Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,169
than a mere mortal who was only just resurrected from the dead. Especially as I sit on the floor between his spread legs, my hands moving carefully over the stiff muscles of his thigh.
Lips peeling back with a hiss when I hit a tender spot, he sits up to smooth a calloused hand over the crown of my head. Then, voice low and hoarse, he answers, “We’re running out of options if we want . . .”
I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “If we want what?”
“Your father in chains.”
It’s been years since I’ve thought of Edward Carrigan without tasting dread on the tip of my tongue. Maybe I would have felt a pang of remorse before Silas Hanover told me the truth about Mum and the fire in Golspie. Maybe, even a month ago, I would have made a scrambled, last-ditch effort to change Damien’s mind and save the man who brought me into this world.
But Father made his bed a long time ago, and with it, he buried all my love for him.
“Chains?” I ask. “You don’t want him dead?”
“Always.” A thread of surprise winds through me when he continues roughly, “I want him dead for me but mostly I want him dead for you.”
“Damien—”
“He chipped away at your fucking soul, Rowena.” His fingers find my chin, his thumb gently brushing over my lips. “He stripped you of hope. Happiness. Your goddamned life. He hurt you, and for that I’d kill him a thousand times over.”
Emotion lodges like a boulder in my throat.
This man . . . Shifting onto my knees, I frame Damien’s face and pull him down for a kiss. It’s soft, a communion of love. His palms find my nape, and a throaty groan escapes him when he touches his forehead to mine. “He deserves no better than death for what he’s done.”
I lick my lips. “But?”
“But I’d rather spend the next fifty years dancing with you in the sunshine than being locked away in the shadows.” With a barely-there caress, he kisses my forehead. “If we back him into a corner, then we have a chance to finally move forward without needing to look over our shoulders all the time.”
“And Margaret is the key?”
He leans back with a pained grunt, his eyes briefly slamming shut as he presses the heel of his hand into his wounded thigh. Sympathy spears me as I watch him push to his feet and take a hesitant step toward the wardrobe. When he pauses halfway, his features twisting with fatigue and unease, I give him the same reassurance that he gave me just days ago: “Every scar you bear is a battle fought and won.”
“Jesus, it hurts,” I hear him breathe, just before he swings his gaze back to meet mine. Vulnerable. Humbled. This is the side of the Mad Priest shown to no one but me, and I treasure him all the more for allowing me the chance to scale his fortressed walls and guard the gates to his heart. “When I’m finally free,” he adds, his jaw cinched tight, “I’m going to take you far away from all of this. No more pain. No more wondering when the other shoe will drop. We deserve more than a life spent waiting to die, and we’ll get nothing less than that in this goddamn city.”
London has been my home for more than twenty years. I’ve inhaled its darkness and expelled none of its light, latching onto tiny moments of happiness that came my way as if they were all I’d ever be allowed. And I would leave it all behind—today, tomorrow, the moment he asked it of me—if I thought we’d get far enough before someone inevitably spotted Damien and turned him in to the authorities.
“I’d rather dance in the pits of hell with you than go back to a life without you in it.” Using the bed as leverage to stand, I offer him a soft smile over my shoulder. “I love you, you know.”
Monster.
Villain.
The god who dons the crown of a hero for me alone.
On swift steps that I know will take their toll on him later, Damien catches me around the waist and crushes his mouth down over mine. He devours me, owns me. When my head falls back, he follows without missing a beat, nipping my bottom lip before claiming my mouth with a possessive sweep of his tongue. A moan vibrates in my chest. I hold onto him, clutching his muscled arms.