delicate brush of his lips. “So, just us…for now.”

CHAPTERTHREE

MIRABELLA

I don’t wantto open my eyes. I like the dark. It protects me. Shields me. Keeps me hidden from things that can hurt me. This is why Mama doesn’t want me to look. This is why she wants me to keep my eyes closed because she knows the light will bring pain. I trust her. She knows what’s best for me.

A sudden chill slithers across my skin, and I shiver as I tighten my arms around my chest, rubbing my palms up and down my arms.

“You’re a big girl now, Mira.” It’s Marco. It’s always him. “When are you going to stop listening to Mom and do what you want to do?”

I scrunch up my nose and turn my face away from the sound of his voice. “I am doing what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Listening to Mom.”

The sound of his deep-throat chuckle fills my belly with unease. “Are you telling me that you’re not the least bit curious about what it is Mom doesn’t want you to see?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying, Marco. Just leave me alone.”

“I will, just as soon as you take a look at what’s in front of you.”

“I won’t open my eyes,” I spit out, squeezing my eyelids tighter.

“But you should.” He’s closer now, the chill starting to squeeze around my legs. “If you don’t look, you’ll never know what you did.”

My stomach flips, and my heart is beating in my throat. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, yes, you did. Look.”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Look, Mirabella!”

“No. I won’t look. Go away.”

“Look what you did! Open your fucking eyes and look what you did!”

My eyes open as I jerk awake, sweat beading across my chest, my skin hot and clammy. I suck in a few deep breaths, trying to ground myself in the present. The dream was terrifyingly familiar as if it were calling me back to a past I’d rather forget. It’s always the same; me not wanting to open my eyes. And for some reason, Marco is always there trying to get me to do something I don’t want to do. He wants me to open my eyes. Why? Why would I dream the same thing over and over again?

Nicoli tightens his hold around my waist, pulling me closer to him. It soothes me and calms my racing fear that lingers whenever I have a nightmare. He’s safe, and he loves me. That’s all I need.

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