Chapter 21

Strauss

S he stares at me with as much of a bewildered expression as I've seen her have. Laughter bubbles up from my lungs, so much so I can't stop. Tears form in the corners of my eyes as she tries to scramble away from me. But I just grip her tighter.

"I love you, little angel. And I love nothing."

"I don't know what to say to that."

My mouth nuzzles her neck, still covered in blood. "I just needed you to know." It's freeing to let loose all these emotions and thoughts. Just let them fly into the atmosphere without consequence.

The door bangs against the back wall as Sev kicks it open. Guns pulled and pointed at the bed. His jowls jiggle as his jaw drops, then his hand covers his mouth. Bending over, he dry heaves several times, retching repeatedly at the sight of the room. Dilan calmly enters behind him and her eyes spear my face with a look that says everything. If she could, she'd say, I told you so .

My wife glances at me for instruction, and I pull her up with me, latching her legs around my waist and carrying her into the bathroom.

On the way, Dilan asks, "Sir, what would you have me do with this room?"

"Burn it down. I don't give a fuck. My wife and I are moving to a different part of the castle."

With a final shove, my heel kicks the ensuite door closed, and I drop us in the shower. Astrid shrieks when I turn on the water, covering us with harsh, icy pelts.

"It's cold!"

"Yeah, you need to chill." Her arms hug her upper body as the blood washes off us in sheets. I turn her so her back presses to my chest. Then I rub my face with a hand, grab the soap, and get to work on her body. Most of the whore remnants landed in her long hair and my fingers work diligently to get it all out. "Why are you angry?" My flaccid cock slaps between her ass cheeks as I thrust my hips forward, hoping to annoy her enough to get an answer. "Huh?"

She spins to face me, jutting her chin out with a glare. "You killed Brandon. You said, ‘He touched what's mine.' I heard you."

"Yep. I said that."

"So, if I'm yours …" Tears form on the rims of her lower eyelids and my lips tingle to press against her forehead just to comfort her. She looks so young and vulnerable, like the night in the mud.

"Yes?"

Her heavy breasts rise as she takes a giant inhale. "Then you're mine." One of her index fingers digs into my sternum as she scolds me. "And no one touches what's mine."

Lifting her face up with my fist, I place my lips against her mouth and whisper, "Then I'm yours, Mrs. Strauss." Blue eyes narrow at me as I back up, but despite the severity of her gaze, I can't help but smile at the overwhelming joy ricocheting inside me. My hands grip her shoulders, then turn her again so I can continue shampooing her hair. "I didn't ask them in there. I didn't fuck them. You just assumed. They were messing with you, I'm sure."

Her voice echoes off the tiles as she huffs out a haughty laugh. "They're dead now."

My mirth transforms to a sudden lust at the sound, and I tug her close to me. With my chin resting on her shoulder, I squeeze my eyes closed to memorize the feeling. "Fuck, I love you. You're my perfect weapon."

She freezes in my arms. Some odd satisfaction comes over me that she's so bothered by the admission. But I'm not holding back. Not anymore.

"How did you know about me? How did you, when I didn't even remember myself?"

"My spies do good work." Silence is her reply, as if she's contemplating something. "Clavius sent them to take your brother and end your parents' lives. They didn't know about you. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her voice is flat when she says, "I'm not ashamed at all. I guess I just didn't remember because…I don't want to see those images. The ones of my parents."

I wrap my arms tighter around her and squeeze as my own nightmare returns. She lets me.

Some of her wet hair catches in my hand as she turns to face me again. "I guess I just didn't realize what I was capable of. But you did."

As I drag a thumb over her nipple, it hardens, and I smile. "Yes. I did. There's no other woman out there for me as perfect as you." The muscles in her neck tighten as she swallows, but she holds her tongue. "It must be confusing to realize you aren't the innocent creature you believed yourself to be. That you're like me."

Now her eyes flash to mine with something like shock. "I'm not like you."

With a small chuckle and a shrug at her reaction, I smile and finish up the long process of getting every divot in our bodies clean. Despite her irritation, she helps me with my back and hair, me with her entire body without ravaging it. After that, I help dry her and fix her hair. Then I toss her over my shoulder and meander through my room.

A few staff stand with their hands on their hips like they don't know what to do with the place, but I have no pointers to give them. Instead, I make straight for her room, then set her on the bed. "Sev got you clothing, as you requested, Queen."

Whipping her head around, she sends me a glare. "Don't call me that."

With a tiny laugh, I pull out some jeans and little matching lace panties and bra. She swats them down when I toss them at her face. "That's what you are. Queen of the North. You don't like that?"

She dresses, then skirts past me to pull on a T-shirt from the open drawer. "No."

As I find my clothing and she continues to dress, I think about all the women over the years introduced to me by Herodius and Clavius. The ones they were dying to have me mix with. All had stars in their eyes thinking about being the consort's wife. Young ones. Older ones. Tested and ready to be bred.

When I slaughtered the last one they sent as she stepped foot on my porch, they ended the practice. It was either the dungeons with them, or death. I grew tired of torturing my guests, and a clean death was quicker. Especially before they entered the house. Less mess.

I bundle up some clothing and re-enter my wife's bedroom, nodding toward her dresser. "Gather some clothes and let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"To the tower. It's safer." Cutting a path through my study, I also snatch two rifles and a shotgun. My wife carries our clothing and I, the weapons, as we wind up the stone stairs to our new abode.

"We're staying up here now?"

"Yep. We'll have a three-sixty view, and it would take the enemy much longer to find us. Plus, we can pick them off from the top of the stairs or the windows."

She places our bundles on top of the window seat, then tosses her hands on her hips, giving the place another look. "But the kitchen is so far away."

My lips jerk up into a smirk as I set the guns on either side of the bed. Gathering her hand in mine, I place my lips against her forehead. She doesn't pull back, and the touch of her sends another zing of life straight to my soul. "Is my little girl hungry?"

The heat from her palm hits my chest as she tries to slap me away, even through the black T-shirt I wear, but there isn't any effort behind it. "Don't call me that." Her tone says she definitely wants me to call her that very thing.

"Come on, my perfect angel. My little girl. My queen. Your food awaits."

Tugging on her, I lead us across the gangway to another door. The iron keys are heavy in my pocket. After unlocking it, I reveal another office. This one has a mini fridge and a basket of snacks. Chips, candy, crackers…

"You've been holding out. This is where you keep the good stuff!" She rummages through the selection while I reach over her head and snatch a few for myself. "Hey! I was going for the Puffs."

With a pop, the bag opens, and I toss one in the air. Catching it in my mouth, I chew it with a sly grin on my face. She screws her face in mock anger, but I hold one up for her. "Open."

When she does, I toss it in, and she smiles. Just for that expression of triumph, I hand her the rest and grab some pretzels instead.

"I'll take you on a date later. Would you like that? Our first date?" Some level of satisfaction makes my head hang onto the back of the sofa. A happy sigh floats past my lips. It'll be my first, too.

Her jaw motions slowly as she crooks an eyebrow. "We can't go anywhere. And I've never been on a date before."

It warms my heart to hear it. Just another affirmation that we were made for each other. I gather her up in my arms, then lead her over to the sofa as we munch on our snacks. "I'll pop your date cherry, then. Show you what it can be like."

She's silent for a long time until she finally speaks. "Did you enslave those women? Or rescue them?"

Finishing up the salty treat, I brush my hands together and sit as she leans against the far cushion. I pull one of her delicate feet into my lap. The skin is ice cold, and I wonder how long it will take Sev to find some slippers or socks for her. "They were already slaves. I tried to keep as many as I could. At the society parties, I'd pretend to want them for myself or bring them in through the catacombs in groups. The Crimson Angel tunnels through to here. But I always gave everyone a choice. Stay with the monster here. Or get used by the demons out there. Some decided to leave. Some chose to work at the brothel. And a few stayed with me."

She chews carefully for a moment, considering something. I'm on the edge, wondering what will next come from her pert little mouth. "So you didn't care if they were free, just so long as Clavius and Herodius didn't have them."

With a shrug, I sigh. "That was most important, yes. Disrupting the trade would cut into their profits. Maybe it wasn't a great choice, but the slaves did have one."

She gasps, holding a bright orange Cheeto between two fingers. "And I slaughtered them." Her young skin wrinkles with worry.

It makes me laugh riotously. My arm stretches across the back of the sofa as I tickle her shoulder with my fingertips. "Angel, you can't feel guilty now. You said no one touches what's yours, isn't that right? And they had it out for you, anyway. Five dead whores here or out there…wouldn't matter. Hell, most days, I considered doing what you did. Thank you for the favor."

With a look of disgust, she tears up. "How can you be so callous? Just not even care that those women you bedded are all dead now?"

Fury rises within me from her not understanding my nature. Still. She needs to know me. And that we're the same. Scrambling off the couch, I kneel before her as she tries to scoot back. My hands trap her face and hold her steady so she's forced to gaze into my eyes. "Because I never cared about anything except revenge. And now you."

"Revenge for what, Vincente? What happened?"

Maybe my expression mimics her saddened one because some heat fills my eyes. "I loved someone. And she was taken from me." Standing, I walk to the far wall and look through the floor-to-ceiling port window. After days of rain, the sun lights up all the colors of the changing leaves. But snow threatens the sky on the horizon.

My fingers dig into my scalp as I scratch it, then rub where I've touched. "I-I'm getting confused about who the real enemy was."

I jolt as she wraps her arms around my waist and presses a cheek to my back. "I'm sorry. Who was she?"

As if in a trance, I confess. "My mother."

The only thing that awakens me from my flashback is her palms slipping as if she's going to move away from me. I snare them and unleash the burdens onto her, only to watch her crumble under their weight. To run away from me just so I can fuck her while she does.

Spinning, I grip her arms hard, hoping she'll fight me off. "I gather we didn't have a normal relationship. No, I made love to my mother every night since I was sixteen. Even before that, it was blow jobs in the catacombs. And hand jobs during homeschooling." Her blue eyes widen at my soliloquy, but she doesn't attempt to escape. Louder, I say, "I fucked my mother. We were in love. Carnally ." She isn't moving, just staring at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. So I shake her violently. "Didn't you hear me? I said, I?—!"

"Vincente, I hear you."

"You fucking pity me? Is that what your flushed cheeks are about? Are you disgusted?"

She sobs and shakes her head, biting her lip to contain something, some unspoken word. But I rattle her one more time and snarl, "Is that it ? Got nothing to say now? Are you sorry for me?"

"No. I'm not." Taking a pause, she gathers a shaky breath, then spits out. "I'm furious." My eyes check back and forth between hers, but she's being truthful. The little girl is angry.

She is a reflection of me.

My knees weaken, and I drop to them, still clutching onto her but by her waist now. I press my cheek into her belly and scream. It's primal and fueled by the rage of confusion and years of torment. Things I never wanted anyone to know or have to understand. Because even I don't.

She slumps to the ground with me and wraps her arms around my chest, then climbs onto my lap and rocks us. Back and forth, so slowly that I lull back into a stunned silence.

Burrowing my face into the crook of her neck, humid air from my mouth paints her skin until I lick it off. "I want vengeance."

With her soft lips pressed over my ear, she whispers, "Then consider me your angel of death."