Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) by Rina Kent

By the time I shake myself out of my reverie, he’s reached his car and has opened the passenger door.

I squirm in his hold, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“I have to go back to check on Sergei and Ana.”

“They’re fine. The Irish who showed up were taken care of by Vladimir and the others.”

“Still—”

He holds the back of my neck with his rough, strong hand, forcing me to stop squirming. His face is mere breaths away as his hard eyes peer into mine. “Quit worrying about everyone else on your wedding day.”

“This is not a real wedding.” I meant for my voice to be hard, but it’s almost a whisper.

“Yes, it is. You said ‘I do’ in front of God and all his holy subjects.”

“You don’t believe in holy things.”

He smirks. “You remember. Were you that obsessed with me?”

I huff, turning away from him, but his hold on my neck keeps me pinned in place. “Don’t flatter yourself. I only remember things that will be of use.”

“You remember my teachings, too.”

“I do not,” I snap, chest going back to its heavy rise and fall. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” His voice drops in range. “Oh, is it the part about how I don’t believe in holy things?”

“Yes.”

“You do. That’s what counts.”

“Who says I do?”

“You believe in anything the brotherhood believes in. A Bratva princess, through and through.”

I hit his chest with a closed fist. He lets me, then feigns a dramatic wince. “Kinky this early in the evening? I’m going to have my hands full with you tonight, aren’t I?”

“Not if you want to keep your dick where it belongs.”

He chuckles, the laugh lines around his eyes turning them lighter, shinier. “Oh, it will stay where it belongs and maybe I’ll use it to shut that stubborn mouth for once.” He strokes his fingers across my skin, eliciting zap-like sensations from the bottom of my stomach. “You won’t have much to say when your lips are wrapped around my dick, will you?”

A shudder goes through my entire body at his explicit words, and I blurt something out to camouflage my reaction. “Maybe when you’re in a coffin.”

“It’s a bad omen to imagine being a widow when you’re a bride, Princess.” He aligns his mouth with my ear until his hot breaths are the only thing I feel on my skin. “It might come true sooner than you think.”

I pull away, his words hitting me like an electric shock. “W-what do you mean?”

He places me on my feet only so he can nudge me into the passenger seat. I don’t protest, because all I can think about are his words. What does he mean I’ll become a widow sooner than I think?

Kyle climbs into the driver’s seat, and I fully face him. “What did you say just now?”

His whole body leans over in my direction, and my nostrils are assaulted by his distinctive clean smell as he straps the seatbelt over me. His mouth is a few inches away from mine when he pauses and expands the palm of his hand on my stomach where there’s a stain of blood.

“Our life together started with blood,” he says in a calm tone. “How do you expect it to end?”

I swallow the clog that lodges in my throat without warning. “Didn’t you tell me we choose our own destiny?”

“I lied. It’s always decided beforehand. Every action we take only throws us back to the path we were always meant to follow.”

It takes me a second, but I see it: the determination in his eyes. It’s not the normal type like the kind I have when I stare in the mirror every morning. It’s blacker, fierier, and with the intention of reaching his end goal even if it means burning everyone—himself included.

What happened to you during these past years, Kyle?

I hate myself for thinking that question, for even voicing it in my head when I promised myself I’d never get caught in his maze again.

“Why did you marry me?” I murmur the question I’ve meant to ask for the past week.

“Because I wanted to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only answer you’ll need. I married you because I wanted to. You’re my wife now, and nothing and no one will change that fact. Not even you.”

“You better be ready for the hell I’ll bring to your life, then.”

“Oh, I’m more than ready.” He kisses my forehead and I freeze, not expecting the soft, intimate gesture. His lips linger for a second as if he’s savoring the moment and the newness of it. Kyle has never kissed me on the forehead before, not that I would’ve let him, but now, he seems hell-bent on doing whatever he wishes.

He pulls back before I can protest, but the imprint of his lips remains on my skin, burning like wildfire.

Kyle reaches to the back seat and brings out a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels, takes a sip, and then offers it to me. “To the hell you’ll bring, Princess.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I snatch the bottle from his fingers and down a generous gulp. Kyle smiles, giving me his side profile as he drives out of the parking lot.