by Rose Harper
“What I mean is this—we thought Pop was hitching you for connection purposes, when in reality … shit, man. This is bad.” I’ve never seen Lucio this rattled.
“Goddammit! What is it?”
Sighing, Gavino peers over at Lucio, and I can practically feel the fear leeching off him in waves of sickening proportions. I’ve never known Gavino to be scared of anything. Ever. And that includes the moment we had to watch in silence as our mother was murdered right in front of us. In fact, he’s the most fearless—besides Domino—out of all of us.
Meeting my eyes, Lucio’s silence says more than he ever could verbally. But once the words fall from his lips, my heart stalls in my chest as my entire world flips upside down once more.
“Carina is Reap.”
“What?” Clearly, they’re mistaken. This entire marriage was about gaining the alliance of Reap. About establishing a connection with the family to make sure he was on our side when shit got real. Now, my brothers are trying to tell me that Reap isn’t a he, but a woman—the motherfucking woman I’m intended to marry?
“According to the records the doctor gave your father, she has no fucking clue who she is,” Vinny informs me, leaning against the wall near the fireplace.
Slumping back into my chair, I eye each of them in turn, eyes the size of saucers. “I think I misheard you. Did you say Carina—beautiful, smart, innocent, broken Carina—is the thing every person fears? The fucking creature in the ghost stories parents tell their children to get them to be good?”
“That’s not the only thing we’re saying, Teo,” Gavino says, gesturing toward Vinny.
“What else could there be? That’s as fucked up as it gets,” I hiss, running my hand through my hair.
Sighing, Giovanni walks toward my desk, leaning his knuckles on it. “What Vin is trying to say, Teo, is that Carina’s not just the devil. She’s much worse. Her parents broke her, ripped her emotions out at an early age. Her father took her on her fist goddamn kill when she was just ten. Then, when we showed up on Christmas Eve, that’s the night he started punishing her. He did that shit to evoke the emotions he ripped away from her when she was little, but she’s so fucking unstable and thrives on the kill, she couldn’t make the transition without falling over the edge. That’s the reason she doesn’t understand or remember. It’s the reason Dom has been talking to her, but really, he didn’t even know the truth either. The reason she is the way she is now is because she’s feeling; she’s turned her emotions on. What her parents did to her brought out emotions she knows but has never felt before. She’s not broken, man—she’s lethal. And she has no idea how lethal she is.”
Dom chuckles, then almost outright starts laughing, which catches my attention. “Why are you laughing, dipshit?”
“Man, I wouldn’t want to be you right now.”
“Why?”
“Because the woman that makes the devil shit himself every morning—the woman we thought was a man who kills his way through the city with no remorse, is actually a woman with goddamn PMS that you and Camille screwed over. Dude, I don’t envy you—not one little bit.”
“Shut the fuck up, Domino,” I reply in exasperation. “I didn’t do anything. Camille said that shit to get a rise out of her and you know it. I would never marry that slut.”
“Yes,” he replies with a nod. “I do know that. But, does she?”
“Just saying, but you might want to make that right with her before she’s her old stabby self again. Lord knows what she’ll do with that piece of ammunition,” Giovanni inserts.
I know what will happen. He doesn’t have to say it. Just as soon as her memory comes back, we’ll fucking kill each other.
16
CARINA
“C arina.”
Tension aches in my muscles as I’m stirred awake. Rolling over, I open my swollen eyes. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve cried, but since news of Mateo’s upcoming nuptials, I’ve sobbed constantly. My newfound soul feels like it’s leaving me, even though I pretended at the time I didn’t care. But, in reality, the news of Mateo marrying that wretched witch caused more pain than I knew what to do with. Usually, I would feel nothing but pleasure, but this time, it was different. Then, the questions Dom kept asking just seemed to fuel the foreign emotions already eating me alive.
Reopening my eyes, I notice the person trying to rouse me is someone I haven’t met yet in this house. I’ve seen him around, but he mostly stays to himself. He’s more of a suffer-in-silence type. Usually, they send Dom to wake me because I feel settled with him around. Yet, a new face is the one to pull me from my slumber, and I find I’m none too pleased with the change.
“Who are you, and why are you in my room?” I ask, voice still full of sleep.
“It’s nearly noon. You’re sleeping the entire day away,” he retorts in a gentle voice, standing to his full height.
His gentleness does nothing for my mood. “And that gives you the right to come in my room?”
“No,” he replies sheepishly. “But I didn’t need your permission. Mateo gave it to me.”
“Mateo,” I say his name like it’s a curse. “That asshole can go to hell.”
“Oh,” he laughs, “I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Boss has been in kind of a mood since that debacle last week.”
“Like I give a rat’s ass,” I mumble, crawling out of bed.
“You should. You should also come down and eat. We’re not at your beck and call, little girl.”
I shake my head. Food can’t heal this. I’m not sure anything can. The void Mateo’s caused inside of me is vast and unyielding. The man that chased away my demons is the very reason they’re back to play with a vengeance. Everything to me is dead. Nothing but misery overshadows my being. The constricting around my head makes each breath unbearable, and I merely want to drift away, become emotionless.
More than drift. I want to lose myself forever.
“Maybe a shower then?” he suggests, but I don’t respond.
Releasing a huff of frustration, I glare at him. “Just get out.”
“No can do, princess. I’m here to make sure you at least get out of bed,” he replies, firm in his disposition.
Not caring about my nakedness, I make my way across the room and throw open the doors to my closet. Choosing the first thing I see, I pull the dress over my head, grab a pair of peep-toe pumps, and make my way out of the closet, still finding the asshole from earlier standing next to my bed.
“You got something to say or you just enjoying the show?” I ask, leveling him a glare.
Shrugging a shoulder, he replies, “Enjoying the show.”
Asshole.
After getting ready, I go to the bookshelves that are filled to the brim and choose one for today, because there’s absolutely no way I will be able to leave. Just seeing those two together brings on a level of hate so deep, it makes my insides burn to ash.
Picking up the bloodiest, goriest book I can find before walking over to the chaise lounge and taking a seat, I ignore him completely. Sooner or later he’ll get the drift and leave, at least, that’s what I’m hoping for. I open American Psycho, and soon, I’m so enthralled with the tale it’s easy to ignore the fly in the room.
“Are you not coming down?”
“Haven’t been all week. Why should I now?” I ask, continuing my reading.
Something about this book seems vaguely familiar as if I’ve read it before. It’s too much of a coincidence to push past the thoughts nagging at my mind. I’m sure of it. Every word I read, I can predict just exactly what the author is going to say and when he’s going to say it. The torture room, raping, killing, cannibalism—it all seems too familiar.
“What’s your name?” I ask, skimming over the words, more confusion sizzling through my veins. I even flip to the halfway point in it, and I can tell you everything that’s happened and will happen.
“Vinny,” he says with a smile in his voice.
“Have you ever
read this book, Vinny?” I inquire, holding it in front of my face.
“Can’t say I have.”
Too bad, he’s missing out. Besides the raping, I can so imagine doing all of this. Actually, if I close my eyes and think hard enough, I’m pretty sure I can get a glimpse of what I’d look like as a serial killer. It’s weird. It should freak me out, but surprisingly, it doesn’t. I feel a new sense of calm when thinking about it.
“You may want to.”
“Why?” he asks, and dammit, I can practically smell the nervousness wafting off him.
I hear his throat clearing as I smile down at the words. “Just because.”
“No. Answer me.”
“You asked why I’m not coming down, right? Read this story, and you’ll know why.” I finally lift my gaze away from the book, regarding him with a maniacal glint in my eye. “Let’s just say it strikes a chord with me.”
Returning my eyes to the book in front of me, I nebulously overhear my door opening and closing as if it’s on fire, and thoughts so vivid start flashing through my mind. My face, neck, clothes, and hands saturated with another’s blood.
Trailing knives across another person’s skin, watching as they jerk away from my touch with fear enveloping their bodies.
Carving piece by piece of flesh, muscle, and tendon from their body until there’s nothing more than bloodied bones with remnants of dangling meat left.
Feeling the adrenaline rush overtake me as I hear their screams and pleas, begging me to stop.
Just reading this, living in the same moment as Bateman, causes little tingles of awareness to branch up my spine. It’s euphoric, reading about him taking a life. Seeing all the ways he made people suffer before he finally dealt the final blow. My thoughts should scare me, yet, they don’t. They rejuvenate me. Give me pleasure I thought only pain could bring.
“Maybe this is the way to find true peace without relying on that bastard,” I whisper in awe.
Before long, I read the last words in the best book I’ve ever encountered, placing it back on the shelf along with the others. Running my fingers over the spine, I can’t get the awe to leave my expression even if I wanted it to. Everything in this book calls to me, screaming that I’ve devoured it as if it were my personal version of a Christian’s bible before everything happened.
The killings, torture; the lengths Bateman went to gather his prey—they all feel so foreign to me, yet at the same time, much to my surprise, familiar.
As if, in another life, I was the American Psycho, and I made all of my enemies drown in a bath of blood and tears.
Thinking about my life and how my days have been since I came to be here changes something inside me. The fighting stops. The emotions plaguing me disappear.
That’s when the dam bursts open. All the memories my mind was suppressing break through, filling me with knowledge I didn’t have before.
Mateo says I belong to him, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
He’s the one that belongs to me.
And I’m going to enjoy everything I have planned for us.
Because he’s my king and I’m his queen.
Thank you for reading, Blood and Secrets! Don’t miss the next installment, Blood and Secrets 2, approximate release date: late May 2018!
Let’s see if Carina will be able to tame her king …
PLAYLIST
Slow Hands – Niall Horan
I Don’t Wanna Live Forever – Taylor Swift
Piece by Piece – Kelly Clarkson
Breathe – Faith Hill
Love Me Like You Do – Ellie Goulding
A Thousand Years – Christina Perri
Bring Me to Life – Evanescence
Everybody’s Fool – Evanescence
Going Under – Evanescence
Haunted – Evanescence
Hello – Evanescence
Farther Away – Evanescence
Tourniquet - Evanescence
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading, Blood and Secrets. I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it, and I can’t wait until you’re fully able to dive into my next work, Blood and Secrets 2.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rose Harper thrives on bringing tantalizing, downright shiver inducing Dark Romance and Romantic Suspense novels for her readers to devour. She’s a lover of dark, sizzling passion, and mystery filled stories with twists and turns you never see coming, yet leave you wanting more.
*LATEST RELEASES*:
☞ On Edge (Wicked Liaison Collection Book One)
☞ Unsteady (Wicked Liaison Collection Book Two)
☞ Shattered (Wicked Liaison Collection Book Three)
☞ Ignite (Wicked Liaison Collection Book Four)
☞ All or Nothing (Wicked Liaison Collection Book Five)
☞ Blood and Secrets (The Calvetti Crime Family)
☞ Blood and Secrets 2 (The Calvetti Crime Family) COMING SOON
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