—Ellie— Over the next couple of days, Tristan kept his distance. We didn’t go on runs, and Kate or one of his brothers brought me food. The look in his eyes when I’d screamed in the basement, it was difficult to describe, but I knew for some reason it had bothered him. Damian had informed me this morning that Mateo was back in Minneapolis. I believed him. Tristan had promised and despite my difficult feelings toward the Don, I knew he’d keep this promise. I also knew that Mateo and my family were suffering every day I was here. Damian treated me even colder than before—if that was even possible. I had a feeling things between Tristan and him were strained because of Mateo. Damian probably would have killed my cousin. It was the obvious solution, the one Salvador would have chosen. But Tristan ... he was unpredictable. Cruel. Fierce. I didn’t understand him. If he’d tortured and killed Mateo, I would have hated him with brutal abandon, woul

—Tristan— Ellie stared down at me with hatred, but she didn’t fight when I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her thong. I waited a couple of heartbeats, relishing in her silence, bathing in her surrender. I pulled down her panties. She shuddered but lifted her feet so she could step out of her panties. I pushed her skirt up. “Hold it up, Querido.” Her elegant fingers curled around the hem of her skirt, and she pressed it up against her flat stomach. I was at eye level with her pussy. The trimmed hair above her clit glistened with her juice, and her lips were swollen with arousal. I leaned forward, breathing in her heady scent. Before I’d kidnapped Ellie, I’d entertained different scenarios of how I would conquer her, break her, but this hadn’t been among them. I had to admit I enjoyed it tremendously. I ran my rough palms up her smooth thighs. She trembled, but not from fear, and fuck ... with Ellie I preferred any emotion but fear.

—Tristan— This was the ultimate victory over Salvador, over the Outfit. They didn’t know it yet, but they would soon. Ellie trembled under me, her marble cheeks flushed, lips parted. She was in pain, and somehow it didn’t please me because I had tried not to hurt her. I gave pain willingly, deliberately, freely. Not by accident. I held myself still, content in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing my cock mercilessly. I was fucking ecstatic feeling the slickness around me and knowing it was her virgin blood. The sweetest reward for my patience I could imagine. My eyes roamed Ellie’s perfect features, and her blue eyes met mine, searching, wondering. I pulled out of her slowly, recognizing the signs of pain in her expression, then pushed back in even slower. I rocked my hips slowly, keeping my movements as controlled as possible. Her face twisted with pain and pleasure, and I angled my hips to increase the latter. She gasped, surprised. I

—Tristan— After claiming Eleanor, I left her in the bed. I needed time to gather my fucking thoughts. I went to my bedroom and put on briefs but didn’t bother cleaning my thighs or face. It was late in the evening, so Kate should still be in her bedroom with Damian. I could still taste her, sweet and metallic. The sweetest triumph of my life. Fuck. This woman … I fixed myself a drink, a bourbon, then leaned against the bar, swirling the liquid in the glass, fucking averse to washing away her taste. The memory still burned bright. This was the moment I’d worked toward, had been patient for. For once in my life I’d been patient. Your reward will be worth it. I will be your first querido. Eleanor was so much more than I’d hoped for. She was magnificently gorgeous, ruinously breathtaking. Even lesser men would kill to have someone as regal as her in their bed only once. I almost got a fucking boner thinking about how Drake would feel se

—Tristan— I rested my head back on the pillow. I wasn’t tired despite the long night I’d had, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up with Ellie in my arms. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to relax. I had fallen into a light slumber when she stirred, jerking me awake. She stiffened in my hold. “It’s strange when your nightmares are less horrendous than reality,” she whispered. “I’ve lived it, Querido. It makes you stronger.” “I wished you had taken me on the first day, back in that basement on that dirty mattress like the whore that I am.” The words ripped from her throat as if every syllable was pure agony. I tensed, turning her around to me, feeling so fucking angry. For an instant, she shrank back from the force of my fury, but then she met my gaze. She lay unmoving on her side, eyes full of anguish. “You aren’t a whore. Is your fucking virginity all that matters to your family?” “It’s not just that I’m no