“Forgive me.”
Alice’s hands moved to run her fingers through his hair. It was an act of the forgiveness he sought, a solemn moment where neither spoke, but the words still passed between them in the silence of the crossroads where they now found themselves standing.
Split apart or come together stronger?
What occurred in this moment would answer the question that had been running endless circles in Alice’s head.
He was such a proud man; too proud, too formidable to kneel to any person. But yet here he was, lowering himself to his wife, to a woman who was nothing close to the powerful person he’d somehow become. She was the meek one between them – her fear, her panic, her nightmares that only he could chase away – and yet in her helplessness, she’d become Max’ ultimate weakness.
Her hands absently tangled into the thick strands of his dark wavy hair, his hands coming up to rub along her calves, the touch so gentle in comparison to the way he’d handled her just hours before.
Lifting his head, tears shimmered in the icy chill of his blue eyes, regret a shadow that darkened the normally stark features of his beautiful face.
“I can’t help myself, sometimes,” he explained. “I lose my mind when it comes to you. I try so hard to keep that part of me away from you.”
Alice understood every word as if she’d spoken them herself. There was a part of her that he’d chased into the shadows, and if she were to return the kindness – the favor given in love – could she chase away the darkness that loomed over them both when Max’ anger raged?
“I forgive you,” she whispered, “I’ll always forgive you.”
They were too entwined for her to back away now, too closely knitted by the horrors of their youth and the serenity they found when they finally came together.
He was her protector, and she would become his.
It was the price she’d ultimately pay to love a man as damaged as the one that knelt at her feet.
“I know you have your secrets, your places that you haven’t shown me for fear of what they could mean…or do. But I made you a promise when I married you, Max, and I’ll never break it.”
Relief withered his shoulders, his body to relax at her feet. However, there was still that other side of him that lingered just beneath the skin.
Pushing up to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips trailing across her shoulder until he found that soft spot at the base of her neck. Her pulse fluttered against his lips and the violence inside him shifted until his was a shadow that covered her as she fell back helpless against the bed.
She wouldn’t stop him from taking what she’d always known was his, and a moan brushed over her lips when his hands explored the curves of her trembling body. The softness wouldn’t last, she knew that, but she enjoyed it for the brief moment he could give it to her.
There was fury in the way this man loved her, fury and violence in the way he held her down. One strong hand gripped her wrists to pin them to the mattress above her head, heat flashing in his eyes to look down on her when she was powerless and open to every desire inside him.
The fingers of his other hand traveled up her leg, pulling the white nightgown she wore up to the apex of her thighs, their grip so strong that she could feel the pulse of his heart on the tips. He left bruises on her each time they made love, but those small constellations of marks never deterred her from wanting him again.
Because where this man made her body jump with small pain and torment, he also made it sing.
He knew every small place that drove her crazy, every weakness that pulled a soft moan from the back of her throat. Made for each other, the two danced this sensual torture because they were two halves of a whole.
She needed the sexual violence he gave her. He needed the fear and submission she gave in return.
His hand gripped the nightgown, the cloth tearing as he pulled it away. What was left of the delicate material was dropped to the bed beside them and his mouth found the taut peak of her exposed breast, his teeth biting down until her body arched and begged for more.
Slow.
Precise.
Methodical.
He worked her into a frenzy that drove her mad, until he lost control of his own needs and entered her with one forceful stroke.
The way he filled her was exquisite, the way he moved over her was hypnotic. But it was the way he possessed her that forced her over the edge of breathless anticipation, that left her floating in the euphoria of a love that was as wicked as it was divine.
So full and stretched open, Alice lost her head to this man every time his lips found hers, every time his body pushed forward, taking and claiming, spilling into her with a final push that had her screaming his name as tears rolled down her bruised cheek.
She loved him too much to walk away.
So she would pay the price to forgive him. She would pay with her heart, her body and her very soul because it was the only thing that would keep him strong.