I didn’t give a shit about that. I only cared about Natalie. If any of the Knights saw that marking—especially the Grande Cavaliere—they’d be legally justified to go after her, regardless of my position.
“Where is it?” I focused on Felicity.
“On her ribs. She knows they branded her with something, but I don’t think she’s seen it yet.”
She’d realize what it represented soon enough. I’d explained Maricella’s marking to Natalie after we’d found her and brought Dante back to the estate.
“Can you cut it out, stitch the area back up?” I hated the idea of marring her beautiful body. She’d have a long scar down her ribs, but that was better than the alternative.
“Not now. The skin’s too fragile in that area from the burn. After it heals, yes, but that will take a while.”
Fuck. “Bandage it as best you can. We can’t let anyone see that marking.”
Felicity nodded.
“Felicity?” Natalie called from the other room.
Felicity squeezed my arm and turned. “I’ll give her some pain meds. Go and get her clothes, then hurry back.”
A death rune...
It was all I could think about as Marco and I headed down the paved drive to the guest cottage in the dark.
I didn’t give a shit about what I’d done. I didn’t give a rip about the consequences. My father’s death could be explained away by his cigar smoking habit, his love of those fucking catacombs, and the deranged things he’d liked to do there. Even if someone suspected Marco or I had been involved in his death, they couldn’t pin it on us.
None of that even mattered. All that mattered was Natalie. Keeping her safe. And following through on my promise that no one would ever hurt her again.
Lights burned on the porch as we entered the villa. Inside, it was dark, but I didn’t flip on a light. Just moved straight to the bedroom to grab her some clothes. I tossed several items in the duffel bag for her, including underwear and a cardigan. Just as I was finishing, Marco stepped into the room with two glasses and a bottle of Macallan.
He poured a generous amount and handed me the glass. “Drink this. You need a little liquid courage before we go back up there.”
I didn’t want to waste time. I just wanted to get back to Natalie. But I was alert enough to realize my hands were shaking. And if I went back up to her like that, any hope I had of keeping her calm was going to crash and burn.
I dropped the duffel on the bed, took the glass he offered, and sank to the mattress. The whisky burned as it went down, but it was a familiar burn, one I knew would help. And I held on to that.
Marco downed his own whisky then refilled both glasses. He was quiet as he sank onto the tangerine side chair across from me and set the bottle on the hardwood floor at his feet, swirling the liquid in his glass as he rested his forearms against his knees.
“I didn’t thank you.” I stared down at the amber liquid in my own glass.
“For what?”
“Stopping me from going balls-out.”
“You came to your own senses there. I only facilitated things a little.”
He had. I’d made it as far as my car before I’d realized rushing right over like a bat out of hell was exactly what my father had wanted me to do. And it would have gotten Natalie killed.
“How are you doing?” Marco asked quietly as I sipped my drink.
“Honestly? I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything when I was pounding my fist into his face again and again. When I was tying him to that bed. When I was pouring that kerosene over him. A son should feel something for his father, don’t you think? Some lingering affection, even if it’s nothing more than gratitude that he gave you life? But I didn’t. I didn’t feel any affection, no appreciation. And I felt absolutely no sorrow or remorse or even guilt when his flesh started to burn. All I felt was air filling my lungs, as if it was the first time I could draw a full breath in thirty-two fucking years.”
“He was evil, Luc.”
“Evil or not, he was my father. What’s in him is in me. He was right about that. The same darkness runs through my veins.”
“It does. But all that matters is what you do with that darkness. You can let it control you, as he did, or you can use it to root out all the others who are just like him. Our world is all about masks. You know this. Just because your mask is darkness does not mean there’s no light.”
I heard every word my oldest friend was saying, and I hated that it had taken this night—this horrendous, nightmarish night—for me to finally accept what he’d been trying to convince me of all these years
“Cazzo.” A blinding pain lit off inside my chest. One I knew was not going to be quelled anytime soon. I lifted one hand to my face and pressed my thumb and middle finger to my eyes, hoping to distract myself from that pain, but nothing worked. “I know what I have to do, I’m just not sure I’m strong enough to do it.”
“You are. You’re strong because of Natalie. Because she’s your strength. If you hold on to that, you can get through anything. Even this.”
I dropped my hand and breathed deep. She was my strength. She was everything. I didn’t care about me, I only cared about making things right for her.
And protecting her, at all costs. Even if I had to shatter both our hearts to make that happen.
9
Natalie
“Natalie?”
I flinched at the sound of Luc’s voice as I stepped out of the shower, then groaned because every muscle in my body hurt. Grabbing a towel, I quickly wrapped it around me and reached for another to dry my arms and legs.
“I-I’ll be right out,” I called, patting my skin down as quickly as I could.
I had bruises everywhere, and though I didn’t hurt as much as I had before thanks to the pain meds Felicity had given me, I knew Luc was going to take one look at my body and freak out.
I’d freaked out when I’d first come in here to clean up. One whole side of my face was swollen and bruised. My arms, my belly, my breasts, my legs—I looked like I’d been tossed around in a washing machine with a pile of rocks. And that burn in my ribs...
I sucked in a sharp breath as I lifted my chest and reached down to pull off the plastic covering Felicity had placed over the bandages to keep them dry while I showered. That hurt like a son of a bitch. I still wasn’t sure what they’d branded into my skin, but I wasn’t ready to look just yet. In my current light-headed-from-pain-meds state, I was perfectly fine not seeing what sick thing they’d done to me.
“I’m coming in,” Luc called from the other side of the door. “Felicity doesn’t want you falling over from the meds.”
Exhaustion tugged at me, and before I realized what I was doing, I leaned against the sink. But I was still coherent enough to wrap the towel around my shoulders so he couldn’t see the full effect of my bruises. “O-okay.”
The door pushed inward. Luc stepped into the room, glancing my way immediately. I tried to smile, to reassure him I was fine, but his lips only thinned in reaction.
Moving quickly toward me, he grabbed another towel and held it up to my hair.
“Merda. You’re dripping wet.”
He gently rubbed the towel over my head, wringing the water from my curls. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the counter and let him take care of me, loving how careful he was being. That he was here. I hadn’t wanted to let him go earlier, but I was trying to be the tough, fiery woman he’d married. Inside though, I was struggling not to tumble into a dark abyss.
“That’s better.” He dropped the towel on the counter, then tugged a drawer open and ran a brush through my hair.
I sighed as the tines slid over my scalp and through my long hair. He was gentle, running it through my locks again and again. Looking up, I realized he had a bandage over his left eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
He saw me looking at his forehead. “Fine. Didn’t need stitches.”
Relief spiraled through me.
Satisfi
ed there were no tangles left in my hair, he set the brush on the counter and reached for the towel at my shoulder. “Here, let me have that.”
“No. I’m fine.” I gripped the towel fiercely at my chest. “I can do it.”
“Natalie.” He looked down at me with gentle eyes. “Let me help you.”
“No.” Panic swelled inside me, and I shifted to the side, trying to put space between us. “I-I don’t need help. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He wrapped his arm carefully around my waist and easily drew me back in front of him, trapping me between him and the counter. “You’re wobbly. I don’t want you to fall. Let me help you.”
“I...” I held on tighter even as he reached for the towel ends wadded between my fist. Tears blurred my vision. “I don’t want you to see.”
His fingers stilled against mine. And his silvery gaze lifted to my face.
“They... I don’t hurt,” I blurted out, blinking rapidly. “It just doesn’t look very good.”
“Angioletto.” He pressed his lips gently against my forehead. “You’re beautiful.” He skimmed his lips carefully down the bruised side of my face. “Every part of you. You never have to be afraid to show me your body.”
When I dropped my chin, he lifted it with one soft finger. “You saw my back. You never made me feel ashamed of my scars.”
My eyes filled with tears all over again. “Those weren’t your fault.”
“And these marks on your skin aren’t yours.”
Pain washed over me. Not physical pain. The kind of pain that runs soul deep. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My eyes fell closed as I breathed through it. “I should have told you everything. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I—”
“Natalie.” He tipped my chin up again. “Look at me.”
I struggled to pull my eyes open, but when my watery vision met his, I didn’t see any kind of anger in his eyes. I only saw love.
“I’m not upset. Not at all. I know why you did what you did. And I love you more because of it. I love you so much, angioletto. I love you so much more than you are ever going to understand.”
“Oh, Luc...” Tears spilled over my lashes and rushed down my cheeks. I let go of the towel at my shoulders and threw my arms around his neck.
He held me to him, gently but fiercely, and as I buried my face against his throat and his deep voice whispered soft, sweet words in Italian in my ear, I closed my eyes and held on to him. To us. To the only thing in the world that grounded me in the here and now and made sense to my foggy-headed brain.
I drew back and pressed my lips to his. He sucked in a surprised breath and stilled against me. But he didn’t kiss me back. And I was suddenly afraid he didn’t want to.
I eased a breath away. “Luc?”
“Your lip...” He skimmed the pad of his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “I never want to hurt you, vita mia.”
“You won’t.” I didn’t care about my swollen bottom lip. I pressed my mouth to his again, desperate to taste him, to feel him. “I-I need you.”
He opened to my kiss, and then his tongue was against mine, his scent seeping into me, the warm, wet seduction of his mouth infusing me with life, giving me strength.
I tasted whisky. A hint of mint. And him. The familiar, unique, sweet flavor of him I could never get enough of. I kissed him deeper. Held him closer. And when he lifted me into his arms and carried me into the bedroom, never once pulling away from my lips, I savored him like the sweetest wine, wanting only to taste him everywhere.
He laid me carefully on the bed. A low fire crackled across the room, casting shimmery orange light over the walls and his skin as he climbed over me and drew back long enough to tug off his shirt.
My fingers landed on the silky skin at his abs, the ripple of muscles as he moved. I wanted to sit up. To press my lips to that spot. But before I could, his mouth was on mine again, kissing me slow and deep, taking charge of the kiss in a way that was both gentle and demanding.
I lost myself in his kiss. In his fingertips skimming over my flesh. His lips moved to my cheek, my jaw, trailed a line of heat down my throat.
Cool air washed over me as he pulled the towel open. But he didn’t gasp at what he saw. He didn’t make any sound that told me he was horrified by the bruises and bandages on my body. He only slid slower, whispered my name, and pressed his lips to the sore spot on my shoulder, at my collar bone, against the side of my breasts... kissing every single bruise until there was no more discomfort. Until I felt nothing but pleasure.
I closed my eyes and gave myself over to his lips. His touch. And when he pushed my legs apart and licked up my center, I moaned and reached for him.
My fingers slid through his hair. My hips lifted so I could rock up against his mouth. Lost in a vortex of sinful sensation, I let him push me right up to the edge and leapt off the cliff, diving headfirst into a bliss so strong, it was all I ever wanted to know.
I was still shaking when he kissed his way back up my body and claimed my mouth. I reached for him, opening at the first touch, drawing him into my kiss as his naked body moved between my legs.
He was gentle—so very gentle so he wouldn’t hurt me. And I loved him more for that. I loved him with everything that was in me.
“Luc...”
“I’m here, angioletto.” He kissed my nose, my cheek, my lips. And as he pressed inside me, he whispered, “I’m yours, Natalie. Always only yours. And you are mine.”
I gasped at the tight, perfect feel of him filling me again, right where I wanted him, and captured his mouth. He set a slow and steady pace as he kissed me, thrusting deep again and again. I wrapped my legs around his hips, clung to him with my hands, and gave him all of me, every little bit of my heart and soul.
I gave him everything because this was all that mattered. We really were unbreakable.
We reached the peak at the same time. As my orgasm consumed me and I contracted around him, I heard him groan my name, felt his body tense against me, and I savored every drop of his love pulsing inside me, right where I wanted to hold him forever.
He collapsed against me, sweaty and breathless, but quickly rolled to his side and pulled me against him so he wouldn’t hurt me. I relaxed into him, exhausted and light-headed, carried along by a current of his strength and the knowledge that we would finally be okay. As awful as tonight had been, no one could hurt us again.
“I’m going to take care of you, angioletto,” Luc whispered in my hair, pressing a kiss against my temple. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered, already sliding down the edge of exhaustion and into sleep.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, promise you’ll trust me. I’ll always protect you, vita mia. Everything I do—all of it—it’s only for you. Promise me you’ll remember that. That you’ll trust me to keep you safe, no matter what.”
“I... I promise.”
“That’s my girl.” He kissed me again. “Now sleep, angioletto. And remember how much I love you. Tomorrow, it will all finally be over.”
They came for him in the middle of the night.
I was sound asleep, wrapped safely in Luc’s arms when Marco entered the room and roused Luc sometime around two a.m.
Groggy, I pulled the sheet around me as Luc hastily dressed and their low voices carried across the room. In my fuzzy headed state from the drugs and pain, I caught only a couple of words.
Knights.
Grand Duke.
Installazione.
The last brought me fully awake. I sat up, dragging the sheet up my chest, ignoring the ache in my muscles. “Luc.”
“It’s okay, angioletto.”
“Don’t be long,” Marco said as he stepped toward the door. In the low light from the simmering fire, I saw he was already dressed. “They’re waiting.”
He moved into the hallway, leaving us alone. Before I could climb out of bed, Luc grabbed his jacket, moved around to my side of the bed, and leaned over with his hands bra
ced on either side of me. “I have to go.”
Fear tightened my throat, and I clasped his arm at the biceps. “But—“
“It’s all right, vita mia. I told you I would fix everything, remember? That I’d keep you safe? This is part of that.”
I knew that, but I still didn’t want to let him go. I swallowed hard. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. You have nothing to be afraid of.” He sat beside me and brushed the hair back from my face. “My father’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt us. I never wanted this, Natalie, but Marco and Fee were right. It’s my chance to do the right thing. And I will. Do you know why?”
I shook my head, part of me afraid to hear the answer as I shifted my hand to his chest so I could feel his heartbeat.
“Because of you, angioletto. Because you make me want to be a better man. I’ve struggled with this world I was born into. I’ve struggled more than you will ever know. And I convinced myself that, regardless of my own urges, if I stayed out of it, if I didn’t participate in their twisted gatherings, then I was still a good person.”
“You are a good person.”
“But I’m not. Not really.” He closed his hand around mine at his chest and looked into my eyes. “A good person doesn’t let others suffer, not when they can stop it. A good person stands up and fights, even when they know they might not win.”
My heart twisted because it suddenly sounded as if he was getting ready to take on the entire Entente. “Luc—”
“A good person delivers a message to someone in Florence she doesn’t even know, putting her life on the line for a cause that’s not her fight.”
Tears filled my eyes because I heard loud and clear what he was saying. I just didn’t understand what it meant. “Luc...”
“I’m not a good person, Natalie. But I will be. For you. Because I want to make you proud, just as you’ve made me proud, every single day since we met.”
The Choice (House of Sin Book 6) Page 9