26. Devotion
Chapter 26
Devotion
Winnie
I fall to the floor, naked, bleeding, terrified.
Christophe and his uncle tumble down the stairs in a chaotic jumble of limbs and flashing metal, grunting the whole way. When Christophe stands, it’s with a loud grunt and a bit of a wobble. He lifts his chin, gaze meeting mine through the iron spindles of the banister.
I stare at him, the bars between us a barrier that needs to either be strengthened or destroyed.
“Come.”
That’s all he says, and my mind stutters to a halt. The last time he uttered that single word, he was buried deep inside me, pulling ungodly pleasure from me.
Now, there is no physical connection between us, just a full flight of stairs and a dead body.
Hopefully .
“Is he…?” Unable to finish that thought, I let it trail off.
Christophe glances down at his uncle, the hilt of a knife protruding from the man’s neck. “In hell, where he belongs. Hopefully bent over and getting fucked by the devil himself as a welcome.” He nudges Alain’s thigh, getting no response.
Dead. He’s dead. The monster is definitively gone.
I pull myself upright, standing on legs made of Jell-o.
“Come to me, honeybee.”
One hand on the railing, two steps to the top of the stairs, three deep, bracing breaths and I’m there—ready to take my first steps toward salvation.
Willing, not forced.
Drawn, not repulsed.
I begin my descent, slowly. Carefully. Pausing when I hear in a low, sexy growl, “Christ, look at you. Regal like the queen you are. Fucking perfect.”
Christophe ascends the stairs, taking them two at a time, as if he can’t stand to be away from me any longer. He wraps his hands around me, fingers twisting through my hair, gently guiding my jaw to where he wants me. His lips hover a breath from mine before softly sliding over them. This kiss is different, deliberate, sensual. Reverent.
As it slows, he pulls back, and retreats a step. His hands glide across my shoulders and down my arms until my hands are clasped in his. He holds them out to the side and stares.
I can almost feel each spot as his gaze traces over me, my heavy breasts, the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. His attention intently focused.
“And I might just have to fire my house staff.” The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
I know I’ve been through some shit in my life, things that have made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but I can’t begin to make sense of his statement.
I shake my head. “Why?”
“Because, honeybee, I want to watch you walk down my stairs just like this. Every day that I’m alive, I want to see you descend from your pedestal on high to grace me with your beauty. Allowing me to bask in every flawless inch of you.” His eyes are hooded and full of heat. “But I will kill anyone—fucking anyone—who dares to lay their eyes on what’s mine.”
In one swift movement, he swoops me into his arms and carries me down to the entryway, carefully stepping over the lifeless body sprawled there. With a purposeful stride, Christophe brings us deeper into the house stopping in a grand living area. He shifts me in his grasp and whips a fresh throw from the back of a tufted leather Chesterfield and wraps it around me, shielding my nakedness.
I meet his gaze expecting to find his smirk, that tilt of his lush lips, only to see a hard scowl. I flinch.
Christophe sets me on my feet, adjusts the throw more tightly around me and then scoops me into his arms once again. “I love Teague like a brother; I don’t want him to be the first one I have to kill for seeing you bare.” And then, I get the smirk that sends my heart racing and makes my thighs clench.
He must feel the tightness of anticipation in my body, because his casual attitude shifts to urgency as his long legs eat up the distance to the car out front. He climbs into the back seat with me still clutched in his arms and directs one of his men to get us home immediately.
Home.
All my life, that word has stood for nothing but stress, anxiety, and shame. Until the very first day I met Christophe in the woods, then he became synonymous with home.
He was my safe haven that summer. He became my silent savior through the years, making sure I had what I needed in life. And now?
His intense stare bores deep into my soul dispatching the illusion that I’ll ever be able to withhold anything from him again.
“You are mine, Winnie. Not because you’re bought and paid for, though I would do that again in a heartbeat. That was nothing more than a technicality. Your soul speaks to mine. You ground me. You are my reason for being.”
I blink back tears at the sincerity of his tone. His words penetrate through the layers of armor surrounding my heart. The only other person to ever make it through that armor is Tru, but this is entirely different, and I can’t help but melt as his declarations continue.
“And I plan on spending the rest of my life loving you. Spoiling you. I don’t ever want you to go without or want for anything. Nothing is out of your reach, honeybee. Nothing. The world is yours for the taking.” He brushes his lips across mine, sealing his proclamation with a kiss. Pulling back, he wraps his fist in my hair giving it a sharp tug and adds, “And I’m going to fuck you, honeybee. Make no mistake, you are mine in every fucking way. I will lay the world at your feet, I will slay all of your dragons, and keep you sheltered, surrounded by the safety of our woods, but I will thoroughly fuck you at every opportunity.”
The car rolls to a stop in the circle drive outside his mansion and before the driver even shifts into park, Christophe hits the intercom button.
“Sit tight until we’re inside and then go back for Teague.”
The response sounds distant despite the fact that the only thing separating us is an opaque privacy panel. “Sir, it’s not a problem to get the door for you.”
Christophe’s voice is laced with threats and spilling over with venom. “Move a fucking muscle and I will end you, oui ?”
“Yes, sir.”
He climbs out of the car and mounts the steps to the front door, clutching me to his massive frame. “No one gets to see what’s mine, honeybee. Never again.”
His commitment to that statement is only solidified as he stalks through his entryway, barking threats to anyone who dares to greet the lord of this manor.
He eats up the distance to his suite, shoulders back, expression fierce.
I should be scared.
I should be terrified.
Instead, for the first time ever, I feel safe.
I feel cared for and cherished.
Treasured.
Maybe even loved. I don’t know. That might just be too much to ask for in my life.
The door to his suite slams behind us closing us away from the house—from the rest of the world—and Christophe sets me down in the middle of the room.
“What happens now?” I ask.
Right or wrong, I care about him. I always have and I don’t think I can survive anything less than full reciprocity.
Christophe stares at me, his full lips pursed, making them even fuller. More alluring. More tempting.
I want to press up onto my toes and taste them, but as I shift my weight, his hold on my shoulders tightens. Not pushing me away, but certainly not pulling me close.
Despite his words and declarations, doubt starts to creep in. Christophe runs hot and fierce, but a chill from his lack of response burrows under my skin, making me jittery and uncomfortable.
I care too much—about him, about his wants and desires. I squirm, trying to pull away from him but, once again, I get nowhere.
“Be still, honeybee.” Christophe leans close, his lips barely moving as he pushes the words from his mouth. “You want to know what happens next? This is where we start. Where we reclaim what’s been taken from us. This is the start of us, you and me. The start of our empire.”
He walks us farther into the room. The bloodied cashmere throw slides from my shoulders as we move, leaving me completely exposed as he presses me close. His warm, solid body is a beacon, a safe haven against the frigid night air swirling through the broken glass door. His tongue swipes across his lower lip, wetting it before he pulls it between his teeth.
He spins me around to gaze out over his grounds, his mouth brushing against my ear as he says, “This is the beginning of our adventure, ma chère . The start of our forever. We’re going to take back what’s rightfully ours and rule over the Robicheaux empire. Bring it back to the vision my father had for it, and then make it even better. Make it completely ours.” He kisses a path down my neck and across my shoulder, goose bumps amplified by the warmth of his mouth.
He leads me to the bathroom, shedding his weapons and peeling off his clothes as the water heats. We step into the shower, the water tinted pink with the blood painted over my skin as it swirls around the drain, taking the marks of a horrid man with it.
We take our time lathering our hands and washing each other clean.
Touching.
Caressing.
The temperature rises, though it has nothing to do with the steamy water and everything to do with the man in front of me.
“You’ll always be my honeybee”—he turns us, backing me into the corner and wraps both my wrists in one of his big hands, pinning them against the tile above my head—“but to everyone else, you’ll be the queen bee. And I’ll spend the rest of my life serving you.”
Christophe takes my mouth, devouring me, making me his over and over again, all while declaring that he is mine.