Violent Delights (White Monarch Book 1)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “But where do the drugs and guns come from?” I asked.

  “Cristiano.”

  My stomach dropped. So it had come to that—making a deal with Hades to get another devil off our back. “But he set all of this in motion. Why would he help us?”

  “Because it gives him power. Even more than our parents had. More than your father has. More than the Maldonados.” He closed his hands over mine, pressing my palms together as if we were both in prayer. “That was his goal all along, and this is the fastest way to get it. He gains more than he did as Costa’s partner—the protection of family. He knows what it means to bear the Cruz-de la Rosa name.”

  I got a silent thrill hearing our names together that way, even if it meant tying us to Cristiano. For once, I didn’t feel so helpless. I could act. Wanting to marry Diego—to take his name and give myself to him in every sense—no longer felt small, selfish, or disobedient. With our promise to each other before God, I’d be saving us all. There was no holier union than that.

  “But would Cristiano help us?” I said. “Have you asked?”

  “It came up when we spoke earlier, but I’d decided not to ask this of you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I said.

  “If you go, Tali, you at least have a chance of survival. Your safety can be arranged, and you can continue your schooling. Agreeing to this means—”

  “I stay. I know.” None of that mattered now. I could figure out my school situation later. “Did Cristiano agree when you spoke to him?”

  “He’s greedy and calculating. For once, it works in our favor. But a warning—I’d have to be willing to promise him anything to get him on our side. Even if I don’t mean to keep those promises. Once we’re safe and can regroup, we’ll strategize a way to separate from him.” Diego gently took my face, thumbing the corners of my mouth. “I wish it had never come to this, Tali, but this is where we are. Would you do this for me?”

  My heart skipped. I didn’t need a proposal or pretty words or a grand gesture. I just needed Diego. “Life or death. I belong to you in either.”

  He swooped down to wrap his arms around my waist and lift me off my feet. “What have I done to deserve your love and loyalty?”

  “Everything.”

  He brushed kisses along my neck and jaw, eliciting a shiver from my body. I had no idea how it was possible that moments ago, everything had felt hopeless, and now I couldn’t stop smiling. “How do we do it?” I asked.

  He caressed my cheek with his stubble, a scrape that soothed me with its familiarity. “On Sunday, pack your bags before Mass. You’ll make a stop along the way to the helicopter. Don’t breathe a word to your father, or he’ll try to stop us.”

  I squirmed, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. I’d never been allowed in on any top-secret plans around here. “What stop am I making?”

  Finally, his eyes danced as his posture straightened once again. It felt good to be able to take away his worries. “When we were kids, you wanted to go to Antarctica.”

  I laughed. “That’s my stop?”

  “No, but is the coldest place on Earth still on your bucket list?”

  “I thought it sounded exotic—it was always so hot here. The grass was greener and all that.”

  He smiled. “I’m not even sure they have grass there. So where do you want to go?”

  Fleetingly, I thought of my life in California, and all the dreams I’d had for us there. Was that over? Or on hold? I couldn’t think of that now. Nothing mattered more than the man standing in front of me. “Why?” I asked. “Will we have to leave for a while?”

  “No, mi amor.” He lowered me onto my feet. “Just indulge me.”

  Ah. A honeymoon? He kept me in his arms as I kept mine around his neck. I lifted one shoulder, trying not to seem too giddy. “I’ve been many places with Papá. New York, Buenos Aires, São Paulo . . . and I’ve seen even more with my school friends.” I ran my palm down his wide, muscular chest. “But I’ve not yet been to Southern Europe. I’d like to see Tuscany.”

  “Make me a promise,” he said, absentmindedly twirling the ends of my hair around his finger. “If things get hard, if you miss me and we can’t connect, promise me you’ll dream of us under the warmth of the Italian sun. When it’s dark, and you’re worried the light won’t come again, dream up ideas for us to do once we can get there.”

  As tempting as it was to fall into that fantasy, all I heard was what he wasn’t saying. There was a chance we would be separated. “Diego . . .”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “Just know that it may not be right away, but we’ll make it to Europe one day. When the time is right.”

  I balled his t-shirt in my fist. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m the one who’s nervous.” He raised his eyebrows. “See the sweat on my temple?”

  I blew gently on his hairline to cool him. “What is it?”

  He took my hands, kissed each of my palms, and held them between us as if we were standing at the altar. “I can’t ask what I want to ask. It wouldn’t be right. But . . .”

  I blinked up at him. What could possibly make him nervous when his life had just been on the line—and still was?

  Oh. With the realization, I involuntarily rose onto my toes with excitement. We were promising our lives to each other. I didn’t need a proposal—but now that I was getting one, I couldn’t keep my grin at bay. “Yes?”

  “Natalia.” He smiled down on me, gently squeezing my hands. “Make an unworthy man happy. Meet me at the church this Sunday.”

  18

  Natalia

  It was a question that had only one answer.

  There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in my mind that I’d marry Diego. He’d been my best friend and my love for a long time, but now, he’d finally be my husband. “Yes,” I whispered. “I will meet you at the church on Sunday.”

  He lifted my hand to kiss my ring finger. His lips lingered there until he pressed his forehead against the back of my hand. “Por favor,” he whispered. “Holy Virgin Mary.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked at the overwhelming sadness in his appeal. “Why don’t you look happy?”

  “I am, but I fear what lies ahead.”

  The gauzy curtains of my balcony fluttered, causing the candles on my dresser to flicker. I pulled him by his hand toward the bed. “Then lie with me and forget.”

  “Tali . . .”

  “It’s not a request.” Diego and I had waited long enough. I had no more doubts about making this union. My heart hammered as I slipped my robe over my shoulders. “I almost lost you today,” I said, tugging on the sash to open the bow. My robe fell to my feet, revealing my negligee. “And I’ll be damned if either of us leaves this world without having spent a night together.”

  “You may be damned, Tali.”

  “I won’t, because I know what’s true in my heart.” Sunday, we’d commit ourselves to each other before God, but tonight, we’d make love as husband and wife in our souls.

  “And what’s true?” he asked.

  I put my hand to his cheek. “That I love you.”

  “And I you.” His eyes roamed over my short, strappy nightgown. “You are so lovely in indigo silk that matches your eyes.”

  “Mi madre said a lady never wore anything less than the best to bed.”

  He smiled crookedly at his basic black tee and chinos. “I’m underdressed.”

  “You’re overdressed. If you want to see more, you have to show more.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “A motto I can stand by.” Bathed in candlelight, he grimaced as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  “A couple bruised ribs, nothing more.”

  I gently pressed my lips to a purple mark blooming on his chest and then a small gash on his right bicep. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’m still standing. And here with you, no less.”

  I touched the button of his pants, pausing
to ask for permission. It came in the form of his low-lidded stare as he wet his lips. I undid his pants and pushed them down.

  He cast them aside, took my chin, and tilted my eyes up to meet his. After a tender kiss to my forehead, then the bridge of my nose, he gathered up the hem of my negligee. I raised my arms so he could slip it over my head.

  He stepped back, gripping the purple silk as his eyes drifted down my bare breasts and stomach to my lacy underwear. I kept my shoulders back even as nerves tickled my tummy. He’d never seen me this way. I knew he’d been with other girls—and that I actually meant something to him. But as he stared, doubt took over. Had he been expecting more? Was he worried about my inexperience? Or was it simply too strange to see his best friend naked?

  He wore only boxer briefs, but it wasn’t much different than seeing him in a bathing suit.

  “Well?” I asked finally.

  “My life is on the line,” he said, swallowing, “and yet, I don’t believe I’ve ever experienced such happiness.”

  My heart fluttered, pumping relief throughout me. “I’ve heard it only gets better from here.”

  He grinned, then swooped down to hug my waist and litter kisses on my neck until I laughed.

  “You were never this ticklish when we were younger,” he said, lifting me so my legs wrapped around him.

  “Well, you never tickled my neck, did you?” I arched into him as he lowered me to the mattress and climbed over me. I bent and opened my knees to make a home for his hips.

  “Would you like to hear my poem now?” he asked when we were mouth to mouth.

  I nodded breathlessly.

  He cupped my cheek, thumbing the apple of it. “She is a heavenly creature cut from the finest cloth with which God had to work. A fabric so fine, that to be dressed in it is to be a king, and to forget anything that came before it.” He paused as candlelight flickered over his face. I ran a fingertip along a cut near his hairline. “Her love is all-consuming and more addictive than any high. It can twist fantasy to truth and make honest men lie—without blame. Those hopeless to receive it turn mad.”

  I didn’t know any other man who felt so deeply, much less possessed the gift of expressing it so beautifully. A tear of love and joy slid down my cheek. “Diego.”

  “There is no greater pleasure than to be in the presence of your love,” he finished.

  I put my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me. He kissed me, running a hand along my waist and under my backside, then drew me against him.

  I gasped softly as the length of him slid over my thigh. I was both eager and tentative to finally touch him. I wanted to do it right, to know that I could make him feel good.

  He brushed his lips along my neck, and I quivered as he kissed my collarbone, then down my chest. “I can’t believe we’ve held off this long,” he said.

  “Our patience has been admirable.”

  “Our patience has been foreplay,” he said, running his tongue along the skin under my nipple, “and it will be rewarded.”

  In that moment, the sensation of his cool tongue and warm breath on my tender skin was the best thing I’d ever felt—until he pulled my nipple into his mouth and sucked, sending ripple after ripple of pleasure down my stomach.

  “Oh.” I moaned, inadvertently drawing my shoulder blades together to give him more access.

  “I’m trying not to rush, my love—but I can’t wait much longer to be inside you,” he said before lavishing the same diligent attention on my other breast.

  My heart skipped at the thought of unleashing a fire between us that had been simmering for years. I wanted to tear through our patience, but I was grateful for Diego’s slow, careful movements that forced me to savor this.

  He took the elastic band of my underwear between his teeth and tugged it down, murmuring, “Jesucristo.”

  Calling for Jesus between my legs inspired thoughts of heaven and hell. As Diego discarded my panties, parted my thighs, and slid his tongue over my core, I was reminded of his brother’s hands threatening to trespass. No, I didn’t think of Jesus, or my Diego and his tender promises, but of the antichrist’s violent passion.

  I thought of Diego’s brother.

  I jerked my head to the other side as if it would rid him from my mind, and my eyes landed on the framed Virgin Mary over my dresser.

  “Diego,” I said, shoving away thoughts that could only be blamed on the stressful events of the past few days.

  “Hmm?” His response vibrated in me, before he plunged his tongue inside me.

  I gripped his hair with the unnerving sensation. It felt neither good nor bad, just new. A friend of mine in California liked to brag that her boyfriend ate pussy like he was trying to get all the meat off a chicken bone, and ever since, I’d been scared just at the thought of it—but Diego’s gentle tonguing wasn’t anything like that.

  “Talia?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You shouldn’t be this . . . quiet.”

  “I’m not—I think I hear something,” I said.

  He stilled, glancing up at me. “Really?”

  I shook my head, putting a finger over my mouth to quiet him. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Papá was unlikely to be anywhere but his bedroom or study this late, and since my mother, he’d never had overnight visitors. Nobody wandered the halls of the second floor except the housekeepers, Barto, or the security team.

  “I don’t hear anything,” he whispered.

  Neither did I.

  Perhaps they’d been phantom footsteps, sleek dress shoes that’d followed me to the foot of my bed earlier that day. Cristiano had cleaned me, bandaged me—tended to me without my explicit permission. He hadn’t violated me, but if he had, he wouldn’t take care like Diego did. Cristiano would eat pussy like a wild animal feasting on its kill, fending off any other predator foolish enough to approach. I’m scarier than any monster. Twin threads of revulsion and desire pulled sharply in my tummy, and I sucked in a breath at a visual that should’ve appalled me.

  “There she is,” Diego said. He slipped his arms under my hips and gripped them as he pulled me hard onto his mouth.

  “Ay,” I breathed on a moan.

  “¿Te gusta?” he asked and then dove back in. He went from licking and sucking my most intimate spot to making love to it with his mouth. His tongue plunged deep and flicked over my clit. When he added one finger, and then another, my back bowed as I cried out.

  “This is just the warm-up,” he said, smiling at me from between my legs. “But no matter how wet I get you, or how careful I am, you might bleed.”

  “I know. The maids will think it’s my period.”

  He climbed up my body and kissed my breasts again, sending spasms of pleasure through me with each pull of my nipple into his mouth. He took one between his teeth and pinched, and I bucked my hips into him.

  “I think you might be ready for me, Tali.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, nearly panting. A flush had worked its way up my chest; I was burning up for him.

  I threaded my fingers through his hair, focusing on the way he dragged the tip of his tongue up my breastbone to the base of my neck. His fingers trailed down my side and over the curve of my hip. Just his presence made my head swim and my toes curl—what could lay ahead except more bliss as we fed a hunger we’d been forced to conceal for so long?

  I lowered my hand between us, cupping my palm over his hardness. With just that simple touch, he was already pleading me with his eyes. “Don’t stop there,” he whispered. “Give me more.”

  He pushed his underwear down and kicked it off the bed. Finally, I held him, skin on skin, the full remarkable length of him in my hand. He was bigger than I’d imagined—not that I’d known what to expect or had anything to compare it with.

  He would be my one and only. My forever.

  The perfect first time with my perfect man.

  Diego smiled down at me as if we shared the thought. “You’re glowing.”

&n
bsp; His hair fell in a dark curtain around his face. I pushed some strands of it behind his ear. “I’m happy. I’m ready.”

  He nudged my legs apart. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” he asked.

  I nodded and glanced between us, taking him in for the first time. Pink, long, hard—and all mine. Perfect. And naked. There would be nothing between us, and as much as I wanted to feel every inch of him, seeing him prepare to enter me also forced me from my fantasy into reality.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He lifted up on one arm. “What is it?”

  “We should get a condom,” I said.

  He took himself in his hand, sliding the head over me in a way that made me bite my lip. “You have no idea how fucking good it feels without one.”

  I moved onto my elbows. “I’m not ready for . . . you know. I’m not taking that chance that I could—get pregnant . . .”

  “I want our first time to be pure.” He grazed his fingertips over my cheek and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Let me empty myself in you, just this time. Mark you as mine, first and always.”

  A primal desire for the same rose inside me. I wanted that too, but with such uncertain days ahead of us, we couldn’t take the risk. “Then we’ll have to wait,” I said, and started to close my legs. “Once our future is more—”

  “Wait.” He grabbed one of my thighs, staying it.

  Was he forceful with you?

  I hated that Cristiano’s unfounded accusation popped into my head. Maybe violence ran in their bloodline, but Diego wasn’t his brother or his father. He’d never pressure me as Cristiano had implied.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a second, releasing my leg to get up from the bed. “You’re right.”

  Though he tried to hide it, I sensed his frustration. I was disappointed as well. I drew a throw from the end of my bed over myself as he picked up his pants from the floor. “You’re leaving?”

  “Leaving?” He gaped at me. “Not unless you toss me over the balcony, and even then, I can’t promise I won’t climb back in.” He took something from his pocket, made claws, and crawled with exaggerated movements over the bed to me. “I won’t be deterred,” he said, snatching the blanket and tossing it away. He tickled my sides until I squirmed. “I’ll keep coming back for more.”