Startseite / Romance / Wrapped in rosary (Book 1 of Holy trinity series) / Kapitel 51 – Kapitel 60

Alle Kapitel von Wrapped in rosary (Book 1 of Holy trinity series) : Kapitel 51 – Kapitel 60

60 Kapitel

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Pov - Stella Grace?He didn't just look mad; he looked absolutely feral. This wasn't the kind of anger where he wanted to kill me. This was the kind of rage that made him look like he wanted to burn this entire building to the ground, with everyone in it, just to watch the world burn. His eyes were like two raging fires, and the sight of them sent a jolt of pure terror through me. I didn't even think; my body just reacted, taking a small, fearful step back. My mind was screaming at me to run, but my feet only managed to back away, completely paralyzed by the sheer intensity of his fury.I couldn't wrap my head around it. His rage was so intense, but why? I was just trying to do what I thought was normal in this world. I'd been watching these men all night, and it was obvious they preferred being with multiple women, even in front of their wives. I was just offering Ryker the same thing, making it easier for him to get what he clearly wanted. I was even taking the initiative, and inst

51

The image in the mirror, with his hand dominating my body, combined with the intense, overwhelming pleasure, was almost too much for my senses to handle. I was right on the edge, the sweet, blinding sensation building inside me, my body ready to completely submit to the climax.But just as I was about to fall over that beautiful cliff, he pulled his fingers out.The sudden absence was a brutal shock. I let out a sharp, ragged gasp, immediately collapsing against the dressing table. A desperate, frustrated whine escaped my lips as the blinding pleasure was yanked away, leaving me hovering in a torturous state of unmet need. My whole body was trembling, buzzing with the remnants of the feeling, and all I could do was gasp and silently beg him to put his hand back where it belonged. He knew exactly what he was doing—and that made his control even more absolute."What," I managed to rasp out, my voice thin and broken. I was a wreck of conflicting emotions: baffled by his action, shocked b

52

POV - Ryker Lance.As we burst out of the hotel and plunged into the bullet-riddled chaos of the parking lot, my entire focus narrowed to one single, burning objective: getting Stella into that car. My body was a constant shield, moving with brutal, desperate efficiency, using every overturned vehicle and shadow for cover.It only took a single, damn moment—a split second where my attention wasn't total—but I should have known better. In my world, a moment is a lifetime. One second, we were scrambling toward the black sedan; the next, I caught a sliver of movement—a motherfucker tucked behind an armored van—and the sickening glint of metal as he aimed straight for her.My Stella. My precious canary. I handle her like she’s spun glass, afraid to touch her too roughly in case I bruise her, and this son of a bitch has a gun pointed at my sweet flower.My blood didn't just turn to ice—it ran cold with a feeling I’d never known. Ryker Lance has never known terror; I am the terror that haunt

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Ryker's POV.I stepped back, allowing my men to position the basic implements. There was no need for grand theatrics yet, just simple, focused pain delivered with maximum intent. I selected a sturdy, thick baton—heavy wood wrapped tightly in wire—and tapped it lightly against the palm of my hand. The low thwack echoed in the stone chamber, a chilling sound of impending agony."You're not going to lie to me," I stated flatly, my gaze like a knife. "Lying just extends this conversation, and I have a frantic wife upstairs who needs convincing that I'm half-dead, so let's get this over with."I didn't wait for him to respond. The first strike landed with brutal, crushing force against his already wounded leg. The impact was sickeningly solid, shattering his previous groans into a high-pitched, choked roar of pure, blinding agony. The bone beneath the wound protested violently."Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice never rising above that dangerous, controlled low register.He gasped, sweat

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Ryker's POV.I lay perfectly still, a silent, smug master of ceremonies presiding over my own melodrama. Beneath the cool, comforting weight of the blankets and the fresh bandages, I felt absolutely fantastic. The bullet wound was a superficial scratch, but the performance I had just delivered deserved a standing ovation.I could feel the frantic, trembling grip of her hand around mine. Her pulse, racing like a trapped bird's, was a drumbeat of pure possession against my wrist. She was clutching me as if I were a lifeline she’d just barely managed to secure. She thought she was staring at her death, and in her fear, she was revealing the truth: she needed me.Get up and be annoying. Her choked plea echoed in my head, and a silent, wicked grin stretched across my face. I was fighting the urge to open my eyes just to kiss that panicked sound right off her lips. I am being annoying, kitten. I'm annoying you with my silence, annoying you with this terrifying stillness, forcing you to co

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POV: Stella GraceI must have drifted off sometime just before dawn, slumped over Ryker’s side, using the edge of the ward bed as a cushion. I woke up with a sharp crick in my neck, the morning light a thin, gray filter seeping through the high, narrow windows of the sterile room.The first thing I did was check his pulse. It was still there, strong and steady.I looked at his face. The corpselike pallor from the night before had eased slightly, but he still looked terrifyingly unlike himself. Ryker, even unconscious, usually radiates a low-level thrum of energy, a coiled tension. Now, he was utterly slack, vulnerable. The sight was unsettling, yet it somehow softened the knot of fear in my stomach. When he was this quiet, he was just a man. My man, the one who took a bullet for me (A/n - Yeah, girlie is being down bad now).I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his knuckles, remembering the doctor's words: grazing his heart. The gravity of the risk he took and the life he saved settle

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"Don't move, I will do everything," I commanded, my voice strained but firm, determined to adhere to the safety precautions I’d set. I carefully straddled his abdomen, my focus absolute, making sure my knees rested gingerly on the mattress on either side of his hips, keeping my weight entirely off his stitched chest. When he tried to slide down the bed, clearly preparing to leverage his height for better access, I glared at him and roared, a sound surprisingly fierce, "Stay put!"The force of my attention made him stop. I immediately peeled his jacket off my body, the heavy fabric falling away to reveal my exposed skin to his hungry, predatory gaze. A shiver, part fear, part anticipation, ran through me. I moved forward on my knees, agonizingly slow, ensuring my body didn't even graze past his bandaged wound. Once I safely navigated the danger zone, I stopped, hovering right on top of his face. Ryker was laying perfectly still, watching me with predatory, gleaming eyes, the silence of

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Knox, the family doctor of The Croce family, leaned against the cool, marble wall outside the operating theater, the muscle in his jaw twitching with impatience and disgust. He was trying his damnedest to drown out the sickening, relentless sounds echoing from the heavily sealed room, the unmistakable, primal noises of his boss mating ferociously with his wife Stella. It was gross, intrusive, and unprofessional, yet entirely characteristic of the compound's barbarity.Lighting a slim cigarette with practiced ease, Knox inhaled deeply, the harsh smoke a momentary shield against the invasive soundscape. He scoffed, glancing at his watch. "How many hours has it been? He got shot last night. Are we sure the Capo didn't actually die and get replaced by a particularly horny, low-grade incubus? He needs to get his pulse checked, for God's sake."Travis, Ryker’s right-hand man and head of security, was leaning against the opposite wall, rigid and cold. He gave Knox a look of profound, icy disg

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The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the sharp, clinical tang of antiseptic that lingered in the room. I stayed draped over Ryker for a long moment, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest, my breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. My body felt heavy, completely spent, and so sensitive that even the slight movement of his chest beneath me sent ripples of lingering electricity through my nerves.I had just ridden my husband on an operating table. The man who, according to the doctor, had almost died only hours ago.The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. I suddenly scrambled to sit up, my movements clumsy and frantic as I remembered the bullet wound. My hands were shaking as I tried to pull myself off him, my eyes wide with a new kind of terror."Ryker, oh my god, the stitches," I gasped, my voice cracking. I looked down at his chest, fully expecting to see blood soaking through the fresh white bandages, expecting to s

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The morning air when I woke up was stifling, thick with a tension that felt like static electricity against my skin. Ryker was already awake, sitting propped up against a mountain of pillows, his laptop open on his lap. He was dictating orders to Travis with a voice so cold and detached it made my blood run cold. He wasn't the man who had been moaning my name in the operating room; he was a machine, a strategist dismantling lives with the same precision he used to command his empire."Tell the men at the docks that if one crate goes missing, I want heads on poles," Ryker said, his eyes never leaving the screen. "And contact the Rossi family. Tell them if they don't break their alliance with Bellanti by sunset, their harbor rights are forfeit."I hovered near him, feeling like a ghost in my own skin. My body still ached from yesterday's intensity, a constant, dull reminder of the line I had crossed. Every time I looked at him, the memory of his mouth on me and the subsequent violence o

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