No Saint

by Ria Wilde

He belonged to me now and the mother… she was mine now too.

I was drawn to her. I wanted to witness that fire. That temper. I wanted her awake and fighting, I wanted to see it.

If perfection could be personified, I’d have it in front of me.

She really was a little lioness. Beautiful. Deadly.

There was no choice in the matter. No other alternative, and Amelia Doyle was no longer going to be anyone else’s problem but mine.

“Bruise her with that hand,” Gabriel growls, “And you’ll lose it.”

“You will look at me while we are talking, Amelia.” “You have no right to demand anything from me, Gabriel.” Fuck, my name on her tongue…

“From now, leonessa, you are mine. No one looks at you. Touches you. Even speaks to you without my permission. Mine. Are we clear?”

“I won’t have my future wife flashing our guests.” “But you’d let me wear nothing.” Amelia scoffs. “You’re right, but there would have been no guests to see that, only me.” “And the priest.” She retorts snidely. “That’s right, but then I would have killed him for seeing my wife bare. So not really a problem at all.”

“I will see you in the morning,” He says gently, meeting my eyes, “wife.”

Amelia. Amelia. Amelia. Bellisima. Beautiful. Allettante. Tempting. Moglie. Wife.

And she would listen when I told her I don’t want other men seeing what is mine. It didn’t matter who or why, her, her body, everything, it was mine and I do not fucking share.

She would give them to me, she would give all of herself to me.

“Come, Miss Doyle.” “Mrs Saint,” I correct. They all freeze. “She is my wife, treat her as so.”

“What are you doing here?” “You think they wouldn’t tell me when my wife was ill?”

“You will eat with me everyday from now, Amelia. No questions. And if it is not me, then one of my men and rest assured, they will not let you leave until you’ve eaten a satisfactory amount. You are my wife, you will take care of yourself.”

“Sit.” “Do you want me to bark for you too?” She snaps, dropping herself into the chair the furthest away from me. I grin and kick out the chair closest to me, “Sit here.” “No.” I cock a brow, a giddy kind of feeling blooming in my gut at her defiance. Fighting with her was becoming a new favorite thing of mine because it meant I could do this.

“Are you wishing to make your own life difficult?” “No,” she sneers, “I’m trying to make yours.” I chuckle, “Leonessa,” the nickname I’d applied to her rolls off my tongue, “It just makes my life interesting.”

“What, not enough work going around for you that you have to kidnap women and children now? Force them to marry you? If I were you, Gabriel, I’d get another hobby.” “Why? When this one is so much fun.” She turns her lip and looks away, crossing her arms. “Now I would like my wife to sit next to me.”

“Who hurt you?” I whisper. I could feel this swelling sense of protection blooming inside my chest, a growing beast that I wasn’t going to tame. I would get her to trust me. We could be something.

But it wasn’t the last time it happened. It happened often and each time I fought. That was my life. Always fighting and running.

I had no time for it. No time for things I enjoyed when I was constantly fighting for survival for both me and my son.

“Wife,” he greets. “Amelia,” I correct. His mouth notches up at the side, “Care to join me for dinner?” I place a hand on my hip, “Do I have a choice?” His mouth now widens into a full smile and damn, he had fucking dimples too. “Absolutely not.”

There was no denying I was attracted to my wife.

“It isn’t my life I seem to be having trouble getting peace from,” I tell her, “It’s you.” She smiles, “Good. I hope I cause you hell, Gabriel. That you never know a day of peace.”

“Ah, my wife, the kind of feelings you stir may be considered a sin but trust me, my thoughts on you are so far from hell I may as well be in heaven.”

She was a growing obsession, a vice that was easily clamping around my being. I was aware of her.

The life I lead is not without its cruelties and with them, I’ve become the man I am. I take without asking, steal, murder, destroy where I must but with her I didn’t want to. I wanted her to come willingly.

I needed Amelia to be mine. In every single way imaginable.

“I’ve got you, leonessa,” he soothes, “leonessa mia, I’ve got you.”

“Leonessa mia. La tua forza mi stupisce.” Her brows twitch in confusion. My Lioness. Your strength amazes me.

Because when I do, she will be mine. Mine to please and fuck, mine to punish and worship. She’ll belong to me.

“That’s my wife.” My feet come to a stop in front of his dangling body. “My wife!” I bellow, rage intensifying as I picture that bruise, those tears, and that terror. I react without thought, slicing the blade at an angle down the side of his face and taking off a chunk of flesh and muscle.

How can a man who could give such comfort when I was terrified, who could kiss like a man filled with so much passion and desire, be the same man standing in front of the windows, a storm at his back while covered in the blood of a man – or men – he had just likely tortured. He looked like the devil, and he tasted like sin so perhaps it was fitting.

“Potresti amarmi, Amelia,” The words roll off his tongue, his deep baritone and the way the language sounds sending delicious waves down my spine that end up between my legs, making my thighs ache with a need I didn’t want to name. It had a profound impact on me, even if I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, “You could love me, Amelia.” He finally says. Wait…what? Was that what he had said before? “If you let go of this hate,” he says, keeping eye contact, “You could love me. I could provide for you.”

He drops his forehead to my temple, “You will love me, Amelia.”

Amelia would not be unsafe in my house, in our house. My wife was safe here. With me.

She hadn’t allowed me to get close again, hadn’t allowed me to taste her lips, drown in her scent but she would break. I was patient. I would not take what she wasn’t ready to give.

As a man who had everything, I wanted to earn her secrets and her past.

“Gabriel,” he starts. “While my wife is speaking you will remain quiet.” “No,” Amelia starts, “It’s fine, I just–” “It is respect, Amelia. You are my wife, and they will treat you as they would treat me.”

“You disrespect me!” I growl, tone low so Amelia won’t hear, “You disrespect her.”

“You will respect her, brother, or so fucking help me.”

“Hai il mio tempo, leonessa, sempre.”

I wanted her. There was no denying it. I wanted to bury myself in her pussy and feel her squeeze me, feel her nails score my skin and her teeth bite. I wanted her moans and her screams, her sighs and her pleas.

“Magia,” I rasp against her mouth, “Magic.” “Gabriel,” She breathes, pressing her mouth to mine gently. “We could make magic, Amelia.”

“You infuriating, stubborn, beautiful woman,” I whisper into her mouth, licking her bottom lip, “leonessa mia. Mondo mia.”

And perhaps it was the flashbacks of my past, of my childhood, of wanting and never getting, of going to bed hungry and being left out at school because I wasn’t like the others. Perhaps it was the lonely little girl controlling me right now, the same girl who wanted, so bad, to feel something. To be wanted. Needed.

Those memories, all of them, they could be pushed down with new ones. Ones where someone wanted me, needed me, craved me.

“Amelia,” he growls out my name, his voice roughened with pleasure and breathlessness, “Amelia.”

“Fuck yourself,” he orders softly, “Fuck yourself watching me. Imagine all the things I want to do to you, how I want to make you scream. You’ll scream, won’t you, leonessa.” I circle my clit with the tips of my fingers, already feeling myself tightening, priming for a climax. “You dirty fucking girl,” he growls, “You’re going to come, aren’t you? Already.”