Rosalind
ROSALIND
I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of fear like a coin on my tongue. I had to tell him. If I kept hiding, I'd never find happiness here. Whether he killed me, imprisoned me, or let me down, it didn't matter.
" Hunter ," I started, my voice steadier than I felt, "there's something I gotta tell you. And you're not gonna like it."
He stood there, inches from me, his breath hot against my face. His eyes, dark as a midnight storm, fixed on me with an intensity that could scorch the earth.
" I want Marco , too, alongside you. I don't want to replace you... or this. Believe it or not, I've come to understand you these last few weeks." My heart thundered, but I stood tall. " I love you, even though you're a giant asshole, but there's this part of me, this tender side, that craves to be loved differently. I ... I don't know if you're ever going to be capable of that.”
The room stilled, the air crackling with tension. Then it shattered like glass.
" What the fuck!" Hunter exploded, raw fury pouring off him like heat from a blast furnace. He swept his arm across the nightstand, sending papers fluttering and a heavy, gold-framed picture smashing to the ground. Our wedding photo.
" Mine !" he roared, veins bulging in his neck, face red. " You’re fuckin' mine, !"
I flinched as his fist punched a dent into the wall, plaster dust settling on his stubbled jaw. His shadow loomed over me, a dark angel or a demon born from the very depths of hell.
" Never ," he spat out, each word a bullet. " You're my wife. No one else gets to touch what's mine. You got that?"
I held my ground, my heart a wild thing in my chest, fighting the urge to shrink away from his towering rage. I had walked through fire to stand here, to speak these words, and I wouldn’t back down now.
" Or what, husband?" I challenged, my voice low, threading the needle between defiance and desire. He was sexy when he was angry, and I wanted him to hate fuck me, but I also craved seeing his vulnerable side. The side where he gives, and I take. " You'll kill me? ' Cause without me, there's no balance for you. Without me, you're just the devil wearing a man's skin."
His nostrils flared as his chest heaved. But I saw it then, the flicker of something else in his nearly black eyes. Fear . Fear that he might lose me to the softness that Marco offered.
" The devil? Maybe ," he hissed, closing the distance until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. " But you’re the little one that tames me, aren't you? The light to my darkness. And I ain't sharing that light with no one. It's mine to stoke, to flame, to extinguish."
I knew the stakes, the high-wire act of having fallen in love with a man who dealt in death. But I wanted more. I wanted the tender touch and the iron grip. The love that could crush and the love that could heal. And I would have it, no matter the cost.
" Then we burn together, Hunter ," I murmured, having decided my next move. " We burn together, or not at all."
The glint of the blade caught the dim light as I snatched it from Hunter’s collection, its edge sliding against my skin as I held it to my neck. My heart steadied. There was no fear in my choice. If I couldn't enjoy a slice of this life, this life I didn't ask for, then no one would enjoy me .
" Fuck , ! What the fuck! Drop the goddamn knife!" His voice was a thunderclap in the charged silence, his body a coiled spring ready to launch.
I didn’t flinch at his curse or waver under the weight of his glare. " No ," I spat through clenched teeth. The taste of power laced with desperation. " You'll listen, or so help me, I’ll slice myself open right here." I pressed the tip into my skin, feeling it push in, a slow drip of blood trailing down my neck.
His jaw locked, muscles ticking like a time bomb in his cheek. A monster caged by circumstance, his control slipping through fingers that longed to wrap around my neck instead of pleading for my sanity.
" Dammit , . Don't do this shit." His steps were careful as he edged closer, eyes fixed on the shimmer of metal against my flesh. " Don't make this decision."
" Then agree!" I demanded, breaths shallow, my will heavy between us. " Agree , or I swear?—"
" Fine !" The word was loud, splitting the standoff. " You want Marco ? You fucking got him. But if he fucks this up, if he hurts one goddamn hair on your head—" His vow sliced the air, a warning laced with venom.
" Hurts ? Funny , you're the one that spanked me like a child for being hungover." I threw the words back like a challenge, even as relief shuddered through me .
" You're mine to put in line, ." Hunter’s promise was a dark oath, a shadow that would hover over us all. " But cross me, and I'll bury him. And you won't stop me."
The knife clattered to the floor; my gamble played out, and my heart thudded against my ribs. I won. I won against Hunter Desmond . It was almost too hard to believe.
A sneer twisted his lips, the ugly curl of it promising pain. His hand clamped around my arm. The door swung open with a violent shove, and I stumbled into Marco's ready embrace.
" Take her," Hunter said, defeated. " She's your goddamn problem tonight."
Marco's arms, steel bands wrapped in velvet, steadied me as he caught my gaze. A small smile broke through the fear, acknowledging the safety of his presence, a respite from the storm that was Hunter .
" Care for her," Hunter growled, avoiding my eyes. " Or , by hell, I'll end you both. The only reason you're breathing is 'cause she's got some fucked up love for you... and you're like a brother to me."
The threat hung heavy in the air. Marco nodded once, solemn, understanding the line we all walked on.
" Got it, brother. "
Freed from Hunter's grip, I let Marco lead me away. His touch was a balm, each careful brush against my skin erasing the imprints of Hunter's fury. We moved through the halls towards his bedroom. He opened the door and led me to the bed, sitting me down with gentle strength. Their hands were tender as he grazed over the bruises marring my skin, soothing the hurt beneath.
" Let's get you fixed up," he murmured, retrieving a first aid kit. Funny , he cared about my pain before he'd even washed his face of his own. He wiped the small cut on my neck and put on a band-aid before soothingly running his hand over the bruises on my shoulders and wrists.
The room felt different, safe—a haven from the relentless dominance that saturated the air whenever Hunter was near. Here , with Marco , there was space to breathe.
" Better ?" His blue eyes searched mine, oceans of concern in their depths.
" Much ," I replied, my voice a soft whisper, clinging to the calm he offered.
As I sat there, tended and cherished, the weight of the night's events pressed down on me. It was hard to believe that Hunter caved, but he did. Maybe this was the start of my happiness. My yin and my yang, and I , the circle that holds them together .
" You're safe here." His gaze locked on mine, not wavering even as his fingers continued their path along my skin. There was a reverence in the way he treated me like I was something precious, something to be honored and protected. Something to love.
I wanted to drown in his care. To die in the heavy scent of his musky cologne.
" Sleep ," he urged softly, coaxing me into the bed, his hands trailing down to guide me with a touch so gentle he must think I'm a broken bird. He undressed me with a patience that made every movement feel deliberate, a slow burn that ignited a fire between my legs.
" Can't ," I breathed out, the word more plea than protest. Restlessness clawed at my insides, a hunger for something more—a craving to explore the heat simmering between us, to lose myself in the torrent of sensation that Marco promised with every glance. I sat, swinging my legs over the side of the bed as I stood. " Come ."
His room became smaller as I led him to the shower, the air thick with a different kind of tension. We started the shower and stripped the rest of our clothes before stepping in. Water cascaded over us, droplets mingling with the heat radiating from our bodies. His lips found mine, a kiss charged with all the unsaid things that lingered in the space between heartbeats. His hand engulfed my cheek as he held me. Reverent .
Every touch was fire; every sigh was a melody that played along the tense strings of expectation. Our hands roamed, exploring the wet canvas of skin, mapping out territories in a silent declaration of mutual surrender. The press of our bodies, the slide of skin against skin—it was magical.
We kissed like we were teens, careless, with a dangerous innocence that was catching. Every brush of his fingertips, every nip and lick, made my core clench. And yet... he refused to give me what I wanted, what we wanted.
" Need you," I managed, the words dissolving into the steam. My nails dug into his shoulders, a silent plea for more.
Parting just to soap and lather, allowing the water to wash the suds down the drain, we looked at each other. Hooded lids hide the eyes of desire. Steam clung to our skin as we stepped out of the shower. Marco wrapped a towel around my body, and I dried it quickly. Another towel tousled through his wet hair, droplets scattering.
" , you don't gotta do this," he murmured, his voice gravelly, " Not if it's just 'cause?—"
" Marco , I want you," I cut in, eyes locked on his, " Just as much I crave Hunter's darkness, I need your gentleness."
His gaze burned into mine, fierce and warm all at once. He nodded, understanding without needing the words, carrying me and lowering me to the edge of the bed. His fingers traced my inner thighs, coaxing them apart. The sight of him there, ready to worship my body with his mouth, sent a surge of anticipation through me.
" Jesus , , you're fucking beautiful," he breathed, almost in awe, before his tongue made contact. Warmth flickered, then roared to life as he tasted me, his movements deliberate, attentive, knowing exactly where to linger, where to press, where to tease until pleasure coiled tight inside me.
" Marco ..." It was an exhale, a surrender, as ecstasy unfurled, washing over me in waves that pulled me under. When the tide ebbed, I dragged him up by his shoulders, greedy for the feel of him, the weight of him. He slid inside, his cock stretching me deliciously before he paused.
" Harder ," I urged, nails raking down his back, marking him. A growl rumbled in his throat, and he obliged, finding that balance between possession and prayer, each thrust a statement of his claim and a question of my desire. He thrust into me harder, but not so hard it felt like I'd break apart. He whispered praise into my ear as his eyes searched mine .
" Damn near perfect," he grunted, his rhythm relentless but measured, giving me all I asked for and pushing me toward the brink once again.
I groaned and lifted my hips, feeling the build-up once again. " Slow for a sec," I said as he obliged, perfecting his pace, in and out as his breathing increased.
The crescendo built quickly and fast, and when he spilled his come onto my chest, it wasn't just a release—it was an affirmation that I could belong to both worlds: the dark and the tender.
He cleaned the evidence of our union with a soft cloth, movements meticulous, before tucking me into bed and kissing my forehead. Then , he moved to the chair by the window, silhouette outlined by moonlight, whiskey glass in hand. There was peace in it, a promise of protection even as the world outside teetered on the brink of chaos.
I lay there, the bed sheets cool against my skin, still flushed from Marco's touch. I couldn't help but wonder how Hunter would simmer come sunrise. Would he regret giving me what I asked for? Would he begrudgingly accept it? What was he doing right now?
Fingers traced the paths Marco's lips had taken, the tender worship he'd lavished between my thighs still a ghostly sensation that made me shiver with need. My mind wandered, danced with the dangerous musings of what it might be like if Marco unleashed himself upon me—not with care, but with the same ruthless dominance that Hunter did.
A smirk curled my lips. Each man a half to my twisted whole, a dance of light and shadow. And here I was, the center, the balance between their compulsions.
Eyelids heavy, I let the day's chaos slip away as dreams beckoned. But before sleep claimed me, a resolve took root in my heart. I wanted more than whispered promises and stolen moments; I craved their truths laid bare, the men behind the monsters. A proper date with each. Preferably more than one, but I'd take what I could get. Especially before the peace holding by a thread unraveled and became a blood-stained war between my father's clan and the one he sold me to. I wanted to see them, know them, beyond the blood-stained legacy of the Cinder Crew .
The bed's softness cradled my aching body, but my mind raced, churning with the what-ifs and maybes of tomorrow. Hunter's wrath... would it face me as the sun broke the dawn? And Marco , as gentle as he's been, I sensed the potential for storms just as fierce. Who wouldn't be a brute when faced with the choices they've faced?
A sigh escaped me. My past, a naive girl who'd craved the shadows without knowing their depth, their pull, seemed a distant memory. She had shattered, piece by piece, under the weight of who she became. And now, here I lay, fragments bound together by the very hands that broke me.
Fuck . I wanted them both: the pain and the pleasure. But at what cost? With every touch, every moment, I sank deeper into their life, becoming the very person I'd always tried to stave away by standing in the sun.
Tomorrow , I told myself, I'd peel back their layers and seek their truths. Dates sound so fucking normal for lives steeped in blood and betrayal. Yet , I craved that glimpse of normalcy, the chance to see Hunter and Marco stripped of their armor, bare and vulnerable before me.
How would we navigate this shit? The question lingered, unanswered, as dreams pulled me under into a sea of what might be. What could be… so long as my King of Sin and my Knight of Righteousness get along.