Page 61 of His Savage Vow
The adrenaline, fear, and exhaustion all churn together until I can barely tell one from the other.
Under the spray, Maximo’s hands steady me, his mouth finds mine, and exhaustion gives way to somethingmore primal.
By the time we collapse into bed, we’re so slick with heat and sweat that the world outside feels far away.
But it can’t stay that way.
Lying in the quiet, my head on his chest, I find the question slipping from me. “What does it really mean, Maximo? To be a soldier in your world. The way you talk about me as a civilian makes it sound like I’ll never be an actual member of the family.”
His hand, which had been rubbing up and down my bare back, comes to a stop and gently grips my shoulder. He takes a breath, then says, “There’s a code we live by. Nothing that’s written down like a formal law, but everyone in our business knows them. Civilians, family, women, children, are supposed to be off limits. Violence is for soldiers. Being a soldier means you accept the life, and you take the risks. We don’t ask the same of our wives or children.”
“And now the Volkov family has broken those unwritten rules,” I say softly.
“Whether by accident or design,” he growls. “Either way, once the code breaks down, everything becomes bloodier and harder to contain. Our rules exist to protect our families from law enforcement. Most of our rackets, not including drugs of course, are fairly legal. But once bodies start hitting the ground, even I can’t stop the police from asking difficult questions.” He tilts my chin up, eyes dark and burning. “That’s why I worry about you, Constance. You’re in a gray area. My enemies see you help me, and how I keep you close, but they know you’re not formally protected. To them, you’re not family. You’re just… my weakness.”
Before I can respond, he pushes himself up onto his knees, the covers falling away from his muscular, naked body. He looks down at me, also still nude, with that dark intensity that grips him each time before he ravages me. I can feel my body respondin kind, a flush of heat and dampness as my body clenches eagerly for another round with him.
I reach out to embrace him and take him into me, when he speaks the words that make my hands freeze in mid-air. My heart stops mid-beat.
“Marry me, Constance.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeats, firm, certain, sounding like a demand. “Right now. Before you say no, consider this. If you’re my wife, you’ll have official status. You’ll be untouchable.”
I sit up, my heart thundering. “Max, you can’t just propose like it’s one of your business deals. I don’t want to marry you just to satisfy some…some condition of your world.”
His jaw tightens. “This isn’t about conditions. It’s about keeping you alive.”
“Alive?” I snap. “You said yourself the Volkovs don’t respect the code. You think a ring is going to stop men who have already broken every rule your world lives by?”
Silence presses between us, taut and heavy. Maximo’s nostrils flare, and I see the frustration in his eyes.
“What is this then?” I ask. “An order? Are you ordering me to marry you?”
His glare sharpens, lips parting with a retort. “I don’t want to have to do that, Constance. I know it may not make much sense to you, but…”
Before he can even begin to try and explain himself, the entire world explodes.
Gunfire shatters the night, along with the sound of glass raining down from the windows. Screams echo from downstairs, followed by the thunder of engines roaring across the front drive.
Maximo is off the bed in an instant, pulling me down to the floor with him. More shots crack through the air as Maximo’s body presses down on top of me. The gunfire seems to continue for an eternity, though in reality it couldn’t have been more than a minute. As soon as the pulsating echoes begin to fade, Maximo pushes himself to his feet and then pulls me up into his arms, rushing me over to the interior bathroom away from any windows. I can hear someone shouting orders downstairs, and more sporadic gunfire. Engines continue to growl outside the estate as Maximo and I struggle into our discarded clothes, then rush downstairs to see what the hell has happened.
“Enzo!” The name is agonizingly ripped from Maximo’s throat.
His cousin is in the front hallway, sliding down the wall as blood soaks the front of his white undershirt. He’s torn off the button-up he had been wearing and is using it to try to stem the flow of blood from his chest. Maximo and I grab him under each arm, and together we drag him into the kitchen where there’s more cover, laying him across the tile floor. His breaths become shallow, each one rattling in his lung where he’s been hit.
“Get a towel!” Maximo instructs me.
I grab one from the counter and press the cloth against Enzo’s wound, my hands slick with red. Panic claws at me as his eyes roll back. “He’s going, Maximo, he’s—he’s?—”
“Call nine one one!” Maximo snaps as he pulls his phone out of his pants and hands it to me.
I fumble for the phone, my fingers shaking. “Nine one one, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asks me.
“I need an ambulance, there’s been a shooting!”
“What’s your location, ma’am?” My mind goes blank at the dispatcher’s follow up question, and I hold the phone out to Maximo for help.
