A Dance of War

by Ellie R. Hunter

  “No, thank you.” This is my home, yet I’m being made to feel as if I’m the guest here.

  “You have a beautiful home, Jamila. It suits you.”

  I look to Damon, who’s moved closer, leaning against the top of the armchair.

  “You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption”

  His gaze roams up and down my body, irritating me further. “I know enough.”

  I can’t take much more of this. “You knew who I was that night, didn’t you?”

  I’m not asking. I know I’ve been played, and I’m catching on fast that the game started a long time ago.

  “Something like this takes time to plan, and we always like to do our homework before playing our first card,” Damien informs me.

  “What about Raphael? Or was I the only one you did your homework on?”

  “He wasn’t left out, we had eyes on him too. The thing about being at the top is that it can be a lonely place, and it’s only too easy to slide someone into play to get close,” Damien continues. “Power gravitates to beauty. Do you know how easy it is to play someone when you understand them? Their hates, their desires?”

  I can only stare at him. There’s no way possible I can form a reply without showing how much I want to end his life.

  “Our Damon has a close resemblance to your prophesied love, and it was too easy to find someone who resembled you. Her name was Camilla, and it was your name Raphael called out over and over as he fucked her again and again over three days.”

  If he’s expecting me to be jealous over Raphael sleeping with someone else, he’s mistaken. However, I’m stunned it was my name he called out.

  “Why don’t you get to the point and tell me why I’m here?” I snap, not caring to play along any longer.

  It’s Damon who straightens and discards of his glass. “Let’s go for a walk. You can show me your lovely gardens.”

  Holding his hand out, I choose to ignore it and pull myself up, careful to move around him as not to get too close. He takes the lead, and his spicy cologne fills my senses as I trail behind him.

  He’s had nearly twenty-four hours alone in this house, and he’s used them to familiarise himself with the place. He knows his way around, and I inhale deeply when I step outside. Not a word is said as we walk along the neatly trimmed lawn and toward the rose garden.

  “It was supposed to be a mission to see what you were like, who you were, but our night together left its mark on me. I’ve thought about you often.”

  I haven’t thought about him since I left the hotel room we shared that night the next morning.

  “Why?”

  Chuckling softly, he gives me the side-eye. “You were insatiable. The way we were together… that was the stuff of any man’s wet dream. On a few occasions, I struggled to remember that it really happened.”

  He can’t have been with many women with a sexual appetite. We had good sex, but it sure as hell wasn’t some earth-shattering experience for me.

  The row of trees lining the cut-off point that surrounds our gardens, but not our land, approaches.

  “I used to come out this way when I was a child. There’s a freedom this land gives you, and I know every inch of it. If you have an offer you’d like to put to me, ask now. When we break through these trees, it’s going to take your breath away.”

  And I’m counting down the seconds as we move closer.

  “Answer me this first. You and Raphael spent ten years trying to topple the other. How did you not conclude it was someone else coming for you? I mean, neither of you have made such bold moves against one another. Didn’t you have even an inclination that something else was afoot?”

  If I was given more time, I would have probably worked it out, but I answer him truthfully. “I suppose it was his doing. At the peace ball last year, he offered me a way out like no other year. I felt he was growing more impatient.” I don’t mind admitting it to him. “What is your offer?”

  The night I met him, it was his power that drew me to him, but as we approach the meadow, his power dulls, and nerves play around his sharp features. It strikes me as odd that in his position, one he’s played himself into, he would be nervous to put his offer to me.

  “My brothers and I have taken the city from you and Raphael. As we speak, we’re taking over businesses, as well as your home. The Marocchi lands will be next. My offer is simple: join me. We can have a good life. I can give you a life of peace.”

  Peace for Vita is always at the top of my agenda, but achieving it by joining with Damon won’t bring me peace. I don’t doubt he could give me a life where I wouldn’t have to worry about anything till the day I die, but it doesn’t appeal to me one little bit. I see my life by Raphael’s side, not behind a man who wants me because of who I am, to show an unbreakable show of strength and power, yet suppresses my power. The DiMarco brothers are no different to our forefathers. Whether it’s the prophecy, or our determination to be different, Raphael and I are not on the same level as them. I lived for a while pretending to be someone I’m not when I proposed marriage to Salvatore, and that was bad enough. I won’t live a lifetime pretending to be whoever Damon expects me to be just for the sake of peace.

  And let’s face it, I wouldn’t have a single say when it came to Vita. I’d be expected to sip tea and lunch with ladies like a good little trophy wife.

  “Is Vita worth your life?” he questions.

  If I believed my life would help Vita, I’d die for it. I live for my city, and I’m willing to die for it too. However, I keep my thoughts to myself and inhale deeply as we come to the tree line.

  Walking over the twigs and bracken, I feel seventeen again, excited to see Raphael waiting for me in the meadow. Only, I’m not a teenager, and Raphael isn’t waiting for me. I have an enemy right here who should know better than to keep his back to the person he’s trying to take down.

  My ankle buckles, and I let out a shriek as I tumble to the dirt. Damon is quick to backtrack and is at my side, his concern almost sincere as he drops to his knees.

  “Are you okay?”

  “My ankle. It twisted when I tripped on the bracken,” I tell him, and just like I’d hoped, he turns to inspect my injury.

  Sweeping my hand under the pile of leaves, my fingers brush against cool metal, and I thank myself for taking such measures years before.

  “I’ll have to slip your boot off to get a better look,” he murmurs, unzipping said boot.

  Moving quickly as he turns back to me, I grab the gun, and have it pressed under his chin before he can register what’s about to happen.

  He pales in shock, which makes me smile. I love moments like this, when your opponent truly believes they have the upper hand, only to have it snatched away in the blink of an eye.

  “I never fall, not on twigs, and never when it comes to Vita. You can’t just take this city, you have to earn it.”

  Not one for letting power consume the moment, I squeeze the trigger and his blood splatters over my face before he slumps on top of me.

  I lie there, letting the adrenaline rush through me. Another man who thought I’d just roll over and play wife. Maybe if he saw my worth, he never would’ve shown his back to me. One brother down, two to go. Shoving against his limp form, I push him off of me, rolling him onto the dirt where he’ll stay until he’s found.

  Rolling away from him, I drag myself up to my feet, zipping my boot up as I go. Clutching the gun tighter in my hand, I look back in the house’s direction, wondering if they would’ve heard the shot. There’s no way I can walk back into the house without Damon and survive on my own.

  Looking down at his body, I murmur, “I did warn you, you’d have your breath taken away.”

  If he knew me well enough, like he said, he should’ve known I meant it quite literally. I’ve stashed guns in various places around the property in case I needed them someday.

  Over the years, I’ve made sure they didn’t weather in the elements and, I’m thankful
the effort came through for me today.

  Not looking back, I walk away from Damon DiMarco’s lifeless body and keep the gun clutched tight in my hand as I begin taking the path Raphael always took when coming to meet me. I ignore the old well, slip through the trees, and out onto the dirt road leading around the city. There shouldn’t be anyone out here, but if there is, and they pose a threat to me, I won’t hesitate to shoot the shit out of them either.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Raphael

  As Cristian and Trey go back and forth, arguing how to retrieve Mila without it costing her her life, I wonder what she’s doing now. More importantly, what the fuck she’s agreeing to now?

  “Our move should be tactful. Come on, you know the estate as well as she does. There must be more than the one tunnel in and out?” Cristian insists.

  “Of course there is, but enough is enough, we need to hit them hard. The brother made her a deal for a reason. I don’t believe they’ll kill her if we show up with an army behind us.”

  I can’t stand him at the best of times, but as they argue back and forth, my agitation only grows for him.

  Cristian slams his hand on the edge of my desk. “Our men would have to fight before we even got close to the gate. How many men are you willing to sacrifice before we even lay eyes on her?”

  This stumps Trey, but I’m willing to guess he’d sacrifice them all to get Mila back safely. I know I would if I was to make that call.

  Growing tired of them both, I cut in, “Mila had a plan, whatever it was, when she told me to trust her. We should trust her.”

  Trey hisses, digging his teeth into his bottom lip, probably to stop himself from arguing back with me.

  “Boss, you need to come outside.”

  Looking from Trey to the doorway, a soldier is standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “What is it?” Cristian snaps, moving into my line of sight.

  “She’s back.”

  I’m on my feet and crossing the office before he can explain further. Barging past him, I limp as fast as I can across the foyer and throw open the doors.

  Stopping on the top step, I scan the drive until I lay eyes on her, and then I’m off again. The closer I get, the clearer I see her, and the blood. The second I reach her, she’s in my arms, and I feel my heart racing against her. Pulling back, I run my hands down her as she steps back.

  “It’s not my blood,” she says, her voice far too calm for my liking.

  I notice the gun in her hand and pry it from her tight grip, holding it out until someone takes it from me.

  “Before you hit me with your questions, I need to shower.”

  She walks by me, and I quickly catch up to her, burning to wrap my arm around her. Yet I stay by her side, running thousands of scenarios through my mind as to why she’s here, casually strolling up my drive, covered in blood.

  She simply nods at Trey waiting at the door and heads up the stairs. He watches her go and proceeds to follow Cristian back into my office, and rather than joining them, knowing I’ll be listening to more bullshit, I take the stairs and close myself in my bedroom, listening to the shower already running in my bathroom.

  Following the trail of her clothes, I lean against the bathroom counter, watching the water cascade down her back and over her full ass. She washes three times before she shuts the water off, and I grab a towel from the shelf when she steps out.

  Wrapping it around her, her dark eyes find mine as she takes a shaky breath.

  “I killed Damon DiMarco, and I’d like to say it was because of him trying to take our city, but it was personal.”

  I don’t want to hear her answer, but I still ask, “How was it personal, Mila?”

  She doesn’t make a move to leave me or the conversation, and in the middle of my bathroom, the sun blasting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she tells me, “A couple of years ago, I was at a gala where I first met Damon. He pledged the most money, and he reminded me of you. He looked like you, he threw his money around like you, and he was the first guy who intrigued me since you. We ended up back at his hotel where I spent the night with him. Everything he did reminded me of you, and for one night, I couldn’t get enough. This guy didn’t know who I was or what I had been through, or so I thought, and I couldn’t get enough. We fucked and talked all night.”

  Biting my tongue, I taste the blood filling my mouth, barely seeing through the fog of jealously. There’ll never be a time where I can hear about her with other men and not drown in one of the deadly sins.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It was all a ploy to find my weaknesses, and I’m not the only one who fell for it. Remember Camilla?”

  If she’s hoping a simple name will jog my memory, she’s going to be disappointed. The women I’ve been with, and it’s not been many over the years, have been nameless because they weren’t the woman standing before me now. I don’t remember anyone named Camilla.

  “Let me refresh your memory. You spent three days fucking her while calling out my name.”

  I have to learn to curb my jealousy. Mila talks about me fucking someone during a three-day fuckfest, and is smug because I called out her name. Although, it does help jog my memory. Most women I’ve been with were for a night only, but I remember one who looked so much like Mila, and because of that, I used her for that purpose, wanting it to be her.

  “She was a plant, and she relayed everything back to the DiMarco brothers.”

  A droplet of water falls from her hair, so I reach for another towel and begin drying it.

  “It wasn’t only her. I’ve called your name with every woman I’ve been with.”

  She snorts. “I’m honoured.”

  “You should be, seeing as you’re the only one I’ve ever seen. There’s not a soul on this earth who could take your place. I can’t even appreciate another woman because it’s you. It’s been you all my life.”

  Her lips part, but nothing but a small intake of breath and exhale leaves her.

  “Do you need me to prove it?”

  Her eyes widen and she drops the towel. She works my belt in record time, and I’m hard as fuck by the time she’s shoving my pants down. Kicking my shoes off, I step out of my pants, pooled at my feet, and spin her around, setting her on the counter. Wrapping her hand around my shaft, and she guides me in before I can think straight and take the lead. Thrusting my hips forward, her gasp at my intrusion fills the room, and I become lost in her. I always thought I’d see to her needs before my own, but after the last twelve hours, I pound into her for my own. Sinking my teeth into her shoulder, I take all the pleasure for myself and make it clear when my balls tighten. I don’t hold back. Emptying myself into her, I graze my teeth over her skin as I pull away, resting my forehead against hers.

  “It’s a good thing you want forever with me. You need to work on your restraint.”

  Catching my breath, I manage to laugh, but then turn serious. “Never make a deal like that again. I’d rather die with you than you put yourself in a position where you think you’re saving me.”

  “So this was just my punishment?”

  “Not even close.”

  Slipping out of her, I clean myself in the sink while she jumps back into the shower.

  Dressing and buckling my belt, I sweep my gaze over her. She’s the reason I’ve never seen another woman in the same light, because to me, no one could ever compare.

  “Once they find his body, this will escalate beyond anything we’ve seen before,” I say, back to business as she steps out and reaches for a fresh towel.

  “Then we’ll let them come for us. We’ll use this place to our advantage. Get our men on the roof, in the trees. We want them everywhere.”

  With one curt nod, it already feels right having her at my side, calling the shots.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Jamila

  Apart from being in his bed, the window ledge is my favourite place in Raphael’s bedroom. Outside, the night sky
is darker than usual, and everything is still. I can’t see a single soldier outside, but they’re there—they’re everywhere.

  “They would’ve found Damon’s body by now,” I murmur as Raphael leans against the ledge. He’s bare chested, dressed in sweats that hang low on his hips, and I have to drag my eyes up to meet his before I lose my train of thought.

  “Then we wait.”

  Yes, we wait, because they will come, and I’m expecting them to turn up making a show of force, heavily armed.

  “It doesn’t matter how ugly this fight gets. Your beauty makes it all worthwhile.”

  “Our lives are what we’re fighting for,” I remind him.

  Sometimes, I wonder how we were prophesied to bring peace when most of the time, our approach to victory differs.

  “Will you miss it?”

  “What?”

  “When this is over, will you miss the fighting?”

  “There’ll still be fighting.”

  Confusion mars his strong features, and it makes me smile.

  “Someone will have to go against you when you submit your plans to modernise Vita.”

  His laugh fills the quietness, and he angles his body so he’s facing me, brushing the wisps of hair away from my face.

  “I’m looking forward to it, my Mila.”

  Closing my eyes, I lean into his touch and kiss the palm of his hand before he cups my cheek.

  “Are you going to miss the fighting?” I ask him.

  It’s all we’ve ever known. It’ll be easy for me to live in peace, but will it be so easy for him?

  “Not even a little bit.” His smile widens. “I’m going to finally enjoy the beauty of life.”

  I desperately wish to sink into his perfect idea of a future for us, but that last shred of doubt still lingers. However, I’m too tired to keep my grip on it.

  “You make me believe anything is possible. You always could.”

  Shifting, he repositions me so he’s standing between my legs. “Because everything is possible.”