A BRIDE FOR THE DEVIL

Chapter 4: The Provocation

My back presses hard against the solid mahogany door, the click of the lock still echoing in my ears.

Luca stands just a few feet away, his collar unbuttoned, his dark eyes boring into mine. He just commanded me to pull out the knife, looking at me like a predator that has completely cornered its prey.

I take a slow, deep breath, forcing my racing heart to steady. If he thinks I’m going to tremble and beg, he’s dead wrong. He wants to see what I’m hiding? Fine. I’ll show him exactly how dangerous this game can get.

Instead of reaching for the blade, I slowly look him up and down, letting a small, mocking smile touch my lips.

"If you want the knife, husband," I say, my voice smooth, quiet, and dripping with deliberate provocation, "you’re going to have to come here and take it from me yourself."

Luca’s eyes narrow just a fraction. For a second, he doesn't move. The silence in the bedroom is thick, heavy, and charged with so much static electricity it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. Then, he takes a slow, deliberate step toward me.

He doesn't rush. He moves with the terrifying confidence of a man who knows he has already won.

When he stops, he is so close his shadow completely swallows me. The sheer size of him is overwhelming, his broad chest nearly brushing against the front of my wedding dress. He smells so good it makes my head spin dark wood, rain, and pure, intoxicating testosterone.

"You think you're playing a game with me, Elena," he rough whispers, leaning down so his lips are barely an inch from my ear. His hot breath sends a wild shiver straight down my spine. "You think you can use your body to distract me. To find a weakness."

My breath catches in my throat. He really does see right through me.

Before I can even blink, Luca’s large hand grips my waist, his long fingers burying into the silk of my dress. With one effortless pull, he lifts me slightly and slams my hips flush against his rock hard thighs. I gasp, my hands instinctively flying up to press against his broad shoulders to keep some distance between us. His chest feels like solid marble beneath my palms.

"Let’s see how brave you are when I stop playing back," he growls out.

His other hand tracks down the side of my skirt, finding the hidden slit in the fabric. His large, warm palm slides inside, brushing directly against the bare skin of my inner thigh. The contrast of his rough, calloused hand against my soft skin makes a sharp, heavy gasp tear from my throat. A wild wave of heat explodes low in my belly, making my core tighten instantly.

His fingers trace upward, slowly, torturously, until they hook around the silver handle of the stiletto blade strapped to my thigh.

He doesn't look down. His obsidian eyes stay locked onto mine, watching my reaction as he slowly unbuckles the leather strap holding the knife. He pulls the weapon free, but he doesn't drop it. He holds the cold silver hilt between our bodies, the sharp tip pointing upward.

"A pretty little toy," Luca murmurs, his voice deep and gravelly. "But useless if you don't know how to use it."

"Try me," I challenge, my voice shaking slightly from the sheer physical overload of having him this close. I try to pull away, but his grip on my waist is an iron vice. He keeps my hips glued tightly to his, letting me feel the heavy, rigid length of his arousal pressing hard against my stomach. My eyes widen as the realization hits me he wants me just as badly as he wants to control me.

Luca lets out a low, dark sound that is half-growl, half-laugh. He raises his hand and tosses the silver knife across the room. It clatters loudly against the hardwood floor, sliding completely out of reach under the massive king-sized bed.

"The knife is gone, principessa," Luca rough whispers, his dark eyes burning with a wild, completely unmasked hunger. His hand slides up from my thigh, tracking over my ribs, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the underside of my breast. "Now, it's just you. And me."

He backs up just a step, releasing his grip on my waist, but his eyes never leave mine. He walks over to the edge of the bed, sitting down on the dark silk sheets. He spreads his knees, leaning back slightly on his hands, looking completely dominant as he watches me stand frozen by the door.

"Take off the veil, Elena," he commands, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly order that makes my entire body flush with heat. "Then come over here and show your husband how submissive you can really be."

I look at the massive bed, then at the man sitting on it like a king waiting for his queen to surrender. Every protective instinct in my brain is telling me to run, but my body is completely on fire, screaming for his touch.

I raise my hands, slowly pulling the pins from my hair, letting the white wedding veil drop to the floor. I take a slow step forward, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I wanted to find his breaking point. But as I walk toward him, I realize I’m the one about to break.