“Your hands are not those of a killer,” I tell him softly, barely above a whisper. “It’s impossible, Luca.”
He closes his eyes briefly, then reopens them. And I find that I am thankful. I need to see into his eyes.
“You don’t want to think so,” he answers and he sounds weary. “I don’t either. But all indications point to the contrary, Dr. Talbot.”
I ignore his words.
“I could listen to your music forever,” I tell him instead. He smiles and the room brightens.
“I didn’t write it,” he says with a small grin. “Ludovico Einaudi did. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve always loved his work, but this is my favorite. It’s called I Giorni. It has a haunting quality that I can’t get away from.”
“I agree,” I tell him. “If I could hear that every night before bed, I think I would sleep better.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”
I nod. “I’m an insufferable insomniac. I have been since I was a kid. Since…” My voice trails off.
“Since your brother died?” Luca guesses.
I nod.
Emotion bubbles up in my throat, but I push it back down. I swallow hard, then swallow again. Luca is staring at me, his expression still unreadable.
“Perhaps I can make you a CD,” he tells me and his tone is kind. Very kind. “You can listen to it as you ready for bed, and it might soothe you into sleep. I personally find the piano soothing, both playing it and listening to it.”
“How long have you played?” I ask.
“Since I was old enough to reach the pedals,” he answers. “Doesn’t every rich boy learn to play the piano?” He is wry now, almost sarcastic. “My mother insisted upon it. But I am glad now that she did.”
He rises from the piano bench and approaches me.
“Shall we, Dr. Talbot? I’d like to get this over with.”
I take his offered elbow. “You’re not looking forward to speaking with me?” I ask, feigning hurt feelings. The corners of his mouth lift into a very small smile.
“Not particularly,” he answers truthfully.
I smile back. “I promise, it won’t hurt,” I tell him.
“Never make promises that you can’t keep,” he reminds me as he holds his study doors open for me. I enter first, then turn to him.
“Where would you like to sit?” I ask.
He sits in one of the leather armchairs that we sat in when I was first here. I take the other one.
“Can you start at the beginning?” I ask. He nods.
And so he tells me of life at Chessarae. Of being a child here, with a mother who was distant and detached and a father who was never home. Luca knows why now, because Nicolas was increasingly confined to the cave in the maze, more and more as his life progressed. But since the Minaldis do not speak of their curse, not even to each other, he didn’t understand as a boy. He felt abandoned and alone.
Luca Minaldi may be confident and powerful on the outside, but on the inside he is a broken little boy. And with each word that comes from his mouth, from his perfectly formed lips, I feel my heart constrict just a little more until it is difficult for me to speak, to ask him questions.
“When did you understand what was happening to you?” I ask. It’s hard to formulate sound around the lump that has swelled in my throat.
“I always knew,” he answers, quiet in this large room. He gets up and pours us each a glass of Scotch, moving fluidly. He takes a gulp of his and I grip my cold glass tightly.
“I always knew. My mother told me at a very young age that there was something wrong with me, that I was a monster like my father. My brothers and I had a nurse who stayed with us in our wing. If we showed signs of sleepwalking or something similar, she was instructed to tie our hands to our bed and not allow us to leave until it had passed. As time went on, it was clear that it only afflicted me. My brothers were normal.”
A tear slips from the corner of my eye now as I picture Luca as a boy, terrified and alone in the darkness of his room, tied to his enormous bed.
“Luca… I…”
I can’t speak any more. The words won’t come. And another tear slips down my cheek. My eyes are hot and burning, so I close them.
“Don’t cry for me, Evangeline,” Luca tells me. “I came to terms with this long ago. Life is what it is. We must deal with the hand that we are dealt. This is my burden to bear. Everyone has one, including you. You still have unresolved issues surrounding your brother’s death. You know it as well as I do. You’ve built a wall around yourself. Don’t think I haven’t seen it. It’s invisible, but it is there.”
I nod. I can’t lie. It is true.
“But no one ever tied me to a bed,” I say softly.
“Perhaps not,” he answers. “But they might as well have. You’re tied to what happened, just the same.”
He’s right. I know he is right. But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here for him, so I tell him that and he nods.
“You’re right,” he answers. “You’re here because you want to save the un-savable.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t say that,” I almost plead, surprising myself with my emotion. “You’re not un-savable.”
He chuckles mirthlessly. “Okay.”
“Please. Tell me what you remember of your episodes. How have they gotten worse? What do you remember of each one? What exactly makes you think that you are violent, that you could be behind the murders in town?”
Luca speaks and his voice is husky in the night, like velvet. As he tells me what he remembers, I ache to reach over and draw him into my arms and hold him there, protecting him from everything the world might do to him.
“There was blood on my hands.”
He finishes up with these words and the hair stands up on the back of my neck.
“Blood on your hands,” I repeat slowly, my heart frozen in my chest. I feel suddenly numb.
He nods.
“I washed it away and I have no idea how it got there but it was the morning after the second girl, Sophia Romano, was killed. Then again after the third.”
I swallow.
I had really wanted to believe that he is wrong, that he isn’t a violent killer. But how can blood on his hands be explained?
I shake my head silently as I realize that it can’t.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I don’t want to be this way,” Luca tells me. I can hear the sincerity in his voice. It is aching and raw and I can do nothing but believe him. The truth is in his eyes. He is not lying.
“I know,” I tell him. “There has to be a medical answer. There is something… a chemical imbalance maybe. We’ll find it and fix it. I promise.”
He grins, his smile both a little wicked and a little sad. “Don’t forget what I said about promises.”
“I won’t,” I whisper. Luca hasn’t taken his eyes from mine and we seem to be attached by an invisible tether. The energy between us right now is palpable, I can practically reach out with shaking hands and touch it.
“Evangeline,” he says softly, his dark eyes glued to mine. “I’m so sorry about the other night. I wish I could remember. I wish I could take it back.”
“I don’t,” I tell him honestly. “I really don’t.”
He gazes out the window for a scant moment more, seemingly deep in thought, before he crosses the room to me. He kneels in front of me and looks into my eyes. In this moment, he is as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen him, as I’ve ever seen anyone. He’s completely open to me, hiding nothing.
I want so desperately to kiss him.
“I can’t,” I tell his dark eyes, praying that I don’t fall into them. “I want to kiss you right now. But I can’t. You’re my patient. There are ethics…”
Luca shakes his head, his hands on my knees and his gaze upon mine. “You aren’t my doctor, Evangeline. You’re my friend. I’m simply talking to a friend who wants to help me tonight. You’re no
t licensed to practice medicine in Malta, remember? So where does that leave your ethics?”
He smiles wolfishly and waits without moving. He’s offering himself to me. I know that. And it is against his better judgment. He has told me that, as well. Yet here he is, on his knees in front of me.
I suck in a breath and inhale the air that is so charged with everything that Luca is.
Whatever that is.
It is dangerous on many levels. I know that.
I reach out unsure fingers and trace the top of his shoulders, moving over the contours. They are so broad, yet so slender at once. He’s perfectly built. Strong, lithe and powerful. I drop my head. I know that I don’t want to resist him anymore. For the first time in my life, I’m going to do something that my heart wants to do, not what my head tells me to do.
I grip him tighter with my fingers and pull him to me. He folds in between my knees, pressing me to his chest. I can hear his heart thumping rhythmically against mine as my fingers linger on his warm back.
He dips his head and presses his forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. His are a smoldering and stormy black.
“I’m afraid to get close to you,” he tells me. “I’m afraid for you.”
“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m not afraid of you. Kiss me, Luca.”
Even I can hear the thick desire in my voice and Luca hears it too.
He groans and covers my mouth with his own, muffling the sound with my lips. He is pressed so close that he seems to absorb me. Every plane of his body is against every plane of mine. I don’t know where he stops and where I start, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is him and me and this.
I can’t breathe as his fingers run along my arms, down over my back and further to my hips and then he pulls me up, into him. He grips me tightly, his hands cupping my behind before lifts me, laying me on the thick rug on the stone floor. He hovers above me, brushing the hair from my eyes before he is once again in my mouth, my tongue mingling with his. We both taste of Scotch, but his taste is exquisite. So hot and primal and Luca.
I don’t care what the future brings. As long as there is this.
So I tell him that and he groans again, into the side of my neck. He kisses me there, brushing his lips along my skin, inhaling me as though I am the most fragrant thing that has ever existed. His breath is warm on my neck.
I arch into him and he melts into me. He is hard. Every bit of him is hard. I can feel it, can feel him. The tip of his erection pushes against the juncture of my thighs, against my damp panties. He pulls off my skirt, then my panties and I am exposed to him as his hand slides against the softness of my thigh. The cool air brushes against my hot flesh and I almost shiver. I can feel the rigidity of his penis pressing against me, but he withdraws it and I want to whimper.
But it is replaced by his fingers. Long and strong, he plays me as deftly as he played the ivory keys of the piano. An ache spreads through me, radiating from the lowest depths of my belly. I suck in my breath and push against his hand, my hips moving in an age old rhythm that comes as naturally to me as breathing.
“I want to see you,” I murmur against his neck, before I nip at his earlobe, pulling that delicate skin lightly in my teeth. Luca sucks in his breath and takes a step away, staring down at me as he purposefully removes his shirt and tosses it onto the floor.
His biceps are lean, yet bulging and muscular. His chest is perfectly chiseled. Each muscle rippling into a perfect V that points to his crotch. My heart is pounding and I watch his long fingers as they unbuckle his belt and then he steps out of his slacks. Then his underwear.
His hard erection is standing at full attention, curved against him, evidence that he definitely wants me. He is magnificent.
My breath is frozen now, while his is harsh and ragged.
Holy hell. His is the most beautiful male body I’ve ever seen, absolutely perfect in every way.
The energy between us is intense, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t help but to reach down and grasp his hardness, sliding my fingers along it, listening to his sharp intake of breath as I touch him. I can’t help but smile.
He’s hard for me.
This is for me.
With my grasp firm, I slide my hand up and down his shaft, smiling a little as I feel the tremors in his abdomen. He likes my touch and he leans into it as I move my hand. I decide to take it a step further and with my eyes still joined with his, I lick a trail from his abdomen to his nipple. When I arrive, I trace a little circle around it with my tongue before I slip it into my mouth and suck.
He almost gasps as he grabs my shoulders and moves me away.
“If you don’t want me to come in your hand right now, you need to stop,” he rasps.
I can’t help but smirk. He smiles at that, wolfish and wicked, and I know that I am in trouble.
He bends in front of me yet again, rocking me backward until I am once again lying in front of him. He hovers above me, his stare still frozen to mine as he slides first one finger into me, then two. I feel tremors rippling through my belly and I can’t breathe again. The friction is exquisite and I never want it to stop.
And then he withdraws his fingers, and very, very purposefully puts one in his mouth. Still staring me in the eye, he slides his finger in and sucks the taste of me off.
Oh, holy hell. I’ve never seen anything sexier than that.
Luca’s eyes are a stormy, stormy black as he looks into mine. His gaze is on fire and it sets me ablaze as he bends until his face is mere centimeters from mine.
“I want to be inside you, Eva.”
I look at him.
“You called me Eva,” I state simply.
He smiles against my lips.
“I think we’re friends now.”
He laughs softly, his chest rumbling against my own as he lifts my leg around his naked hip.
Finally.
He moves gracefully above me then slips into the moist depths of me and I push into him with all of my strength. Oh my god. I wanted this. But I never knew it would feel so good.
I am emotional now and I feel tears slipping down my cheeks once again, but Luca kisses them away as he rocks against me. He seems to instinctively know that I’m not sad, I’m just filled with every emotion that I think I’ve ever had.
Luca thrusts and I quiver, my thighs shaking against him. His chest is damp and my mind is a blur now. I can only think of him. I can only see him. Everything else fades away.
Except for Luca.
He is the only thing that matters in this moment and I focus on his face.
He moves slowly, easing in and out of me and I clutch his shoulders. When he lowers his hand, swirling his fingers around the most sensitive part of me, I cry out. He silences me with his mouth, his lips soft against mine. His fingers move in time with his thrusts and I feel myself coming undone, building toward a precipice that I know I will fall from.
I don’t even breathe as I rock toward it, clutching Luca for dear life as he brings me higher and closer to the edge. And then without warning, the room explodes with color and light and sensations too strong to even name. I have never experienced such a thing in my life. It wasn’t a simple orgasm. It was un-nameable. Indefinable. It was amazing, but so much more than that.
“Say my name,” he instructs me, his voice hot and low in my ear.
“Luca,” I breathe.
“Again,” he says.
“Luca.” I can hardly speak at this point, can hardly breathe.
I hang on to him limply as he thrusts harder and faster.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands hotly. “Tell me, Eva.”
He slows and slides all the way out, hovering there.
Waiting.
“Tell me,” he says again; still waiting. Unmoving.
“Come in me,” I whisper, and I don’t know where the words come from. I just know that I want to feel him. I want to absorb his sadness and his need and everything that he has to give me.
>
And then he buries himself sharply into me again. I gasp and clutch at him, the delicious friction pushing me upward yet again. He is kissing my shoulders and my neck and finally, he causes me to come undone. I am all but whimpering from it when he shudders.
I feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of me as he empties everything that he is into me. And then we are quiet and still in this emotionally charged moment. He is balancing his weight above me and I can still feel every bit of him. Still inside of me, he leans his forehead once again to mine and then kisses me, his lips brushing the dampness of my brow.
He pulls out and rolls to the side and I feel immediately empty, as though I am missing something.
Because I am.
I never want to be without Luca again and that thought, that emotion, startles me. It scares the hell out of me.
I sit up.
Luca is sitting up too, gazing at me with his dark stare. It’s the stare that has haunted my dreams from the moment that I met him.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me. “Just so you know.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful, too.”
He laughs.
“Men aren’t beautiful, Eva.”
“You are,” I insist. “Inside and out.”
His breath catches and his gaze is stormy again.
“I wish that were true.”
“It is,” I say. And I mean it. “There is a part of you that needs my help. But Luca, I can help you. I really can.”
He stares at me, then smiles slightly, sardonically.
“I’m a monster, Eva. There is no saving a monster. But I love that you want to try.”
My heart constricts at the expression on his face. He has no hope for himself, so I have to hope for him.
“You’re not a monster,” I argue softly. “You’re a man, Luca. A man like any other, you’re made of blood and bone. You’re not a monster. You have a good heart. I can see it in your eyes and I can feel it when you’re inside of me. Whatever this is, this darkness that plagues you…. We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”
He sighs raggedly and I know that he won’t argue with me tonight. But he won’t believe simple words, either. I know that, too. So I will simply have to show him. I have to help him. I have to. I will be as lost as he is if I don’t.
Of Blood and Bone (The Minaldi Legacy) Page 14
