Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,58

fed on lies.”

“And you seemed to have learned plenty from her.” He stands, crossing his arms, staring down at me with a glare so piercing I go numb in the face of it. “You’re more selfish than I gave you credit for. Too fucking spoiled to even consider what might be for your own fucking good.”

“So tell me, then,” I counter, jutting my chin. “Stop dancing around in circles and just tell me what kind of danger I’m in. Tell me the truth about everything—”

“The truth?” He inclines his head sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. “The truth, Ada-Maria, is that Jaguar doesn’t see you as some worthless pawn through which he can control your father. That’s just a bonus. He sees you as…”

“What?” I demand, unnerved by how his voice deepens and his eyes take on a faraway gleam. It’s as if he’s staring a million years into the past, rooted here by sheer force of will.

“Jaguar sees you as a way to get to me,” he says. “And he’ll do that however he can. He’ll hurt you. Violate you. Anything he can think of to keep me in line.”

He doesn’t sound like he’s lying, but I can’t square that description of me with a man who’s done all those things to me himself. Hurt. Violate. Anything he can think of. A part of me questions if it’s just jealousy that has him so on edge. Even so, I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to be at the mercy of someone else.

“Who is he to you?”

He stiffens, his teeth gritted. Again, he tears his hand through his hair, turning his back to me as he starts to pace. “He is… No one,” he declares, looking down on me from over his shoulder. “No one that will interest you, anyway. But congratulations, Ada-Maria, you’ve gotten your wish—someone seeks to use you beyond just getting to your father. Congratulations. I can’t save you this time.”

Chapter Fifteen

“You have a funny definition of that word. Saving,” I point out, too exhausted to take offense. In so many ways, this man is a stranger in comparison to the steady, comforting presence I’ve known him as for the past five years—at the same time, he’s terrifyingly familiar. His secretive, manipulative ways and penchant for brutality remind me of someone I knew better than anyone else on the planet.

My father. Domino picked up way more from his time with “Don Roy” than he seems to realize. They’re utterly the same.

“It seems like you’ve gotten your wish,” I counter, bracing my hand against the floor in an attempt to rise to my feet. “Jaguar gets to hurt me, torture me. Whether with you or with him, it looks like I only have agony to look forward to—”

“I am nothing like him,” he growls, his voice rippling like thunder, and yet still low enough that I doubt he penetrates the walls of this room, even with the window open. He turns on his heel and yanks me to my feet, capturing my chin with one hand. “I’ll give you something he never would, Ada. Mercy—” Roughly, he scrapes the hair back from my face, leaving nothing in the way of his gaze meeting mine. “You want my protection now? Then beg me for it.”

I’d laugh if he didn’t sound and look so damn serious. There’s no hint of amusement glinting in those disarming eyes, no mocking in his tone.

“I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged,” he says without an ounce of hesitation. His fingers twitch as if to reinforce the dark intent glinting in his eyes. He’d have no problem at all “arranging” that ending for me—but only on his terms. “Fortunately for you, I still need you before then, and Jaguar won’t be so accommodating. Beg me to help you like a good girl,” he coaxes in a gritty baritone. Using his grip on my chin, he manipulates my head so that his mouth is near my ear again. “Use those sweet words and that sexy little pout. Tell me that I’m all you ever wanted. Spin those little lies about how I earned your gratitude forever just by dragging you off a fucking highway. Make me believe it, little Ada. Lie sweetly about how much you need me, and maybe I’ll be convinced.”

I can’t even put into words how much it hurts to have him mock me like this. It’s comparable to having a rusty, filthy nail puncture wound that never fully healed over and over