Tess’s lips parted. “What? No! I have no conditions, Q. None at all. Marrying you is already one dream come true. I don’t need any others.”

Then what did that make me? A heartless bastard who was rushing her into accepting me, all because this was how I wanted it? I wasn’t being fair.

You won’t change your mind, though.

Nope. I was so close to having her sign her soul to me. I ached to hear her say the vows. I bled to sink inside her hot body the night she became Mrs. Mercer. I may want to change my selfish ways, but I wouldn’t.

“Good. Because I’m not stalling or changing.” I couldn’t manage anymore. I didn’t want to admit if she asked right now to give her time, I’d buckle and give her anything. I needed this more than her. I was the weakest—wanting to marry her my f**king way.

Tess nodded; happiness painted her face with a healthy glow. A few minutes passed as she looked out the window, watching passing motorists, colourful buildings, and sunburned tourists. She turned to face me. “Where exactly are we?”

Forcing my body to shed the remaining jealousy, I said, “The Canary Islands.”

Tess laughed quietly. “I can’t believe before I met you I’d never travelled apart from one family holiday to Bali. Now the world is open to me. Not that I’m counting Mexico and Brazil as part of my travels.”

The pain in my heart made me gasp. Goddamn, her flippancy. Her strength to make jokes would’ve made me fall to my knees if I wasn’t sitting down.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, esclave.” I would spend the rest of my life creating new memories for her to suffocate the ones living inside her.

We fell silent as Franco drove us through congested streets of weathered locals and quaint shops. Buildings favoured plasterwork and pastel colours. The Spanish archipelago had never been a favourite destination of mine, but it’d proven to be a worthwhile investment with a few developments and one mid-size hotel.

It also had a low tolerance on sex slaves, unlike the rampant mess and disgusting trade done in Spain. In fact, I’d only accepted one girl from the Canary Islands in turn for a bribe on a condominium, which was nothing compared to the fifteen from Spain.

The sun beamed through the windows, making my skin prickle with heat. Tess unwrapped her scarf, and shrugged out of her cardigan, before settling back wearing a white singlet top.

She didn’t do it coyly or to get my attention, her focus remained outside, but my eyes locked onto her chest. The contours of her lacy bra indenting the cotton made my mouth go dry.

I’d never get used to the need I had for her, or the joy at knowing she could withstand my unconventional needs. My fingertips ached to stroke her flawless skin; my c**k throbbed at the thought of her touching me. I wanted her hot slick mouth between my legs.

I clenched my jaw. “You have no thought for my sanity do you, esclave? J'ai tellement envie d’être à l’intérieur de toi.” I need to be inside you so f**king bad.

Her head whipped around, blue eyes blazing with sudden lust. Her ni**les hardened beneath the cotton, reacting to the desire in my voice, perfectly programmed to me.

Her mouth parted, but she didn’t speak.

I didn’t move. If I did, I’d end up stripping her and forcing her to sink down on my straining erection. Looking away, I muttered, “Next time I touch you, you won’t freeze up on me. I’ll guarantee it.” I’d guarantee it because I’d make her so f**king wet she’d pant and gasp and beg for me to fill her. I’d bind her and stroke her and worship her in every way I knew how.

A second ticked past before she cleared her throat. The thick tension simmering between us sat heavy and unresolved. Her lips twisted, asking, “So, how big is this island?”

I chuckled as she raised her eyebrow in a lewd way, deliberately making an ass out of herself. The power she had over me was crushing. How could she make me laugh when all I wanted to do was shake her and tumble all her sadness away? How could she make me care so f**king much even while pissing me off?

Her gaze locked with mine, darkening with desire. I lashed out, grabbing her hand, giving her a hard smile. Ever so slowly, never taking my eyes from hers, I pinched her forefinger and slid it into my mouth. Inch by inch, I sucked, tasting her, cursing the f**king need in my blood.

Her eyes snapped closed, shuddering as I swirled my tongue around her finger. I intoxicated myself on her subtle feminine taste. A hint of orange remained from the fruit she had for breakfast on the plane.

Just as slowly, I withdrew her digit from my mouth, murmuring, “Big enough.” I smiled, but there wasn’t anything jovial in my face. I transmitted a warning—a message that the moment I had her alone, I was taking her. The monstrous craving in my blood was a ticking time-bomb ready to explode at any moment.

Awareness and intensity fogged the interior. I couldn’t breathe without dragging her into my lungs. I couldn’t think without her being centre place in my mind.

My eyes fell to the bandage on her neck—the tiny piece of protection hiding the brand from others eyes. I wanted people to know she was mine now, not when it was healed. I needed to see it, so the urge to bite and consume would stay dormant.

I released Tess’s hand. Franco took another corner at hyper speed, and we jerked to a stop at our destination. Thank God we were there because another few minutes in the limo and I would’ve locked the doors and not cared if violent rocking gave us away.

Franco jumped out, coming to open the door for Tess. Bright island sunshine beamed into the shady car no longer inhibited by the tinted windows. The heat scorched my skin, making me wish I’d worn something cooler. Coming here had been impulsive. After Tess’s nightmare, all I wanted to do was run. Run far away from evil, madness, and responsibilities.

I wanted to be happy, but I couldn’t snap out of my mood. It wasn’t just Brax being mentioned but a combination of things. And just like Tess wouldn’t share things with me, I couldn’t share my worries with her.

She’s about to become mine for eternity. She loved me. So why did I sense something awful coming?

I hadn’t been to Volière in years. The last time was when my house was a convalescent home to five saved slaves all of who were mentally destroyed. I did what I could—hired what therapists were available but then had to leave. Hearing their screams down the corridors or their sobbing while trying to work proved too similar to listening to my father torture his harem in the east wing when I was a boy. I’d been a f**king pu**y and run to Volière where I stayed until they were well enough to return home.