“I love you,” I told her as she cried against my shoulder. “And we will make sure you get better. I will be here for all of it. I will never leave you again. You are family, Natasha. I will be your family.”
She held me so tightly that it was hard for me to get a full breath, and her sobs came out as agonized wails. Her knees buckled and together we slid down to the floor. Slowly, very slowly, she cried it out and I felt her begin to relax in my arms.
From far away, I heard Vasile’s heavy footfalls approaching. As he came through the drawing room door, carrying a tray of food and tea in his hands, his expression went from hopeful expectation to serious concern. His eyes shot from me to Natasha. I smoothed Natasha’s tangled hair and looked up at him.
“It’s okay,” I told him softly. “She’s okay.”
Vasile crossed the room and set down the tray, the strong muscles of his neck and throat catching the firelight as I watched him sit down on the sofa opposite where Natasha and I sat on the floor.
With his legs parted wide, he rested his forearms on his knees and watched me. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. We simply stared into one another’s eyes. The truth was that life was much, much too short to delay starting my life with him for one moment more. Life was fragile and I would rather face the risks of life by his side than away from it.
Life was, from start to finish, one big gamble. And it was time for me to put my faith in that gamble—in him. In us.
“My answer is yes,” I whispered to him, over Natasha’s shoulder.
His face lit up with such joy, such happiness as I had never seen from him before. Much to my surprise, his eyes glimmered with tears, and he leaned back in the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. Or maybe even at heaven.
“I have something for you.” He said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling something out. “You really must stop losing it…”
“Oh my gosh!” It was my turn for tears. In his hand was my silver cigarette case, lost once again I feared for good as the last time I remembered seeing it was when Vasile and I packed our few belongings to leave his manor and were intercepted by Petre and his gang. “Thank you.” I mouthed as Natasha turned to look at Vasile then back at me.
“Precious things sometimes slip away.” My friend said with a soft smile. “But, things that truly belong to us, always return. Don’t they Mr. Vasile?”
Vasile nodded. “They do. Indeed they do.”
Chapter 27 Vasile
She stood in front of me in her wedding dress. So much stronger now after two months of recovery, I thought as I gripped my knife in my hand. Strong enough to take anything I chose to give her.
When I’d removed her blindfold, I ordered her to close her eyes and keep them closed, but I could tell it was fucking killing her.
The anticipation.
The unknown.
Her excited breaths made her cleavage rise and fall against her white jeweled corset and a red flush covered her neck and cheeks. She looked fucking beautiful, more perfect than ever before, because now she was more than my possession, my cocksleeve, my Queen.
And, finally, she was also my motherfucking wife.
I took a step toward her and pressed the blade against her white satin gown. Our wedding had been small, simple—no church, no bullshit. Just our parents, Natasha, Daniel and the priest.
As soon as we were alone after the ceremony, I’d blindfolded her.
Kidnapped her all over again.
We’d ridden hard, all day in my carriage, and now here we were at the coast, in a mansion I’d bought her, overlooking the sea. But she didn’t know any of that yet, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered now, here, was her pleasure. Her pain.
Though her eyes were still shut, the pressure of my knife startled her. Her long lashes fluttered slightly against her cheeks.
I growled at her as a warning. “Don’t you fucking disobey me. Keep them closed. Or else what?”
“Or else,” she said, exhaling to calm herself. “Or else I don’t get to worship that cock.”
“And is that what you want?”
She nodded and moaned a yes.
“Then fucking beg me for it.”
Valeria swallowed, a nervous gulp.
“Please let me have your cock, my king. Let me show you. Let me serve you.”
Goddamn. She knew my sweet spots and how to push them.
Obedience. Fear. Pleasure. Servitude.
“Such a good little girl,” I growled, increasing the pressure on the blade.
I pressed the tip of the knife against her thigh and drew it upward so that it tugged at the fabric. Teasing her, tempting her, making her wonder what the fuck was going to happen next. Her breathing quickened as I stepped closer, licking a line up her pretty neck, letting her feel my stubble against her flesh. And all the while increasing the pressure of the blade.
“Know what that is?” I asked her.
She furrowed her brows, then shook her head. “I don’t think so…”
“Yes or no?” I growled against her pretty little ear.
She smelled fucking amazing. As I breathed her in, my cock grew painfully hard in my pants. I embraced that ache. The harder my dick, the harder the fuck. She was in for the ride of her goddamned life tonight.
“No,” she gasped.
“Part your legs,” I told her. “Wide enough to spread yourself.”
She obeyed immediately, without question. Glancing down, I saw her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her dress.
When they were shoulders’ width apart, I reached out and gripped her throat, drawing her jaw up slightly to keep her neck taut and her back rigid.
I fucking loved that, the way she looked in that instant, when she felt my grip against her throat. The
