Naturally, Emmanuelle would believe Eloisa had upset him, and she would try to reassure him. That was so like his woman. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so damn lucky, but he vowed to himself he was never going to fuck it up.
“I’m good, Princess.”
Valentino made sure his woman was absolutely good with three orgasms before he drove her up again, listening to her gasping pleas. Her little denials that she couldn’t possibly when she was able, and would, because he could feel her body coiling tighter and tighter around his, already practically strangling his cock. Being in Emmanuelle felt better than anything he could imagine, and he wanted to stay there as long as he possibly could.
Deliberately, he slowed his pace, wanting to give his woman as much pleasure as possible before he allowed himself his own release. He didn’t want the time to be over. There were times, like now, when he looked into her eyes and felt like they were touching each other’s souls. It shook him every fucking time. He never wanted those moments to end. It wasn’t just about the physical, the insatiable lust he felt for her, but the lust infused so deeply with so much love it was a part of every cell in his body.
Her body coiled tighter and tighter around his cock, locking down, a tight friction that sent fiery streaks rocketing from his thighs straight to his balls and down his spine to lash at his cock. Molten lava churned, roiled, threatening to erupt.
“Catch up, baby. Fast,” he ordered.
“I can’t. Not again,” she whispered. Staring into his eyes. Loving him. Her breath ragged. Her legs around his waist. Tight. Wrapping him up. Fingers threaded through his.
“You can.”
Her orgasm rushed over her hard, taking her like a wild storm, a crowning fire, sweeping through both of them, robbing them of all air. Her silken sheath clamped down like a vise. A thousand flames surrounded his cock, burning over him, branding him. Milking him. Dragging every drop of his seed from him. Over and over, his cock jerked and pulsed, a mindless pleasure consuming him, sending him orbiting, burning like a fucking phoenix until he lay on her, a dead weight, nothing left but utter peace—the way she always gave it to him.
I’ve been doing quite a bit of research,” Emmanuelle told him, massaging his scalp, her voice a soft murmur, when they could talk again. When he had moved enough to lie on her belly, arms around her hips. “It’s tough going reading the books in the earlier languages. There isn’t much information to find on the Saldi creepy shadow creature, Val.”
He caught the little hint of worry in her voice. “I get the feeling as long as both parties cooperate, everyone is safe. It’s only when one decides to try to divorce or cheat that the vengeful shadow creature comes into play and straightens them out.”
“That’s a pretty big motivator to keep your marriage together,” he murmured.
“I have to meet with the members of the International Council of Shadow Riders tomorrow morning, Valentino. They’re trying to make it as informal as possible, but I know it isn’t. They’ll be at the hotel, and I have to explain to them how our union came about and what the Saldi shadow legend means to the Ferraros. I’ve really studied it and tried to make sense of it, but in such a short time, with most of it lost, I don’t feel prepared.”
“I’ll be with you.” He made it a statement.
She continued to massage his scalp in silence for a few minutes. He knew she was uncomfortable with him going. “Stefano will be there. You’re not a rider, and some of them may be resentful. I don’t want them to treat you with less than respect. I’m not saying that they would, but if they did, I’d be upset, and so would Stefano.”
“You’re not going to face them without me. We’re in this together. If they have questions, I may be able to answer them better than you. In any case, I think they’d have less respect for me if I left you to face them alone. We don’t have all the answers they want. I wish we did, but we don’t. They’ll just have to accept that. They aren’t going to tell us we can’t have children. They can’t dictate anything to us.”
“They can tell me I can’t be a shadow rider.”
He rubbed her bare thigh soothingly. “For your family, no, if they’re that vindictive. I don’t know how that would serve them, but they could do it. They can’t stop you from going into the shadows when you think it best for us or for our children. They no longer have any say over you unless you continue to be a rider for them, Emme.”
She sighed. “That’s true. I wish it didn’t matter so much to me. I don’t want to think my self-esteem is tied up in what I do.”
“Babe.” He turned his head, his chin on her belly, eyes on her face. “You trained from the time you were two years old. You were never supposed to be anything else. You are a shadow rider. You’ll always be a rider, whether you work for your family or you choose to work for us—and, baby, it will always be your choice. Always. That fucking creepy shadow can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, because I’ll never ask it of you.”
He watched her eyes. He knew how to read people. He was fucking brilliant at it, but especially at reading his wife. His declaration meant something to her. A whole hell of a lot, especially since she could tell he meant every word.
“I’m your partner, Val. Even when I know I have to pretend to stay a couple of steps behind you and look like the little wife in the background, I’ll be in the shadows listening to every word our potential enemies—or Dario’s—have to say.”
When a smile lit her eyes, he knew it was safe to put his head back on her belly. Naturally, she would include Dario. He was family. She would keep him just as safe as Dario intended to keep her.
“That’s good, baby. No matter what the council tells us, we stand together.”
Valentino knew the council wanted to hear about the Saldi myth. They wouldn’t be any happier than he was that they didn’t have all the information, but they would understand. They would most likely put their best historians on attempting to find the portions lost.
The Saldis had attacked the Ferraro family, nearly wiping them out. Those remaining, mostly riders, had scattered, leaving Sicily and separating to make it much more difficult to be tracked down and murdered. It also made it more difficult for any Saldi to ever find a woman who had a particular shadow that matched with the myth handed down from father to son. In a millennium, it was easy, over all those years, to change the wording, for the story to become twisted and even forgotten.
Valentino was aware that the council was in Chicago because an Archambault sat on it. With the members came others to look after them. In the case of Marcellus Archambault, head of the International Council of Shadow Riders, several family members had come with him. They had supposedly come to speak with Elie about his application for an arranged marriage. They were there for other, more important reasons, and it was a relief to him.
Elie had made a promise to Valentino, and he was keeping it. In the last week, Stefano had made it clear to Henry to watch Eloisa every minute—that she would attempt again to put a contract killer on Emme’s trail. Val wasn’t certain Henry was up to that task, and waiting that week had been endless, especially since he couldn’t stay home, which meant there was no keeping his wife home.