Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I crossed my arms behind my head and glared into the darkness, and then I heard it.
A sob.
Soon, more followed, and I could feel the mattress vibrate as Aria shook under the force of her crying. I was furious, but beyond that, there was an emotion I didn’t think I was capable of: compassion. I wanted to console her. I hated that weak part of myself. A Vitiello never showed sympathy, and he certainly never bowed down to the ridiculous whims of a woman. That’s what my father taught Matteo and me.
“Will you cry all night?” I asked sharply, letting my anger run free. It was the more familiar choice.
Aria didn’t reply, but I could still hear her muffled sobs. “I can’t see how you could possibly have cried any worse if I’d taken you. Maybe I should fuck you to give you a real reason.” This was the man my father had raised me to be. Letting my fury out had always felt good, so why didn’t it this time?
Aria shifted, but her cries got only worse. I switched the light on and sat up. For a moment, I was stunned by the sight of my wife curled up in a fetal position beside me, shoulders curled in protectively and body shaking with sobs. It was hard to hold on to my anger, seeing her like that. There were men who got a hard-on if a woman cried. I never understood them.
The problem was that I had no clue what to do with a crying woman. I’d never consoled anyone in my life. I touched her arm. That obviously wasn’t the way to go, because she flinched and would have rolled off the fucking bed if I hadn’t grabbed her by the hip and pulled her toward me.
“That’s enough,” I said, trying to keep my frustration in check. She was already scared out of her mind; if I let my anger out on her, things definitely wouldn’t improve.
I rolled her onto her back. She lay unmoving, her eyes scrunched shut as if she were waiting for me to make a move on her.
“Look at me.” Her eyes peeled open, big and blue, and filled with tears. “I want you to stop crying. I want you to stop flinching from my touch.”
She blinked once, then nodded. She would have agreed to anything in that moment. I’d seen that look in other people’s eyes before. “That nod means nothing. Don’t you think I recognize fear when it stares back at me? The moment I turn out the light, you’ll be back crying as if I’d fucking raped you.” Rape was one of the very few despicable things I wasn’t guilty of, and I had absolutely no intention to change that. “So to give you peace of mind and shut you up, I’m going to swear an oath.”
Hope filled her face, making her look even more stunning. I wasn’t sure why I even cared. I shouldn’t. She licked her lips, and I almost groaned. “An oath?”
I took her small hand and pressed it against the tattoo over my heart. Her palm was warm and smooth, and it felt too good. I spoke part of the words I’d said many years ago during my initiation. “Born in blood, sworn in blood, I swear that I won’t try to steal your virginity or harm you in any way tonight.” If Matteo could see me now, he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. I pointed at my cut. “I already bled for you, so that seals it. Born in blood. Sworn in blood.” I covered her hand, then waited for her to say the words.
“Born in blood, sworn in blood,” she said softly. There was the tiniest smile tugging at her lips, and the sight of it shouldn’t have made me feel so…content. I let go of her and turned the lights off. She didn’t cry again. Eventually, her breathing deepened. Of course I was wide-awake, but I couldn’t even leave the room. If someone saw me running around when I should be banging my wife, that wouldn’t go over well. Nobody could ever find out.
Listening to Aria’s even breathing, I wondered if I’d get a sliver of sleep tonight. I hadn’t ever slept when I had to share a room with anyone. I was a light sleeper, always vigilant, waiting for someone to stick a knife into my back or eyeball, and lowering my guard was out of the question when others were around. But Aria was my wife. And to be honest, she wasn’t a threat in any regard. Not because she was weaker and untrained—that wouldn’t matter if she poisoned me in secret—but because she didn’t strike me as someone who could seriously injure, much less kill someone. It wasn’t in her nature.