With This Ring

by Natasha Knight

  My fingers play with the hair on Cerberus’s head. He followed me in. Since the moment I got up and he saw I was fine, he’s come to stand guard just outside her door. It’s strange. Cerberus hates people as much as I do. It’s one of the reasons I chose him. But he will protect her.

  I cross the room to her bed and touch her forehead, brush hair back from her face. It’s the only place I see any evidence of what happened. A bruise, small, but there, turning a soft shade of purple. She must have hit her head when I tackled her. I think she’d been in shock standing there, watching her uncle on the floor. An easy target.

  I wonder if her uncle knows he saved her life tonight. Not that he’d have done it willingly given the choice of his for hers.

  She blinks her eyes open once, twice. Once they adjust to the light and she realizes where she is, she runs the back of her hand over her mouth then her hair and sits up.

  I notice she’s wearing one of my button-down shirts. The clothes from our shopping trip haven’t been unpacked yet. The bags line the hallway outside. I haven’t decided where to put them. Where to put her.

  “What time is it?” she asks, adjusting the blanket when she realizes one thigh is exposed.

  “Late. Or early, depending.” I move to sit and wince at the pain in my side. “Are you all right?”

  She nods. “Are you?”

  I shrug my shoulder, catch myself too late. “Fine.”

  “Did you take that bullet when you were protecting me?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me. I wasn’t sure but…did you?”

  “I don’t know, Scarlett,” I lie. I did take it when I was trying to get her out of there. “Doesn’t matter. We’re both alive.”

  She studies me but drops it. “What happened? Who was it?”

  “Cartel. Rinaldi. Both.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “We killed some from both crews. Captured a few alive.”

  “It wouldn’t be the cartel. Why would it be the cartel? They killed my uncle.”

  “No, Little Kitten. You’re not that lucky.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that cockroach will crawl out of his hole yet again.”

  “He’s alive? I thought…I saw him though. I saw him go down.”

  “He’s alive.”

  She processes, her forehead creased, then continues. “It’s not the cartel, Cristiano. Why would they try to kill him? He’s one of them.”

  “It wasn’t a bullet that hit him.”

  “What? What was it?”

  “A tranquilizer. Granted it did some damage going in. He must have moved in front of you just in time. I’m pretty sure it was meant for you.”

  She shakes her head, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “No way it was the cartel. It’s still my family.” She stops at that and a moment later looks up at me.

  “Well, lucky for you they didn’t seem to be the most organized crew. There were plenty of them, but the operation was a clusterfuck.”

  “I thought the plan was for the cartel to work with you.”

  “Yeah, well, take me out and the cartel is rid of their problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s more profitable for them to work with Rinaldi.”

  “Because he’s willing to make slaves of women.”

  I nod. “I can’t assume it was Rinaldi, at least he couldn’t have done it alone.” Something about the whole thing doesn’t feel right, actually.

  “What do you mean?”

  “His family is weakened here. He wouldn’t stand a chance against me here or in Naples. Not now. It doesn’t make sense that he’d come back and have the manpower to attack alone. He simply doesn’t have it.”

  “So, you think he’s working with my family? And you think that tranquilizer was to kidnap me?”

  “I don’t know. It’d make sense, I guess. He marries you, there’s a link between the cartel and his family, but I don’t know.”

  “But why?” I watch her as she says the words. “I mean, I’m not that valuable to the cartel. How can I be?”

  “It will mean something to those who were loyal to your father. You’re valuable to them. Before, the cartel needed Rinaldi. Needed his connections. Now, Rinaldi needs them more than they need him. He’d need to get you back first thing. It’s what would pave the way for a union. Then they could attack me. Take me out. Together and with you back, ensuring the loyalty of those who’d walked away when your father was killed, they’d have the manpower to do it.”

  “For money. All this just for money.”

  “Money is a powerful motivator. Almost as much as love.”

  “As much as hate you mean,” she mutters.

  “Love is the most powerful.”

  She looks up at me like she’s surprised by that. Then her glance drops to my side. “You’re bleeding.”

  I look down too and sure enough, the white T-shirt I put on has a splotch of dark red where the bandage is. I lift my shirt and look.

  Doctor’s downstairs eating and he’ll be pissed I’m up. I’d get Lenore but she’ll mother me too. Dante feels guilty enough not to bother him with this. “Does blood make you queasy?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Come with me.” I stand and wait for her to pull the covers back. She gets up, her feet bare on the carpet, the chipped polish on her toes matching the soft lilac all over this room. “She loved purple, as you can probably guess.” I walk into the hallway and Scarlett follows me.

  “Elizabeth?”

  I nod, enter my room and pull my shirt off over my head with my good arm. I drop it on the bed and turn to find her staring at my back.

  “Frankenstein?” I ask.

  “It’s not that bad,” she says, schooling her features.

  “You’re a bad liar.”

  “All right. A little like Frankenstein. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  I feel my eyebrows rise high on my forehead. “Why?”

  “Because I think it would mean Noah and I are dead. Or at least Noah is, if you are.”

  “And here I thought you were concerned for me,” I say lightly. I didn’t, did I? I sit on my bed, lie back against the headboard and peel off the bandage. I’d do it myself but with my shoulder, it makes it tough.

  “Let me help,” she says and comes over.

  “You don’t have a sadistic side, do you?”

  She shrugs, looks at the stitches and makes a face.

  “Looks worse than it is. Put some of that ointment on it then you can bandage it again and we can get on with things.”

  “Get on with things,” she says, walking into the bathroom. I hear the water go on and a moment later she’s back drying her hands. “What sort of things?” She picks up the ointment, reads the label and gives me a grin. “This is going to sting.”

  “It’s going to sting like a mother fucker but you’re going to do it.”

  “Oh, I never said I wasn’t,” she smiles wide and makes a move so unexpected, it takes me by surprise. She climbs up on the bed and straddles me.

  “Don’t move.”

  Fuck. Me.

  She squeezes a generous amount of ointment onto her fingers and extends her arm to my side. I grab hold of her wrist before she touches me. “Gentle. Understand? You look like you’re going to enjoy this too much for my liking.”

  “What’s the matter, Cristiano? Afraid of a little pain?”

  “You just told me you were glad I didn’t die,” I say, loosening my hold but not letting her go, bracing myself because this is definitely going to hurt.

  But I owe her this. I glance to the nightstand where the ring box sits.

  I hiss when she smears the stuff on the too tender skin.

  She meets my gaze and holds it as she smears it on a little harder than she needs to.

  “Take it easy.”

  Her smile widens at my discomfort. “Aww. What is it?” She tilts her head, pouts, eyes going a

ll big. “The big bad wolf is just a helpless little pup when it hurts?”

  I grin. She’s sparring, my Little Kitten. That’s good. I reach up with my good hand to take hold of the hair at the back of her head. It’s pretty much fallen out of its braid and still damp from her shower.

  “You like this, don’t you, Little Kitten? Me at your mercy?” I squeeze my hand in her hair when she pushes her fingers against the stiches.

  “I do like it,” she says, her eyes narrowed, almost glowing in the moonlight.

  “You’re very pretty, Scarlett.” I pull her a little closer. “And you know what else?”

  “What?” she asks, her confidence melting just a little.

  “Your sadistic side is getting my dick hard.”

  Her hand stops moving and she blinks a few times, realizing what it is she’s straddling. I try not to laugh, but it just pisses her off that much more when she sees my attempt to hide my amusement.

  “Fuck you! Do it yourself!” She starts to climb off me, but I tug her back.

  “All right. Sorry. I’ll stop.”

  Her eyes narrow and she sets her other hand on my bad shoulder. “You think you’ll still be hard when I dislocate your shoulder again?”

  “Truce. I’m just having some fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve had fun.”

  “I’m not sure this is the time.” She settles back down and focuses on smearing ointment again.

  It’s quiet for a long moment while I just watch her. She is concentrating, thinking.

  “My uncle said something.” She only glances at me momentarily when she says it.

  “Are you wearing underwear, Scarlett?” I ask, not wanting to talk about her uncle.

  Her eyes flash up to mine then away. “None of your business.”

  I glance down to the exposed skin of her shoulder, the swell of one breast. My shirt is so big on her that it has slid down her shoulder. The way she’s got herself situated to avoid my dick, another inch and her pussy will be eye level.

  I look at her eyes again. A deep caramel when she’s aroused. And she is aroused. I see it in the way her nipples poke against the shirt. Smell it in the musk between us. And see it in her eyes.

  I pull her closer and I don’t care that when she resists, she leans her slight weight into my wound. I want her mouth more than I care about the pain.

  “Don’t you want to know what my uncle told me?” she asks when her mouth is an inch from mine.

  “Not really,” I say, pulling her to me, kissing her.

  “I’ll bite,” she threatens, the words muffled when I don’t let her pull away.

  I draw back a little just so she sees me. “I hope you’ll do more than that, Little Kitten.” I kiss her again, prying her lips open, and, true to her word, sharp little teeth pierce my lower lip. I taste the copper of blood and moan against her mouth. Squeezing her wrist and shifting our position, I topple her onto the bed and pin her down with my weight, trapping one of her arms to the side and taking the pain of her fingernails on the other as they dig into my shoulder.

  “You’ll open the stitches,” she says, scratching her nails down my back.

  I groan, pressing my dick against her. “And I just answered my own question. You’re not wearing underwear.”

  She tries to shove at me. “When your men were flying me out of a war zone, we didn’t think to stop to pick up our shopping bags, so I didn’t have any. Don’t kiss me again. I’ll bite hard enough you’ll need stitches on your lips.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” I say, pulling back when her teeth snap at me again. I watch her mouth open and close, watch her pupils dilate when I grind against her clit.

  “Stop,” she tries.

  “There’s something dark about you, Scarlett. Something reckless.”

  She stares up at me, her hips moving a little. I wonder if it’s conscious.

  “You make me want like no other woman has ever made me want.” I dip my head, kiss her neck, feeling her pulse against my lips. Her heart’s going a hundred miles a minute.

  “Let me go,” she says, voice quavering.

  “Kiss me and I’ll let you go.”

  She shakes her head. “You already kissed me. Now let me go.”

  “No. I want you to kiss me. I want to feel you want it.”

  She blinks rapidly, looking beyond me momentarily before shifting her gaze back to mine.

  “You want to, Little Kitten.” I lean close to her ear. “I smell your want.”

  She flushes at that, but she doesn’t deny it.

  “Kiss me once. Just once.”

  “That’s all you want? Just a kiss?”

  “With tongue.” I grin.

  “No tongue.”

  “Just the tip.”

  She furrows her eyebrows but there’s a little lightness beneath all of this resistance. At least for a moment.

  “Promise?”

  The way she says it gives me pause. The way her eyes glisten. I remember what her uncle told me. “I promise I won’t take anything you don’t give.”

  She studies me, considering. She licks her lips, raises her head and brings her mouth to mine. Then she surprises me again when she sweeps her tongue over my mouth before slipping it inside.

  I touch it with mine, taste her and when I suck on her tongue, she lets out a little moan. I cup the back of her head then, taking over the kiss, an urgency building as I taste her. I can feel her yield, open. Feel her kiss me back.

  I’m hard. Does she feel me?

  Reaching one hand between us, I undo the top two buttons of the shirt she’s wearing.

  She makes a sound, but I swallow it and she doesn’t resist when I push it open. Lifting my head slightly to look at her, I cup one breast before undoing the rest of the buttons.

  “Cristiano,” she mutters when I open the shirt and kneel to look at her bare skin. She has small breasts, a flat belly and a mound of neatly trimmed dark hair between her legs.

  I meet her eyes again, lean down to kiss her mouth, her neck, the hollow between her collarbones.

  She cups the back of my head, fingers intertwining with hair as I kiss the space between her breasts, then taste her nipple with the flick of my tongue.

  “Cristiano.” Her fingers curl in my hair pulling a little.

  I stop. Like I promised. I rest my cheek on her belly and trace a pattern on it. “You make me want things I don’t remember wanting,” I say. The urgency fades, something else, something sadder creeping in. I can’t allow for that though. Not now.

  I kneel again, close the shirt and do the buttons like she had them. I don’t want to. What I want is to hold her. To feel her skin against my skin. What I want is more.

  She lays her head back on my bed and takes a ragged breath in, watching me. I wonder if she was unsure if I’d stop.

  I slide off her, standing. I don’t want to, but she needs to learn she can trust me to keep my word. I get the feeling she hasn’t had many trustworthy men in her life.

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” I ask, finishing with the last button.

  “It was horrible.” She sits up.

  I grin, close one hand around her thigh to stop her from standing. “Was it? Are you sure about that or are you lying, Little Kitten?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “So, if I were to spread your legs and look at your pussy, it wouldn’t be wet?”

  She tries to pull my arm off, focusing all her attention on it.

  “Tell me. Tell me again how horrible it was, and I’ll have a look.”

  “Fine. It wasn’t horrible, okay?”

  I smile. “Okay.” I look down at the stitched area at my side. The bleeding has stopped so I hand her a bandage. “Here.”

  “You need more ointment.”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Fine.” She peels the paper off the sticky edges and lays the bandage on my side, then looks up at me. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” I walk to the dresser and open a drawer to get a fresh T-shirt.

  “My uncle said something just before the chaos began.”

  I pull the shirt on and turn to her waiting for her to continue.

  “Are you going to make me marry you so the cartel is forced to work with you and not Rinaldi?”

  Asshole Jacob.

  I study her, try to get a feel for where her head is. Although I can guess. She’s about to be told that yes, she will be forced to marry a man she hates. Or should hate.

  “Better than Marcus Rinaldi forcing you to marry him, isn’t it?”

  “They’ll still kill you if they can.”

  “I have no doubt they’ll try.”

  She slips off the bed and comes toward me, then stops, folds her arms across her chest.

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “I’m not doing it.”

  “I’m hungry. Let’s go get some food.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  I open the door and look at her. “I heard you fine and yes, you are doing it. Let’s go.”

  “No.”

  I sigh, close the door and go to her. She doesn’t move away, and I grasp her arms, rubbing up and down, then close my hands and squeeze just a little.

  “I understand the circumstances you’re coming from, but you need to think now, Scarlett.”

  “I am thinking.”

  “What are your options?”

  “You can let me go. That’s an option.”

  “Let me rephrase. What are your realistic options? Sit down.” I don’t wait for her but walk her backward and sit her on the edge of the bed. “The way I see it, you have two and both roads lead to the altar.”

  “Is this all I’m ever going to be? A pawn for men’s games?”

  “This isn’t a game. Not even close. You marry Rinaldi and you become a party to the flesh trade, not to mention drugs and probably in time, arms dealing. If you stay alive long enough, that is. And that’s not even taking Noah into consideration.”

  “Leave my brother out of it.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “You may not deal in flesh, but those other things are just as bad, Cristiano.”

  “Yeah, but here’s the catch.” I have never said what I’m about to say out loud. Not to anyone. Not my uncle or brother or Charlie. Not even to myself. “I don’t care about it. Not any of it.”

  Something must change on my face because her expression shifts. Becomes confused then almost worried.

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