Page 16 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
Nevaeh can’t even bring herself to answer. She merely sniffles again and peers at the ground.
Hot irritation burns me from the inside out, deepening my scowl. “She does! Get to the declaration!”
“But the vows—”
“There are no fucking vows!” I bark at him, and he flinches.
“Ri-right. Errr, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You… you may kiss the bride.”
I don’t wait for Nevaeh to react—I provide the outcome for her. My arm hooks around her waist and I wrench her toward me for a hard, aggressive kiss on the lips.
Ourfirstkiss.
Both as husband and wife but also in life itself.
It’s a recreation of my dreams. Her sweet, soft lips are immediately addictive. My arm tightens, holding her closer and snugger against me. The deepest primal urge stirs and almost makes me throw her over my shoulder to haul her off. I’d have her writhing naked on my bed with my cock buried in her tight cunt within seconds if I listened.
I fight the urge and pull back… for now.
Wrapping her hand inside mine, I say, “Come. Tonight’s only just begun.”
SIX
Nevaeh
“Eat your food,”Caelian grunts from his end of the long dinner table.
My gaze drops to my untouched plate.
His staff’s put together a feast for our celebratory wedding dinner—a succulent rack of lamb on a bed of roasted, fresh-off-the-vine peppers. There’s the many dishes of appetizers and soups they’ve prepared, like buttered mushroom puffs and some sort of Italian wedding soup that has bits of meatball, lots of veggies, and white wine making up its flavor palate.
So much food it makes me question who Caelian thought was attending tonight. It makes no sense having enough food to feed a whole neighborhood just for two people.
When I still don’t touch a single item on my plate, his scowl deepens, and his large hands tighten on his knife and fork.
“Is there a problem?” he asks with barely restrained patience that tells me he’s not patient at all.
I could play along and be the obedient little wife he’s hoping for—I could simply obey and clean my plate like he’d prefer. Instead, my heart beats faster in rebellion. I meet his cold, dark gaze from across the table, my chin high and shoulders thrust back.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply.
His nostrils flare. His hands become clenched fists resting on the table. “Youarehungry,” he insists. “You haven’t eaten a bite in over a day. From the moment I brought you here. Eat what you’ve been served.”
I push my plate away and then fold my arms. “I said I’m not hungry.”
“And I said eat your fucking food!” he bellows.
It’s louder than a lion’s roar in the jungle. The abrasive sound reverberates through the room, feeling as if it were screamed in my face despite the fact that he’s ten feet away. The delicate glass and silverware almost seem to vibrate precariously in place, threatening to tip over and shatter on the floor.
My tough act feels ironclad until it’s faced with his brute anger. Then I’m jumping in my seat and flinching like I’ve been physically struck.
An even louder silence follows.
I don’t dare look at him again. My heart’s racing faster than ever and tension’s corded through me, turning my usual loose and flexible dancer’s body unbearably stiff. The only thing I can think to do is sit still in my chair and stare at an indiscriminate point across the room.
Is this what the rest of my life’s going to be like? Married to some violent brute who shouts me down when I don’t do exactly as he says?
Caelian seems to realize how he’s come across. He releases a breath that’s ragged, and then makes another attempt at being civilized.