Ruthless Heir: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ruthless Dynasty Book 1)

A gentle ache pulses between my legs as I step out of the bathroom.

My skin is still soft from the heat of the shower. My mind still light and hazy.

But my heart has never been heavier.

The dark priests are on their way.

There’s no ignoring what this is anymore. No losing myself in the passion. In the lust. In the darkness.

Before I waded into the bathroom to wash myself up, Gabriel spelled it all out, nice and clear.

Our wedding night is near.

A sigh escapes my lips as I shuffle towards the bed.

Gabriel isn’t in the bedroom. But he’s left behind a stable of flickering candles. They fill the room with a soft vanilla scent. My favorite.

Squeezing the ends of my damp hair, I drop the towel to the floor and look for the sweats he’d torn off me earlier.

They’re nowhere to be found.

I don’t care. I’m not uncomfortable being naked around him anymore.

It’s the least of my worries.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I begin to twirl my hair. Thick halos of light stream in through the rounded windows to my left. Snarling beasts glare down from the walls to my right.

Somehow, I feel right at home in the middle of it all. Between light and darkness.

There’s beauty in both.

I know that now.

A deep breath fills my lungs as I fall back onto the mattress and stare up at the vaulted ceiling. I can still feel Gabriel’s fist in my cunt; his tongue on my clit. His hands on my tits.

No matter how much hot water I swallowed in the shower, the salty sweetness of his cum still lines the inside of my throat.

The memories make me shiver. It’s a warm shiver—hell, it’s almost a peaceful shiver—but it doesn’t lighten the load weighing down my heart.

Gabriel’s plan is about to come to fruition. He’s told me all about it. I know what’s coming.

I should be scared. I should be worried about what this means for my family; for my future; for my body.

But I’m not scared.

Fuck. I’m almost looking forward to it.

Because even just the thought of Gabriel coming inside of pussy makes me wet.

Carrying his child would be the ultimate act of servitude.

I’d truly be his little sex slave; his submissive vessel.

Could I really live that twisted fantasy out while becoming the women I want to be?

Gabriel seems convinced that I can.

I’m not so sure.

I mean, how could I be a strong ruler when I only want to serve a single man?

My languid mind is still swirling when I hear the bedroom door creak open. Gabriel’s giant presence fills the room, flickering the flames on every candle as he moves to join me on the bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his deep voice lifting me up by the hips.

“Tired,” I admit.

“Well, you can rest later. I have another test for you.”

Before I can prop myself up, Gabriel lies down beside me. His hard, hulking body blocks the snarling heads mounted on the wall. Every muscular inch of him is bathed in fresh sunlight—including those hazel-green eyes.

They’ve never looked so gorgeous, or so determined.

My heart trembles towards him as he softly pinches my chin.

“I don’t know if my pussy is ready for another round of… that,” I sheepishly whisper.

“We won’t be fucking,” Gabriel says. “Not until after the ceremony.”

“Then what will we be doing?”

Without looking down, Gabriel hands me something. A cold shiver churns under my skin as I recognize what it is.

Rozalia’s switchblade.

“You’re going to mark me,” Gabriel says. “You’re going to claim me like I’ve claimed you. But most importantly, you’re going to learn how to hurt defenseless monsters. Because, clearly that’s one of your weak spots.”

With his hand, Gabriel closes my fingers in around the ornate handle.

“I… I don’t understand?”

My sluggish brain is slowly being sharpened again… but by the dark, helpless memories of how I felt back in that dusty library… back when I lifted this very blade to my throat, ready to end it all…

“I want you to carve a B right here,” Gabriel says. Lifting his forearm, he points to a particular tattoo. A dark entanglement of heavy looking chains cross over his skin. In the middle of them all is a small opening of untouched flesh—well, not completely untouched.

My stomach drops when I recognize the scar.

“… Is that…” I gulp, unable to finish.

Gabriel nods. “It’s the burn mark you gave me all of those years ago.”

“You covered it up in chains…”

Rozalia’s knife remains tucked away in my hand as I use my other to trace the old wound.

It brings back so many memories. memories that fueled so much hate, but seem so petty and insignificant now.

“Why did we hate each other so much?” I ask, feeling the scar beneath my fingertips.

It doesn’t matter that I was partially right about Gabriel—he is a liar, and he spent his time at my high school lying through his teeth, all so he could get close to me; so that he could use me. But my teenage theories were so far off. So delusional.

“Because we were foolish, and stubborn. Because we were far too similar.”

Slowly, my gaze is pulled from the scar and back onto Gabriel’s haunting hazel-green eyes.

“You think we’re similar?”

It’s shocking to hear.

This man is powerful beyond belief. And I’m… well, I’m still trying to figure out what I am.

“Neither of us know when to give up,” Gabriel smiles. “And I don’t think either of us really believed we deserved what we had. We always wanted more. But we wanted to earn it.”

“You’re so close to earning everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“No. Not close. I already have it.”

Closing his eyes, Gabriel kisses me.

It’s a soft kiss. A tender kiss. But there’s something intensely powerful to it.

His lips are filled with electricity. It lifts every hair on my body, and I sink even further into him.

But when my hand spreads out against his forearm, I feel more than just the raised scar I gave him all of those years ago. Something fresher dots his thick wrist.

When Gabriel pulls his lips back, I can’t help but look down.

Dark indented marks hide just beneath his black tattoos. The bottom of his palm has a long shallow cut along it, barely healed.

“What are these from?” I ask, reading his wounds like brail.

“They were a gift from your father and your cousin,” Gabriel grunts.

Just like that, the raised hairs on my skin fall flat again. I realize I still don’t know what happened at the meeting.

My heart shrivels as I consider the worst.

No. Gabriel would have told me by now if he done something unspeakable to one of my family members… right?

I don’t wait for him to confess the details to me. Lifting the ornate handle I’ve been given, I unsheathe the blade.

“I’ll carve my initials into your arm,” I surrender. “But only if you tell me what happened when you went to meet Rian.”

The deep smirk that lifts Gabriel’s dark red lips somehow eases the heaviness in my heart.

“Now you’re learning to play the game,” he says, dimples dancing in the sunlight.

“Go ahead,” I urge.

“Your cousin and I fought,” Gabriel admits. “But I held back. He didn’t. The lion won. Knocked me the fuck out. When I woke up, I was in that same dungeon you first saw me in. The marks on my arms are from the restraints your family used on me. Barbed wire. I don’t blame them. They didn’t believe a word I had to say, and they shouldn’t have, because I lied through my teeth.”

“You didn’t try to negotiate?”

“That wasn’t part of the plan. But it is now.”

My heavy heart twitches, and some of the lead crumbles away.

“What changed?”

Gabriel’s eyes fall for a second as he remembers something unsaid. “I realized I had also been lied to,” he mumbles. “And then I realized I was alone. But I didn’t have to be. For all of our differences, your family and I share one thing in common.”

“What?”

“We both care about you.”

An avalanche of lead melts from my fluttering heart as Gabriel takes my hand and leads it to the burn mark on his forearm.

“I can do it myself,” I assure him.

“Very well,” Gabriel nods, his fingers falling from my skin. “Remember, right in the center of the chains, and only the letter B.”

“Why only the letter B?”

“Because after our wedding your last name will change.”

My steady hand shakes ever so slightly as I’m reminded of the magnitude of where we’re headed.

“And what will my last name change to?” I ask.

“I still don’t know.”

Just like that, I remember how Gabriel had confessed to me that he didn’t know his last name; about how the true identity of his parents had been hidden from him; about how I wasn’t just his key to obtaining power, but also to learning the truth about who he really is.

“Well, whatever my new name will be, it can’t be worse than Bianca Byrne, right?” I try to joke.

“Right,” Gabriel smiles. “You should be thanking me. Sounds like the name of some second-rate comic book character.”

My eyes roll as an involuntary flash of determination makes me seize Gabriel’s arm.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about how you used to tease me,” I remind him, wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist. But he’s so broad that I barely even reach the edges. “Call this payback.”

Squinting, I press the tip of my blade in the one spot of untouched flesh between all of Gabriel’s tattoos.

He doesn’t even flinch as I start to carve my B.

But his skin is so firm. And I hardly even make a red mark, let alone break through his skin.

“It’s not working,” I mumble, disappointed.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Press harder,” Gabriel insists. “Cut deeper.”

“You’ll bleed.”

“Not any more than I’ve made you bleed.”

“I… I don’t want to hurt you. Not really.”

“I do. Remember the lesson, myszko. Do what needs to be done.”

Gritting my teeth, I push the tip of my blade deeper into his raised flesh. My hand is shaking from the pressure when the tough skin finally breaks.

To my surprise, Gabriel actually winces—if only slightly.

“Good girl,” he grunts, his hand curling into a fist as a thin line of blood begins to trickle from the fresh wound. “Now, finish the job.”

Following the scarlet line, I continue to push the blade down Gabriel’s skin. My dark wolf becomes eerily still as I finish the first deep line, and start with the curving breasts of the B.

“There’s too much blood,” I note. “I can’t see where I’m going.”

“Then lick it up,” Gabriel orders. “Clean me with your tongue, just like I cleaned you with mine.”

A scorching breath squirms down my throat as I consider doing such a thing.

I’ve tasted Gabriel’s lips. I’ve tasted his flesh. His cock. His cum. I’m only one step away from knowing how every part of him taste, inside and out.

What the worst that could happen?

You could love it.

Fuck it. I’m already dangerously close to loving far worse things.

Like him.

My tongue lashes across my lips as I lean forward. The smell of Gabriel’s blood flagellates me with so many conflicting memories.

Flashes of fear and pain race through my mind. But so do strikes of ecstasy and passion.

This is the same scent I found waiting for me in the basement just before Gabriel erupted back into my life. It’s the smell of death.

So then why does it make me feel so alive?

My first taste of his blood is unpleasant. It’s sharp and metallic, just like the smell. But as it sits on my tongue, I swear it morphs into something more familiar. Something earthy. Something that reminds me exclusively of Gabriel, and all of the painful pleasure he’s forced into my life.

I swallow. Then, I lap up more, until his flesh is clear enough to continue with my masterpiece.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, carving the first rounded arch into my dark wolf’s skin.

“Yes,” Gabriel growls. “Keep going.”

A twitch in his pants temporarily draws my eyes away from my bloody canvas.

The leviathan is back. It’s outline is clear against the black material barely restraining it.

A ragged breath swirls from my lips, and that familiar pressure returns to my core.

This is my man.

Ceremony or not. Marriage. Last names. None of it can be as intimate as this, right?

With the first arch finished, I move onto the second. The shadows in the bedroom have begun to stretch as the sun descends. Candles flicker in the growing pockets of darkness.

My sore pussy is already wet again.

This whole thing is so intoxicating that I almost don’t want to finish the second and final arch. Still, I do my job. I carve my initial into Gabriel’s forearm, right over the hard flesh that I scarred all of those years ago.

But I know this isn’t the end. One day, Gabriel will learn his last name. Then, he’ll give it to me, and I’ll finish the job.

“Finished,” I whisper, leaning back to admire my work.

“You’ve done well, myszko,” Gabriel grunts, washing away what blood remains with the palm of his hand.

I lick my lips.

“Need me to carve anywhere else?”

That makes Gabriel chuckle.

“No,” he says, shaking his head so that a lock of his wavy black hair falls between his stunning hazel-green eyes. “Now, it’s my turn.”

He’s already slipped the knife from my fingers before I can process what that means.

“What?” I gulp.

“You didn’t think I’d let you mark me without returning the favor, did you?”

“I… I thought it was a lesson.”

“It was. And you passed. This is your reward.”

Sitting up, Gabriel twists his chiselled torso to grab something on the nightstand.

“I’m starting to think there are very few differences between your punishments and your rewards,” I point out.

But the pressure in my core has already started swirling. My pussy is soaking. My nipples are hard.

Whatever he has in store for me, I’m ready.

“You surprise me sometimes, myszko. So pretty, yet so smart.”

“Obviously, I’m not that smart,” I whisper, when I see what Gabriel has retrieved from the nightstand.

The flame flickering atop the candlestick lashes out as my dark wolf carries it towards me. Hot wax drifts down the shaft, pooling at the base.

“What are you going to do with that?” I ask.

“I’m going to prepare you,” Gabriel says. “You’re tender skin is too fragile for the process I just endured. I’ll have to handle your marking much more gently. Unless you’d like me not to?”

“How is a candle going to make this any less painful?”

“I didn’t say it would be any less painful.”

My thighs clench together. My heart starts to thump.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“Only a little, but it will be worth it. Now, sit up for me.”

My thumping heart pulls me forward. Straightening my back, I bite down on my lip and prepare myself to be marked.

The fear of the approaching pain is indistinguishable from my arousal.

“What will you carve on me?” I ask, as Gabriel’s hazel-green eyes search my naked body for the perfect canvas.

“Only one initial for now. G. The second will come as yours does, after it is learned.”

Looming over me, Gabriel seems to find the perfect spot to start. I can’t help but flinch when his warm fingers fall against my shoulder.

There, he traces the outline of my own raised wound. The one I got from the ambush.

“It’s too fresh,” I tell him. “You’ll break it open if you try to carve there.”

“No, I won’t. That’s what the wax is for. It will create a barrier.”

I can only close my eyes and wait as he tilts the candlestick down towards my shoulder.

To my surprise, the first drip isn’t nearly as painful as I expected. In fact, the searing heat stings in a similar fashion to Gabriel’s vicious spanks—although, instead of a quick flash of pain followed by a warm wave of pleasure, the slowly spreading wax produces a more consistent burn.

The pressure in my core rumbles as the wax spreads across my wound, covering it in a soft fire, singeing away my defences.

Another splash of wax falls a little further down my shoulder, closer to my arm, and a tiny whimper escapes my parted lips.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels good,” I admit.

“Savor that feeling.”

Another drop falls closer to my neck. Slowly, it cascades down towards my tit. The nearer it gets to my sensitive nipple, the sharper the heat becomes. But by now, I’m used to finding the pleasure in the pain.

Not that it’s hard to.

When the waxy residue flows over my hard pink nub, I’m gripped by a body-wrapping shock of gratification. It’s like I’ve been swathed in a fiery hand. Squeezed, until the pressure in my core is nearly ready to burst.

“Oh my god,” I sigh, welcoming it all.

“Stay strong,” Gabriel orders. My eyes have closed, but I still feel the approaching blade.

Still, Gabriel was right. It barely even hurts as the knife is pressed down into my waxed covered wound. All I feel is a strong pressure—though, it quickly becomes stronger and stronger.

And then something breaks. It’s either the wax seal, my skin, or both, because the easy throbbing is replaced by a much harsher prick.

It feels like I’ve been bitten, but when I open my eyes and look down, I see no teeth. Only Gabriel’s blade cutting across my skin.

There isn’t nearly as much blood as when I marked him— probably thanks to the wax—but I can’t imagine it could hurt any more than this.

Still, it’s not an irredeemable pain. And it’s not just that the sharp sting is completely without pleasure.

It’s that the act itself is fucking smoldering.

I don’t have any tattoos. Before last month, I hardly had any markings on my entire body.

Now, I have scars. Now, I have a mafia prince carving his initial on my shoulder.

I’m being claimed. But only because I claimed him first.

A surge of power makes me shiver.

Gabriel was right, I don’t have to choose between being a queen and being his little sex slave. I can be both.

And he can be more than just my king.

Wax continues to drip down my body like burning tears as Gabriel finishes off his own masterpiece.

The pressure in my core is practically jumping, begging for more. But the way I’m being teased is almost hotter than any finish line could ever be.

“There, now you are mine. And I am yours,” Gabriel whispers. Slowly, the wax begins to harden and the sharp sting on my shoulder throbs into a soft ache.

“What about the wedding?” I ask, looking down at my freshly marked skin.

The skin is inflamed and red, but no blood leaks from the sharp scarlet lines that form the Gothically elegant letter G now carved into my shoulder.

“That ceremony will be about power,” Gabriel says, wiping away some of the hardening wax with his finger. “This… Well, this is only about us.”

The intimacy of his declaration adds to my arousal. My smoldering gaze flickers towards the massive outline throbbing beneath his tight pants.

I know exactly what I want.

“Are we done?” I ask. But I don’t wait for an answer. My hand falls onto his hard cock. The leviathan twitches for me, girthy shaft practically jumping into the palm of my hand.

But Gabriel grabs my wrist and pulls me away.

“Not until after we’re married,” he reminds me.

“You’re such a choir boy,” I tease, overcome by lust.

“So, then corrupt me.” My free hand is already on its way to his cock when Gabriel grabs that wrist too. “Not like that, myszko. The dark priests won’t be long. Our wedding night will be savage. But the time between then and now will have to be filled with something else.”

“Like what?” I ask, my hips swaying as I shove my ass into the mattress below. I’m turned on to the point of delirium.

“Do you remember that gun I fucked you with?” Gabriel asks, stepping back from the bed.

My pointed nipples pull me after him like fucking divining rods.

“Yes,” I respond, almost angry that he’s denying me the satisfaction I crave so ravenously.

You’ve turned me into this beast. Now feed it!

“Well, I think it’s about time you learn how to use it.”

Placing his dripping candle back onto the nightstand, Gabriel turns around and starts to pace towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” I demand to know, pushing myself off the bed and onto my feet.

Stopping in the doorway, Gabriel looks back over his shoulder. Those hazel-green eyes sparkle in the golden sunlight. His dimples deepen as a mischievous smirk crosses his blood red lips.

“Follow me and find out.”