Chapter 7 The Shadow
THE SHADOW
The hot water pounded against my skin, steam rising in thick clouds around me.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands against the cool, dark stone of the shower wall.
The tension that had settled in my muscles since that damn convention refused to release, even under the relentless heat.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but her.
Vivian.
I told myself I made the right decision, that marrying her was simply a means to an end. Altair’s demands were simple: take a wife to prove my commitment to expanding the empire. And so, I’d chosen the most convenient option. A human. A pathetic, fragile creature.
A bitter laugh escaped me, lost beneath the sound of the water crashing around me.
My father would be livid if he ever found out.
Lord Thorne, that rotting lich, would see this union as a blasphemy.
A human bride? To him, it would be the ultimate disgrace.
A stain on our family’s legacy. He’d kill her the moment he found out.
Snap her neck like a twig and cast her aside.
But that’s where the old bastard and I differed.
I had no desire to preserve some fucking bloodline or breed the next generation of impossibly powerful Gallanti heirs.
The very thought of offspring turned my stomach.
Children. Little creatures with sticky hands and endless demands.
No, thank you. The idea of passing on my cursed lineage—of creating some fragile half-blood stray to inherit this godforsaken empire—wasn’t something I was interested in.
I was more than happy to oblige with Altair’s fucked up demands if it meant gaining control of his territory. Hopefully, Altair would be dead before he could demand an heir from me. Gods, he better be, otherwise I may have to take him out myself.
The wedding would happen within the week. I saw no reason to delay. The sooner it was done, the sooner I could cement my hold over the Crimson Dominion.
But gods, that woman…
I grabbed the loofah and started scrubbing the grime from my skin. Her face flashed in my mind again—Vivian, wrapped in that damn towel, her eyes wide and defiant. The curve of her hips, the way her wet hair clung to her shoulders, the passion in her eyes that refused to be dimmed.
What the hell was it about her? She was a weak, breakable human.
And yet, she was already driving me insane.
She had looked me straight in the eye that day when Vincenzo, Celeste, and the others had barged into my office like they owned the place.
I still remembered her voice, cold and defiant, when I’d asked who the hell she was.
“Nobody.”
The audacity of it. That single word had infuriated me more than any insult ever could. And now, months later, she had thrown herself onto that stage at the lunar convention, offering her life without a second thought.
Stupid fucking girl.
And yet... I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d felt in my arms. The way her body had trembled against me when I’d carried her away. She was so small, so fragile. I could’ve crushed her bones with a single squeeze.
But she was mine now. My possession. My problem.
A low growl rumbled out of me as I scrubbed harder, trying to rid myself of the memory of her body against mine.
It was no use. The images wouldn’t leave me—the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin.
That damn fire in her eyes that refused to be extinguished, even when she was on her knees begging for that boy’s life.
That stubborn defiance in her eyes burned hotter than the water cascading over my skin.
It wasn’t only her insolence that gnawed at me—although that was infuriating enough—it was the way she challenged me.
Every time she opened her mouth, I wanted to silence her.
Every time she met my gaze, I wanted to claim her.
And every time she slipped into my thoughts like this, I wanted to…
I dragged my hand down my chest, water streaming over the scars etched into my skin like an old map of violence and power.
Her image lingered—wrapped in that damned towel, her wet hair dripping onto her bare shoulders.
She’d smelled of rain and danger when I carried her, and her scent somehow still clung to me even now. How was that even possible?
The memory of her made my pulse pound harder. She was supposed to be a means to an end, a pawn I’d backed into a corner. My wife out of necessity. Not because I wanted her. Not because I couldn’t get her out of my head.
But fuck, her body. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cool tile as my fingers ghosted lower, instinct taking over. I tried to conjure someone else, but all I could see was her.
The curve of her waist, the glow of her skin beneath the flickering lights of the convention hall as she stood there, ready to sacrifice herself.
The trembling resolve in her voice when she’d demanded Ciro take her instead of the boy.
She was so damn fragile, yet she’d stood in the face of certain death and dared to negotiate with me.
Her lips had parted, trembling slightly, but not in fear. No, Vivian Solis didn’t tremble for anyone. That was what truly infuriated me.
And aroused me.
I sucked in a breath as my hand moved lower, wrapping around the base of my growing frustration.
Her name slipped past my lips before I could stop it, a guttural curse that echoed around the shower like a confession.
My grip tightened as I imagined peeling that towel from her body, revealing every inch of her to me—her neck, her collarbones, the swell of her breasts.
How soft would her skin feel beneath my hands? How would she arch against me if I—
I let out a harsh groan, the water scalding my skin as my hand began to move.
Images of her overwhelmed me, flooding every corner of my mind.
Her fiery defiance, her maddening beauty, the way her body had trembled against mine.
She was supposed to be mine, but not like this.
She was not supposed to be an uncontrollable obsession.
The thought of her surrendering, finally breaking under my touch, was enough to send pleasure surging through me. I imagined her writhing against me, her lips parting with a gasp as I claimed her. Her gagging on me as she choked on my cock.
No fire. No defiance. Just her—completely and utterly mine.
The climax came hard and fast, a shuddering release that left me gripping the tile for support. My breath left me in ragged bursts, the sound mixing with the steady hiss of the shower.
I straightened slowly, dragging a hand through my hair as the haze began to clear. But the frustration remained, simmering beneath the surface.
This was madness. She was a means to an end, nothing more. A pawn in a game far greater than she could ever understand.
But gods help me, that pawn was turning out to be far more intriguing than I’d ever anticipated.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist, droplets of water still clinging to my skin.
The steam from the shower had fogged up the mirror, but I could still see the outline of my reflection through the haze.
For a moment, I considered wiping it clean, but what was the point?
All I’d see was the same monster that always stared back at me.
I couldn’t afford to be distracted. I needed to keep my focus on the bigger picture. Marrying Vivian would give me everything I needed: Altair’s territory, his alliances, his resources. That was the only reason I’d spared her life.
And yet, as I turned away from the fogged mirror, pulling on a crisp shirt and fastening the buttons, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to break her completely. To dampen that fire in her eyes.
She was mine now. And I would mold her into whatever I needed her to be.
I sat at the head of the long, ornate dining table, tapping my fingers impatiently against the dark mahogany surface.
The chandeliers cast a harsh light over the room, their crystals refracting shards of brilliance onto the black marble floors.
Dinner was laid out before me, untouched and growing cold.
I was a man of discipline, and tonight, my patience was wearing thin.
Where the hell was she?
Just as I was about to summon one of the guards to drag her ass down here, the double doors creaked open. I looked up, and for a moment, I nearly choked on nothing at all. Vivian walked in, two of my men flanking her.
She was wearing a deep crimson dress that hugged every curve and flowed down her body like liquid fire.
The neckline dipped low, exposing just enough to taunt but not enough to satisfy.
Fucking Eldora had outdone herself. She must have gone through my entire wardrobe collection to find the sexiest, most sinful dress in my territory just to torment me.
I swallowed hard, the words I’d prepared vanishing into thin air as Vivian walked toward the table. The fabric clung to her hips, flaring just slightly at the bottom, a perfect balance of elegance and seduction. She looked like a queen preparing for battle. A siren ready to drag me to the depths.
When she reached the table, she tried to slide into a seat farthest from me, but my guards steered her to the chair directly across as I had ordered them. Everyone but Eldora were illusioned into thinking she was a prisoner of mine, serving her sentence by serving me in ways I had not clarified.
She settled down, fiery defiance dancing in her gaze, and didn’t say a word. She just sat there, glaring at me with a hatred so palpable it could have cut through the atmosphere between us.
Why was she so fucking gorgeous? This would be a hell of a lot easier if she were like most of the women I surrounded myself with—pretty, compliant, and easily discarded once they’d served their purpose. But Vivian? She had a certain raw, untamed energy that made my blood simmer.