Dreams of the Deadly: A Dark Mafia Romance (Massacred Dreams Book 1)

“I think it’s probably best that we save that conversation for another time,” he said, unfastening the buttons of his tux jacket. He moved with the lethal grace of a predator, but all the refinement I would have expected of a man raised by royalty.

I didn’t know where he’d gone in the years after being banished from the only home he’d ever known. Only that wherever life had taken him had guided him away from me in a way that the man who’d finally returned was nothing like the boy I’d known.

He folded his tux jacket carelessly, grabbing a garbage bag out of one of the drawers built into the base of the wide, cushioned seat that lined the bay window of the bedroom. He shoved it into the garbage bag, dropping it to the wood floor at his feet as he lifted a hand to his tie.

Like a businessman shedding his skin, revealing the monster waiting underneath, his fingers that were stained with the dark, crusted memory of death tiredly worked the silk open until he dropped that into the bag, too.

I swallowed when his eyes came to the train of my dress where I gripped it in my hands and to my bare feet that touched the cool floors.

Never in my life had I wished for a third foot until his gaze raked over my wedding dress, sliding up my body until it landed on my face with heat filling his cool gray stare.

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as my fear of what was coming reached a crescendo. I’d already felt Calix’s body moving inside me; had already felt him cover me with his weight and the way he could demand things from me in the throes of passion.

But that was before I’d known he was the boy I’d never thought to desire—the boy who was meant to protect me from men like him.

He smirked, toeing off his shoes one by one and kicking them to the side. He moved forward, slowly closing the distance between us until he stood so close his light button-up shirt nearly brushed against the crystals sewn into the lace of my wedding gown.

“Everything is my choice to make, Little One. Every decision you make for yourself is because I indulge you in it, because I allow it. You are my wife, and it would do you well to remember what that means in the Six Families” His deep voice grated against the wounds in my heart like lash marks beating against my chest, a reminder of everything I would never be.

Free.

“I’m to be your property, then? Mindlessly doing as I’m told?” I asked, swallowing past the burn in my throat. I’d foolishly hoped for something more; some semblance of affection that would remind me of the Calix I’d loved as a girl.

“That’s not what I said.” He raised a hand, sliding it beneath the curtain of my hair and gripping the side of my neck. “But you should remember how things could be, so you can fully appreciate just how treasured you’ll be with me.”

I caught my breath, peering up into the intensity of his stare as he murmured the words. He touched his lips to mine for barely a whisper before he pulled back and his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. He undid the top one as I swallowed back my nerves, reaching behind myself to pull down the zipper of my dress.

The sound of it broke the silence of the room, making his fingers pause on the button as he studied me with his head cocked to the side. I brushed the lace straps of the dress off my shoulders, letting the heavy fabric slide down my arms. It fell to my waist, leaving me to pull my arms free so I could wiggle from side to side until the fitted lace finally pushed over my hips and fell to my feet.

The bare back of the dress had left me no choice but to go braless for the wedding, leaving me standing in only a pair of white lace underwear. Lydia had told me they were white, drilling in the essence of my purity until the final moments before my new husband would take what was his.

What I’d already unintentionally given to that husband.

I bit back the whimper that tried to escape at the cruel twist my life had taken, stepping out of the fabric pooled around my feet and feeling Calix’s eyes heavy on my body. I stepped toward the bed, reaching out to touch the dark fabric patterned with light narcissus flowers. I stopped before I could touch it, the sight of my blood-crusted hands giving me pause.

I was fairly certain that wasn’t what Lydia had meant when she’d talked about the bloody sheets on my wedding night.

“As much as I love seeing you covered in the blood of our enemies, I don’t want to bring them into our bed,” Calix said, making me glance back at him as he continued to take his shirt off. He tossed it into the garbage bag along with his suit jacket, bending down to fight with the fabric of my dress to squeeze it in alongside them.

I tore my eyes off his broad shoulders, facing the bed once more as I fought for the composure to deal with what we both knew he wanted.

“Then where do you want me so we can just get this over with?” I asked, fighting back my wince when I looked over my shoulder at him and found his gray stare had hardened. I turned to face him fully and lifted my chin high.

I wouldn’t play the simpering bride, desperate for her husband’s touch. Not when I wouldn’t have chosen him in a million years. I’d have rather tolerated the touch of a man I couldn’t stand than ruin the memory of the only boy who’d ever shown me kindness.

“Get it over with?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled as he reached up and grasped my chin between harsh fingers. “Is that what you think of me? That I would lay you out and fuck you until I was done, not giving the first shit whether you wanted it?”

“You’ve hardly given me a reason to expect otherwise,” I said, jerking my chin away from his grip. “You used my sister to make me agree to this sham of a marriage.”

“Oh I promise you, λουλούδι μου, nothing about our marriage will be a sham,” he warned, a cruel, bitter smile transforming his face. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll take you when you’re anything less than begging for it.”

“Begging for it?” I asked, a huff of laughter erupting from me. “That is not going to happen.”

“Whether I use your body or not, I own it now. If I cannot take pleasure in it, then neither can you. So I hope you’re ready to forego all your late nights spent alone in bed with those pretty little fingers dancing between your thighs,” he said, his voice a smooth purr.

My cheeks flushed, the need to deny the truth of his words flowing through me. But I couldn’t force the words to come, choosing instead to keep my head held high and pretend the thought of someone knowing about when I touched myself didn’t bother me.

“I’ll miss those nights far more than I would ever miss your touch,” I snapped as he took a step away from me and put a tiny bit of distance between us.

He dropped his hands to his belt buckle, smoothly unfastening it and the button on his slacks. “One of these days, we’ll see which one of us can make you see stars, λουλούδι μου.”

He shoved his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles, stepping out of them with more masculine grace than should have been possible. There was no shame on his face as he stared at me in challenge, his skin gleaming under the lights overhead as the sun set outside. It wasn’t dark out just yet, though that would come soon enough.

He took my hand in his, tugging me away from the bed once he’d shoved his pants and socks into the bag with all our bloody clothes. I crossed an arm over my chest, trying to cover my breasts as my bravado faded.

If he wasn’t going to get it over with, then I’d prefer to spend our conversations clothed.

He guided me into the bathroom as I held my gaze steady on the back of his head. The space light and airy and far too massive for what a bathroom really needed. I glanced around the room, looking at anything but his naked body. The memory of it kept me awake at night, his image filling all the fantasies that came after reading in bed since our one-night stand. Even just the line of muscle that extended over the curve of his shoulders, flexing as he turned his neck to look back at me, was enough to remind me of the way his skin felt against mine.

A cushioned settee was next to the deep claw foot tub by the windows overlooking the back gardens. Reaching in to start the water in the adjacent shower enclosure, he turned back to me with mischief playing on his face. “Are you intending to shower with your underwear on?”

“I’m not showering with you,” I declared, wrapping my other arm around my torso.

“Water preservation is of the utmost importance, Thalia. I would think you’d want to do your part to save the planet. Especially when I’ve already had my tongue between your legs and explored every part of you that you could possibly try to hide now,” he said, reaching behind me and touching a hand to the small of my back. He guided me into the shower, underwear and all, the rainfall showerhead pouring water down on me as I sputtered. I retreated to the back corner, stepping out of the spray and wiping the moisture from my face.

He stood beneath the cascading water, tipping his head back as he ran his hands through his dark hair, smoothing it back over his head as the water slid over the features of his face.

When he tipped his face back down, the gray of his eyes seemed to lighten with the piercing gaze he settled on me. The stains on his skin lightened as the water washed the blood away, and for once I was grateful that I couldn’t see the tint of red to it or watch the color of life itself swirl down the drain and disappear.

My father’s crumpled body flashed in my mind, Lydia’s split throat following shortly after. Worry for Malva coursed through me and I huddled into the tiled wall, which felt cold at my spine as steam filled the shower between us. Calix moved toward me, his steps slow as he crossed the distance. I couldn’t help the way my eyes tracked down his body, where water dripped over his chest and the defined muscles of his abs, clinging to the grooves in his hips that seemed to mimic carvings of the Greek gods.

He placed a hand on the wall next to my head, leaning his body over mine in a way that made me feel far shorter than I was. “Don’t,” he murmured, water dripping off his face and onto the swells of my breasts.

“Don’t what?” I asked, keeping my eyes on his. His other hand touched my bare hip, his gaze dropping to the place that he touched me as he studied the way his fingers splayed out over my skin.

“Don’t waste another moment of your time on the people who never deserved you. Don’t spend a second of your life regretting the fact that they finally got exactly what they deserved,” he said, shifting his gaze back to my face. His fingers toyed with the lace strap of my underwear, bunching it up in his grip as I swallowed.

His nostrils flared slightly as he lowered to his knees in front of me, his other hand trailing lightly over my torso to grasp the lace strap on the other side of my hip. “What are you doing?” I asked, hating the panic that had leaked into my voice.

“Relax, Little One. You will always be safe with me,” he said, tugging the fabric down my thighs. I clenched them together, fighting the loss of that last coverage that hid even the slightest part of me from his view.

He tugged them down past my resistance, leaving me naked and huddling against the shower wall as he tossed the underwear to the other corner. He stood, leaning a forearm against the shower wall and keeping his body carefully separate from mine, allowing no part of him to touch me. “Breathe,” he said finally, staring down at me with a face full of everything gentle.

With patience and understanding.

“You said you didn’t want—”

“I just want to take care of you, λουλούδι μου. Let me help you get the blood off. You shouldn’t have to spend another night wrapped in their sins,” he said, touching a gentle hand to my cheek. He rubbed it lightly, washing away what I had no doubt was the spatter of Damianos’s blood from when he’d shot him.

“I can do it,” I protested as he reached for a bottle of body wash and squirted some into his hand.

“You’ve been taking care of yourself your entire life. It’s my turn now,” he said, using a gentle thumb to continue washing my face with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes.

“Calix,” I said, unsure what was supposed to follow. He stepped back toward the water, guiding me with him.

“Let the water run through your hair while I get the blood off your skin,” he said, positioning me beneath the rainfall shower. The water fell onto my head, forcing me to tip it back if I wanted to avoid a deluge in my face. Calix dropped his hands to my forearms, grasping them gently and tugging them away from my torso where I’d attempted to cover my breasts from his prying eyes. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the foreign feeling of another person’s touch on me.

He started at my neck and shoulders, working the blood off until he managed to get those clean. I opened my eyes, shifting closer to him until the water ran over the back of my head and I could have a more relaxed angle. The thought of my eyes being closed while he touched me in less appropriate places terrified me, making me wonder what images I would conjure behind closed lids.

I couldn’t afford to wish for the night we’d shared or to want the man that I knew I needed to escape as soon as I could.

He washed me efficiently, recognizing my discomfort with his touch on my breasts. He didn’t comment about the little gasp that came free from my lips when he ran his thumb over my nipple, or my rough inhalation between parted lips as he moved over my stomach to the space between my legs. He slid his fingers between them slowly, keeping his eyes on mine, and I fought back the little whimper as he washed me.

A groan rattled in his chest, vibrating as I dropped my forehead forward and rested it against his chest. Any sane woman would have given him anything he asked for with the gentle care he took to clean me and the self-restraint he showed when he pulled his hand free and knelt at my feet to clean my legs and feet free from blood.

He stood when he was finished, spinning me in place and filling his hands with shampoo. He rubbed it through my hair, massaging my scalp and rinsing out the gore from our wedding. He finished with conditioner, the floral scent of cherry blossoms mixing with vanilla as he took tender care to work the conditioner into the ends of my waist-length hair. Tears stung my eyes, my throat clogging with emotion as his fingers worked gently through the strands.

His touch felt like another lie—another promise to cherish me made by a man who had brought me some of the greatest pain I’d ever known. I knew what to do with agony. I knew how to survive abuse.

But what was I supposed to do with this?

He pushed me farther under the water, running his hands over my head to rinse my hair the same way he had wet his own. I felt like a new woman by the time he was finished with me. I stepped out from beneath the spray, letting him wash himself with far less tender motions.

“There’s something for you to sleep in laid out on the chair in your closet,” he said, dismissing me as he sank his teeth into his lip and watched me make for the shower door.

I paused with my hand on the handle, turning back to look at him and finally allowing my eyes to drop below his waist. His cock was long and hard, his shaft swollen and angry-looking as if it might explode if he didn’t come. “Are you going to—” I broke off, shaking my head as I kicked myself for even thinking to ask that question.

What business was it of mine?

“No, Little One. I’m not about to jerk off to thoughts of your pussy wrapped around me. The next time I come, it will be inside of you,” he said, making my cheeks heat as I pulled open the door and escaped the suddenly stifling heat of the shower.

He chuckled behind me, finishing with his shower as I stepped out and dried myself off hastily. I walked back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around me, moving to the other door he’d mentioned.

The closet was painted in light shades, soft and feminine to contrast all the strong prints and patterns of the clothes hanging on the racks. They were nothing like the clothes Lydia had picked out for me, rather textured and vibrant in a way that even I could appreciate. I turned to the cushioned chair at the center of the walk-in closet, lifting the nightie he spoke of and tugging it on over my head without hesitation. The dark silk settled on me comfortably, the shine of white hydrangeas on it drawing my fingers to touch them.

Grabbing the towel and drying my hair off, I moved to the vanity on the other side of the closet. Lifting the comb from the top, I pulled it through the ends of my hair carefully, staring down at the dark locks in thought.

“Let me,” Calix said, pulling the comb from my hand as he stepped up behind me. I looked up at him in the mirror, watching as he very carefully worked the comb through the knots at the back of my head.

“I can comb my own hair,” I said, twisting my lips as I fought the urge to take the comb back from him.

“I know you can,” he said, continuing to comb it until he worked the last of the knots free. He tipped my head back, parting my hair slightly to the side in the same spot I always did.

“And yet you are doing it for me anyway,” I said as he smoothed it down the sides and combed it back until it settled behind my ears.

“I don’t do things for you because I think you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. I do things for you because you shouldn’t have to,” he said, setting the comb on the vanity.

I stared down at it in confusion for a moment, spinning on the stool suddenly to face him. My knees bumped into his bare legs, as only the core of his body was covered by the pair of boxer briefs he’d apparently slipped on after getting out of the shower.

“Where am I sleeping?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he grinned at me. He shook his head, amusement on his face as he leaned forward and plucked me off the vanity stool. I squeaked as he lifted me into his arms, holding me carefully as I fought to make sure my pussy stayed hidden. I hadn’t found underwear to put on, and I already regretted it, even if he had just had his fingers there.

He deposited me onto the bed where he’d already pulled back the covers, the smooth, expensive sheets touching my bare skin and seeming to try to drag me under immediately.

“You’re my wife. Even if I’m not spending my nights inside you, you spend them in my bed,” he said, moving to the other side of the bed and climbing in next to me. He pulled the covers up over us, turning to hit the light switch on the wall. After he touched a button next to it, the curtains pulled shut across the windows in an automated system.

“Aren’t you worried I might kill you in your sleep?” I asked, looking over at him briefly. I could barely make out his features with the sudden darkness in the room.

“You’re welcome to try, λουλούδι μου. Fair warning, though,” he said, pausing to lean his body over mine. His lips dropped to mine gently, coaxing me to open for him so he could take the goodnight kiss he wanted. The heat of his mouth was like a brand inside of me, filling my lungs with fire. He pulled away slowly, tucking a lock of wet hair behind my ear. “I may enjoy it.”

I turned my back on him with a glare, scooting to the very edge of the bed to put some distance between us. It was not normal for him to like the prospect of me trying to hurt him, but I couldn’t get the image of his amusement out of my mind when I’d swung the splintered cane for his neck.

My husband would definitely like it.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, hauling me to the center of the bed until his chest brushed against my bare upper back. He slid a hand beneath my pillow, holding me steady with his arm draped over my side and sliding it between the valley of my breasts to nestle in there. His fingers splayed around the base of my throat, pinning me still without ever threatening my breathing.

He surrounded me, holding me still with the heat of his body at my back. “Calix,” I protested, squirming as if to get out of his grip.

“If you keep moving like that, you might find my cock has a mind of its own when I’m asleep,” he murmured into the back of my neck.

I stilled immediately, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, something between desire and terror inside of me.

“Go to sleep, λουλούδι μου,” he said, snuggling deeper into the pillows and burying his nose in my hair. He breathed deep, taking me into his lungs.

As if I could ever sleep with a wolf at my back.

But his warmth sank into me, surrounding me in an embrace like nothing I’d ever known, and as his breathing steadied into a rhythmic pattern, my heart seemed to slow to match his.

And my eyes drifted closed.