Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

Page 22



“Lick them clean.” The words were cold, devoid of any warmth we might have shared once upon a time.

She obeyed, her tongue hesitantly wrapping around my fingers, a silent sob escaping her as she did. It was a sight that should have repulsed me, but instead, it fueled the dark fire burning within.

“Remember this,” I growled, my voice low as I leaned closer, so there was no chance of misunderstanding. “Remember that the car outside, the clothes you wear, everything—it’s all for show. You’re nothing but a hole to me, Abby. And just like you dropped to those pretty knees here, you’ll do it again and again. Because if you don’t, you’ll learn what it really means to piss me off.”

Every word was a nail in the coffin of who I had been—of who we had been together. With each syllable, I felt something inside me splinter further, even as I reinforced the brutal facade I’d constructed.

“Understand?” I didn’t wait for a verbal answer; her nod, jerky and fearful, was enough.

And I hated myself as I gripped her by the hair again and dragged her up the stairs, every bit the monster this world had made me.

Chapter Eleven: Nathan

The feelings didn’t relent as I hauled her up the stairs, opened the door, tossed her away from me like trash.

Because I knew she wasn’t trash.

She was the woman I loved, even after all her lies.

I stood there, the heaviness of the moment wrapping around us like a thick fog. I could see it in Abby’s eyes, the pleading, the vulnerability that she had never shown before. It gnawed at me, this urge to send her packing, to rid myself of her deceit and the chaos she brought into my world.

But damn it, there was something about seeing her like this, so raw and exposed, that tethered me to the spot. My heart, a traitor to my resolve, thumped an erratic rhythm against my ribcage as the space between us seemed to charge with electricity.

I leaned down, compelled by a force I couldn’t name, and pressed my lips to hers.

The kiss wasn’t tender; it was brutal, bruising, a show of force. Her tears mingled with the taste of my own cum on her cheeks, her chin, a stark reminder of the line we had crossed.

It twisted my gut, this cocktail of desire and revulsion.

I hated myself for wanting her, for relishing in the power I had when she looked up at me with those tear-stained eyes.

She found her way through every crack in my armor.

I snarled and pushed myself away, stalking toward the counter.

“Clean yourself up,” I ordered, my voice barely above a growl as I snatched a rag from the counter and tossed it at her. Every fiber in my being screamed that she was more than this mess, more than just a hole to be used.

And I hated myself for not seeing her as just that.

The fact that she didn’t flinch or spit back a retort but instead took the rag and began wiping her face clean only twisted the knife of guilt deeper into my gut. There was no satisfaction in this, none at all.

“Be reasonable, Nathan,” she said quietly, without a hint of anger. Her eyes didn’t meet mine as she spoke, focused on removing the evidence of our reckless encounter. “I could’ve turned you over to the FBI today. But look around, there’s no one breaking down your door.”

“Reasonable?” I scoffed, bitterness seeping through every syllable. “You think after what you’ve done, I’m going to believe you’re protecting me? That’s absurd, Abby. I won’t be played for a fool again.”

But as she stood there, the rag hanging limply from her hand, something flickered behind those eyes—a spark of genuine fear, perhaps, or maybe it was defiance. It was clear she wasn’t giving up, not yet. And despite my hardened stance, part of me dreaded the thought of what lengths she would go to prove herself again.

“Fine,” she finally said, her voice low, a hard edge sharpening each word. She dropped the rag onto the counter, her gaze finally lifting to lock with mine. “Believe what you want, Nathan. But I’m not your enemy.”

Her voice was a challenge, her stance defiant. And just like that, she closed the distance between us with a few purposeful strides. Her palm found its way onto my chest, warm and steady. She tilted her head up, eyes searching mine as if looking for an anchor in a stormy sea.

“Let me make it up to you,” Abby whispered, her breath grazing my skin, sending an involuntary shiver through me despite my resolve.

Instinctively, I pushed her away, creating a chasm of space that felt both necessary and unbearable. “You can’t,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “I’m not some mark you can con, Abby. I’m not going to be played that easily.”

She reeled back from the force of my shove, hurt flashing in her eyes before she masked it with indifference. “We’re not done here, Nathan,” she seethed. “You can’t…you can’t tease me like that, use me and…”

I needed to escape this tension, the pull of her nearness that seemed to fray my self-control.


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