He doesn’t speak, though. Instead, his fingers come to my jaw, an iron grip. My hands claw at his forearm, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. And one jerk of his wrist is all it takes for the back of my head to smash against the wall.

That’s when he steps backward.

When I stumble forward.

Stars dance before my eyes, and the room spins.

I reach out to steady myself, but there is nothing to hold onto, only air. He’s saying something but I can’t quite make out his words as my knees buckle, and I drop to the floor.

That’s when I feel his hands on me. Powerful arms lifting me. The room going black around me, arms hanging limp and useless as he carries me out of the compound and into the night.

Reparation of Sin

A Sovereign Sons Novel

About This Book

My husband hates me. But he’s also the only man who can save me.

Taken by a stranger, Santiago is my only hope. Except that I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. And for as cruel as he can be, the thought he might be gone is unbearable.

But he has nine lives, my monster.

He’s not finished with me yet. And soon I’m back at The Manor. Locked in my room. At his mercy.

I know I am despised.

I know I have become the face of his vengeance.

But there’s something else too. Something between us. It’s a dark and gnarled thing. And it has its claws around my heart.

1

Ivy

I am blind.

I reach up, my wrists bound, to touch the blindfold. Instinct.

A hand captures one arm. Strong. Cold. I smell leather and realize it’s a glove.

“Keep it on,” he orders.

I nod, but I’m not sure if he can make that out because I’m shaking so badly. The dampness of this place has gotten into my bones, the stone cold beneath my bare feet, dirt wet between my toes. I smell a forest. Is that possible? Where am I?

“What’s happening?” I ask for the hundredth time since he brought me to this cellar-like space.

“You take it off while I’m here, and I’ll bind your arms behind your back again. You don’t want that.”

“No,” I agree although I’m not sure he was waiting for my reply. I’m sure he doesn’t care.

I’m still dressed at least. Though the gown is ruined.

Has it been hours or days since he took me? Hours or days since Santiago lay dying—dead—on the floor of the formal dining room set for an elaborate, elegant dinner. That was ruined too. Tables and chairs turned over. The finest crystal shattered in the chaos when the lights went out.

Dead.