Page 39 of My Solemn Vow

She scoffs a laugh and looks around the room. “I know it’s customary to consummate and for you to deliver the evidence,but I was hoping I could wash this day off me first. Do you mind?”

No, I don’t mind.It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s what I should say.

Be a good husband and not the alpha asshole.Instead, I slide off my suit jacket, unbuckle my cuff links, roll up my sleeves, and pull the knife out of my pocket.

Antonella watches me, eyeing the knife, but there isn’t fear in her eyes or in the air. Not like there should be. Then her lips barely twitch, almost like she’s fighting a smile.

So trusting of me, princess. A man you’ve never met, but surely, you’ve heard the stories.

The woman doesn’t even question it when I bring the knife up toward her face. She tilts her head and moves her hair out of the way. The second time she’s bared that graceful neck to me.

My cock is rock hard at the view and the thought of putting my mark right there at the base.Submit to me more, darling. Give it all to me.

Antonella doesn’t flinch when I slide the blade under the high collar of her dress. The knife has no problem cutting through the thick hem and then slicing the lace and backing fabric like butter.

Inch by inch, I slice down the front, between her perfect tits, showing off a black lace bra. As the dress parts, her skin becomes more visible. I stop at her waist and slide the pommel of my knife down her shoulder. The fabric slides away, revealing black ink tattooed into her skin.

The warm, rich scent of her arousal mixes with the bright citrus and lightly sweet floral fragrance I caught earlier. I wet my lips, anticipating what she’ll taste like.

Don’t get attached.I don’t know her yet. We’re married, not mates.I warn myself, trying to think with the head on my shoulders, not my raging hard-on.

Could be?My wolf debates.

I shove him away.

I go back to the front of her dress, and this time, I position the blade tip closer to her body. The razor-sharp edge connects with the smooth skin of her belly, and while I notice a small twitch, a minuscule flinch, and a hitch in her breath, Antonella doesn’t object.

As I unravel the material with my knife, black lace panties are exposed, and I work lower yet, finding a matching garter and stockings.

God damn... I have to stop myself from palming my dick.

Right before the seam where the fabric furls out around her hips, I stop the knife’s descent. I’ve sunk to my knees, but it doesn’t feel shameful to lower myself before her.

She’s too perfect. She’s too fucking perfect. I can’t let myself fall for her. It’s lust. It’s lust. It’s lust.

Rising back to my full height, I offer my non-knife hand out to her. Antonella takes it and lets me assist her as she steps out over the now ruined not-wedding gown.

“Thank you.” She gives me a soft smile. “I’m sure the zipper would have worked, but your way seems like it was faster.”

The sass. The perfect, flirty little sass. “Did Gregorio D’Medici put up with your attitude?”

Antonella shakes her head and gives a single-shoulder shrug. “I think you know the answer to that question. Perfect nieces don’t get married off to the enemy’s inquisitor.”

“It’s for the best.” I flick the blade of my knife away and tuck it back into my pants pocket. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll meet you in bed. Don’t take too long.”

My fingers itch to take her out of her undergarments, but some part of me wants to let her have a reason to like me. Though, I don’t even know why.

She walks away in four-inch heels and a set of lingerie that could have been custom designed for her form. I squeeze my dick to stop myself from following her. If I follow her, then I’llfuck her in the shower and then need to manufacture consummation proof. Dirty sheets are easier. Showing someone else a video of us fucking is out of the question.

The growing possessiveness over her isn’t healthy.

A chill runs down my spine. I know this feeling, this attachment, and when I lost it before, it almost ruined me. Holly wasn’t my fated mate, but losing someone I was that close to, that I’d let myself bond with... If God takes that from me again, I don’t know that I’ll survive.

Don’t betray me, darling, and I won’t fall in love with you.

18

ANTONELLA