by Lara Adrian
Relief, Savage thought.
And maybe something more.
Regret?
Whatever it was, the emotion was there and gone in an instant.
He gave Savage a sober nod, whether in confirmation of what he’d allowed him to see just then, or in acknowledgment of their teamwork tonight, Savage wasn’t sure.
He might have tried to decipher it, but right then, with Bella warm and alive in his arms and his heart full to the brim with love for her, the only thing on his mind was the well-being of his woman.
His brave, beautiful mate.
He couldn’t contain himself from dragging her to him for his kiss.
She resisted a little, drawing back on a small groan. “Ettore, I’m a mess. I have his blood on me…his foulness.”
“That won’t stop me from kissing you,” he told her gently. “Nothing is going to stop me from doing that ever again.”
He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his embrace as he brushed his lips over hers in a slower claiming, a tender joining of their mouths that still had the power to inflame them both—even after the ordeal they had just endured. Perhaps because of it too.
But she was right. She had been through hell with Massioni. Not only tonight, but for the past three years as well.
Now that the monster was no more, Savage wanted to erase all trace of him from Bella’s life.
He swept his tongue across her soft lips on a groan that promised more. With Chiara quietly tending to her son, Savage lifted his head to look at Scythe.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go draw a bath for my lady.”
“Actually, I’d prefer a shower,” Bella interjected, glancing up at him wryly. “No more baths, at least not for a while.”
Savage chuckled. “Baby, whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“You, Ettore.” Her soft brown gaze turned serious as she reached up and held his face in her warm, courageous hands. “You’re all I want. You are all I’m ever going to need.”
“You have me,” he murmured quietly. “You have every part of me, sweet Bella. You always have.”
They kissed again, his love for her soaring in his chest, in his veins. Through their bond.
Her love twined with his, and the depth of their connection was so profound it nearly brought him to his knees.
He didn’t care that they had a small audience in the room with them. He didn’t care who knew how completely he adored Arabella.
Loved her.
Desired her.
He wanted the whole world to understand that she was his.
And he was hers…in all ways.
Forever.
Chapter 14
“Keep kissing me like that, female, and I may decide to keep you here permanently.”
Bella laughed and gazed up at Ettore, both of them now dried off and dressed after taking their time to clean up together. “Live in a sassi cave house and make little Breed babies? Sounds just about perfect to me.”
Ettore paused. “Is that what you want?”
She smiled, lifted her shoulder in a faint shrug. “The cave is optional.”
The sound he made as he wrapped his arms around her was one of joy and wonder. Even reverence.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you, Arabella?”
“I do,” she said. “Because I feel it inside me. I hope you can feel even a fraction of the love I have for you, Ettore.”
His rough moan was confirmation enough, but he kissed her anyway. Their union was so precious to her, she truly would have stayed right there with him forever if he asked it of her.
But Chiara and Pietro were waiting in the living area outside.
And Ettore’s comrades with the Order in Rome were awaiting his return too.
Bella knew his duty was on his mind as he led her out to join the others. He’d been in touch with the command center in the hours since Massioni’s death, both to inform them of the situation in Matera and to explain that he would be coming back to Rome with his Breedmate and her kin.
He threaded his fingers through hers as he brought her out to the main part of Scythe’s home.
The signs of the earlier confrontation were gone now. Chiara was sweeping up the cold ashes from the floor, while Pietro sat on the rug nearby. He had a little toy in his hand—a carved lion made of stone. Scythe stood back from the boy, his black eyes haunted somehow as he watched him play with the miniature creature.
Bella’s heart squeezed at the sight. When Scythe abruptly glanced up, she felt intrusive somehow. As if she had invaded private, long-buried thoughts that the forbidding Breed male had no intention of sharing.
Ettore held up the key that Scythe had given him earlier tonight. “Are you sure the Rover is ours?”
He gave a firm nod. “Keep it. If I have need of another vehicle, I have ample resources to get one.”
“All right.” Ettore inclined his head. “We should get moving, then. We have a lot of road ahead of us if we mean to make it back to Rome before sunrise.”
Scythe grunted, contemplative. “Through my brother, Trygg, I’m aware that the Order has more than its share of trouble these days. If you or your comrades ever have need of more hands on deck—” The sober male actually smirked now. “Or even just one hand—then I trust you’ll let me know.”
Ettore chuckled. “I will. Thank you.”
Scythe extended his good arm to him. The two males exchanged a brief left-handed shake. Then Scythe turned his fathomless gaze on Bella.
“Take care of each other.”
“We will,” she replied. And whether the intimidating Gen One wanted it or not, she rose up on her toes to kiss his beard-darkened face. “Thank you, Scythe. For everything you’ve done for us.”
He stepped back without a word or acknowledgment, yet despite his reticence, she knew in her heart that she and Ettore had made a friend. If needed, they had a lethal, lifelong ally.
Chiara and her son as well.
Bella watched as her brother’s widow collected her child from the rug where he was playing. She whispered something into Pietro’s ear, then the boy shyly stepped over to stand in front of Scythe. In his pudgy fingers was the carved animal.
“Here,” he said, offering it back to the larger male.
“You keep it,” Scythe said, his deep voice toneless. “I’ve held on to it for too long. It’s yours now.”
Chiara smiled, gathering her arm around her little boy’s shoulders. “I don’t know how to thank you for giving us shelter,” she murmured.
“No thanks is needed. It’s enough to know that you and your child weren’t harmed.”
“No one’s going to harm them anymore,” Ettore added. “When I spoke with the command center, they informed me that the explosion at the villa the other night killed all of Massioni’s lieutenants. His network is in shambles. My comrades and I are already making plans to crush his organization to the ground. No one will be coming after Bella or any of her family anymore.”
Chiara’s relief was clear in her eyes. But there was a note of hesitation there too. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Because I’ve decided that I don’t want to go to Rome.”
Bella frowned. “What? Then where—”
“The vineyard is my home, sorella. That’s where Pietro and I belong.”
Although it made sense, the thought of leaving her family behind still put a pang of sadness in her breast. Ettore must have registered the spike in her emotions. His fingers came to rest lightly under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his.
“Do you want the same thing, love? To go home to the vineyard, instead of living with me at the command center in Rome?”
“The vineyard hasn’t been my home for a long time. Where you are, Ettore, that’s my home now.”
Because of him, her family was safe now.
Because of him, she had everything she’d ever wanted—all she needed—right here in her arms.
They said their final good-byes to Scythe,
then drove his black Range Rover back to the vineyard in Potenza.
Hours later, with Chiara and Pietro settled again in their home, Ettore took Bella’s hand and walked her out under the starlight.
She saw his gaze drift to the sleek blue Pagani that had brought them to this place two nights ago. It seemed like forever since he’d stormed into her life again and whisked her away from the villain who had held her.
Now, she and Ettore had forever waiting for them in their new life together.
She couldn’t wait for it to begin.
He gestured to the sports car. “You don’t suppose Chiara has any use for that, do you?”
“Hmm. Probably not,” Bella replied with mock contemplation. “The Rover would be more practical. Not to mention it might give Scythe a reason to come around and check on them from time to time.”
Ettore grunted. “I’ve got a feeling that might happen either way.”
She smiled. “You may be right about that. Still, a sports car won’t get much use out here at the vineyard. And Pietro is still years away from truly appreciating that kind of machinery.”
“Shame to let a perfectly good Pagani sit unappreciated.”
She smiled up at him. “And it’ll certainly get us back to Rome a lot faster.”
Ettore smirked. “Faster to Rome means faster into my arms again. And into my bed.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, arching her brows.
“Then let’s go.”
He playfully smacked her backside, and they both raced down to the waiting car. They climbed in beneath the lifted gullwing doors, and in seconds the Pagani rumbled to life.
Ettore took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Ready for the ride of your life?”
“Oh, yes.” Bella smiled. “I’m ready for anything with you.”
* * * *
Also from 1001 Dark Nights and Lara Adrian, discover TEMPTED BY MIDNIGHT and STROKE OF MIDNIGHT.
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Stroke of Midnight
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Born to a noble Breed lineage steeped in exotic ritual and familial duty, vampire warrior Jehan walked away from the luxurious trappings of his upbringing in Morocco to join the Order’s command center in Rome.
But when a generations-old obligation calls Jehan home, the reluctant desert prince finds himself thrust into an unwanted handfasting with Seraphina, an unwilling beauty who’s as determined as he is to resist the antiquated pact between their families.
Yet as intent as they are to prove their incompatibility, neither can deny the attraction that ignites between them. And as Jehan and Seraphina fight to resist the calling of their blood, a deadly enemy seeks to end their uneasy truce before it even begins….
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Once, they lived in secret alongside mankind. Now, emerged from the shadows, the Breed faces enemies on both sides—human and vampire alike. No one knows that better than Lazaro Archer, one of the eldest, most powerful of his kind. His beloved Breedmate and family massacred by a madman twenty years ago, Lazaro refuses to open his heart again.
Sworn to his duty as the leader of the Order’s command center in Italy, the last thing the hardened warrior wants is to be tasked with the rescue and safekeeping of an innocent woman in need of his protection. But when a covert mission takes a deadly wrong turn, Lazaro finds himself in the unlikely role of hero with a familiar, intriguing beauty he should not desire, but cannot resist.
Melena Walsh has never forgotten the dashing Breed male who saved her life as a child. But the chivalrous hero of her past is in hard contrast to the embittered, dangerous man on whom her safety now depends. And with an unwanted—yet undeniable—desire igniting between them, Melena fears that Lazaro’s protection may come at the price of her heart….
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“What do you want, Zael?” Brynne frowned, folding her arms militantly across her chest. “And just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, barging into my private quarters like this?”
At the moment, the only thing he was doing was staring at her, slack-jawed and instantly aroused. She stood in front of him half-dressed in just her white button-down shirt she’d worn that night in London. Her long legs were bare, exposing the delicate swirls and flourishes of her Breed dermaglyphs that tracked down her slender thighs. The silky stems with those pretty, feminine glyphs seemed to go on forever.
Beneath the loose hem of her blouse, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of skimpy black panties and more creamy skin. God, she was beautiful. Exotic and strong and exquisitely female.
She was also visibly pissed off. At him?
“What’s going on here, Brynne?”
She stood her ground, glowering at him. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting dressed.”
From where he was standing, it looked like she was getting undressed. And there were certain parts of his anatomy that approved of that idea very enthusiastically.
“You said you’re leaving.”
“Yes. I have to go back to London. That’s where I belong.” She turned away and beg
an buttoning her shirt the rest of the way as she stalked to the bed. The pair of dark navy slacks she’d been wearing the other night lay folded there. Her shoes and purse were gathered nearby as well. “I mean to be on that plane with Mathias Rowan and the others later today.”
Zael frowned at the announcement. “Don’t you think we should talk?”
“About what?”
Was she serious? He didn’t even know where to begin. “About this new Opus attack. About where you and I fit into the equation with the Order. We sure as hell need to talk about what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing’s happening between us, Zael.” Sharp words, delivered with a flare of amber in her dark green eyes as she threw a hard glance at him from over her shoulder. “As for the rest of it, you heard Lucan and the other warriors just now. You saw what’s going on all around us. The whole world is going to hell right now.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And it’s going there regardless of what takes place between you and me.”
She scoffed. “You’ll say anything to get what you want, won’t you? Is that how all the men of your kind operate? I suppose that explains all of the fatherless offspring you and the rest of your Atlantean brothers have left around the world.”
Zael’s jaw hardened at the jab. It wasn’t completely without merit, but he also saw it for what it was. A defensive strike, meant to push him away.