Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

“Agent Hayes seemed suspicious,” I admitted, my voice a whisper against the drumming of the shower. “But I managed to put them on the scent of the arsonist.” I paused, watching as his expression remained unchanged. “Hopefully, that’ll distract the FBI long enough to take care of the Serpents’ problem.”

Nathan released me then, stepping back ever so slightly. The water parted around us, droplets catching in his lashes and rolling down his cheeks. Those ink black lashes were so long, delicate and beautiful on an equally gorgeous face. It was always jarring to see him like this…something so stunning that could do so much damage.

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, a trace of approval in his gaze.

“Good,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until after we’re dry.”

Nathan nodded again, his eyes trailing down my face, reading every nuance of expression as though searching for a crack in my façade.

“Later, then,” he decided, and with those words, the tension that had coiled between us began to unwind. He stepped closer once more, his presence enveloping me, and I knew that for now, the interrogation was over.

The steam from the shower enveloped us too, a misty veil that seemed to mute the outside world. I met Nathan’s gaze, his brown eyes reflecting a turmoil that matched my own. I had something else to confess, and it weighed heavily on me.

“Agent Hayes asked about my necklace,” I said softly, watching his reaction closely. The piece of jewelry was a constant reminder—a symbol of possession in our twisted romance.

His hand twitched, an almost imperceptible movement, but one I caught all the same. “And?” he prodded, his voice betraying a hint of tension.

I took a deep breath, the warmth of the water doing little to soothe the tightness in my chest. “”I think she might have noticed it doesn’t come off. She was suspicious, so if you want to keep a collar on me, maybe you need to find one that unclasps,” I murmured, bracing myself for his response.

Nathan’s jaw clenched, a shadow crossing his features as if I’d just suggested severing an invisible thread between us. His brow furrowed, hurt flickering in his eyes before he masked it with indifference. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low, each word laced with unspoken emotion. “To be…to be able to get rid of me?”

My heart ached at the thought, even as I stood my ground. “No, absolutely not,” I assured him, reaching out to touch his arm. “But this isn’t the way it was. I’m not your pet anymore, Nathan.”

He flinched slightly, the term ‘pet’ striking a chord. I continued, “I’m here because I choose to be, not because I have no other choice. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Abby,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, tracing the outline of my face with an outstretched palm, “you’ve always been more than that to me.”

I understood this. The care, the cruelty, the way it was all wrapped up in the same man.

“Then let’s not pretend,” I replied softly, meeting his gaze with determination. “I’m here with you, Nathan. For all that you are, and all that we’ve been through. But on my own terms.”

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing fractionally. We were both marked by the life we led, entangled in a dark world where trust was a luxury few could afford. But in that shower, with the water washing over us, we found a temporary sanctuary—a place where our bond could be something pure amidst the chaos.

“Yes,” he said. “Your terms. That seems good.”

“Really?”

He looked as if he might argue with me, as if he might inflict another emotional scar—but then his lips met mine.

It was a slow melding, a deliberate act that spoke volumes more than any words could. His kiss wasn’t rushed or demanding; it was long, intense, laden with unspoken apologies and promises. Our nakedness felt incidental, not the focus, but simply a state of being as we explored the familiarity of each other’s mouths.

I reached up to thread my fingers through his wet hair, anchoring myself to him. The water cascaded down his back, over the expanse of his scarred shoulders, the body that had been used as a weapon his whole life.

Yet here, under the gentle pressure of his lips, he was just Nathan.

My Nathan.

The kiss deepened, emotions swirling between us like the steam fogging the mirror nearby. We shifted slightly, and I found my back pressed against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a jolt through me, grounding me further in the moment. Nathan’s mouth never left mine as his hand trailed down my body, igniting paths of fire wherever he touched.

His fingers found their way to my core, and I moaned against his lips, the sound swallowed by the intensity of our kiss. Each deliberate caress was an exploration, a silent conversation where he asked and I answered with the arching of my back, the curling of my toes. The pleasure built, spiraling tighter, and I clung to him, lost in the sensation he was evoking.

“Abby,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble against my lips. It was all I needed to hear—the acknowledgment of my presence, my effect on him, our connection despite the stormy seas we navigated. Nathan may have been feared in the criminal community, a man who could command life and death, but here, he surrendered to the moment, to the ebb and flow of desire we shared.

And as I stood there, pressed against the cool tile with the man who was both my torment and my solace, I realized that this—us—was a choice.

And I chose him, again and again, with every heartbeat, with every moan, with every breath that mingled with his in the hazy warmth of the shower.