Chapter 17
Damien
Ikeep Seraphina firmly in my lap, and as I breathe in the flowery scent of her shampoo mingling with the irresistible smell of her, I allow myself to sink into thoughts of punishments, past and future, smoothing over my aggravation.
She doesn’t believe I love her. She barely believes I want her.
I do find some relief at the thought, realizing that maybe she does care for me after all, and is merely trying to protect herself.
At the same time, it’s deeply frustrating.
Especially since she seems to hold onto the belief that I once meant to kill her… and probably wonders if I’ll try again.
Oh, well. Today, she’ll be mine, in every way, including legally. It won’t matter what she thinks, or what she wants, or what her fears are. I’ll possess her entirely.
And we’ll live in the goddamn country, whether she wants to or not. I’m done being soft. I’m going to fix her, once and for all.
She gasps, and I realize I’ve been practically squeezing her to death absentmindedly. I loosen my hold over her, just slightly, smiling at the thought of the bruises probably forming on her arm. I’ll make sure the wedding dress doesn’t hide them.
Suddenly, I’m feeling thankful that we’re not going to the bridal boutique after all. I don’t want her to get used to making decisions. I make the decisions. She only follows them.
It took me a very short time on the plane ride over to select the dress I wanted her to wear and the flavor of cake, making my choices among the selection that the still-loyal Vincent sent over.
It may be a quick, small wedding, but I do want her to have a taste of a traditional celebration.
Don’t all girls dream of cakes and dresses?
But who knows, with her. She’s such an odd thing.
I help her down the steps of the plane and into a waiting car.
Buckling her seatbelt, despite her muttered protests, I keep an arm around her as I send messages to Logan.
He’s confirmed again that Alice was the rat who told Noel of my plans for today.
She was at Devil Tower when Seraphina escaped, so she was involved with it, even if she wasn’t directly in contact with Seraphina.
Vincent has been busy hacking into the electronic devices she left at her home, and he found all her communications with Elias and Noel.
It does reassure me to know that I didn’t just kill an innocent woman.
I have absolutely no qualms, however, about killing a guilty one, especially one who endangered my girl.
Now, they’re hard at work tracking down the second rat. I was certain that only Alice knew of the bridal boutique and the church I’d previously booked, and which I’ve since cancelled. But this other rat… what information could it have?
Who helped Seraphina escape? I can understand why she won’t tell me.
I admire her silence, in a begrudging sort of way.
I know she wouldn’t hesitate to kill to protect me, because she’s done it before, but she has a sense of honor.
Still, it’s driving me crazy. She’s the one person who stands in the way of her own safety.
We’ve been driving through the countryside for a while, large auburn trees on either side of the small road bending back and forth in the wind.
In the distance, purple mountains are nearly lost in the fog.
Her eyes are fixed out the window, her face blank, and I have just enough time to wonder what she’s thinking before the car grinds to a halt in front of a small church. Her eyes widen as I help her out.
“Are we… going in there?” she whispers.
“I won’t go up in smoke, you know,” I tease her, then nudge her toward a small dwelling beside the steeple. “Come on.”
“Oh.” She exhales. “I thought for a second…”
She blushes a pretty pink, and I wonder if she was hoping for that church, or dreading it. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself harshly. She’ll do what I tell her to.
We enter the small living room, and she gasps.
A beautiful white dress is on display. It’s made of white satin, trimmed with delicate lace and rhinestones.
This probably wouldn’t have been my first pick, but I remembered the pink sparkly dress she once shoplifted at the Devil store, so I chose a dress encrusted with glittering stones.
She claps a hand over her mouth, and I read a thousand conflicting emotions in her eyes. Joy, surprise, thrill… anger.
That last emotion seems to win out and she turns to me, her eyes sparkling almost as much as the gown.
“No.”
Her reaction annoys me as much as it amuses me. I can’t help but say mockingly, “Who said this was for you?”
Her confusion makes me chuckle. “Come here, you.” I draw her to me and press my lips to hers. “You’re going to wear this, and we’re going to get married next door. You have exactly five minutes. I’ll wait for you in the chapel. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
I snort as her face goes through a thousand more expressions in under thirty seconds. Again, she settles on anger. “I said no,” she repeats, her voice trembling with suppressed fury.
Oh, well. I’m not superstitious anyway. I slam the door shut and face her.
“What are you going to do to prevent this from happening?” I question.
She stares at me wordlessly, defiance flaring in her eyes.
“Saying no is cute and all. But you don’t belong to yourself.
You’re mine.” I edge toward her and stop, an inch away.
I’m aware that I tower over her, and I’m about twice as wide, too.
But she doesn’t lower her large eyes. Again, I find myself admiring her courage. Though it won’t save her from her fate.
“You have two minutes to tell me why not. Then, I’m putting you in that wedding dress, whether you want me to or not. And if you keep resisting, I’ll throw you over a shoulder and march you down the aisle that way.”
She keeps her mouth resolutely shut.
“Tell me!” I thunder.
“I don’t want to,” she says, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking.
“Why the hell not?!”
“Because… because you don’t love me.”
As she blurts out the words, her anger deflates, and I can see she’s struggling not to cry. But now I’m the one who’s riled up.
“Silly girl,” I growl. “I’ve a good mind to shut you up in the cell again. Is that what I need to do to make you behave, you ridiculous child?”
She looks up at me with a petulant expression that seems to confirm my words.
But it makes my anger vanish and I find myself snorting with laughter.
Her hands form fists as she gives in once more to her own anger.
But it’s the kind I can handle. The cute kind that makes me want to tease her more, not wring her neck.
Flipping her around before she has time to resist, I pull down the zipper of the dress she’s wearing, and it falls to a puddle on the floor.
I can’t help but pause just long enough to admire her naked body. So fucking beautiful. I rip off her panties too, and note she’s wet. Clearly, my laughter gets her wet just as much as it gets her angry. Or maybe she secretly likes it when I take away her choice.
I have a feeling both theories are true as I slide my finger over her arousal. Then I turn her around again while my mouth clamps over her nipple. She sags into my arms, but still, I feel her resistance.
“I don’t want to get married,” she manages between two loud moans.
I quiet her with a smack to her bottom, and withdraw my finger from her pussy. She whimpers at the loss.
“Anything else you want to say?” I hiss.
“I want you,” she sobs. “But I know you’re lying to me.”
I smack her again, harder. “Arms up,” I order.
She hesitates for a second and I smack her a third time. Blinking away her tears, she capitulates at last, and I force the wedding gown over her. “Keep still or it’ll rip,” I warn, “and then I’ll really let you have it.”
I drag her toward the door, but at the last moment, the sight of her sad, resigned face forces a pang of guilt into my chest.
I press her back to the wall and kiss her passionately. “Why can’t you love me?” I breathe into her mouth.
“I… I do care…” she whispers. “But… but you don’t…”
Her whispered admission makes my heart melt. I kiss her tenderly, and then deepen it in a passionate embrace.
“I love you more than I can put into words. Why can’t you believe that? I want you to share my name. I want you to share my life. I’ll never want anyone but you. You’re mine, and I want to be yours, too. I want you to own me just as much as I own you. Why can’t you understand that?”
I sink to my knees before her and press my head to her chest, realizing that I’ve never shown such vulnerability to her before.
To anyone. Growing up in Oakley, vulnerability gets you killed.
We’ve both been shaped by our childhood in the slums, and I realize it again as I feel her steel herself against my words.
Anyway, I’m not crazy. How could she possibly believe my words after everything I’ve done to her?
At least, I know she cares for me. She won’t concede to anything beyond that, but I’m satisfied that she would want to marry me, if she believed me.
The last of my qualms disappear. I’m not truly forcing her into a life she doesn’t want.
I’m only forcing her into a life she doesn’t believe is possible.
I sigh, wishing I could find a way to convince her of my feelings for her. But for the moment, it seems, the only way to reach her is through her body.
And even though her mind refuses to believe me, her body is already arching toward me.
Smirking, I lift up her heavy dress, finding her pussy, thankful I didn’t allow her keep her panties.
She’s soaking wet again. I dip a finger into her, while I rub another one against her clit. “Still don’t believe me?”