Merciless Union by Faith Summers

28

Aria

Idid what Dr. Belmont asked me to do.

I took my violin outside and spent the day going over the music books. I stayed out there until nightfall and even ate my dinner on the terrace so I could stretch out the time.

By ten, I started to worry and wonder if I would have another night where Lucca wasn’t going to come home.

Yuliana was supposed to turn in at six, but she came back twice to check on me.

It was clear she felt sorry for me because my worry was obvious.

At midnight the roar of a motorcycle heralds my husband’s arrival.

I wait for twenty minutes to see if he’s coming up to the room, but he doesn’t.

Instead, I hear music.

Not our song, though.

This is something else I don’t recognize.

I listen closely and realize the sound is even fainter than it normally is. Like he closed the door in the piano room, or maybe he’s not in there.

There was another piano I glimpsed in the dark side of the house, but why would he be playing in there?

When I get up from my post on the window bay, I realize why the sound sounded so far away. It was because I couldn’t hear it from outside. So he is in the dark side of the house.

Pulling on my dressing gown, I leave the room. The dark side of the house isn’t cold per se. It just has that eerie chill of the dead that gives me goosebumps.

Although I was here the other night, I don’t actually like coming down here.

I hate passing the room Lucca’s family died in even more. The other night I merely took two steps in before I was out.

When I get to the stairs that lead down to the darkness, the music gets louder.

There’s a whole other section I haven’t been in yet. I never asked, but I got the impression that, like Marylin, some of the staff must have lived on the grounds. There are enough rooms here for plenty more people. The house was designed for that.

I also think some of the rooms I haven’t seen would have obviously belonged to Lucca’s family.

When I get to the dreadful room, I don’t look inside as I walk by. Knowing how his family died makes me imagine what happened to them.

Now I imagine it more because of his brother. I hope his mother didn’t have to watch those devils kill her baby.

I push the horrific thought out of my mind and continue in my pursuit.

As I walk, I can’t help but feel like another ghost myself, roaming the house.

The piano I saw was in the furthest room. That’s where the music is coming from.

I stop when I get to the door and take in the haggard form of the man I married weeks ago.

The song he’s playing almost sounds as eerie as the place.

He doesn’t look at me, but I know he’s seen me.

On top of the piano is a glass of scotch and the bottle next to it that’s almost empty. Next to that is a book that looks like one of his mother’s poetry books.

I stare at him, and it’s clear something’s not right, but I’m thinking of how I’m supposed to tell him about the baby.

Now is obviously not the right time.

“You didn’t message me about the things you needed at the store,” he grates out.

It takes me a moment to remember what he’s talking about. “I sorted it out. I found the things I needed here,” I lie. It’s more of a half-truth, though, because Dr. Belmont is what I found.

“Great, how was your appointment with Dr. Belmont?” The question sounds stiff, and he still hasn’t looked at me.

“Okay. He’s coming back today after lunch. We’re going to try some semi-hypnosis techniques.”

“Whatever helps. You should go back to bed now, Printsessa.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s going on, Lucca?”

“Something’s always going on.” He continues playing. To me, it sounds like he’s playing out the pain from his soul.

I walk in and move closer to him. The instant I do, I smell the alcohol on him and something else that’s screwing with the usual scent of his after shave.

It smells like cheap, sweet perfume. Since it’s not mine, I can’t help but wonder who’s it is.

“Where were you?”

“Working.”

“Working where? You smell weird.”

He stops playing the piano and cuts me a hard stare. “Why don’t you just ask me the question you want to ask me, Aria?”

“Were you with someone else?”

He answers with a drunken laugh which doesn’t exactly help the flash of rage and jealousy that seers through me.

“I wasn’t joking. Answer me.”

“Listen to you talk. Claiming me even though you don’t want me, and then having a problem if somebody else does.”

I throw a punch in his arm so hard it hurts my wrist. “You fucking asshole, did you cheat on me?”

The smile falls from his face, and the growl that rips from his chest makes me jump. He rises, walks me back into the wall, and lowers until he’s a breath away from my lips.

One strong hand sets against the wall, barricading me in the closeness of him.

“You’re seriously asking me if I cheated on you?” The mingle of scotch and desire on his breath works its way into me, and I take a moment to acknowledge how much it would hurt me if he were with another woman.

“Just tell me if you did,” I press.

“No,” he seethes. “If I didn’t give you my fucking heart fifteen years ago, maybe I would have been able to cheat on you. If I weren’t so fucking obsessed with you, I could have had the bar whore who threw herself at me and not go home to my wife.”

The confession makes me glare at him. Other than his possessive nature and demanding ways, that’s the first time he’s ever given me any insight into how he felt about me.

The damn confession traps me in the truth, and I can see quite clearly that in this dark being, I have two of the things I need: safety and love.

He moves away, back to the piano, and grabs the bottle of scotch. He downs a good amount and sets the bottle back next to the glass, then rests against the piano.

“Lucca, what happened to you?”

“Aria, go back to bed. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I want to know what happened.”

“Printsessa, if you stay, you know what’s going to happen to you. I’m sure you knew before you came through that door that if I saw you, I’d want to fuck you against that wall. If you stay, that’s what I’m going to do. That was your last warning.”

He’s serious. My nerves spike with heat.

In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never seen him like this.

He’s always composed; even when he found out about his family, the scariest thing about him was how calm he was.

I should go. Damn it. I should leave. He’s giving me a way out again. An exit route, and tonight I don’t need to be his wife. I don’t need to do anything besides what I’m told, and this first actual choice he’s given me doesn’t completely benefit him.

When I don’t move and go back to bed as I should, his flinty gaze becomes razor sharp. My cemented feet are a testament that I’d be an idiot if I continued to deny whatever love I feel for him when it so overpowering it’s suffocating.

Once again, I’m having the same problem I always have. I can’t leave because I don’t want to.

I want him to touch me. When he’s touching me, I don’t think about anything besides how he makes me feel.

All thoughts of choice escape my mind when he reaches for me. When he claims my mouth with his, I’m instantly lost to desire and lost in him.

It’s not hard to succumb to the captivity passion pushes me into when he kisses me.

He pushes me right up against the wall, and the only thought that floats through my mind is: this is the first time I’m going to have sex with him knowing I’m pregnant.

He strips me of my robe and nightshirt, leaving me in my panties. He doesn’t take off his shirt like he usually does, but he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down to free his cock.

When he rips off my panties, it’s clear he means to be rough with me. There will be nothing slow or meaningful about tonight.

He lifts my leg, wraps it around his waist then plunges into me.

The impact makes me grasp onto his shirt. He starts fucking me hard, up against the wall, not giving me any time to adjust to his length and width.

He ruts into me like a beast, taking everything from me.

My head spins as he tunnels deeper and faster into my body. Then he goes even faster, and I feel his ruthless, merciless thrusts everywhere.

I come, and still, he continues to hammer into me.

When he catches my face and holds me so I can look into his eyes as he fucks me, a light of something I can’t quite describe passes between us.

It’s beautiful until his grip tightens around my neck, and he holds me against the wall.

With that, he comes with a savage roar, and his cum hits my g-spot with fire.

We’re both breathing so hard I don’t think there’s going to be a calm.

But there is. It comes when he rests his head against mine.

“You were always mine, Aria. You know it’s true. No matter what happened between us, you were always mine.”

I don’t get the chance to answer. He kisses me again, and instead of me going back to bed, he comes with me.

There we stay, devouring each other until the sun comes up.

When the sun rises, I press my head to his chest, and I wonder if I could tell him about the baby now.

“I killed Jon last night,” he says, shattering my thoughts.

I sit up and pull the sheet over my chest.

“You did it?”

“I did.”

I can understand why he’d feel bad about that, but I’m not so sure that’s the problem here. He’s looking at me like there’s more.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for him. I had to kill him.”

“What else happened?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I can’t talk about it until I’m sure, but it was just something more to screw with me.”

What if he thinks that about the baby too?

My thoughts are once again interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand.

He reaches for it, and when he sees the call display, he answers straightaway.

“Lucca Dyshekov speaking,” he says, then stands up a moment later. “We’re on our way.”

He hangs up, and panic slices through me. What could be happening now?

“What’s going on, Lucca?”

“Marylin’s awake.”