Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Ace didn’t flinch. “No, because in every scenario I can think of, there would never be one where I could seduce your daughter without her knowing exactly what was happening, without having her consent. If anything, it’s impossible not to drown in her, not the other way around. I pity the arrogant fool who thinks otherwise. If anything, I’m trapped, not the other way around.”
I smiled down at my hands.
It was nice.
Him defending me.
Not just in front of my father but saving my pride in front of my father at the same time.
I owed him.
And I was calm. I wasn’t upset about having to marry him. I already lost the love of my life and told myself it would be impossible to replace him—so why not get married? Why couldn’t this be my journey? Everyone in my family had a path—this could be mine.
Marrying the man with the scars.
Marrying the man who hated food touching other food.
Marrying the man who loathed noise.
Marrying the man covered in knife wounds from his ex-lover so that every time he looked in the mirror all he saw were memories of her and a love he’d never have again.
We were the same, in different ways though.
I slid my hand across the seat and grabbed his. “He’s right.”
Dad snorted. “We’re almost there. I’d be thinking where you want to make the cut of flesh, not an ounce short.”
I squeezed Ace’s hand.
He squeezed back. “My chest and part of my arm. I’ll cut out the family tattoo that links me to Sicily once and for all, and I’ll destroy my scars creating new ones, born out of honor, loyalty—love.”
My eyes flickered to his chest.
“Take the skin from my chest next to my heart as a reminder that every beat belongs to her. My life is hers.”
“And her life?” Dad asked.
"Mine,” Ace snapped.
My heart jolted in my chest. I told myself it was fear.
The shiver that ran through my soul said otherwise.
15
ACE
Why Are You Full of Rage? Why do I like it? The one with no answers.
Someone must have talked because by the time we made it to Dante’s house the bosses were already waiting in the basement. I had the lovely job of walking next to Raven into the kitchen, while every mom, aunt, cousin—you name it—gave me a look of trepidation, sorrow, judgment, and at least half of them smiled like this was a joyous occasion.
They knew what would happen.
I was physically giving my body to her—it meant my soul would follow.
Words, after all, were so easy to toss out.
I like you.
I love you.
My heart is yours.
Words were bullshit, though, especially when it came to the time of proof. Could you actually really own a person’s heart if they weren’t willing to physically cut it out of their chest? Gory as it was, I wondered about things like that.
After all, didn’t Saint Valentine oppose the emperor when he married couples in secret?
"What?” Raven said under her breath. “Is this really a time to tell stories?”
I frowned. “I said that out loud?”
Dante and Ivan were a few steps behind us while we made our way past the kitchen.
“Yeah.” She shivered.
I shrugged. “I like history and weird facts. Valentine defied the emperor himself for love, figuratively giving his heart, his very life in order to prove that love conquered all.”
She snorted out a laugh as we made it down the hall. “You don’t love me, Ace.”
I hated that she said that.
Maybe at one point in my life, I could have been that person, the one to give his whole heart. Maybe it really was easier then, for me to give my body? Did that make me a hypocrite?
"Is my blood not enough to prove my loyalty at least?” I whispered. “You know, in Aztec tradition, they would offer their still beating hearts to the god, it was the ultimate sacrifice the most powerful way to honor was to give over the one thing keeping you alive.” I took a deep breath as we made another turn. The black basement door stared back at us. “Should I then? Hand you the only thing keeping me alive? Would you believe me then? That my life is yours? That despite all the sadness in your soul and all the damage in mine—I’ll live for you. Bleed for you. Die for you…”
Raven reached for my hand. One of the guards opened the ironclad door. The stairwell lights snapped on—Dante’s flair for the dramatic meant fire-lit sconces lined both sides. Bastard thought it was hilarious bringing guys down here for training. At least he squelched the idea of putting bloody hand prints down it as if to show that some escaped, some didn’t and got terrified enough of the souls of the dead that they decided to leave a mark for good.
“This is crazy.” Raven muttered under her breath. “Maybe if I talk to him—”