Dark, Dangerous, & Mine

Chapter 41

41

Nora

Tired yet hyper after talking to my parents, I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom. Though a part of me still wishes I could’ve shielded my family from my new life, I’m relieved that they now know the truth.

That they know the woman I’ve become and still love me.

Reaching the bedroom, I open the door and step inside. No lights are on in the room, and as I close the door behind me, I wonder where Julian might be. While I’m glad I got the chance to clear the air with my parents, the fact that he left dinner without a good explanation worries me. Did something happen, or did he simply get tired of us?

Did he get tired of me?

Just as the devastating thought crosses my mind, I notice a dark shadow standing by the window.

My pulse jumps, my skin prickling with primitive terror as I fumble for the light switch.

“Leave it.” Julian’s voice comes out of the darkness, and my knees almost buckle with relief.

“Oh, thank God. For a second, I didn’t realize it was—” I begin, and then his harsh tone registers. “You,” I finish uncertainly.

“Who else would it be?” My husband turns and crosses the room, approaching me with the silent gait of a predator. “It’s our bedroom. Or have you forgotten that?” He places his hands on both sides of the wall behind me, caging me in.

I draw in a startled breath, pressing my palms against the cold wall. Julian is clearly in a mood, and I have no idea what set him off. “No, of course not,” I say slowly, staring at his shadowed features. There’s so little light that all I can make out is the faint glitter of his eyes. “What do you—”

He steps closer, molding his lower body to mine, and I gasp as I feel his hard c**k against my belly. He’s naked and already aroused, his hot male scent surrounding me as he holds me trapped in place. Even through the separating layer of my dress, I can feel the lust pulsing within him—lust and something much, much darker.

My body awakens with a jolt, my pulse quickening on a surge of fear. This must be it: the punishment I’ve been expecting. With the doctors having deemed me healed earlier today, my reprieve is over.

“Julian?” His name comes out on a choked breath as he grips the nape of my neck, his long fingers nearly encircling my throat. His huge body is all muscle, hard and uncompromising around me. One squeeze of those steely fingers, and he’d crush my throat. The thought chills me, yet a hollow ache coils in my core, my n*****s peaking with harsh arousal. The anger coming off him is palpable, and it calls to something savage inside me, fueling the dark fire simmering within.

If he’s decided to finally punish me, I’m going to make damn sure I get what I deserve.

He leans into me, his breath warm on my face, and at that moment, I make my move. My right hand forms a fist at my side, and I swing upward with all my strength, striking the underside of his chin. At the same time, I twist to the right, breaking his grip on my neck, and duck under his extended arm, whirling around to hit him in the back.

Except he’s no longer there.

In the half-second it took me to turn, Julian moved, as quick and deadly as any assassin. Instead of connecting with his back, the sharp edge of my palm slams into his elbow, and I cry out as the impact sends a shock of pain through my arm.

“f**k!” His furious hiss is accompanied by a blurringly fast movement. Before I can react, he’s got me encircled in his arms, my wrists crossed in front of my chest and his left leg wrapped around my knees to prevent me from kicking. With him holding me from behind, I can’t bite him, and my attempts to head-butt his chin fall woefully short as he keeps his face out of my reach.

All that training, and he subdued me in three seconds flat.

Frustration mingles with adrenaline, adding to the fury brewing inside me. Fury at him for taunting me with tenderness these two weeks, and most of all, fury at myself.

My fault, my fault, it’s all my fault. The words are a vicious drumbeat in my mind. Guilt, bitter and thick, rises in my throat, choking me as it mixes with the aching grief.

Rosa. Our baby. Dozens of men dead.

The sound that bursts out of my throat is something between a growl and a sob. Despite the futility of it, I begin to fight, bucking and twisting in Julian’s iron hold. I don’t have much leverage, but with one of his legs restraining mine, my frantic, jerky movements are enough to push him off-balance.

With a loud curse, he falls backward, still gripping me tightly. His back takes the brunt of the fall. I hardly feel the impact as he grunts and immediately rolls over, pinning me to the hard wooden floor. Disregarding his heavy weight on top of me, I continue fighting, struggling with all my strength. The cold wood presses into my face, but the discomfort barely registers.

My fault, my fault, all my fault.

Half-panting, half-sobbing, I try to kick back, to scratch him, to make him feel even a tiny fraction of the pain consuming me inside. My muscles scream with strain, but I don’t stop—not when Julian wrenches my wrists back and ties them at the small of my back with his belt, and not even when he drags me up by my elbow and hauls me to the bed.

I fight as he tears off my dress and underwear, as he fists his hand in my hair and forces me up on my knees. I fight as though I’m fighting for my life, as though the man holding me is my worst enemy instead of my greatest love. I fight because he’s strong enough to take the fury inside me.

Because he’s strong enough to take it away from me.

As I writhe in his brutal hold, his knee forces apart my legs, and his c**k presses against my entrance. In one savage thrust, he penetrates me from behind, and I cry out at the pain, at the unutterable relief of his possession. I’m wet, but not enough, not nearly enough, and each punishing thrust scrapes me raw, hurting me, healing me. My thoughts scatter, the chant inside my mind disappearing, and all that’s left is the feel of his body inside mine, the pain and the agonizing pleasure of our need.

I’m rushing toward orgasm when Julian begins talking to me, growling that he’ll always keep me, that I’ll never belong to anyone but him. There is a dark threat implicit in his words, a promise that he’ll stop at nothing. His ruthlessness should terrify me, yet as my body explodes in release, fear is the last thing on my mind.

All I’m cognizant of is sheer and utter bliss.

He flips me onto my back then, releasing my wrists, and I realize that at some point, I did stop fighting. The fury’s gone, and in its place is deep exhaustion and relief.

Relief that Julian still wants me. That he’ll punish me, but won’t send me away.

So when he grips my ankles and props them on his shoulders, I don’t resist. I don’t fight when he leans forward, nearly folding me in half, and I don’t struggle when he scoops the abundant moisture from my s*x and smears it between my ass cheeks. It’s only when I feel his thickness poised at that other opening that I utter a wordless sound of protest, my sphincter tightening as my hands move to push against his hard chest. It’s a weak, mostly symbolic gesture—I can’t possibly move Julian off me that way—but even that slight hint of resistance seems to enrage him.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he growls, and in the faint light from the window, I see the dark glitter of his eyes. “You don’t get to deny me this, to deny me anything. I own you… every inch of you.” He presses forward, his massive c**k forcing me open as he whispers harshly, “If you don’t relax that ass, my pet, you’ll regret it.”

I shudder with perverse arousal, my nails digging into his chest as the tight ring of muscle gives in to the merciless pressure. The burning invasion is agonizing, my insides roiling as he pushes in deeper and deeper. It’s been months since he’s taken me like this, and my body’s forgotten how to handle this, how to relax into the overly full sensation. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I attempt to breathe through it, to remain strong, but tears, stupid, betraying tears, come anyway, trickling out from the corners of my eyes.

It’s not the pain that makes me cry, though, or my body’s twisted response to it.

It’s the knowledge that my punishment isn’t over, that Julian still hasn’t forgiven me.

That he may never forgive me.

“Do you hate me?” The question escapes before I can hold it back. I don’t want to know, but at the same time, I can’t bear to keep silent. Opening my eyes, I stare at the dark figure above me. “Julian, do you hate me?”

He stills, his c**k lodged deep within me. “Hate you?” His big body tenses, his lust-roughened voice filling with disbelief. “What the f**k, Nora? Why would I hate you?”

“Because I miscarried.” My voice quavers. “Because our child died because of me.”

For a second, he doesn’t respond, and then, with a low curse, he pulls out, making me gasp in pain.

“f**k!” He releases me, moving back on the bed. The sudden absence of his heat and his heavy weight over me is startling, as is the light from the bedside lamp he turns on. It takes a moment before my eyes adjust to the brightness and I make out the expression on his face.

“You think I blame you for what happened?” he asks hoarsely, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes burn with intensity as he stares at me, his c**k still fully erect. “You think it was somehow your fault?”

“Of course it was.” I sit up, feeling the stinging soreness deep inside, where he was just buried. “I’m the one who wanted to go to Chicago, to go to that club. If not for me, none of this would’ve—”

“Stop.” His harsh command vibrates through me even as his features contort with something resembling pain. “Just stop, baby, please.”

I fall silent, staring at him in confusion. Wasn’t that what this whole scene was about? My punishment for disappointing him? For endangering myself and our child?

Still holding my gaze, he takes a deep breath and moves toward me. “Nora, my pet…” He takes my face in his large palms. “How could you possibly think that I hate you?”

I swallow. “I’m hoping you don’t, but I know you’re angry—”

“You think I’m angry because you wanted to see your parents? To go out dancing and have fun?” His nostrils flare. “f**k, Nora, if the miscarriage is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have let you go to that bathroom on your own—”

“But you couldn’t have known—”

“And neither could you.” He takes a deep breath and lowers his hands to my lap, clasping my palms in his warm grasp. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says roughly. “None of it was your fault.”

I dampen my dry lips. “So then why—”

“Why was I angry?” His beautiful mouth twists. “Because I thought you wanted to leave me. Because I misinterpreted something you said to your parents tonight.”

“What?” My eyebrows pull together in a frown. “What did I— Oh.” I recall my offhand comment, born of fear and insecurity. “No, Julian, that’s not what I meant,” I begin, but he squeezes my hands before I can explain further.

“I know,” he says softly. “Believe me, baby, now I know.”

We stare at each other in silence, the air thick with echoes of violent s*x and dark emotions, with the aftermath of lust and pain and loss. It’s strange, but in this moment, I understand him better than ever. I see the man behind the monster, the man who needs me so much he’ll do anything to keep me with him.

The man I need so much I’ll do anything to stay with him.

“Do you love me, Julian?” I don’t know what gives me the courage to pose the question now, but I have to know, once and for all. “Do you love me?” I repeat, holding his gaze.

For a few moments, he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. His grip on my hands is tight enough to hurt. I can feel the struggle within him, the longing warring with the fear. I wait, holding my breath, knowing he may never open himself up like this, may never admit the truth even to himself. So when he speaks, I’m almost caught off-guard.

“Yes, Nora,” he says hoarsely. “Yes, I love you. I love you so f*****g much it hurts. I didn’t know it, or maybe I just didn’t want to know it, but it’s always been there. I spent most of my life trying not to feel, trying not to let people get close to me, but I fell for you from the very beginning. It just took me two years to realize it.”

“What made you realize it?” I whisper, my heart aching with relieved joy. He loves me. Up until this moment, I didn’t know how desperately I needed the words, how much their lack weighed on me. “When did you know?”

“It was the night we came back home.” His muscular throat moves as he swallows. “It was when I lay here next to you. I let myself truly feel it then—the pain of losing our baby, the pain of losing all those other people in my life—and I realized I’d been trying to protect myself from the agony of losing you. Trying to keep myself from loving you so it wouldn’t destroy me. Except it was too late. I was already in love with you. I had been for a long time. Obsession, addiction, love—it’s all the same thing. I can’t live without you, Nora. Losing you would destroy me. I can survive anything but that.”

“Oh, Julian…” I can’t imagine what it took for this strong, ruthless man to admit this. “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re not.” His eyes narrow, all traces of vulnerability fading from his features. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’ll ever let you go.”

A shaky laugh escapes my throat. “Of course. I know that.”

“Ever.” He seems to feel the need to emphasize that.

“I know that too.”

He stares at me then, his hands holding mine, and I feel the pull of his wordless command. He wants me to admit my feelings too, to bare my soul to him as he’s just bared his to me. And so I give him what he demands.

“I love you, Julian,” I say, letting him see the truth of that in my gaze. “I’ll always love you—and I don’t want you to ever let me go.”

I don’t know if he moves toward me then, or if I make the move first, but somehow his mouth is on mine, his lips and tongue devouring me as he holds me in his inescapable embrace. We come together in pain and pleasure, in violence and passion.

We come together in our kind of love.

The next morning, I stand next to the runway and watch as the plane carrying my parents home takes off. When it’s nothing more than a small dot in the sky, I turn to Julian, who’s standing beside me holding my hand.

“Tell me again,” I say softly, looking up at him.

“I love you.” His eyes gleam as he meets my gaze. “I love you, Nora, more than life itself.”

I smile, my heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. The shadow of grief is still with me, as is the lingering feeling of guilt, but the darkness no longer clouds everything. I can picture a day when the pain will fade, when all I’ll feel is contentment and joy.

Our troubles aren’t over—they can’t be, with us being who we are—but the future no longer frightens me. Soon, I’ll need to bring up the pretty doctor and Peter’s plan for revenge, and at some point later, we’ll have to discuss the possibility of another child and how to deal with the ever-present danger of our lives.

For now, though, we don’t need to do anything but enjoy each other.

Enjoy being alive and in love.