Blood Ties (A Dark Cartel Romance) (Dinero de Sangre Book 2)

by Lana Sky

  Because he believes this will be his only chance, a concern that should definitely add strength to the “jaguar is no better than he is,” column.

  “You think Pia’s at the house. Her house. Why?”

  “It was a guess—”

  “You’re not that naïve, Ada,” he snarls. “Neither am I.”

  He appears before me, crouched on one knee, his expression like ice, each rugged feature etched in stone. “Give me a reason to believe there might be something in that empty skull of yours worth salvaging.”

  I can’t escape the feeling that he’s proposing the dare like a test. Make him value me. Give him something worth saving. Cower and beg.

  “You never knew her very well,” I say, matching his soft tone. “Your sister. Because if you did, you wouldn’t seem so puzzled by the breadcrumb trail she left behind. That’s what she did, Domino. She kept secrets. She fed on lies.”

  “And you seemed to have learned plenty from her.” He stands, crossing his arms, staring down at me with a glare so piercing I go numb in the face of it. “You’re more selfish than I gave you credit for. Too fucking spoiled to even consider what might be for your own fucking good.”

  “So tell me, then,” I counter, jutting my chin. “Stop dancing around in circles and just tell me what kind of danger I’m in. Tell me the truth about everything—”

  “The truth?” He inclines his head sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. “The truth, Ada-Maria, is that Jaguar doesn’t see you as some worthless pawn through which he can control your father. That’s just a bonus. He sees you as…”

  “What?” I demand, unnerved by how his voice deepens and his eyes take on a faraway gleam. It’s as if he’s staring a million years into the past, rooted here by sheer force of will.

  “Jaguar sees you as a way to get to me,” he says. “And he’ll do that however he can. He’ll hurt you. Violate you. Anything he can think of to keep me in line.”

  He doesn’t sound like he’s lying, but I can’t square that description of me with a man who’s done all those things to me himself. Hurt. Violate. Anything he can think of. A part of me questions if it’s just jealousy that has him so on edge. Even so, I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to be at the mercy of someone else.

  “Who is he to you?”

  He stiffens, his teeth gritted. Again, he tears his hand through his hair, turning his back to me as he starts to pace. “He is… No one,” he declares, looking down on me from over his shoulder. “No one that will interest you, anyway. But congratulations, Ada-Maria, you’ve gotten your wish—someone seeks to use you beyond just getting to your father. Congratulations. I can’t save you this time.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You have a funny definition of that word. Saving,” I point out, too exhausted to take offense. In so many ways, this man is a stranger in comparison to the steady, comforting presence I’ve known him as for the past five years—at the same time, he’s terrifyingly familiar. His secretive, manipulative ways and penchant for brutality remind me of someone I knew better than anyone else on the planet.

  My father. Domino picked up way more from his time with “Don Roy” than he seems to realize. They’re utterly the same.

  “It seems like you’ve gotten your wish,” I counter, bracing my hand against the floor in an attempt to rise to my feet. “Jaguar gets to hurt me, torture me. Whether with you or with him, it looks like I only have agony to look forward to—”

  “I am nothing like him,” he growls, his voice rippling like thunder, and yet still low enough that I doubt he penetrates the walls of this room, even with the window open. He turns on his heel and yanks me to my feet, capturing my chin with one hand. “I’ll give you something he never would, Ada. Mercy—” Roughly, he scrapes the hair back from my face, leaving nothing in the way of his gaze meeting mine. “You want my protection now? Then beg me for it.”

  I’d laugh if he didn’t sound and look so damn serious. There’s no hint of amusement glinting in those disarming eyes, no mocking in his tone.

  “I’d rather die.”

  “That can be arranged,” he says without an ounce of hesitation. His fingers twitch as if to reinforce the dark intent glinting in his eyes. He’d have no problem at all “arranging” that ending for me—but only on his terms. “Fortunately for you, I still need you before then, and Jaguar won’t be so accommodating. Beg me to help you like a good girl,” he coaxes in a gritty baritone. Using his grip on my chin, he manipulates my head so that his mouth is near my ear again. “Use those sweet words and that sexy little pout. Tell me that I’m all you ever wanted. Spin those little lies about how I earned your gratitude forever just by dragging you off a fucking highway. Make me believe it, little Ada. Lie sweetly about how much you need me, and maybe I’ll be convinced.”

  I can’t even put into words how much it hurts to have him mock me like this. It’s comparable to having a rusty, filthy nail puncture wound that never fully healed over and over again.

  I could deny I ever gave a damn about him. Spit in his face. Lie.

  Instead, I strain his grasp until I’m staring directly into his eyes. “I wanted the person I thought you were; I have no shame in admitting that,” I confess, feeling my upper lip pull back from my teeth. I’ll get nothing out of sinking down to his level, but I don’t care. It feels strangely good to speak this openly to him. Damn mind games and verbal tricks. “I wanted the Domino I considered brave and honorable. I would have given that man anything. My body. My heart. My soul. You can laugh at me for that if you want. Joke and make taunts. That doesn’t matter. The truth is still this—you never had to brutalize me, Domino. You could have told me anything, and I would have believed you. You didn’t need Alexi to get to Tristan. I would have told you whatever you wanted to know. I could have been yours with so much less effort, and if you played your cards right, you would have never needed to spin a lie for Jaguar or anyone else. Wholeheartedly, I would have trusted you. That makes you the fool, not me.”

  His eyes darken as he processes that speech, and I expect him to scoff in disbelief. Deny it. Make another low dig at my expense.

  Instead, he tilts his head thoughtfully as if giving serious consideration to every alleged claim. It’s so surreal being on the receiving end of one of these appraising glances. Usually, he’d look at my father this way while trying to figure out how to best implement one of his many orders.

  “Maybe you think you’re telling the truth,” he deduces finally, in a voice like sin. Hell itself. “Maybe… But it’s my turn to let you know something, Ada-Maria.” He strokes down to my throat and toys with my windpipe, applying varying amounts of pressure. Soft at first. Then harder. Harder… “Maybe I didn’t want to be put on a pedestal based on your childish, unrealistic expectations. What if I wanted more than that? What if I needed to shatter your fantasy of me and make you squirm, see how you react under pressure, get to run that smart fucking mouth with no regard for the paparazzi or your daddy’s wishes. What if I wanted to see you despair at your rock bottom to know if you were even wort—” He bites off the rest, and I can sense the tension in what he doesn’t want to say.

  “Worthy of what?” I demand.

  He shoves me back so hard I go flying. Only the wall can break the momentum, and breathless, I brace my hands against it, struggling to get my bearings.

  He advances on me slowly, sizing me up with a ruthless, raking glance. He comes toe to toe with me, palming the wall on either side of my body, using his weight as effectively as prison bars to keep me boxed in.

  When his mouth finds my ear again, he bites down on the lobe. Hard.

  “That you were worthy of being the only woman on my fucking mind for the past five years.”

  My throat goes dry, thoughts utterly blank. This man doesn’t sound like Domino, or even the monster I’ve been faced with since coming here. No, he is a new creature entirely, one who radiates possession in every single word ripped from his throat.

  �
��That you were worthy of having me wonder what you taste like. What you fucking smell like. I’ve obsessed over this body, Ada-Maria. What I would have you wear when you were mine. How I would bathe you. Fuck you. Command you. I’ve imagined a million goddamn times how that ass would feel in the palms of my hands. The look on your face when you finally realized you were mine. Always mine, meant to be claimed since the moment I first saw you in Don Roy’s office. Or maybe I just like toying with you,” he adds in a guttural rasp, bringing one of his hands to my throat. Cold, his eyes spear through me, as violently as that blade he carries. “Maybe I like seeing that fragile, pathetic hope bubble in your eyes that you might be something more than the warm, wet hole Roy Pavalos could pimp out to further his own aims. You make it so fucking easy.”

  I gasp. Or maybe it’s a sob? By now, I should be so accustomed to his mind games that nothing he said could ever hurt me. But it does.

  He does. And his nostrils flare as if savoring the scent of that pain.

  “In fact, I could just tell you everything,” he adds. “You wouldn’t even know what to believe or not. Like maybe I do remember that night on the road, Ada-Maria. I remember how fucking angry I was to see you there. I could have wrapped my hands around your throat then and there, and your papa would be none the wiser. What if I always sensed you beyond the trees at night? I could smell you on the wind even if I never saw you… Or hell, maybe I was the one watching you, following Don Roy’s orders to an extent, but everything beyond that was of my own volition. I’d see you with those men, hunt you down while you were alone with them. Sneak a glimpse of you in any way that I could and memorize every inch of that body. You’d never know the fucking difference.”

  He’s right, and my head is spinning, trying to keep up with his many twisted narratives. The only way to salvage what little sanity I have left is to close my eyes, blocking him out.

  The second I do, he applies more pressure to the hand he has around my neck. Enough to make my eyes bulge, my lids springing open again.

  “You were always mine, Ada-Maria. You just never realized it. You still don’t—not the lengths I will go through to keep you mine. The harm I will do to any man who dares to defile you. Take you. Harm you. You looked at your fantasy Domino with childish love once, but frankly, Ada, you have no idea what that concept means. None. Love is agony, you see. It is cruel obsession. It leaves no choice in whether you want it or not. It is all-consuming. So when I tell you to beg me to keep you, I want you to realize that you already have. Just by listening to me now with that hungry look on your face. Just by humoring the feel of my body next to yours and letting me shove my tongue inside of that greedy pussy. From day one, you’ve been begging.”

  He strokes my cheek in a motion that feels cruelly gentle. Then he tilts my head and lowers his mouth to mine.

  The kiss catches me off guard, firm and possessive.

  My thoughts scatter, common sense far beyond my reach—so it’s entirely out of reflex that I sink my teeth into his tongue. Rather than recoil, he grunts, leaning into the motion, making it a part of the kiss itself. I taste blood as he sucks at me. Devours me.

  Somehow, I release him, knowing I need to break away. Push him off. Run.

  His hands are already gliding down my hips, drawing me into him. I’m breathless when our lips finally pull apart, but he’s the one in control of the action, blood smeared across his lower lip.

  “I don’t need to hear it,” he reiterates gruffly, in between heavy pants. “But I want to—beg me to protect you.”

  I use both hands to push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “Go to hell.”

  “Gladly.” He pushes back, forcing my hands aside as he brings his mouth within inches of my own. “I’ll meet you there. Because what we are, Ada? It sure ain’t heavenly.” He runs his thumb across my mouth, thrusting it between my lips without warning. “It’s sinful.”

  I spit him out and contemplate slapping him again. Instead, I say, “We aren’t anything, and I’ll never beg you for a damn thing. Except to let me go.”

  “And you might get your wish.” His expression shifts, becoming even more indecipherable than I’m used to. He is all shadow and gold. “You are an expensive woman to keep, far more than you know.”

  He lets that cryptic phrase hang in the air as he turns away, his shoulders rigid. “It would be easier to let him have you. Far better in the long run. And you…” He looks back at me, his eyes dark and shadowed. “You’re so good at fucking pretending, you wouldn’t even notice, would you? If he were touching you instead of me—” He’s back, dragging me against him no matter how violently I resist. My nails dig into his forearms, and I kick, wincing as the sores on my feet throb at full force. He’s unmovable, easily able to maneuver me away from the wall, across the room. “You wouldn’t care if he were fucking you. You’d make those little noises, and bite your lip and ride him as though he were a fucking king—” He shoves me back, and I land on the box spring, gaping up at him as he looms above. “Can you even tell the difference, Ada-Maria? Between the cock of a bastard you despise, and the one of the man who worships this little body from the inside out?”

  His hands land on my thighs, applying enough force to flatten them against the box spring. My heart starts to race, my throat suddenly dry. His shift in tone is giving me whiplash. Emotionless one minute, dark and gritted the next…

  “Can you even tell the difference between pleasure and pain?” He crouches, running one of his hands along my thigh.

  I kick at him, attempting to clamp my knees together. He drags them apart, pulling me to the edge of the bed so that my legs are on either side of him, perched against his hips.

  “Can you tell the difference between fucking a man who doesn’t give a damn about you and one who craves every fucking inch of your body?”

  Yes, a part of me whispers, pairing the way Tristan would touch me to…

  “I used to imagine it,” he tells me, holding my legs captive. “Having you at my mercy like this. Mine alone.”

  My only mode to attack him is to rear up and lash at his chest, nails drawn. Every blow, he withstands without flinching. When I aim for his face next, he hooks his fingers around the back of my skull, wrenching me toward him. As a result, I’m forced almost onto my knees, chest pressed against him as he claims my mouth again.

  This time, I don’t go down without a fight. I bite, scratching at any inch of exposed skin. He groans, swallowing each attempt at aggression. Like he’s getting off on it all. My fight. My hate. The fact that there’s nowhere I can go.

  He has me, body and soul. Not by choice.

  He’s too strong, his lips like fire, lashing me open and igniting any flesh he comes in contact with. Against my will, I groan for him, letting him eagerly drink down the sound.

  Then I remember my senses and bite him again, so hard he pulls back.

  “I will never be yours,” I hiss, startled by the intensity in my own voice. “So sell me if you want to. You can’t hurt me.”

  No more than he already has, at least.

  He makes a low sound in the back of his throat as he shoves me down. This time, he mounts me after, pinning my limbs to the bed, all while distributing his weight so as to not hurt me. A part of me marvels at that, though I can’t tell if it’s actual concern on his part.

  Or merely so he has easy access to snatch a fistful of my skirt and drag it up over my waist.

  “I can hurt you,” he clarifies, and the look in his eye bolsters that warning. “But I can also give you more pleasure than any other man. You know that. Just in case, I should refresh your memory...”

  He lunges, using one hand to pry my legs apart for his mouth to assault me again. Somehow, I’m still sensitive from the first time, and the shock of his warm lips nudging me apart renders me senseless. For one pathetic, brutal, beautiful second, I forget how much I should hate him, and I merely relent to the overwhelming wave of sensation he arouses with just one brush of his tongue.<
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  And a thrust.

  And another.

  Another…

  My back arches as my nails scrape at the unyielding material beneath me. Even it isn’t a sturdy enough anchor. Desperate, I reach for something stronger and find it in the form of silk attached to a firm surface.

  A “surface” that growls when I flex my nails against it. Hurting him is my only form of retaliation as he torments me with every stroke of his tongue.

  The orgasm I can feel building coils in my stomach, growing stronger and stronger until I’m swallowed by it.

  “Jesus Christ,” he hisses as I writhe, my body convulsing.

  I think the whiplash is too much, even for him. He rises onto his knees, his lips glistening, gaze seeking out mine.

  I’m still gasping for air when I realize what he’s doing—not retreating, just wrenching his pants down his legs, freeing a cock that stabs proudly at the air, already fully erect.

  I think I try to say something. Refuse. Mock him. Deny him.

  Any sound dies in my throat as he guides my legs apart, entering me with one swift thrust.

  I take him deeper than I can stand. So deep my head rears back, and I swear I can feel him forcing his way up my throat. There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes me.

  He grinds with his hips, forcing his cock into my furthest depths with a boldness no one has ever dared utilize before. Like he truly believes what he said—he owns me. He’s studied me. He knows me.

  And all I can do is take every inch he has to give.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I hate the feeling of his breath on my breasts. Even if I don’t move to escape the punishing bursts of heat, I hate it. I hate how he holds me after, like he didn’t just insult me moments ago. Like the feel of my body in his arms is enough to please a man like him.

  Someone so violent, so vicious.

  I despise the way he can lull me into a false sense of security before I even realize it. Only when his nostrils flare, and his brows furrow do I remember where we are. Who I am.