was driving him on. Daring him. Embracing his anger. Not just the part of him that would hold her and cuddle her—but the part of him that wanted to throttle her. And she trusted him enough to go this far.
I love her more than I love life itself.
Each impact into her brought a sharp little cry out of her, mixing with his groans as he gripped her by the hips and used her like he had wanted to since the very first day. This was his fury. This was his anger. And she wanted every piece of it.
How many times her pleasure crested around him he didn’t know. He had counted for a while, but then lost track. He couldn’t focus over how badly he needed to pound every inch of her until she was pulp. He was snarling like an animal.
And she lay there, supple and sweet, pliable, bending to his will, taking every inch of him again and again, just like he needed her to. She fought him. But now he’d won, and it was his time to get out every ounce of pain, and frustration, and anger that he had ever felt.
All because she wanted them. She wanted every piece of him.
“I love you, Nero.”
She’d said the words. The sick, twisted, naughty little priestess of his had whispered words of love to him while he stood behind her, bleeding and covered in blood.
And he might die because he loved her so much in return.
Just when he thought he had pounded the life out of her, just when he thought he should let himself finish, he heard the single word that ensured he couldn’t ever, ever, take another woman to bed again in his life.
Nobody else would ever compare.
“More—”
She gasped it out. It was a plea and a command. She was begging and ordering him in the same breath.
He shuddered, his whole body convulsing. He snatched her hair in his hand, making a ponytail out of it, and yanked her to him. Grabbing her hip in the other, he gave her exactly what she had asked for.
And what they both needed.
When he finally roared in his release, she was a quivering mess. Her mouth opened in a silent cry as he pinned her between the bed and him, pressing as far as he could go, his sound of bliss ending in a choked and overwrought noise.
He spent himself in her and prayed he would never have to leave.
When he could finally think and remember his name, he let her go. She fell to the bed, and he cradled her in his arms. She was trembling. He petted her hair and whispered to her.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” He kissed her throat and her cheek, kissing beneath the lobe of her ear. “Poor girl…I went too far. I know I did. I’m so sorry.”
“That was—” She paused as she struggled to breathe. Emerald eyes opened in front of him, though they could not see him. She might as well have been staring into his soul. She cradled his cheek in her hand. “That was incredible. I love you, Nero.”
He buried his head against her and tried not to cry. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.
But he held her like that, arms around her, leg thrown over hers, clutching her to his chest, and knew he could never, ever let her go.
He’d die.
He belonged to her now.
18
Hope awoke in Nero’s arms.
And she was sore. Everywhere.
Literally everywhere.
She groaned and nuzzled into him, seeking the unnatural warmth of his body to try to soothe the soreness that plagued her.
He muttered and hugged her, yawning as she inadvertently woke him up. They were lying on their sides, facing each other.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Something told her he was never going to let her go again. He held her to his chest, and she snuggled her head into the side of his neck. She listened to his heartbeat. Felt his deep and easy breaths.
Last night, she had felt the full force of Nero and his unstoppable anger. Last night, she had felt his wrath. Covered in another man’s blood, he had finally shown her what he was truly capable of doing to her.
And she had wanted every second of it. Worse than that—she had begged him for more.
She smiled. I’m just as bad as he is.
But something about what he had been doing to her felt like a release for him. As though he were pouring into her every ounce