Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1) Page 8

  “Don’t move,” I say harshly, wrenching her hands above her head and fingering the neckline of her white dress, testing the durability of the material. She flinches away, which only irritates me more. “I said, hold the fuck still!”

  I yank hard, the silky fabric disintegrating in my hands, ripping and tearing right the way down to her navel and exposing those fuckable full breasts with their dusky-pink nipples. They’re angering me too now. She didn’t bother putting on her bra earlier, the bitch was too desperate to run. A deep guttural growl erupts from my throat and I don’t stop shredding and tearing until the whole of the front of her dress is ruined.

  My fists clench around the bunched material. Her bare skin is calling me, so soft, tantalising and treacherous… She’s trembling all over but the aroma of her body makes me pause. I smell fear on her but I smell something else as well…

  I glance at her face. The look that greets me is like a sucker punch to the gut. She’s staring right at me, breathing hard, her blue eyes dilated with lust. That’s when it hits me. My senses are being tantalized by the sweet scent of her excitement.

  Son of a… She’s enjoying this.

  And just like that all of my depravity goes out the window. I don’t want her that way anymore, she deserves better.

  I come for her then, burying my fists into her hair and crushing her mouth with my own. I can’t think straight. My colors have shifted to hunger and desire. She kisses me back with the same fierceness as I drag her arms down to form a chain around my neck. She tightens her hold on me straightaway, pressing her body against my own as I groan long and deep into her mouth.

  “Do you like that, mi alma?” I growl. “Do you like it when I play rough?”

  “Yes, she gasps, “give me more, show me everything, take me with you.”

  Take you? Jesus Christ, I don’t need to be told twice.

  Sliding my hands underneath her ass, she takes the cue and wraps her thighs against my waist as I slam her back against the palm tree. The loose ends of her ruined dress get trapped between us in my haste and I yank them out of the way. I have to bury my cock inside her before I explode.

  Pinning her between the tree and my pelvis, I tear open the front of my jeans, wrench her panties to one side and impale her in one rough thrust. I nearly lose my mind when her wetness and warmth envelops me, drawing me deeper and deeper inside her body. At the same time I hear her cry out in a jagged chorus of surprise and ecstasy.

  “Say my name!” My voice is harsh and needy. “Let me hear you scream it.”

  “Dante! Dante! Dante!” she gasps, each new intone timing perfectly with my every assault.

  “That’s right, my angel,” I say hoarsely, seeking out her lips again and forcing my tongue between her teeth, fucking her mouth at the same time as her sex. This is so much more than oblivion; it’s fiercer and stronger than anything I’ve ever known.

  I fuck her like I haven’t fucked in a year, like I haven’t fucked her all last night or this afternoon. This is what she does to me. Every time is fresh and different. She whips me up into a frenzy and makes me want her more and more.

  I’m so violent with my desire that I thrust my tongue deep inside her mouth and she chokes. I can’t help myself. She tastes too good and I want to savour everything. I can’t temper my pace or intensity, my self-control is in pieces. I can feel her inner muscles squeezing my cock as her own restraint detonates around me.

  “Come for me!” I roar, tearing my mouth from hers and she screams again. She tenses and then slackens in my arms and I feel like a fucking god. “Yesss.” I groan as my own orgasm spirals me into a temporary void where nothing else exists except us.

  A strange sense of peace settles over me afterwards and we stay locked together until our pulses steady and slow. She’s limp in my arms but she’s so slim I can support her weight easily. The quietude is transforming into a deep, satisfying ache now, more physical than emotive.

  Sliding out of her, I lower her body to the floor. Her wrists are still bound around my neck. I remove her arms and set about untying her, running my thumbs lightly over the red wheals where my rope has chafed her skin. I feel a sense of pride in them. They’re a symbol of our desire for one another, a brand that I want to leave on her body every time we fuck.

  Once free of me, she turns away and tries to cover herself with what’s left of her dress.

  “Don’t,” I say harshly, removing her hands and unfurling her fingers, sliding the ruined dress off her shoulder until she’s naked except for her white panties. She doesn’t stop me; she just stares at me with an unreadable expression on her beautiful face. I take a step back and remove my t-shirt in one fluid movement. “Put your arms up.”

  Her gaze lingers over my abs and I can’t resist a quick smirk. My angel likes what she sees but doesn’t she know? She’s staked a claim over me already whether she wants it or not, from the dark soul lurking beneath these muscles to this God-given face…

  I slide my t-shirt over my head and tug it into position. It’s so large on her that it falls almost to her knees. It’s a shame to cover up those breasts but I know she’ll feel more comfortable like this. Besides, I’ll kill any man who lays his eyes on them. No one else will ever get to taste her again. Fuck doubt. Fuck all the reasons we shouldn’t be together. Right now this pull between us is stronger than all of that.

  “I preferred the dress,” she says offering me up a shy smile and I find myself wanting to want to make her smile like that more often.

  “I think that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on,” I say dryly, scooping her up into my arms.

  “Hey,” she squeals, squeezing my bicep.

  “Settle in for the ride, my angel,” I murmur, walking with her down to the water’s edge to wash the sin from our bodies.

  She falls asleep in my arms as I carry her back into the house, clean and replete, her head resting lightly against my shoulder. I can still smell traces of my scent on her skin and it’s making me hard again.

  Kicking the front door shut, I hear soft laughter coming from the kitchen as the girls prepare dinner. I imagine we caused quite a spectacle earlier. Eve and her delicate, ethereal beauty has been the subject of much gossip in my household over the past few days. They won’t open their mouths, though. I surround myself with unwavering loyalty. If I suspect the alternative then that person is dealt with swiftly and decisively. There’s too much at stake, and even more so now. It’s been this way ever since I was forced back into the family fold fifteen ears ago, the day my own flesh and blood betrayed me. Joseph runs checks on every single person that sets foot in my compound, from the maids in the house to the commanders and captains in my army.

  I pause when I reach my bedroom door and then walk straight past it, choosing to enter the next room instead. There are too many bad memories for Eve in there, too many knives to slice at these fragile strands that bind us. Something shifted between us this afternoon and I find myself wanting to protect it at all costs.

  She stirs as I lay her down on the bed and I watch her eyelids flitter open. When she realizes she’s back inside the house again she sits bolt upright with a cry.

  “Shhh, my angel,” I croon, sitting down on the bed next to her and brushing a strand of dark silk away from her face. “I will never lock you away again. You have my word.”

  I’m encouraged when she doesn’t flinch away from my touch. Her eyes are wide and wary, though. She wants to trust me but she can’t. Not yet. It’s no more than I deserve after the way I’ve treated her.

  “What is this room?” she asks softly.

  “One of my spares. I’ll have your things bought here immediately.”

  I move to stand up but she grabs my arm, and a second later she’s flat on her back underneath me, her hands pinned above her head.

  “No sudden movements, remember?” I mutter, clocking the terror on her face and releasing her straightaway. She rubs at her wrists and winces.

  “Did I hurt you?”


  She shakes her head and bites her lower lip. I can tell she’s lying.

  Fuck.

  We stare at each other for a moment – me, full of something perilously close to regret and her, just thoughtful. I can see her formulating questions in her mind constantly, drinking everything in with those dangerous blue eyes.

  “You err mentioned my things? I didn’t think–”

  “I had clothes flown over from the main island this morning,” I say brusquely, rising to my feet. “Plus some toiletries and make-up.”

  “Thank you.”

  No, thank you. This woman has no idea she’s just given me the fuck of my life.

  “The bathroom’s through there,” I say, gesturing to an archway in the corner. “I need to make a few calls and then I’ll be back.” I walk over to the French doors and turn the key in the lock. The doors open easily, the incoming breeze catching at the white muslin curtains. All my bedrooms have balconies that face the ocean. I like to prettify the true immorality of this place with minor details such as these.

  “Can I go out there?”

  There’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She hates being indoors. Keeping her locked away in my bedroom was the cruelest thing I could have done to her. I grit my teeth as that unfamiliar feeling claws at my insides again.

  “Of course.” I move towards the bedroom door and watch her glance around the room.

  “There’s no mosquito net in here,” she says, more as a statement than a question.

  “No, not in here. That reminds me…” I walk back over to the nightstand, open the top draw and take out a pack of antimalarial medication that I store in every guest bedroom. “Here,” I say, handing her the silver blister pack, growing impatient when I watch the fear re-emerging in her eyes. “I’m not trying to poison you, my angel. Quite the opposite. They’re prophylactics.”

  She takes the blister pack and examines it closely, her exquisite face folding into a frown. “Antimalarials? But shouldn’t I have been taking them–?”

  “I was having them crushed up and put in your food.”

  “Of course you were,” she says, a trace of bitterness in that melodious voice. “But these would mean I’m in–”

  “Africa.”

  “Africa?” She looks stunned. “But I’ve never even left America before. How can I be in Africa?” She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them close to her body. She looks like a child with my t-shirt swamping her slender frame.

  “Quite simple. I flew you here.”

  She gives me a barely perceptible roll of her eyes and I feel my cock stirring. She’s testing her boundaries again. “Well I figured that out for myself, smart-ass.”

  Smart-ass? I’ve been called many things in my lifetime but never that.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, my angel,” I say sounding disapproving.

  “And captivity does?”

  That’s my signal to leave. “Enjoy the view. I’ll be back in an hour. We’ll have dinner and I’ll introduce you to some of my staff.”

  I’m not sure if she’ll agree to this but it’s a pleasant surprise when she nods.

  “I’d like that. It won’t make me feel like such a…”

  “Prisoner?” I offer coolly.

  “Yes, prisoner,” she says, fixing her blue sapphires on me. I see reproach there and my semi hardens into something else entirely.

  Oh, my angel, was that another flash of defiance?

  I need to get out of here before my craving takes hold. Joseph’s downstairs pacing the halls. We need to sign off on this merchandise.

  “I’ll get one of the girls to send up champagne,” I say pausing in the doorway.

  “Champagne?” she says, raising her eyebrows at me.

  “Your drink of choice, my angel. You were holding a bottle when I introduced myself to you that first night.”

  Her mouth falls open. “Introduced yourself? More like barged in and totally screwed up my life!” Her soft voice rises to an indignant screech.

  Seeing the hurt flaring in her eyes, I make my way back over to her. I need to appease her. I have no desire to fight. “It’s certainly been one of my more impulsive decisions,” I say, leaning over the bed and giving her a hard kiss on the lips. “But I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “Then I’ll make sure I avoid that particular liquor store in future,” she retorts, turning her head away. But they’re just words. She doesn’t mean it. This blazing intensity between us does all the talking we need. “Besides, I don’t drink. I only buy it for friends and special occasions.”

  “Like meeting me?” I say dryly.

  There’s a pause. “Like my birthday.”

  Shit.

  “Well, wasn’t I the perfect present,” I murmur, straightening up and heading for the door.

  12

  Eve

  I never make it onto the balcony. The small taste of freedom offered up by those open doors is good enough for me. My eyelids flutter shut as soon as he exits the room. I’m exhausted from his lovemaking and by the maelstrom of my own thoughts. Most of all I’m shattered by what he’s unleashed in me today. I feel like an intruder in my own life again. It’s like I’ve unveiled some sort deviant fragment of my soul I never knew existed. Did I ever truly know myself before I met him? With all this swirling around my head I tip headfirst into a dreamless sleep, my first since my abduction four days ago.

  Sometime later I awake to sounds of movement in my room. It’s dusk and the room is bathed in the soothing hues of gold and rose but uneasiness cloaks my skin. It’s not him… Dante. I know that for sure. The noises are too subtle, which is one quality I could never accuse him of.

  I ease onto my side, taking great care to keep my breathing even and my movements natural. That girl is in my room – Valentina – the one who brings me my food. She has her back turned and is busy arranging dresses onto hangers and transferring them to an open wardrobe. I narrow my eyelids to tiny slits so I can carry on my spying undetected which is just as well because she glances in my direction suddenly. I watch her scowl and mutter under her breath before turning back to her work.

  Once the task is done, she heads for the door but then stops and seems to think better of it. Shooting me another furtive glance she makes her way back over to the chest of drawers and carefully slides the top one open. She’s looking for something but the way she keeps poring over the contents tells me she doesn’t have a clue what it is.

  I watch her repeat this same action with the each of the three lower drawers before she turns and creeps over to the nightstand beside me. Up close, I can smell her panic and see the tiny beads of perspiration on her forehead. Her mouth is fixed into a tight, white line of fear. Whatever she’s doing right now she’s doing it without Dante’s knowledge or permission and I’m instantly on my guard.

  “Can I help you?”

  She jumps back guiltily, her hand flying to her throat. Her face colors, the blush spreading high and clear across her olive skin. “Señorita! You’re awake!”

  “And you speak English,” I say accusingly. I still haven’t forgiven her for ignoring me for those two days. Even less so now.

  “We were under strict instruction not to speak with you,” she says looking apologetic.

  “Then what are you doing here now?”

  “Señor Dante requested that I unpack your new clothes and things. They arrived a few hours ago. I was trying not to wake you.”

  “Have I more clothes in that chest of drawers too?” I ask, watching her eye line follow mine over to the furniture in the corner.

  She shakes her head reluctantly. “Just the wardrobe.”

  I open my mouth to ask the obvious question and then stop myself just in time. I don’t trust her but I don’t want her to know that. Instead, I force a smile to my lips. “Thank you. That was very kind.”

  Her shoulders crumple in relief. “It’s not a problem, señorita. I’m sorry again that I woke you. Your champagne is waiting for
you on the balcony.” She looks at me speculatively, almost with a challenge in her expression. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Just go, I scream at her silently. My jaw is beginning to ache under the strain of this false smile.

  Hearing her footsteps outside, I slide out of bed and walk quickly over to the chest of drawers. Wrenching the top one open, I sift through the sparse contents trying to piece together exactly what she might have been looking for. There doesn’t seem to be anything here of interest – just an old car magazine and some instruction manuals in Spanish. No personal effects, just like in his bedroom…

  “Looking for anything in particular?”

  My hand flies to my throat, mimicking the actions of the maid earlier. Dante’s back. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of him. His face is expressionless, like always, but he’s changed his clothes again. He’s wearing jeans and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks more like a god than a devil tonight and I can’t tear my eyes away. His nearness stirs up a chemical reaction in me every time. Will I always have this reaction when I’m around him?

  “Nope,” I lie, shutting the drawer with a bang.

  He shoots me a skeptical look before glancing at an incoming message on his cell.

  “Did you have a good nap?” he asks, not bothering to look up. “I came by earlier but you were out for the count.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “Which girl?”