Page 38 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

I watch Ariel brighten up at his words. Now that we’re alone again, I turn her stool so she’s facing me.

I step in close, hands on either side of her on the counter, caging her in case she gets any ideas of escaping.

I nudge her thighs open and step between them, she leans back until the counter stops her.

“What are you calling me?” I ask, pinning her with my gaze. When she sees I won’t let her off the hook without an answer, she finally mumbles a word I don’t catch. I lean in, close enough that we’re breathing each other’s air.

“Say that again.”

“…Sin.”

I roll the word off my tongue slowly. “Sin.” It fits. Too well. But why Sin?

“Because you make me feel sinful and I don’t know how to repent.”

The confession twists through me like fire.

She has no idea what true wickedness looks like.

If she thinks this is the edge of my darkness, she’s wrong.

I could break her, ruin her, drown her in every forbidden craving clawing at me.

But I hold back—for now. Let’s see how she handles the vanilla me.

“I like it,” I murmur, my hand gliding slowly from her knee to her thigh before disappearing beneath her dress. “I’d like to update my list of sins.”

My fingers trail higher, stopping just shy of her panties. Her breath comes in short, shaky gasps—then her hand clasps over mine, halting me.

“We can’t,” she whispers. “Noah—”

“—is in his room playing,” I counter smoothly.

“Griselda—”

“I gave her the morning off.”

She runs out of excuses. And before she can come up with another, I press my lips to hers, silencing whatever resistance she might’ve had. But something’s off. Her lips don’t move as eagerly against mine. They’re soft, still—unresponsive.

I glide one hand down her waist, beneath her short dress, trying to coax a reaction. My fingers press gently over her panties, stroking her through the fabric but instead of leaning into it, she breaks the kiss. There’s a soft parting sound, like a muted muhh as her lips pull away from mine.

I try to kiss her again, but she turns her face aside. I stop touching her, though I remain leaning over her, close enough to feel her breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

“I…” she starts, then pauses.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, as if steadying herself for what she’s about to say. It almost amuses me how she still doesn’t realize the power she holds over me.

“The shooting at your club…” she begins softly. “My friend, Mai, was working there that night. And ever since it happened, I haven’t heard from her.” I pause, listening intently. Then:

“I’ll have my men find her.” She looks at me, eyes shadowed with something more than just sadness.

“You didn’t have your men kill the workers who saw you there, did you?”

“Hell no. I’m not a complete monster. If I kept killing my workers, I wouldn’t have anyone left to work for me.” Of course, I don’t tell her the whole truth—only what she needs to hear, for now.

Until she fully understands the world I live in, it’s better this way. That night was chaotic enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed I was there or if I held a gun. And if they did? I was protecting myself.

The workers who saw or heard anything were paid well for their silence. Those who refused… Well, they were reminded of the people they care about. But I don’t tell her that part. I see the relief on her face at my answer, her lips slightly parted so I lean in and press a soft kiss to them.

“Are we good now?” I ask, brushing her lips with another quick peck.

“Always tell me when something’s bothering you.”

“I will,” she murmurs.

A small smile tugs at my lips. “You know… I’ve been fantasizing about you in a wedding dress. Mrs. Ariel Lane, will you do me the honor of walking down the aisle with me?” She arches her brow.

“But we’re already married.”

“Yes, on paper. But I want the real thing.”

“You just want the wedding night.”

“And the honeymoon—days spent in bed.”

“Honeymoons aren’t just spent in bed,” she counters. “You’re supposed to go out, explore, do things you both love.”

She completely loses me at the part about not spending all day in bed. I nudge my nose against hers. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Yes,” she says softly.

“Louder, kitten.” She smiles and says it louder, more certain this time.

“Yes.”

I don’t think I’ve ever smiled brighter. I cup the back of her neck and press a hard, hungry kiss to her lips. My mouth devours hers, our lips moving in sync, heat and promise flowing between us. We don’t stop until we’re breathless.

“I’ll have the dress sent over,” I murmured against her mouth.

“What? No.”

“You don’t want the dress anymore?”

“No, not that. I want to pick my dress myself.”

“You can choose the one you want and I'll have it sent over.”

“No.”

“Ariel, you’re going to have to speak a language I understand,” I say, confused. She raises her hand, palm up, signaling for me to calm down and let her explain.

“I want the experience of going to the store. Trying on different dresses. There’s this boutique I used to walk past every time I visited Noah at the hospital.

Every single time, I’d stop and stare at the dresses in their showroom window.

I always wondered what it would feel like to try one on.

It felt like such a far-fetched dream back then. ”

“It’s not a dream anymore. You’ll have those dresses—and every other one you want.”

“But I want to go there myself. I’ve been cooped up in this house for too long.”

She doesn’t know the real reason I’ve kept her here. There’s a brewing war between the Italian cartel and mine, and other enemies could use the chaos as an opportunity to strike. Keeping her and Noah inside the mansion is the only way I know they’re safe.

“You only get married once,” she adds, softly.

I sigh. “Fine. But I’m going with you.”

“Yesss!” she squeals, pulling me into a tight hug and showering kisses all over my face.