Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I felt it in my soul.
Twisting in my gut as he walked away to join the others.
I barely survived his indifference the first time.
I wouldn’t survive him twice.
The only way to protect my heart was to let him go along with Tristian.
I was officially done with the Sinacore brothers.
My best friends.
My family.
Because loving them only ever brought pain.
In every aspect of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
“If you have a gun you can rob a bank, but if you have a bank you can rob anyone.” —Black Mask
Romeo
Then: The wedding day
I had no words to describe her as she floated down that aisle. In the sickest, darkest part of my mind, she was walking toward me, smiling at me, minutes away from saying she was mine. Taking those vows and uttering them for the world to hear.
And yet… I knew.
Those footsteps only led toward him.
That smile? Wasn’t for the sinner standing next to the saint.
I rubbed the back of my neck. The scratches from her nails were still there, ugly, raw, red, and like the sick fuck I was, I left them full-on display. Wearing them like a badge of honor. Was it selfish to want something today? Anything that showed that I had a part of Eden’s heart that he would never get? Fuck it, she was marrying him, at least give me the blood, the tears, the pain, give me the sin over and over again—let me have one fucking thing.
“Nervous?” I asked as the music started.
My brother shot me a knowing grin only to have it falter when his eyes flickered to the side of my neck and back again. “Not really. Because today…she’s mine.”
“Lucky man.” The words tasted like acid. If only he knew that my cock had been inside her less than twelve hours ago, her thighs wrapped around my legs, shouting she was going to come over and over again from her lips.
Would he feel the same? If he knew that the love of his life was divided in two, wanting but knowing it could never be me?
He was a motherfucking consolation prize. And never had I felt so much jealousy in my entire existence.
Her smile was bright, her strapless white dress nearly indecent as it shimmered in the morning light streaming through the colored glass of the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the lace train pooled behind her. I clenched my fists at my sides as she walked arm and arm with her father, a man I loved.
Admired.
Respected.
A man who looked so fucking pleased that his only daughter was marrying into the Sinacore family. And I had to ask myself, why him? Why not me?
Because you’d break her until there was nothing left of her. And she’d forgive me until there was nothing left of me. Killing whatever love was left between us.
The music started.
The violins picked up as the doors suddenly opened, and there she was.
Stunning.
Breathtaking.
Mine.
I clutched my fists.
This was supposed to end differently.
That smile.
That body.
That mouth.
All of her.
Was mine.
Instead, she was walking toward him.
The only comfort I had was the sick knowledge that while my brother slept—I’d been deep inside her, claiming her, marking her. And he could never take that away from her, from us.
Everyone stood.
She kept her head high as she held on to her father’s arm, and when she finally made it to the altar, all I could think about was sinning some more with her.
Fucking her against the altar.
In front of God.
Our family.
My brother.
Licking up and down those thighs, sucking her until she screamed my name in an unholy confession.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the priest questioned.
“Her mother and I,” her father answered with a wide smile and tears in his eyes. Slowly, he lifted the simple lace veil over her head and kissed her cheek. The same cheek I’d wanted to assault with my mouth, right next to the neck I’d kissed and licked as I’d held her captive against the wall last night.
I tried to shove the thoughts away.
And then she lifted her hand to her father’s face, and I saw the marks on her creamy skin.
I clenched my jaw so fucking tight my teeth hurt. A slight blue bruise was present on her wrist. They were my fingertips, my assault, my claim.
Today she would marry my brother with the imprint of my hands on her body, and because I was a sadistic son of a bitch, I smiled. At least I was given that.
A gift.
A reward.
A fucking reason to not scream from the rooftops that I had been balls deep inside of her in the wee hours of the morning.
Our sin.
Our love.
Our bodies coming together as one was blatant for all to see.
My salvation was being with her at least once before she was given to another.
I did that.
I handed her over.
I lost her and gave her to my brother.