THROUGH THE DARKNESS, Tensley cradled Molly close to his chest. Her bare feet hung from his arms, dangling between the laces of her gown.
His beast stormed inside his chest, and his erection shifted against the fabric of his pants, throbbing to escape.
The darkness of the hall concealed them, moving like shadows away from the thriving party. All he wanted was Molly alone, to cherish her as his bride, and as his wife.
She caressed his jaw, pressing lingering kisses along his skin—in a way he felt like she was claiming him as hers.
With his hip, he managed to open their door.
The bedchamber was lit with long candles, the burning wax along with perfumed roses thickening the air.
The balcony doors were wide open, welcoming in the cool breeze, the night sky littered with tiny dots of light.
He slowly placed her on her feet, his hands gliding along her curves.
Taking her delicate hand, he licked along the dry blood of her palm, sucking each finger. She watched with a glint of darkness in her light eyes, her throat bobbing each time he licked—gently, viciously, sinfully.
“Your blood is my blood, dolcezza,” he whispered and brought his palm to hers, grasping her tiny hand in his monstrous one. “Now you’re wicked like me.”
Her lips molded to a soft grin. “I was already wicked.”
“That you were,” he said, tracing a single finger down the curve of her cheekbone back into her golden locks. “My wicked bride. You cannot be tamed.”
Her brow creased in defiance, and she lifted her chin a bit higher. “I’m not that weak, naïve girl you met.”
He glared down at her. “You are far from that girl. A warrior, a survivor, a healer.” He stole a kiss, and her brow relaxed. “You are not just a wife, you are not just a woman who carries my young,” he whispered as his knuckles lightly grazed the small bump of her stomach.
She grew still at the deepness of his voice, like the vast darkness outside.
“I have my own vows to say,” he muttered, his fingers tugging at his shirt, lifting it off, exposing his muscular form—poised for attack—or more so, poised for pleasure. His beast was alive and thriving, aching to claim her again, and that made his testosterone spike at an all-time high.
Her eyes lowered to his chiseled stomach, a flash of desire to touch him in her soft, sculptured features.
He didn’t look away from her as he unbuttoned his pants and dropped them, revealing his manhood and thick thighs of war. Scars and wounds not healed by the goddess long before her, but notches of survival.
He had been a dark creature, trapped in himself, trapped in his society, and she had glowed too brightly for him to collapse.
He had kissed the glow and sought more. Sought to bathe in her light, but also, to steal her into his darkness.
A mix of toxic and holy.
A mix of cursed and blessed.
“I stand before you with no armor, no shields to hide behind,” he let out, breathless.
Her own chest heaved, her glances moving between his nakedness and his hardened features.
“Exposed, raw, rugged—unkempt.” He took a dangerous step forward, watching her shudder. “See everything, dolcezza. The cruelty, the darkness, the sin. This is all yours now.” He was exposing the beast’s underbelly for the lioness to rip apart. He grinned shakily, angrily, and gestured to the outside world. “I’ll give you a chance to run, to hide, but you won’t get far.”
She eyed him thoughtfully, her bottom lip trembling, her eyes focusing on his features. She wasn’t the daemon in front of him. She had no reason to hide from him. Now, she was the young woman, so soft and tender, too kind for a monster like him, but he’d take any chance she’d give him.
He was a thirsty beast, and he’d return each day to see if he could have a drop of fresh water.
“I won’t run from you, Tensley,” she whispered, and she shook her head gracefully, eyes bloodshot and beautifully wet. So vulnerable in front of him. “All I see is the man.”
He moved toward her, his hands finding her hips, and bent on his knees, bowing before her.
“I vow to worship you,” he said and kissed her thigh. “I vow to protect you, and I vow to kiss away your pain.” Her entire body shook against his hold, and he stared up at her, from his knees. “You will be my equal, my queen, my night sky of darkness. I would wage war for you. I would move mountains and steal stars. Anything, anything,” he spoke with power but his voice laced with fine velvet.
He bowed his head, resting it on her stomach, and her fingers found his darkness, combing to the scalp.
“You marked me,” he hissed, standing to his full threatening height, but Molly didn’t cower. Not like the men he’d seen in battle do.
Instead, her thumb brushed his lips, tugging at the soft flesh. A few stolen tears fell from her lashes and onto her cheeks, dotting the rosiness. “I can’t mark you, though...”
His hand found hers, and he placed it on his chest, letting her feel the roar, the rage of his beating heart of thorns and iron and curses.
Another few tears escaped, and she gasped, breathlessly, glancing up at him. It was fear.
Fear of her power.
Fear of the heart powering him instead of his cruel, barbaric thirst for power and blood.
She powered him.
A threat to the court and the crown.
A threat to them, but he wasn’t letting this power inside of him burn out or be torn from him.
“You made a demon sin,” he hushed and dove for a precious kiss of berry and tears.
“Tensley,” she breathed out, gripping the ends of his dark locks and tugging, letting herself drown in his mouth of promise and power.
“Tensley,” she chanted in the warm darkness blanketing them.
He ripped her gown, shredding the beautiful lace and took in her beautiful, naked body of a goddess. The gods would have fought for her, he decided. They would have warred, destroyed, and conquered the world for someone as precious as the woman before him.
He twisted her around, so she held the wall and bent, finding her center flushed and wet. He tasted her, so sweet on his tongue, and he dove deeper, searching for that spot of release.
One that would make her collapse and scream his name over and over.
He wanted to hear that all night long.
His beast and heart needed it.
He had never known he was hungry, that he was starved and thirsty until he had tasted her.
All those years without her—he was a dying beast.
“Tensley,” Molly panted, her cry going straight to his throbbing cock between his thighs.
He licked, sucked at her clit, using his thumbs to spread her wider, to go deeper.
Her hands fisted on the wall, and she begged for him.
His fingers dug into the roundness of her perky cheeks, leaving painful red marks.
And in one cry, she released, her back arching, her walls convulsing around his lethal tongue, and he didn’t stop. He searched further, aimed higher, wanting to keep her on a high no one else could give her.
Her feet fell flat on the floor, and she sagged against the wall, gasping for air.
Tensley didn’t stop, though. He stood, stroking the crown of his throbbing head to her wet opening.
She shuddered, bracing herself on the wall.
“First, I’ll take you like this—then on the bed, then on the floor, then from behind you—all night,” he hissed, dipping the head of his cock deeper. She gasped at the thickness. “I can be sweet, gentle, docile just for you—but do not think I won’t become a monster to protect you.”
He slowly entered her, letting her feel his defined ridges, the flare of his head, and the power. It sent a jolt through his system, her energy pumping into his blood and bones.
He kissed her bare shoulder, making his way to her arched neck and licked the cool collar, warming at his touch.
She moaned, resting her head on his shoulder, his hands anchoring at her wide hips.
“I will tear any man limb to limb if they hurt you,” he hissed out, his beast raging, caged from the wedding ceremony and now released, wanting blood and sweat.
“Is that supposed to be romantic?” Molly panted out, frowning at him.
He thrust deep and hard, causing her to gasp. “It’s the fucking truth.”
His thrusts became brutal and fast, needing his release, his calm before he could be gentle with her. Sweat gleamed on their naked bodies, soaking between his pelvis bone, and her round cheeks bouncing with each stroke, each pound.
He gripped her jaw with one hand and directed her mouth to his. Devouring her in one feral kiss of power.
He’d be a beggar, he’d be a sinner, he’d be a priest to honor her.
He was hers. Completely, utterly hers.
“No one else will rival you,” he hissed into her ear, drowning out her pants, his pounding, and their wild heartbeats. “Your touches are sacred, your kisses lethal, and your heart—” His palm pressed above her breast, the thump vibrating against his skin. “Your heart is as holy as the sun.”
He panted, driving faster, on the edge of his bliss, and changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot of hers that made her weak in the knees. “My vow… My vicious heart is yours. All fucking yours.”
With those vows, he exploded, deep inside her core, feeling her walls pulse with her own pleasure. He roared—a beast in battle, a beast in pain and pleasure, and braced himself around her.
He caught her middle, his hand rubbing her stomach.
“Dolcezza,” he whispered into her wet shoulder and kissed her once there. His determined body flared with her strength.
“You have my heart,” Molly breathed out between her slow pants, and her blue eyes sought his over her shoulder.
He kissed her, slowly letting himself go flaccid and slipped out. With powerful muscles, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She lay down and watched him grab a towel. He wiped his manhood and then sat on the edge of the bed. She lay with her legs up to her chest, so her center was visible, still wet, with streams of his essence seeping out.
He gently washed her, cleaning as slow as possible, every edge, every point, admiring her beauty.
With a soft sleepy smile, she watched every movement.
“To think I feared you once,” she whispered.
He glanced through his lashes at her. “You were right to.”
He stroked her center, pink and raw, still sensitive to his touch.
“Why are you cleaning me if we’re going to do it again?” she asked after a beat, her brows raised.
He smiled, still focusing on his work between her thighs. “Because I want to take care of you. Even when I’m the one who dirties you.”
She hummed, a playful smile on her mouth. “I like when you keep me dirty.”
He grunted a response.
She sat up and stroked his cheekbone, and up into his darkness, combing through. “I’m married,” she whispered, softly laughing, but he stiffened at the tears in her eyes.
He rubbed a finger along her lower lashes. “Do you not want to be married to me?”
She breathed out, her breath fanning his cheeks. “Tensley,” she choked her chest tightening. She paused, eyes shining bright and full of something he desired and feared.
She studied him from under her lashes, and he watched the way her cheeks bloomed with color, her lips pulled into a shaking frown, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“I love you.”
A soft, deceiving whisper.
One that seized his stone heart of venom and muscle and made it race, galloping into his throat.
He swallowed, but the fullness expanded.
A demon’s curse—but hearing her say those destructive words to him made Tensley want to be destroyed, made him want to be cursed as long as it was to her.
“I wanted to say it, so you know, but I don’t expect you to say it back,” Molly spoke, her hand touching his on the bed.
She loved him. He licked his swollen lips, his throat tightening as he tried to say the words back.
“Saying those words,” he said, his fingers moving over her wrist, and he focused on her smooth ivory skin. “It’s difficult for me to say them.”
“I know,” Molly said fast.
His hand ran across her cheek, and she shut her eyes, leaning into him. “What I feel for you is a sin.” He watched her eyes squeeze, her breath hitch. “But I would sin over and over again for you.”
Her lashes fluttered open, wet, and deep blue. She kissed him fast as he caught his breath.
A vow of thorns.
A vow of a heart.
A vow of death.
THE SUNLIGHT seeped into the bedchamber, and Molly groaned, nuzzling Tensley’s neck to hide from the intrusion. His hands smoothed down her back and cupped her behind, kneading the flesh.
She was sore, but the good kind of sore. Tensley had kept his promise from the night before—he ravished her, and now she was afraid to stand.
He shifted, and she groaned. “Don’t leave. You’re keeping me warm,” she said, muffled into his shoulder.
He laughed and stroked her hair, spinning a ringlet around his digit. “If we stay like this, I’ll fuck you again.”
To confirm, his hard length rubbed against her belly.
“Don’t tempt me. I don’t think my body can take it,” she mumbled and kissed his tensed jaw. Lying next to him, tired but happy, naked in their happy bliss, she remembered something. She sat up, her finger tracing his happy trail. His eyes were heavy, watching her from underneath them, his fingers kneading her cheeks gently. “I forgot my wedding gift to you.”
One heavy brow lifted. “And that would be?”
She lowered her lashes. “The warlock that sensed the baby—” She licked her swollen lips and braced herself. “She said it was a boy.”
Tensley’s brows dropped, and then he moved fast, taking her in his arms and kissing her.
“A boy,” he muttered, his smile small, but she could feel his happiness. His hand stroked her bare belly. “My boy.”
Tears heated her eyes, but she fought it back and giggled, rubbing his sharp jaw. “Our boy.”
A knock at the door silenced them, and Tensley, groaning, stood from the bed, completely nude, grabbed his pants and walked to the door.
He opened it, and Molly heard someone gasp. When he returned, he held a letter in his hands.
“What is it?” she asked, propping herself on her elbows.
Tensley shook his head, frowning as he ripped the envelope open. He unfolded the letter and his eyes skimmed across the words.
Then his brow dipped.
“Fuck.” His hands shot through his hair, and he spun, focusing on collecting his clothes.
Molly shot up, watching as he yanked at his belt and grabbed his dress shirt. “What’s wrong?”
His shoulders tensed with anger and power, and slowly, he lifted his eyes. “It’s from Evelyn. Ares attacked Scorpios.”