Hearts Of Darkness (The Santiago Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wiltcher

  “I know I don’t.”

  Even so, I find myself turning around. There’s a shadow disfiguring his left cheekbone and one socket is darkening already. Before I know it I’m tracing a finger across the wound on his forehead. His eyelids flutter shut and I can feel his powerful body shuddering beneath my touch. When he opens them again they’re blazing like burning embers. A fire for me, and me alone.

  I’m transfixed, pulled under his riptide again, drowning in his raw masculinity. He looks so bloodied and glorious, like a warrior returning from battle. A deep coil of lust is unfurling between my legs. My gaze falls to his lips, so full, so smooth. I want to feel them on me so badly. If this is goodbye then I want our last kiss to be as memorable as our first.

  Like always he seems to know exactly what I need. Our resolve crumbles together and he smashes into my mouth with a groan, delving deep and hungry, pinning me to the door with his body weight.

  “Damn this fucking life, Eve. Damn it straight to hell!”

  “Come with me,” I beg him, pulling his mouth back to mine, drinking in the sharp contours of his face, his beauty no less dulled by these new scars. I remember my dream last night. I remember his smile. I remember how happy it made me feel to see it. “Turn your back on it, Dante. Walk away.”

  His face contorts in agony. “I can’t.”

  “There’s nothing left for you here.”

  “It’s not that…” He curses and I see the conflict written all over his face. “Christ, you have no idea, my angel, and I hope you never do.”

  My dream starts to fade. Soon my hopeless tears are drenching both of our cheeks. If this is how it has to be then I need to feel that passionate connection one last time. Moments later I’m tearing at the zipper of his pants. He reacts quickly by dragging my skirt up and ripping my panties from my body. I’m so wet for him already, the moisture slicking the top of my thighs as he slams me back against the door, his tongue engaging in a feverish dual with mine. I go to fling my arms around his neck to drag him even closer but he winces and twists away.

  “Fuck!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I broke my shoulder.”

  My eyes widen in shock. “Are you serious? You need to be in a hospital!”

  He stares down at me as his lips start to twitch. I then watch in wonder as the smile that I dreamed about slowly creeps across his face. It’s like a sliver of light penetrating the bleakest of circumstances. I’m mesmerized. It’s so much more than I’d hoped it would be. His first genuine smile for me is a thing of rare beauty, banishing his darkness and transforming his face into a priceless memory.

  “Why are you so happy all of a sudden?” I gasp.

  The smile widens. “For a moment there I could almost fool myself that you cared.”

  “I do care, regardless of how wrong and messed-up that sounds. I hate you. I want you. And I’m fucked if I understand any of it.”

  “Don’t curse.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I have to send you away, Eve.”

  “I wouldn’t stay if I could.”

  “I need to be inside you…” His last sentence is more a strangled groan. Instantly that beat is back and my stomach muscles tighten in anticipation.

  “Sit on the edge of the bed,” I instruct him and his eyes gleam with comprehension. He takes a step back and unfastens his pants before complying with my request. I quickly wriggle out of my skirt and remove my t-shirt and bra. I can’t think about the horrors of his past right now. I’ve banished all shame and guilt momentarily. I want him too much, this stunning man who desires my body as much as I desire his.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says softly, raking his eyes over my nakedness as if committing every curve and flaw to memory. His dark pupils are nearly black with lust.

  “So are you,” I murmur, climbing astride him, tipping my head back and moaning as he guides a nipple towards his mouth. He sucks at it hungrily, his huge erection nudging the inside of my thigh as I gently rock my hips back and forth creating an exquisite friction between us. One hand is kneading the soft flesh of my ass, directing and encouraging me constantly, and the other lies redundant by his side. His shoulder must hurt like hell. Pleasure is the only distraction I can offer him.

  Lifting my hips, I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and guide him towards my drenched sex, sinking slowly and reveling in every last, perfect inch of him as he stretches me to my limits and beyond. He groans and stills as I work him all the way into me, tilting forward until my clitoris is pressed tightly against the burning skin and soft black down of his lower abdomen. And then I pause, savoring the sensation of being filled so utterly and completely by him.

  “I never dreamt that anything could feel this good, mi alma,” I hear him groan.

  “Never forget me.” My breath catches in my throat.

  “Never.” He sounds so determined, so resolute.” You are forever imprinted on my soul.”

  In response I let my forehead fall forward until it’s resting against his. At the same time I cradle his strong jaw in my hands, taking care not to brush against his bruises.

  “Make love to me, Eve,” he declares. “Leave me that treasure.”

  I smile down at him and circle my hips slowly, satisfying my aching sex, riding him so gently so as not to jar his injured shoulder, making every single moment count. He groans again and buries his face into the side of my neck. At the same time he’s circling the tip of my clitoris with his thumb until my rhythm starts to falter and I’m trembling from the inside outwards.

  Growling impatiently, he whips his hand away and brings his palm down hard on the side of my ass cheek. The stinging slap makes my eyes fly open and the walls of my sex convulse around his cock.

  “Too slow! I want you screaming my name not panting it.”

  “You told me to make love to you!”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You don’t get to dictate this…”

  “I always dictate this.” Pivoting sideways onto his good arm, he flips me over onto my back and drags me to the edge of the bed by my hips.

  “Dante, you’re shoulder!”

  “Fuck my shoulder,” he hisses. “We’re not cut out for making love, Eve. I want to devour you, not treat you like a pet.” He grabs the insides of my thighs and opens my legs wide, baring my most intimate part to him. He pauses, his gaze fixated on my glistening sex. “Christ, Eve,” he mutters, “you bring me to my knees every goddamn time.”

  His words spike my body with lust. “Fuck me then,” I say desperately. “Do it, Dante, please!” I ball my fists around the sheet beneath me and arch my back, opening myself wider, urging him to take me anyway he desires.

  “Quiet. Let me look at you. I will never see a sight more exquisite than this.”

  “Damn you!” I’m hurtling closer and closer to the abyss. I never knew a woman could orgasm from words alone. “Give me something, hurry! Your cock, you fingers, your lips, your tongue…”

  “I need to mark you first,” he snarls, his expression singular and primitive. “Keep your legs open. You’re mine, Eve Miller.”

  “Always.”

  He lets go of my legs and grasps his cock. He starts to stroke the shaft right there in front of me, pumping his fist up and down in a brutal fashion, never once lifting his eyes from his destination. I watch his expression switch to hunger and determination and suddenly his intention is clear.

  Oh my god, he means to come all over me.

  I glance down. The smooth head of his cock is tantalizing close to my outer lips. His body is straining to reach his release now, his pumping almost violent in its intensity. I can’t stop staring at him, this savage picture of virility and desire. He’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. His olive skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his head is thrown back, his eyes are shut tight. He’s so damn close…

  He comes with a low hiss of my name, directing his spurting seed all over me, coating my sex an
d thighs in his sticky warmth, and then using his fingers to spread himself into my every crease and crevice. “Mine,” he repeats, enthralling me with the roughness in his voice before he’s plunging two fingers inside of me.

  The crude nature of his act seals my fate. With a harsh rasping cry I come too, the walls of my sex throbbing and burning as I’m pushed over the edge by his desire to claim me like this.

  There’s a moment of clarity as the strobes spin above my head like fireworks on the fourth of July. It’s one that both frightens and exhilarates me. He’s the blood pumping through my veins, the last gasp of breath in my lungs, my dreams, my nightmares and everything in between. No matter the distance, no matter the circumstance, no matter who dares to try and tear us apart, I’ll always be his…

  Forever.

  24

  Dante

  My shoulder’s screaming like a bitch but I can’t stop fucking her. I can’t bring myself to break the connection, not when I can feel her clenching around my cock again. Is that her fourth orgasm, her fifth? After I branded her with my cum I thrust inside of her and we’ve been bound together like this every since.

  My lust will never be satisfied with gentle lovemaking. We have to fuck hard and fast to quench that dark need in both of us. I have to feel those tight muscles helplessly gripping my dick, pulling me under. Drowning me in her essence. I can’t let her go, but I must. It’s too dangerous for her to be by my side.

  “Dante!”

  Her quiet sobs draw me back to her again. Her voice is weak with fatigue. I’ve been rough with my touch, taking her deep for at least an hour but she hasn’t resisted until now. It’s like she can’t bring herself to break our connection either. I contemplate pushing her legs back and taking her ass but my angel is faltering. The time has come.

  I surge forward with one final thrust; my balls flush to my body. I can almost taste the oblivion and then I’m there, my stifled groan shattering the space between us as I fill her up with everything I have left.

  “My angel…”

  “My devil,” she whispers.

  Her soft words rake like razor-sharp nails across my soul. She’ll never know how right she is. She thinks she knows the worst about me but here’s the deal…

  She’s barely even scratched the surface.

  Afterwards we shower together, frozen like statues beneath the falling water. Heads hanging, the water is streaming down our faces like a never-ending flow of tears. She’s standing facing me in the vast shadow of my body. My hands are resting lightly on my hips. She won’t speak to me. She won’t even look at me. I reach out to switch the water off and gently tilt her chin upwards.

  “Talk to me, Eve. Tell me what’s troubling that beautiful mind most of all.”

  She bites down gently on her lower lip. It’s a new trait of hers, like the nail-biting thing. It tells me she’s fretful and uneasy.

  “Is this it?” I hear her say, her sweet, melodious voice hitting all the minor keys. “Will I ever see you again?”

  Releasing her hips, I reach up to cup her jaw with both hands and gently run the pad of my thumb across her lip to stop her biting down again. “I need to end this… this war with my brother.”

  She steps away, breaking my hold. She rests the side of her head against the frosted glass of my shower cubicle, her face turned away from me. “All that bloodshed and for what, a crooked empire to preside over?”

  If only it was that straightforward.

  Her innocence only serves to strengthen my obsession. I sometimes imagine I can taste it on her skin.

  “This is your chance to leave it all behind, Dante. You have the money so buy yourself another fortress, go invest in stocks and shares, banks, nightclubs… anything but this!”

  Her faith in my ability to transform into a law-abiding citizen is touching but I’m too entrenched in this world to ever let it go. This organization needs stability and it’s time for me to step up and take control.

  “I need to finish him, my angel, before he finishes me.”

  I watch those blue sapphires widen in dismay. “So you like pushing coke and wrecking lives, is that what you’re implying?” She brushes past me then steps out of the stall to grab a towel from the rail. I can almost taste the bitterness of her frustration.

  “It’s never been about the drugs, Eve. You know that.”

  “No, it’s about bloodlust. You left the army but you missed the kill so you seek your kicks elsewhere.”

  I’m stunned by her perception. And here was I thinking I’d kept it all so well hidden.

  She catches my eye in the mirror above the sink. She has no idea how fucking beautiful she looks, with her pale ethereal skin, and her long dark hair jet-black from the water and falling in damp tendrils around her face; my fragile angel with enough strength and goodness for the both of us.

  She drops her eyes first, as if she can’t bear to look at me anymore. My lack of morality is a black hole that even she can’t fathom. She thinks she can fix me but it’s too late for that. I’m damaged far beyond anything that her sweet salvation can reach.

  “What can I do?” I hear her mutter, her soft voice laced with despair. “How can I make you see that there’s another life for us?”

  “I will find you again, Eve.”

  She nods but I know she doesn’t believe me. I step out of the shower cubicle and slide my arms around her waist, pulling me back against my damp body and kissing the top of her head. She feels so slender, so breakable in my embrace.

  “Distract yourself with words when I’m gone, my angel,” I murmur, kissing her again. “Find a part of me in every flawed hero you come across in your books. Use fiction to erase every wrong I’ve ever done you with the deeds befitting of a good man, a better man.”

  “I don’t want to replace you, Dante,” she gasps, staring up at me as if I’ve just struck her across the face. “You’ve broken my heart more times than I can count since you held a gun to my head but I can’t simply erase my feelings…” She trails off as her eyes widen in comprehension. “Is that another reason why you gave me your gun tonight? Was this your messed-up Santiago way of trying to redress the balance of our first encounter?”

  “No, my angel,” I say grimly. “That was me giving you the chance to reap vengeance for my part in your brother’s death.”

  I curse myself a thousand times over as I watch her beautiful eyes refill with tears. I’ve just reminded her of what a monster I am, of what terrible things I’ve done.

  We’re going round in circles.

  Dropping my arms, I head for the closet to select a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt. She follows me out of the bathroom and stands behind me. I can feel her gaze flickering over my wounds as I attempt to shrug into my jeans one handed, grimacing as the action jolts my bad shoulder.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Here, let me help you.” She bends down to guide my feet into the material as I lean against the nearest wall, feeling dizzy suddenly. Damn, this pain is intense… Joseph’s already sent for our medical team.

  “What happened to you in Colombia?” she asks quietly.

  “We were ambushed.”

  “Did you lose many men?”

  I pause. “Some.”

  I’m playing fast and loose with the truth again. In reality 99% of my army has been obliterated. Every single man that I sent to New York and Florida was rounded up and pumped full of bullets, and Sanders is still off the grid. Fuck knows what Emilio’s done with him. If I wasn’t so damn tired my rage would be irrepressible but with my shoulder banged up like this my revenge is on a temporary hiatus.

  “How bad is the damage to your compound?”

  “Outhouses are still burning. Sector six is destroyed.”

  Millions of dollars of firepower stolen.

  “Are those the barracks? Is that where you made the co–?”

  “There’s no production here, our processing plants are elsewhere” I snap, irritated by the note of hop
e in her voice. This is one discussion I’m not prepared to have. I trust her not to reveal my identity but beyond that is a grey area. She detests my business and I feel the battle in her constantly. Her feelings for me have caused a ripple affect with everything she holds dear – her family, her job, her future…

  “I’m going to resign from the paper.” She sounds reluctant but accepting. “We’re quite the conflict of interest, aren’t we? The cartel boss and the investigative reporter… I can’t give up writing, though. I’d miss it too much.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” I lean over and briefly catch her lips with my own. Writing is part of her identity, her strength. “Just focus on another criminal for a change. I hear Wall Street’s full of them.”

  She doesn’t smile. It’s like she hasn’t even heard me.

  “I need justice for my brother, Dante.”

  Those words. They’re wounding me in ways I never thought possible. Once again my past has chucked a bucket of water over whatever fragile portrait of a future we might have shared.

  “Shall I turn myself into the DEA, FBI or CIA, or is this a citizen’s arrest?” I drawl, shrugging into my shirtsleeves with difficulty. She reaches out to help tug the hemline across my abs. At the same time I catch her staring. “It’s quite a dilemma isn’t it, my angel?” I add, my voice softening. “We’re all about the lust and the hate and that fine line you dance in-between.

  “There’s a huge part of me that will never forgive you for what you did, Dante. I miss him everyday.”

  I don’t answer. I can’t. I hate seeing the hurt reflected in her eyes, and the knowledge that I caused it grazes deeper than any bullet.

  I reach out and punch a number into the safe in the wall with far more force than necessary. Picking up the gun there I slide it into the waistband of my jeans. “If we get through this, my angel, I promise to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

  “There’s only one thing that will make this better, Dante.”

  She doesn’t need to elaborate. I know what she’s implying. What did she label my affliction again, an unquenchable bloodlust? Sounds about right. Whatever the fuck it is, it isn’t going away anytime soon.