| BOOK ONE OF THE VENANDI SAGA | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE |
Teeth scrape over skin as he nips at my earlobe, "I told you..." Threading his fingers through the strands at my nape, he rolls my head to the side and his lips continue their exploration, "...
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I should've dealt with that backstabbing sack of shit when I had the chance. Fuck the warnings and the bullshit contracts. Fuck trying to be civil. I should've run him out of Miami. At the very least, I should've put a detail on him the second I baited him with that Order of Disavowal, knowing damn well it would set him off.
"Then, he-umm... Uhem... He k-kissed me."
Now, I have to kill him. Duty demands it. Respect for my crown, my family... my future queen demands I remove every single one of his wormy appendages, starting with his fucking dick. It demands I cut out his goddamn tongue, peel the skin from his lips and paint the fucking walls with the twisted bits of his warped, psychotic brain. If I don't, then I'm unfit to rule.
If I do... I break a promise to the only person who's trust and opinion matters.
In the Syndicate, retribution is assured and forgiveness is something to which we're not accustomed. To be honest, losing Knox as a friend and Guardian hurt less than I expected. My grief was tempered by the fact that he'd been with Eden - that he was still in love with her, but a small part of me - the part that misses my brother - held out hope that one day years from now we might put it behind us. After all, he's blood. Foolishly, I believed that mattered, but I underestimated how much he hated me. In doing so - in agreeing not to kill him - I'd left him to roam free, unchecked and in my blind spot which meant he was in hers as well.
Glancing at the shivering figure on my right...
He'll never let her go.
...my hands flex and tense with the brutal need for a swift reprisal. Lost in her own world, Eden stares out the window at the row of palm trees and banana shrubs bordering the Venandi compound; her forehead rests against the pane, hiding her face beneath that dark mop. She's shook. Not just from the bombing or the sudden, violent realization that Knox is the worst of us, no... she blames herself for everything that happened. Everything - the carnage, the fear. All of it weighing on her shoulders. I could see it in those ingenuous eyes the moment she finished telling me about the cafe. That guilt - that same pinched remorse lingering at the edges every time I look in the mirror is now a teary shade of mocha. More infuriating than anything he could've done to me, including the attempt on my life, he hurt the woman I love.
...and that is unforgivable.
A suppressed sob bubbles up from her throat and the whole of her fragile torso shudders with the effort of restraint. Lacing our fingers together, I draw her trembling mitt to my lips. Frigid fingertips are tiny pads of ice on my skin as I kiss each of her knuckles. It's a balmy eighty-eight degrees outside and while sweat trickles down my brow, she's shaking like a leaf. As much as I want to seek him out and make him pay, Knox will have to wait. First, I take care of her.
