Page 64 of Stolen Vows
The Demon of Boston no more.
Demons don’t fall in love. They don’t have hearts.
Although maybe that makes me one after all, since the woman tucked into my side stole mine.
She turns in her sleep, nuzzling against me. My dick aches to be in her again, but when those beautiful brown eyes pop open, shining up at me in the moonlight, I’m frozen in place. Completely ensnared by her.
A total goner.
“Are you going to keep me in this tower forever?” Her voice is small, almost sweet, and thick from slumber.
“I’m the evil villain in this story, right? It wouldn’t make sense for me to let you go.” Her eyes widen, and I laugh, smoothing my thumb over her cheek. “I’m kidding, Stella. There is nothing I want less than to stifle your freedom and individuality. Those are some of the many things I’ve enjoyed watching you cultivate over the years.”
The admission slips out too fast for me to stop.
She blinks slowly, as if processing each word. I wait for more questions, or maybe even accusations, but they never come.
“I used to watch you in church, you know.”
Yes, I don’t say.I know.We’ve had this conversation, sort of, but I suppose she doesn’t remember.
“You were so handsome and terrifying. My mother hated when I stared, and my sisters would tell me you ate people.”
I smother a snicker. “Cannibalism does not appeal to me, I’m afraid.”
“But you let people think that anyway, right? It made you seem scarier, and you wanted their fear.”
“Ineededtheir fear,” I correct softly, cupping her jaw. “Anything less would have meant my death.”
“Did you want mine?”
Leaning down, I angle her head and gently press a kiss to her swollen lips. “Never.”
In truth, I wanted something far different from her, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Even if I can’t admit it now, out loud.
A part of me thinks she knows anyway. It’s in the way her pupils dilate, shimmering like glass in the gentle glow of the candlelight. No matter my reasons for coming here, or for staying, or for harassing her, I think she knows.
Or I hope she does.
Fuck, De Tore, who the hell even are you anymore?
I expect more questions. Instead, Stella leans her forehead against my biceps and drifts back off to sleep.
23
STELLA
Iwake with a start, heat seeping into my body like a steady faucet leak. It’s still dark, and most of the candles in the room have blown out. Only two on the nightstand remain burning, casting an ethereal glimmer across the bed.
My cheek is plastered to a naked pectoral, while my arm is thrown over a wall of hard muscle.
Slowly, my eyes still half-lidded with sleep, I take in the relaxed slant of Leo’s mouth and realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look… peaceful.
If his anger and arrogance are seductive, this side of him is entirely disarming.
Something aches deep in my chest, like a bruise that never quite healed. I exhale, trying to write the feeling off as simple soreness from last night and nothing more. His breaths come in even puffs, and his heart beats a steady rhythm under my ear, so I carefully lay my palm on the patch of hair on his abdomen—just above where the comforter covers him.
When his stomach flexes, I freeze.
