Deimos and some of our men are dragging the whimpering, bleeding Grisha away. I shake off my brothers, nodding curtly before I spin.
I grab Bianca’s hand and storm away, pulling her behind me.
We head around the corner and toward a side exit before she suddenly yanks her hand free of mine.
“Let go of me!”
I turn to her. Bianca’s mouth is a tight line.
“I can handle my battles myself!”
I take her wrist again. “Clearly. Let’s go—”
She yanks her hand back, shaking her head. “I said can take care of myself, Kratos! And you had no right—”
“I had every right!” I roar.
“Why?!” she hurls back. “Because you own me now, since we’re getting married? Or because—”
She gasps as I yank her against my chest again, grab her chin, tilt her face up to mine, and let my gaze eviscerate her on the spot.
“Because you’re going to be my fucking wife! And no one…” I hiss through clenched teeth. “No one touches you but me.”
In a heartbeat, I eradicate the distance between her mouth and mine. And suddenly, for the very first time, I’m kissing her.
Not just our first kiss.
My first kiss.
Ever.
And when I taste the soft sweetness of Bianca’s lips, I’m not sure I’ll ever come up again for air.
17
BIANCA
“What?”
Milena and Naomi stare at me, mouths open in shock. We’re the last ones left in the dressing room. I asked them to stay after rehearsal because I “had to tell them something”.
Namely, that I’m getting married.
Naomi blinks. “This is, like, a mafia thing, right?”
Milena turns to shoot her a look. “You know she can’t answer that.” Her gaze switches to me. “It’s a mafia thing, isn’t it.”
I sigh. “It’s…an arrangement between our families.”
Naomi shakes her head, whistling. “It’s crazy to me that in your world, you guys can just…like…get married. No dating. You just go and—poof—get hitched to guarantee an heir or stop a war or something, right?”
Milena shrugs. “Pretty much. It’s medieval as fuck. Luckily, my dad’s already promised me that he’s never doing that with me.”
I smile bitterly. “Funny, my dad promised me the same thing!”
Milena makes a face.
“W-what does this mean for you?” Naomi asks uncertainly. “Like, with dancing, with…your whole life?”
I sigh. “I don’t think anything changes. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to stop dancing or anything.”
“What if he makes you?”
“Then she stabs him in the nuts while he sleeps,” Milena mutters. “C’mon, the arranged marriage thing is ass-backward. But it’s usually not that hardcore. I mean, no one’s being chained to a bed until they pop out an heir or anything.” She shoots me a quick, furtive look. “You’re not, right?”
I roll my eyes, blushing. “No.”
“Okay, but with these arranged things…” Naomi’s cheeks redden. “I mean, do you have to…”
Milena snickers. Naomi blushes even harder.
“C’mon! I don’t know these things! Is it assumed that you’ll have sex? Can you say no?”
“It depends on the families, the arrangement, all that,” I sigh. “But no, nothing’s implied or expected with my situation, okay?” I glare at Milena. “No one’s being chained to a bed to be a baby-maker.”
“So…” Milena eyes me as we grab our stuff and walk out of the dressing room. “Is he hot?”
My cheeks sizzle, and they giggle.
