Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,67
can take a number behind Carrigan and Guthram.
“Good man.” Sweeping a glance over the rest of Rowena’s crew of misfits, I offer them a humorless smile. “We won’t be friends. Not today, not tomorrow. But I’m telling you right now, do not cross me.” I look to where Gregory has Rowena bundled, his massive arms circling her like a straitjacket. “Let her go.”
Lip curling, his stare shifts from me to her then back again. “Or what?”
“Gregory,” she mutters, squirming to be set free, “don’t argue. Just let me—”
I throw the knife.
It sails through the air, very nearly skimming the bridge of his nose like a lover’s caress, before embedding itself in the wall behind him.
His jaw drops.
A chair squeaks as if someone has literally dropped into it, like the whole night has just gone to shit.
“You had me at a disadvantage on the roof,” I acknowledge, my eyes never wavering from Gregory’s, “and I promise you, it was your only chance. Now let her go.”
Like a mechanical toy that’s been injected with new batteries, the bastard’s arms spring open. Only, when Rowena steps out, Hugh tries to rise again.
My knee keeps him trapped.
“Rowena.” Turning toward the sound of my voice, she takes an instinctive step in my direction. “Why don’t you fill everyone in on our terms?”
Her lips part on an uneven breath, and fucking hell, I can already feel her now: the warmth of that ragged inhale striking my throat, her nails biting into my shoulders as she cries out my name; the shudder that’ll rack her frame when I make her come on my cock, my fingers, and sweet Jesus, on my tongue too. Until she’s wrung out and limp and I roll her over, my hands pinning hers down to the mattress, and take her all over again.
I was the devil to give her an ultimatum, to bargain my safety against her own.
Because I knew what would happen the minute that she announced my presence—the unforgiving glares and the sharp verbal blows and the rash attempts to put me in my place. I predicted it all, and I anticipated every damned moment.
All so I can fuck her.
Squirming beneath me, Hugh pushes on my thigh. Exertion reddens his cheeks and contorts his features. “Rowan.” He shoves again, and I move my knee to his throat. Press downward until he gasps, “Rowan, what terms? What the hell did you agree to?”
“Mr. Priest believes that . . .” Her throat visibly ripples with a hard swallow. “He thought that there might be some unresolved . . . feelings you all had toward him, and he . . . and he—”
“Say the words, Rowena.”
Her eyes slam shut at my demand, and her arms slowly peel backward so that she can lace her fingers together again at the base of her spine. I bet she’s white-knuckled; bet she’s quaking in her trainers and wondering how likely I am to keep to my promise.
Oh, Rowena, I never break my word.
“Rowan?” Gregory’s brows furrow. “Just tell us.”
“Don’t touch him.”
Dr. Grafton pushes up from the piano bench. “Sorry?”
Rowena inches backward like she can sense the doctor’s approach. “No one is allowed to hurt Mr. Priest. Those were our terms. Because if you . . .” Her nostrils flare. “Because if any of you hurt him . . . then he’ll touch me.”
And I won’t wait for an invitation, I’d husked in her ear.
“I agreed,” Rowena adds on a hoarse rasp to the deathly silent room, “two hours ago.”
Before we came downstairs for my introduction.
Before Dr. Sara Grafton broke out her knife and Hugh Coney lunged for me.
Dropping my hands onto the desk in my bedroom, I tuck my chin to my chest and feel the healing flesh stretch across my back.
I welcome the ache.
It’s a reminder, however gruesome, that agreeing to Damien’s terms has no bearing on the reality of my life ten years ago. Back then, I traded pieces of my soul to the men most likely to cause problems for Father’s career.
Tonight, I’ll give myself to the most hated man in England.
Who also faces Edward Carrigan’s wrath.
It’s an ironic twist of fate, and one I want no part of—even if I do want Damien. Crave him despite the fact that I’ve never craved anyone. His hand on my throat, and his fingers on my hips, and his velvet baritone whispering in my ear.