Page 69 of Muerte

“I don’t recall getting married, and there isn’t a ring on my finger. Therefore, there’s no husband to appreciate.”

“You have a ring,” he replied without missing a beat. “You’ve got two. In fact, I’ve had your rings for years.”

“That can’t be true.” I shook my head, denying the plausibility.

“I won’t lie to you, deliciae. Especially about something as important as that.”

“But you…you were wearing a ring when we first met.” I eyed his hands, noting they were still absent of that particular piece of jewelry.

“That was more for me,” he acknowledged. “I wanted the world to know I was taken.”

I half snorted, covering my nose and mouth when he laughed. “Do you think a ring would stop women from wanting you? It definitely wouldn’t prevent a man from…”

“Fucking other women?” he finished with a smirk. “I’m well aware, but the difference between men like me and men like that is I have impeccable self-control and only desire one woman.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. I promise you here and now, I will kill any woman that dares to touch what is yours. And if it pleases you, I’ll make sure they die slowly.”

“I don’t want a promise like that!”

“Too late,” he quipped, slicing off another piece of steak.

Was he being sarcastic? It was hard to tell. He had a disturbing sense of humor and an equally disturbed personality.

“Are you being serious?”

“I wouldn’t make that kind of a promise and then take it back as a joke.”

I idly speared a piece of asparagus, finding myself at a loss for words. Alexander wasn’t a child unaware of the concepts of right and wrong. In fact, it seemed as though he relished the thought of taking a life. It horrified me. Every instinct screamed that this was wrong, that I had yet another reason to be repulsed by him.

But I couldn’t walk away from the table.

My self-preservation and need to cope with what was happening immobilized me. Things would go very badly for me if I did something that landed me chained up again—or worse, dead. So, I kept eating, telling myself this was fine, and I’d keep repeating it until believing it was second nature.

"Why didn’t you just choose someone from this Isle? Someone that was fully on board with your way of living and customs?”

“I’ve done that already. Even if things had worked out—and as you can see, they did not—it wouldn’t have mattered. In the end, it’s always going to be you.”

“Is that another attempt at flattery?”

"It’s nothing but the truth. I don't need to flatter you to win you over. You’re already mine.” The way he emphasized mine made me recognize how serious he was being.

“Everyone keeps saying I’m here for a reason. It’s fated.” I spoke calmly, proud that my voice was steady and unshaken. “You’ve had someone here that understands you and everything this place is. Why couldn’t you be with her or one of these other women?”

He took a measured sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine as he placed the glass down with deliberate slowness before leaning back in his chair.

"Come here." His voice was soft yet carried an undeniable command.

It took more effort than I’d have liked to shove down the apprehension those two words inspired. Choose your battles. Too bad I was losing every single one of them. With a deep breath, I hesitated momentarily, then pushed my chair back and stood, taking cautious steps toward him. His perusal was intentionally slow, amber eyes looking me over from head to toe.

“I want you to sit, but when you do, imagine you’re going to fuck me just like this.”

I swallowed, catching my lower lip between my teeth as I stepped closer. He made no attempts to move as I placed my hands on his shoulders and then eased onto his lap. I was forced to place my legs on either side of his body, my dress rising in the process.

Once I was straddling him, he wrapped one arm around my waist to hold me in place. “See? You fit perfectly.” His voice was low, still deceptively soft. “I could have any woman I want on or off the Isle. I chose you then. I’m choosing you now. I’ll choose you ten years from now.”

"You can't make that claim," I whispered, a desperate attempt to assert some semblance of control.