Forced Marriage with the Devil Mafia

Need to taste this...

Marcel stepped into the shower, allowing the icy streams to pelt his skin, to quench the heat of his anger. Jenna's behavior had left him seething, her once endearing gaze now tainted in his eyes.

'What did I do that she now hates me?' Marcel thought, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Meanwhile in the bedroom, Jenna's eyes darted across the room, locking onto the balcony as her escape route. With haste, she prepared a makeshift rope from the bedsheets, securing one end to the sturdy balustrade and flinging the rest down to the ground.

With no time to spare, Jenna swung her legs over the railing and began her descent. Her heart hammered with fear, but determination steadied her trembling hands. As she neared the ground, she let go and landed with a soft thud.

Regaining her footing, Jenna sprinted away from the looming shadow of the mansion and Marcel, into the unknown - all she knew she needed to leave this man.

The heavy wedding gown made it difficult for her to run, so she stopped. She knelt, grasping the hem of her dress, and with a swift, decisive motion, she ripped away the cumbersome fabric. Thus, lessening the weight of the gown on her body. Now, with much ease, Jenna ran.

The sudden cacophony of barking dogs pierced the silence, causing Jenna’s eyes to widen in alarm. The sound grew louder, signaling their rapid approach. Panic surged as she kicked off her heels and sprinted barefoot across the rough terrain, not caring for the pain she would feel sooner.

“Why are there dogs here?” she whispered to herself, her pulse racing at the thought of being harmed by the snarling beasts.

"Ahh!" Jenna's toes hit a pebble and she ended up falling to the ground. The strange siren sounds started echoing with lights all around. The barks became clearer, showing that the dogs were near.

Struggling to rise, Jenna’s foot throbbed with searing pain, and despair washed over her as tears welled in her eyes. Her last glimmer of hope seemed to shatter when she spotted the silhouettes of three dogs, flanked by men, closing in on her. Jenna wanted to hid but thers was no time left for it.

Gulping in fear, Jenna shut her eyes as one of the dogs lunged in her direction when the familiar voice stopped all the three dogs with a whistle.

She promptly opened her eyes only to find Marcel in his casual clothes in front of her. Jenna didn't realize when the tears escaped her eyes. She heard him sending away those dogs along with the five men.

Turning around, Marcel looked down and frowned. Jenna had her elbows rested on the ground while her legs and half of the thighs were visible.

Marcel was quick to kneel down and he lifted Jenna in his arms. She couldn't protest him and locked her hands around his neck. Keeping her gaze away from his face, Jenna now felt embarrassed because she failed in running away. His damp hair still had water in them as a few water droplets fell on her bare neck.

Upon reaching their bedroom once again, Marcel threw her on the bed. The mattress was soft, so she didn't get hurt, but she could witness the anger in his actions.

Jenna found him leaving the room when he shortly entered with a first-aid kit in his hands. Setting down before her, he grasped her right foot, which was injured.

"I will–" Her words abruptly sealed as he shot a glare at her.

"Stay quiet. You already messed up a lot of things," Marcel remarked.

"Oh, really?" Jenna retorted, ready for a fight with him.

"Don't test my patience," Marcel said.

"You can't keep me here against my wish," Jenna proclaimed.

"Sadly, Jenna, we are a husband and wife," Marcel reminded her. He opened the kit and took out a cotton swab. Cleaning the blood from her toes, he applied a cool healing gel on it. He did the same with her elbows, where she got some bruises.

Throwing the cotton into the bin, Marcel closed the kit and put it inside the cupboard. Jenna made her way down the bed and said, "I will sleep in the other room."

Marcel, however, didn't let her go. He approached her, standing dangerously close to her such that their bodies almost pressed against each other.

"It's our wedding night," Marcel said.

"You can't simply claim me as your own. Ariel would be appalled by your actions," Jenna asserted, her voice laced with defiance.

Marcel's grip was gentle yet unyielding as he cradled her neck, his gaze piercing into hers. "You're not even worthy of uttering her name. Did you really think you could flee from my domain? Listen well, Jenna Marcel Mikaelson, my eyes are ever-watchful. These four walls will forever trap you here," he declared with a threatening tone.

Jenna's hand instinctively clenched into a fist, but before she could recoil, Marcel captured her hand in his, fingers tracing a path up her arm with a tantalizing slowness.

"Tell me you feel nothing," Marcel breathed against her lips, his whisper a seductive challenge.

Jenna blinked, her heart racing as his fingers brushed against her skin. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of electricity and longing.

Marcel had always had this effect on her, a pull she couldn't resist, which was why she had to leave. The betrayals and misunderstandings were secondary; the primary reason was the life he led. She couldn't envision a future entwined with the danger and darkness of the mafia.

As his fingers trailed down to her collarbone, tracing her skin with a delicate yet sensual touch, she found it hard to breathe. Her lips parted involuntarily, her body reacting to his proximity.

"You are mine, Jenna. Every inch of you belongs to me," Marcel growled, his voice low and possessive. "The touch you feel now is nothing compared to what I’ve imagined doing to you. For five f*cking years, you’ve made me burn in hell."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the raw intensity of his desire, the anger and pain of their separation, and the undeniable connection that still bound them together.

Marcel's eyes bored into hers, searching for any sign of resistance, but Jenna knew there was no use denying the truth. Despite everything, her feelings for him had never truly faded.

He leaned close to her ear, his warm lips brushing her earlobe. "You need to taste this hell with me. I'll make you beg for my f*cking attention, Jenna, for my love," he promised in a grim yet seductive tone.