The Fall (House of Sin Book 2)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Emotions overwhelmed me, made me frantic for his touch, for his body, for all of him. I slid my fingers up his back and tipped my head so he could kiss me deeper. He stroked my tongue slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of me, and I let him because I wanted him to feel what I felt. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t just giving him my body, I was giving him all of me. My heart. My soul. Everything he’d said he couldn’t live without.

  “Mi hai rubato il cuore,” he whispered, kissing the corner of my lips, my jaw, trailing his wicked mouth to my ear. “C’è un vuoto dentro di me che solo tu puoi colmare.”

  I didn’t know what he said, but when he spoke Italian to me in that sexy, tender way, every nerve ending in my body burst into flames. I turned my head and found his mouth again, and when I kissed him and drew him into me, he groaned and pulled me so close, all my worries slipped away.

  This couldn’t be wrong. It wasn’t too fast. The love I felt for him—the strength with which I felt it—couldn’t be anything but absolutely right. We would make it work. All the uncertainties still between us, all the secrets… If we held on to this moment and how we felt here, everything would be okay. I believed it. I had to believe it.

  “Luc…” I lifted my hands to his face and threaded my fingers in his silky hair as he kissed me. “Luc, I… I need you too.”

  An animalistic sound rumbled from his chest. He didn’t stop kissing me, but he did lean to the side and shove my empty suitcase off the bed.

  Then I felt myself falling, but he was right there to catch me and guide me down, just as he’d caught me and guided me through the last week and a half. And when he pressed all his hard, firm heat into me and I was trapped between him and the mattress, I wasn’t lost. I was found. I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  I don’t remember his strong hands pulling my white T-shirt from my body. I don’t remember him tugging the pink pajama bottoms from my legs. All I knew was blinding ecstasy when he knelt between my thighs and licked up my sex until the only word I knew was Luc.

  He was naked when he climbed over my still-shaking body. Naked and already sheathed and everything I couldn’t get enough of. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled his lips to mine.

  He groaned into my mouth as I kissed him and opened my legs. My body knew him so well, it rose to meet him, and when he pressed inside me, the pleasure was so perfect, I knew this… Tthis was what I wanted. A burning, fiery love that consumed my soul.

  I could never be satisfied with lukewarm love after him. I could never be satisfied with anyone but him. This man who made me feel crazy and wild and horny and absolutely alive.

  “Ah, sweet Natalie.” His fingertips skimmed my jaw as he kissed me. “My sweet, sweet Natalie.”

  His words echoed around me, filling my chest with heat and life, but when he began to move, when he thrust deep again and again, the only thing I felt was the fire building inside me that only he could quench.

  “Luc…more.” I gripped his shoulders and arched my back, taking him deeper. “Give me more.”

  He claimed by mouth again, wrapped one arm around my waist, and rolled. I gasped as he landed on his back, but quickly positioned myself and took the lead, riding him as he lay back on the blood-red comforter and gazed up at me with lust and possession in his sinful eyes.

  “Take me,” he whispered, lifting his palms to my face so I could brace my hands on his arms and use them for leverage. “Take all of me. Every part of me. I’m yours, and you are mine.”

  My body grew hotter, wetter. He was solid steel around me, beneath me, inside me. I groaned as I lifted and lowered, finding a rhythm with his upward thrusts. And I knew from the flush to his handsome face and the intensity in his gaze that he was just as close as me.

  “Ah yes…” I gasped, riding faster. “There. Right there…”

  “Look at me.” His fingertips flexed against my cheeks and jaw. “Focus on me, angioletto. Let go with your body, and I’ll take you with me. I’ll always take you with me to heaven.”

  I stared into his mesmerizing eyes and relaxed as he thrust up inside me. And when I saw the spark of ecstasy in his eyes, when I felt him swell deep in my core, the connection we shared fired along my nerve endings and exploded in a cataclysmic supernova of heat and light and violent bliss that stole my ability to see and speak and feel anything but him.

  His heavy breath was the first thing I registered when I opened my eyes. That and his sweaty body beneath me while his hands lightly stroked my hair and back. The second was ice. Ice so cold, it threatened to freeze everything I felt inside.

  I didn’t know where it came from. I didn’t know why I felt it. Shivering, I gripped his shoulder in one shaky hand so I could snuggle into him. I needed to be closer to him. I needed his heat to warm the chill suddenly taking hold of me.

  He took the cue and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, my sweet, sweet Natalie. As long as we’re together, everything will be okay.”

  I’d said the same thing to myself only a handful of minutes ago, but hearing the words from his lips made that ice inside me grow colder.

  And I was terrified because I didn’t understand why.

  10

  Natalie

  The bed dipped hours later. I opened my eyes to find the room completely dark.

  “Shh.” Luc whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

  My eyes slid closed, and I started to drift back into oblivion, but the sound of fabric rustling brought them open again.

  Pushing up on my hand, I blinked and spotted Luc on the far side of the bed, pulling on his jeans. That chill I’d felt after we’d made love came rushing back, making me shiver. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to meet my father. He wants to talk.”

  I glanced at the clock. It was one fifty-two a.m. “Now?”

  “Yeah. When he’s had too much wine, he doesn’t sleep.”

  He buttoned his jeans, pulled on his shirt, then climbed on the bed and braced his hands on either side of me. His stormy eyes were intensely focused as they gazed down at me. “I’ll be back by dawn. Keep the doors locked and wait for me, angioletto. We’ll leave as soon as we can. Then all this will be a memory.”

  He leaned down and kissed me. It was a fast kiss, a chaste kiss, but alarm shot through me because I saw both urgency and fear in his eyes just before our lips met.

  Confused, I watched him round the bed and move toward the open balcony doors. That cold space inside my chest expanded, and the same sense of dread I’d felt after we’d made love sent my heart racing.

  I grasped the sheet at my breasts and sat up. “Luc, wait.”

  He stopped at the doorway and glanced back at me. “Yeah?”

  I didn’t want him to walk out that door. I was suddenly terrified of what would happen if he walked out that door. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine. It will be fine. I’ll make it fine, I promise. Go back to sleep and dream about me.”

  He was gone before I could stop him. Before I could think of a sane argument to keep him with me.

  For a heartbeat, I sat still in the big bed where I’d truly given myself to him only hours ago and told myself I was being silly. There was nothing wrong. He was just going to talk to his dad. I should go back to sleep like he’d said. But that chill inside me was spreading, and I had a sudden fear if it overtook my heart, everything between us would change forever.

  I threw back the covers and tugged on my pajama bottoms and T-shirt before I could change my mind. My pulse pounded as I followed him out onto the balcony. A trellis ran down the side of the villa just outside my window, and I quickly realized he’d used it to get in and out of my room.

  Movement caught my attention across the courtyard far below. Narrowing my eyes, I watched a dark silhouette—Luc’s dark silhouette—stride awa
y from the U-shaped villa, turn left, and disappear into the trees.

  That chill turned to ice in the center of my chest. If he was going to talk to his father as he’d told me, why was he heading into the trees? Wouldn’t he meet his dad somewhere in this massive castle?

  My stomach churned with both fear and doubt as I stared into the dark, trying to make sense of what I’d seen.

  I wanted to believe him, I wanted to trust him, but he’d been acting strange ever since his mother had shown up in Venice. Everything since then—his mood, his tone, his actions—had been erratic, and I needed to understand why.

  A tiny voice in the back of my head warned not to follow him, but I sensed there was more going on than he’d said, and I suddenly needed to know why he’d lied to me.

  Urgency pushed me into action. Grasping the trellis with sweaty hands, I slowly began to climb. Halfway down, I realized I was barefoot. I knew I should go back up and grab my Skechers, but I was afraid if I did, I’d lose him in the trees. I couldn’t lose him. I needed to know where he was going. I needed to know what was really going on.

  I reached the stone courtyard and paused to swipe my damp palms on my thighs. Nothing moved around me. The villa was dark and quiet, and all signs of the earlier party had been swept away.

  My shallow breaths lifted my chest as I pushed my bare feet forward, crossing the cobblestones as quietly as I could. At the edge of the courtyard, I peered into the trees. It was so dark, I could barely see. But I knew Luc had gone this way, and I couldn’t turn back now.

  I let my eyes adjust to the night and used what little illumination there was from the stars to guide my way. He’d turned left when he’d exited the courtyard. Moving in that direction, I found a well-used path that led into the forest—one we hadn’t taken earlier on my tour of the property.

  My stomach twisted as I stared into the darkness. I couldn’t see Luc. I couldn’t hear him, but I took a chance he’d gone this way and stepped onto the dirt.

  Dry earth squished between my toes. The night air was cool, not cold—mid-sixties—but I shivered as I walked, not from the temperature, but from the chill inside me. The path wove down the hillside, away from the winery and villa and into a small valley.

  My anxiety inched up the farther I moved away from the house. An owl hooted in the canopy like an ominous warning. The rapid flap of bats and other things I didn’t want to think about sent my nerves humming. I came to a small stream and had to pick my way across exposed rocks in the bed. Twice I slipped, and the hem of my pajama bottoms dipped into the cold water. Once I reached the far side, I shook the water from my cotton pants as best I could and scanned the dark forest. But I saw no sign of Luc.

  That chill swirled inside me, making my hands cold and clammy.

  This was stupid. I didn’t know where I was or where I was even going. I should head back before I got lost in these woods. Luc had told me to stay put. If he came back to my room and found me gone, he’d flip out. After everything that had happened between us recently, did I really want to risk our relationship all because I thought I’d seen something in his eyes that might not have been there?

  My hands shook, and I turned back toward the stream, intent on rushing back to my room before Luc realized I was gone. Just as I placed my bare foot on the closest rock, voices drifted on the air and reached my ears.

  I stilled. Turned my head. Listened. They were male voices.

  I stepped away from the brook and squinted to see down the path. Nothing but darkness met my eyes, but those were definitely voices. Many.

  My feet moved forward, drawn toward the sound as if being pulled by an invisible tractor beam. I pushed vines and tree limbs out of my way as I followed the path down the hill, shivering with each step. A hundred yards deeper into the forest, I spotted a warm, flickering glow in the dark valley below and slowed my steps.

  The voices grew louder. I strained to hear what they were saying, but the words were in Italian, not English, and the men were all speaking at once.

  No, the men were all chanting at once.

  The chill inside me grew ice cold, and my pulse shot into the stratosphere. Instinct pushed me off the path and into the brush.

  Instead of moving toward the sounds, I picked my way parallel to it, searching for a place where I could see what was happening far below. Twigs scraped my arms and pulled at my pant legs. A rock dug into the sole of my foot, making me wince and stumble. My pulse was a whir in my ears, but I didn’t turn back. I had to see what was going on. I needed to know what I’d heard.

  I caught sight of stars and realized the trees were thinning out. The voices were louder here, the golden glow growing stronger. Easing my way around large boulders and small saplings, I finally reached what looked like a rock outcropping. Carefully, so I wouldn’t give myself away, I stepped up behind a boulder half my size and peered over the edge of the small cliff I’d found.

  Thirty yards below, torches were lit on the edge of a clearing. Black figures dressed in hooded capes stood in a circle around a large, flat, rectangular stone, chanting words I didn’t understand. Their faces were completely covered by stark white bauta masks with overaccentuated noses, protruding chins, no mouths, and cutouts for eyeholes.

  Parallel to the large rock, one man wore a blood-red cape, standing out among all the rest. His hood wasn’t up like the others. Instead, he wore a wide-brimmed black hat on the top of his head, pinned up on both sides and in the back to form a triangular shape. Under that, a thick drape of red, gold, and swirling black fabric dropped to his biceps and the middle of his back like a veil. And when he turned, I saw his mask wasn’t white. It was gold.

  My spine stiffened, and fear shot through me as I ducked behind the rock so he wouldn’t see me. Fingers shaking, I braced them on the stone and peered around the edge, trying to see what was happening. Two hooded black figures on the far side of the clearing stepped back, opening the circle. Four women, dressed in short, white, nearly see-through cotton dresses and black cat-style eye masks, moved into the circle.

  Their feet were bare, their shoulders lifted, their heads held high. They didn’t seem scared but… something about the way they were paraded into the middle of the circle felt wrong. Something about the way the men in masks surrounding them watched their every movement felt sinister.

  My heart raced as I held my breath and watched, wondering what was going on.

  The women circled the flat black slab, stopping when one stood on each side. Each faced the stone and reached out her hands, forming a circle inside the circle. The women’s lips began to move, and I heard a new chant rising from the clearing. Soft at first, then growing in strength and intensity and speed. The red-cloaked figure stepped forward and slowly walked around behind the women as they chanted. When the women’s chanting reached a crescendo, he halted behind one on the far end.

  The women’s voices cut off. The other three women turned to look at the fourth, standing in front of the man in red. They released each other’s hands and stepped back, away from the rock slab. And before I realized what was happening, the man in red reached for the remaining woman’s flimsy white dress and tore it from her body.

  The scrap of fabric fell to the ground at her feet, leaving her completely naked. With a hand between her shoulder blades, he pushed her forward. The woman bent over the end of the stone—no, altar, I realized—and arched her back. And as she did, I caught sight of an elaborate leopard-print tattoo across her right hip and up her rib cage.

  The men in black forming the circle began to chant again. My stomach pitched, and my mouth grew dry. The red-cloaked figure stared down at her from behind the grotesque gold mask. The chanting grew louder until it was a roar in the small valley, until I felt it stirring in my veins. Then, in a rush of movement, he parted his cape to reveal his rigid erection and slammed into her.

  Shocked, I gasped and shot back, falling on my butt in the dirt. Realizing what I’d done, I quickly covered my mouth with my hand so I w
ouldn’t give myself away, but I couldn’t force my legs to move. I couldn’t tear my gaze from what was happening below, either.

  The woman’s groans echoed through the small valley as the man continued to ram into her in time with the chants. Slowly, I became aware of movement around the circle. The other three women were now also naked, writhing and rubbing against the men standing still in black as if possessed by their chants, by what they were watching, by some unseen, depraved force.

  I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. All that registered was that it was something I was definitely not supposed to be seeing.

  I scrambled back, my fingernails and heels digging into the dirt as I tried to push myself up. The red-cloaked man continued to pummel the woman, and she screamed as if she couldn’t get enough. But something about the whole scene felt wrong, and as I pushed myself onto my hands and knees and stumbled for my footing, I realized what that was.

  The sounds coming from that woman were the same sounds I’d heard in that house Gio had taken me to on Long Island. The same sounds I’d heard in that orgy room. The same sounds I’d made myself that night.

  Possessed sounds. Uninhibited sounds. Drugged sounds.

  Nausea swirled inside me as I braced an unsteady hand against the rock at my side and leveraged myself upright, trying not to alert anyone below to my presence. I didn’t know if that woman was drugged. I didn’t know if any of them were. I didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  The trees swam around me. My whole body shook, but I dug my feet into the ground and forced my legs into a sprint, wanting only to get as far from this nightmare as I could. Wanting to forget everything I’d just witnessed.

  I made it as far as the path before panic made me stumble. I hit the ground with a grunt. Voices echoed behind me, down in the clearing. Shouts and groans and a muffled rumble of words—no longer chanting.

  Panic turned to a bone-melting fear that I’d been spotted.