Page 39 of Danger Close (Mourningkill #3)

You Felt It Too

Cobra

My hand grazed up and down the slip of a shoulder that peeked out from the burgundy lace. She looked… gorgeous. This was how I always envisioned her on my hardest nights.

Modest, yet form-fitting.

“What is wrong with Roland Griffith?” she asked, quietly.

“You tell me, darling.” I lifted a brow. “You felt it, too.”

She’d squirmed away from him as quickly as I’d put myself between them.

“You know him more than I do.”

“I do.” I wasn’t going to get into it now. Not at Taz’s wedding, at least.

“Why do you think our daughter should marry his son?” My gosh, she was regal when she looked at me with that quizzical brow lifted. “Sons tend to be like their father’s no?”

My fingers swept over the exposed nape of her neck. She had an elegant throat. Like the kind you’d see in old European paintings of rich women. But, somehow, it was even more sophisticated when coupled with her smooth cheeks, golden skin and almond-shaped eyes.

“If I thought Kai Griffith was anything like his father, do you think I’d let this wedding go through?

” I kissed her nose, because I couldn’t stand not kissing her in that moment.

Everything in me was begging her to have a little faith—in me, in our daughter.

In her groom, even. “I am nothing like my father. Kai is nothing like Roland.”

My father was a ruthless, deranged Pakhan of the New York Bratva. My brother was the reigning Pakhan, but also an anti-RICO agent taking down the Mafia from within. Jericho was as deranged as our father, but in a very different way. His insanity was at least on the side of the angels.

“We are not cursed with the fates of our parents.” It was a sentiment she, of all people, should understand. “You are not your mother.”

She surprised the hell out of me when her eyes became unfocused. She looked away, her gaze so fucking distant, she may as well have been staring into the past.

Her whisper was heartbreaking. “Yes, I am.”

Shit.

“Princess…”

“I am exactly like my mother.” Her eyes turned to me again, hard as ice.

“No, you’re not.” I leaned forward until the beak of my nose grazed hers. “You fought back. You fought for our kid. You’re still fighting. Your mother never did that.”

“And what do I have to show for it? A daughter who hates me. A husband who…” She shut her eyes. There was a sparkle of tears on her bottom lashes. “An ex-husband who will leave, once the illusions of the past fade away, and he sees me for what I am.”

“Did you marry someone else? Because I know you’re not talking about me.” I cupped her jaw, careful of her bruises, and planted my mouth on hers.

Words would never convince her of anything—actions would. This kiss was an expression of everything I was, and everything I felt. My tongue delved into her mouth, and I swallowed her moans. If I could swallow her sorrows, I would do that as well. I would consume them all from her.

I lightly grazed her bottom lip with my teeth, before reluctantly prying us apart.

Her dazed, lustful gaze looked at me with incredible love.

The word “mine” ran on a loop inside my head, getting louder, and sharper with every repetition.

She had to feel the same way…

I couldn’t be alone in this. The world was right when we sat beside each other like this.

“Everyone, take your seats! The bride’s over her customary freak out, and we’re about to get this show on the road!” Vedder called from the top of the steps that led to his loft, where Trinity was getting ready.

It was a rather undignified start of events.

“Don’t run away from me.” I didn’t just mean about the wedding. “I’ve got to go walk our daughter down the aisle.”

This was about our daughter, our family, and the rest of our life.