Unholy Intent
Unholy Union Duet Book 2
Natasha Knight
Copyright © 2020 by Natasha Knight
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
About This Book
1. Cristina
2. Damian
3. Damian
4. Cristina
5. Damian
6. Cristina
7. Cristina
8. Damian
9. Cristina
10. Cristina
11. Damian
12. Damian
13. Cristina
14. Cristina
15. Damian
16. Cristina
17. Damian
18. Cristina
19. Cristina
20. Cristina
21. Damian
22. Cristina
23. Damian
24. Cristina
25. Damian
26. Cristina
27. Damian
28. Cristina
29. Damian
30. Cristina
31. Damian
32. Cristina
33. Damian
34. Damian
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Sample from Taken
Thank You
Also by Natasha Knight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About This Book
Monsters don’t often look like monsters on the outside.
* * *
Forced to marry a man I should hate, I’m now bound to Damian.
* * *
I sometimes wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Deer in headlights, I guess.
* * *
What I see is clear.
* * *
Darkness.
Desire.
Carnal want.
* * *
A man with too much experience.
* * *
The day he took me he told me I belong to him. On our wedding night he proved I did. And I believe him when he says he’ll keep me safe because he won’t let anyone touch what’s his.
* * *
But I can’t forget what he is. Can’t forget the things he’s done.
* * *
And no matter what, I can’t let myself fall in love with him.
Unholy Intent is the second and final book of the Unholy Union Duet.
If you haven’t read Unholy Union yet, you’ll need to do that first. Click here to pick up Unholy Union.
1
Cristina
“Welcome home, Brother.”
I look up at Damian. Beautiful Damian.
He shifts his gaze to mine.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave the locked doors alone?” he asks me, but his voice is strange. Echoing in this dusty, forgotten place.
The music starts again. That eerie sound of piano keys played slowly, so fitting to this place, this room, this house.
My head is spinning.
The other man, Damian’s brother, says something. His voice is similar to Damian’s but off. Like his face. Wrong.
Damian tucks hair behind my ear.
I push his hand away, push his arms away. I turn slowly. They’re both watching me now, waiting to see what I’ll do.
And the tune keeps playing, the chords slow. Sad.
I need to look at him.
Can they hear my heartbeat? Blood beats like a drum against my ears.
Run.
Run.
But I can’t run. I meet a monster at every turn. One standing behind me. The other holding me.
He warned me about the monsters. How many more hide in this house?
“Cristina,” Damian says.
I keep turning, my body still pressed to Damian’s.
I’ve taken shelter in my enemy’s arms.
He’s in my periphery now. The monster. The brother. Tall, like Damian. I see the coat. It’s wet. He was the man walking back toward the house. It wasn’t Damian at all. What is out there that they go to see in the dead of night?
Dark hair.
Identical twins.
It’s easy to tell them apart now though.
My eyes finally find the monster’s eyes. My breath catches in my throat.
I remember when I was little, and I stared at Damian’s damaged hand. But this? This is worse.
Much worse.
His face…I see Damian in it. In half of it. The damage on the other half, no, not quite half. It’s from the corner of his eye back into his hairline, one ear gone. It’s like Damian’s hand, his arm.
Melted skin.
“Not as pretty as my brother, am I?” he asks too casually, tone mocking like Damian’s can sometimes be.
I move to break free, to run, but Damian captures my arms. He holds me still, making me face his brother.
I want to close my eyes, to turn my face away, but I can’t do either because I can’t stop looking.
And as if to accommodate me, Damian’s brother shifts his position, giving me the full effect of the damage.
“Let me go.” It’s a whispered plea because I can’t make my voice work. I’m sure Damian doesn’t hear me. I think my lips are moving, but even I don’t hear more than my wavering breath.
Damian says something, but his words have to battle the blood thudding against my ears to be heard.
The brother grins. His gaze slides over me. The look in his eyes when he returns them to mine has me pressing my back into Damian.
He walks toward us.
A sound comes from inside my throat, a garbled choke on a scream.
It’s not his face that has me terrified, though. It’s the look in his eyes.
Damian won’t back away and his brother just keeps coming closer. My hands grab onto Damian’s. I’m pulling and scratching as his brother comes so near that I can smell the forest and the rain on him. Feel the chill coming off of him.
“Pretty,” he says, raising a hand but thinking better of touching me when I cry out. “I can’t help how I look, you know,” he says. “Ask my brother. The fault lies with him, after all.”
Damian’s fault?
He does touch me then. He takes my hand, the one with the ring on it, and my legs tremble.
Damian holds me up, steadies me.
His brother drops my arm like he’s tossing something away. His expression darkens chilling me through. I want out of here. I need to get away from him. I’m sure if it weren’t for Damian, I’d be on the ground now. A whimpering, pathetic heap at their feet.
“Are you taking good care of her for me, Brother?” he asks.
His fingers are on my face then. Cold fingers. Cold breath. Cold heart.
And this time, when my knees give out and the music fades away I don’t fight it. I give myself over to it, feel myself slip away, my vision going black.
2
Damian
Cristina lies limp in my arms, head back, lips slightly parted and eyes closed as I carry her back to her room to lay her on her bed.
Once there, she opens her eyes with a start, bolting upright, almost smashing her head into mine. She claws at my arms.
“Easy,” I tell her.
Seeing my brother without a warning will give anyone a shock. Hell, even with warning, it’ll scare the fuck out of most.
She makes a sound, pushes against me.
I collect her wrists in my hands and hold onto her. “I said easy.”
She looks around her room. Is she reassured by its familiarity? Beca
use after a moment, she does relax a little.
I look down at her. Black smears her face and rings her eyes. She’s still wearing the dress from earlier, but it’s wrinkled, the hem dirty. A mess. She’s barefoot and shivering all over.
I take the blanket and tuck it around her. I swear I can hear the music again. That fucking Victrola Lucas had custom-made more than ten years ago. Can’t he fucking stream music like the rest of the world? He always did have a flair for the dramatic. I should have smashed the damned thing with a hammer the day he left.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave the locked doors alone?”
“It wasn’t locked. I saw you…” She shakes her head. “I thought…” Her forehead creases as she trails off. “But it wasn’t you.”
I haven’t seen my brother in too many years. Identical twins, almost. His eyes are a shade darker. Like his soul. Although if you asked him, I’m sure he’d call my soul black.
“Are you all right?” I ask Cristina when her wet eyes focus back on mine.
“Where is he?”
“Don’t worry about Lucas. He won’t hurt you.”
“He said…he asked if you’d been taking care of me for him.” Her face contorts.
Something twists inside my gut at my own memory of his words. Motherfucker. “Do you want something to help you sleep?”
“What did he mean, Damian?”
“Nothing. He won’t touch you.”
“Touch me?” She scrubs her face with her hands.
I pull them away. “He won’t hurt you. No one will.” I put my thumb to her ring. “This will keep you safe from them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow, you and I will be married.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No one can touch you once that happens. Not the men at that party. Not those in my family.”
“But you will touch me.” She pulls her hands from mine.
Her comment catches me off guard.
“Did…his face…did that happen in the accident?”
I nod.
“He said it was your fault. Why?”
I lock my features. “Because I was driving.”
She looks confused.
“I was driving the car your father rammed into, sending us onto the path of that damned train.” The train only clipped the car, but at the speed it was traveling, it was enough. I wonder if it had hit us head-on if we wouldn’t have all been better off. The Di Santo family wiped from the face of the earth in one fell swoop.
She studies me for a long time.
I keep my features schooled. “I need to go. Do you need something to help you sleep?”
“One of your needles? No, thank you. Why is he here?”
“To take what’s mine.” I stand. “But don’t worry, I have no intention of giving it to him. Of giving you to him.” I walk to the door. “Get some sleep, Cristina.”
“I don’t want to marry you, Damian.”
“You want to remain fair game?”
“I want to go home.”
“I am your home. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I won’t do it. I won’t marry you.”
“What are your options?”
“Just let me go.”
“You’re naïve, Cristina. Be grateful I’ve taken you under my protection.”
“Grateful?”
“Yes, grateful.” I walk back to her. “Look around you. You’re in my house. And in this house, you have one ally and many enemies. Those men at the party? I told you what they’d do to you if they could. Who’s left? Your uncle? You think he’ll save you? Remember that he sat at that table too. Or maybe your young cousin. He may be good at digging up information but I’m pretty sure even you don’t want him involved with men like us.”
She pushes a hand into her hair, then looks down as her forehead creases.
I take her chin and tilt her face up toward mine. “Your life before me is over. There is no going back. Understand that.”
“I already know that.” She tugs free.
“Good.”
She’s quiet for a long minute. “What happens after the year?”
I study her.
“Am I going to die because your sister died?”
I step away. I need a drink.
“Is that the plan?” she pushes.
“That’s not my plan.”
She rubs her face, wraps her hands around the back of her neck, then weaves her fingers together tightly in her lap.
“What do you mean? Please just explain everything to me. Just tell me. I can’t handle the games you’re playing, Damian. I’m not in your league. I’m…God, how many days has it been? I’m already falling apart. I want to talk to Liam. I want…I want this to go away. I want you to go away.”
“It’s not going away. I’m not going away. You will marry me because you need me to survive this.”
“Survive it how? How do I come out on the other side of this?”
I consider her and draw a tight breath in. My exhale is a sigh. “You give me what I want, and when it’s time, I will let you go.”
She opens her mouth, closes it again, and studies me, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ll let me go?”
I nod.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“What’s the point of keeping you when I’m through?”
She winces as if I’ve slapped her. I hear my words. Her expression darkens, a deep distrust settling in her eyes.
“I give you my word, Cristina.”
“What good is your word?”
“It’s all you’ve got.”
“And why do you need me? Let’s both be clear here. You’re not helping me. What is it you want from me exactly?”
“For starters, I want tomorrow. I could threaten you. I could hurt you. Hurt someone you love. I’ll get what I want either way.”
“Then why are you even asking?”
“Because you’re right. You are completely out of your league. You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with. And maybe I remember that barefoot little girl, and when I see you like this, a barefoot woman lost in this damned place, this house of monsters, maybe I don’t like it. Maybe there’s something human left in me after all.”
Something in her eyes softens, and I see her innocence. I see a need to believe. To trust. Doesn’t she know what that does to me?
She looks away, then back to me. “Only on paper. The marriage will only be on paper.”
“The marriage will be consummated.”
She licks her lips and shakes her head.
I lean toward her. “Do you want me to remind you how wet you were the other night?”
“Why would you want me when I don’t want you?”
I straighten, snort. “You can deny it all you want if it makes you feel better about yourself. Deep down, you know the truth and so do I. Give me what I want and when the time is right, I’ll let you go. Don’t, and I’ll take it anyway. But you’ll be mine forever. And your forever may not be that long.”
Her face pales. I could have left that last part out.
I walk to the door, open it, and step out.
“Damian,” she calls out.
I stop. Turn.
“Even if I agree, if I give you what you want, know that it’s not a choice I’d make if I had any real options. Know that you’re still forcing me. And you can deny that all you want, but deep down, you and I will both know the truth.”
I grin.
Clever girl.
Maybe she isn’t so far out of her league after all.
I close the door and lock it behind me.
3
Damian
“Didn’t realize you were back,” I say, walking into the dining room where my brother turns to meet my gaze. “You should have sent a message.” I take the bottle of whiskey from Lucas, grab a glass, and pour myself one.
He goes to the window and
lifts the curtain to look outside. “Would you have had my room cleaned? Had a welcome party waiting with a feast ready to celebrate the return of the prodigal son?”
“No, probably not.” I take a big sip keeping my eyes on my brother’s back. He’s so fucking dramatic.
“Didn’t think so.” He drops the curtain and turns to me. “Wanted to surprise you anyway.”
“Timing’s suspicious.”
“Michela likes to keep me informed.”
“I figured that much. And Dad? He keeping you informed too?”
He studies me, eyes narrowing as he takes a sip of his drink and grins. “All you have are enemies. How does that feel, Brother?”
“That’s certainly not the case now that you’re back, I’m sure.”
We both drink, neither of us taking our eyes off the other.
He’s put the weight he’d lost after the accident back on. Six feet four and built as powerfully as me. If it weren’t for the scars, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t tell us apart. But where my arm and torso burned, Lucas took the brunt of it to his face. He almost didn’t look human for a time.
“Patching you up piece by piece, are they?” It’s an asshole thing to ask, but my brother is an asshole.
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