Until Forever Ends: A Dark Mafia Romance by Adelaide Forrest (black books to read .txt) 📗

"Rafael," I whispered, tears falling as I stared at him in betrayal. I'd thought him incapable of surprising me, I'd thought I'd known exactly what he was capable of, but the violent storm in his eyes dared me to test him. There was no doubt he would follow through if I pushed him.

"I will not live without you as my wife. So say the fucking words, or we'll both stain the ground with our blood," he ordered.

I clenched my eyes shut, the hollow of my life settling over me. Rafael was a raging inferno, destroying everything he touched. I'd been foolish to think I might survive the flames. "I do," I whispered, sealing my fate.

Rafael dropped his hand from my neck and turned me to face him as he shoved his gun back into his pants. Alejandro stepped up at his side, depositing two rings into Rafael's outstretched hand as he grabbed my left in his grip and lifted it. He lined up the rose gold bands, sliding the engagement ring with a large, round moonstone at the center into the middle of the double banded wedding ring. The top of the band was studded with diamonds, resembling the crown on the Queen, and the words hasta que la muerte were engraved into the bottom band as he slid them onto my ring finger.

The moonstone stared back at me, gleaming in the setting sun as the sky tinted orange.

Alejandro held out a ring, the brushed black gleaming with the golden words nos separe etched into the surface as Rafael lifted a hand. I sniffed back tears, plucking it out of his palm carefully and sliding it up his finger and accepting him as my husband.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Rafael's face loomed closer, the fire in his eyes dying down to a burning ember as he cupped my face in the palm of his hand. His lips touched mine in our first kiss as husband and wife, a crushing and claiming touch that echoed everything he’d already made clear.

I would never be free.

The cold metal of his ring touched my skin as he devoured me, a physical reminder that I wasn't just me anymore.

I was the wife of El Diablo.

25

Isa

The ride back to the house was silent as I stared out the window. I'd signed the marriage contract Rafael shoved in front of me, realizing it would be the last time I signed as Isabel Adamik.

Something told me Rafael would never let me keep my maiden name, even knowing that it gave me a connection to my heritage when he'd taken all the others away from me. When we arrived back at the house, he lifted me into his arms before I could approach, carrying me over the threshold and into the home I would never escape.

I should have stabbed him when I had the chance.

My anger vibrated in my body, boiling my blood in a way I'd never felt before. I'd thought I'd felt anger. I'd thought I'd known what it was to hate someone so completely.

I knew nothing.

He set me on my feet in the kitchen, walking over to the stunning white cake that hadn't been there when we'd left. I watched as he picked up the knife, looking at me as if he knew that I would stab him if he handed it to me. He would have been right.

Suddenly the idea of being a widow so young felt like a blessing.

He placed my hand on the hilt of the knife, covering it with his own immediately and guiding it toward the cake. With everything else in our relationship, I didn't know why he required my participation. It wasn't like I had a choice either way. We carved out the first slice, the lack of people in the room growing more and more noticeable as we set the slice on a plate.

He set the knife to the side, placing it as far from my grasp as he could manage before he picked up a fork. Cutting through it, he raised the red cake with white frosting to my mouth. It brushed against my lips, and I parted to let him feed me even though I would have preferred to take a bite out of his finger instead.

I had to suspect that was the reason he didn't feed me by hand like tradition dictated.

He smirked at me as if he could see the path my thoughts gravitated to, turning the fork to offer me the handle. I took it from him, cutting a piece off the slice of cake and raising it to his mouth. He opened, letting me slide the red velvet onto his tongue. I pulled back the fork, hating the smile that transformed his face as he chewed.

I hated everything about him.

My grip shifted on the fork, holding it firmly as if my life depended on it. For all I knew, it did.

He was still chewing thoughtfully when I lifted the plate and slammed the remaining cake into his face. The ceramic shattered in my grip, and I raised the fork in my hand and drove it toward his body.

Stabbing him in the shoulder, I winced as his flesh parted, offering resistance as the tines pushed through his suit and his skin. Like stabbing into raw meat, I fought back the urge to gag, and dropped my hold. He cursed, wiping cake from his eyes furiously and grabbing for me as I backed away and narrowly avoided his grasp.

I didn't need a knife to stab the fucker, and he'd do well to remember that.

"There's your fucking penance," I growled, staring down at the spot where I'd stabbed him. His eyes followed, moving to the fork sticking out of his shoulder as his shirt stained red. In the same area as his brands, I had to hope it