BOOK FOUR in The WSU Series
Elizabeth Young -
I've always wanted the star-crossed lovers type of relationship - who knew I would actually get it?
They say the line between Love and Hate is very thin, one I don't intend to experience. I could never l...
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"Too much of anything could destroy you, too much darkness could kill, but too much light could blind."
~
"Do you trust me?"
"God, no," I claim as Kian hovers above me, "you did once." I did trust Kian once, and that thought terrifies me. "That was until you betrayed me," I remind him, "and then went behind my back to end this family feud by marrying me."
"Do you want me to feel guilty about betraying your trust?" He asks his tone purposely mocking me, he has no sympathy. "Say no," Kian whispers as his lips meet my neck, "for once in your life say no."
"Never," I say and I hate myself for it— I'd never say no to him. I want to, I should say no, but I won't. "You should of," he speaks slowly before grasping my wrists in one hand. "I'm not the same boy you used to know." I know that— I've known that the moment he killed Giovanni in cold blood. He's never been that boy I fell in love with all those years ago, he's his brothers, he's his father.
"January," he speaks pulling me out of my trance, "what?" I asked breathlessly as he leaves a trail of kisses over my throat and collarbone. "January the tenth," the second the date leaves his mouth I know what he means. "That's when the original wedding ceremony was meant to take place."
"I know," I sigh as his hand entwines with mine, his ring still one, "I shouldn't have dragged you to Vegas," he admits and for once in a while, I have doubt in myself because I could believe him, "you didn't have to do it."
"Yes, I did," if I don't this blood feud will only destroy us all. My father will destroy me before they could, "I shouldn't have forced you."
"That's not why I did it," I mutter, his free hand cups my cheek as he stares into my eyes. "Is it because of your father?" He asks, his tone quieter than before.
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Two and a half years ago.
"Giovanni Pazi?"
I'm frozen as my father stands watching me, he's furious— his eyes are full of hatred, his hands are balled into fists. "The Chicago Outfit!" He yells, the darkness now surrounding me. "He's not," I whisper trying to find the words, truth be told I know he's a part of the outfit. I know that and still got involved, "you will stop seeing him." My father commands, "he's my friend!" I yell furious at the demand he's giving.
