“Take her upstairs,” Felicity said to me. “Second door on the left.”
I hefted Natalie higher in my arms and moved up the steps. Below I could hear Marco and Felicity talking quietly about what had happened as the front door shut.
“Everyone can stop worrying about me.” Natalie laid her head on my shoulder again. “I really am fine.”
I wasn’t so sure. Yes, she was arguing—like normal—but she hadn’t let go of me once since we’d left those woods. In the car, she’d sat curled against my lap as Marco drove, her arms wrapped around my neck, holding on with a death grip. And when I’d lifted her from the car and headed toward the house, she hadn’t made a single move to stand on her own.
“Just let us take care of you. You’ve been taking care of everyone else long enough.”
She cringed as I set her carefully on the mattress in the suite that held an old stone fireplace, a small sitting area with a couch and several chairs, and three arched glass doors that opened to a long balcony.
“Where does it hurt?” I asked her.
“Everywhere.”
She must have seen my jaw clench in reaction because she squeezed my arms. “I’m kidding. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all.”
She struggled to smile up at me, and I could see just tipping her head back a tiny bit caused her pain. My stomach pitched, and I fought to hold it together. I could handle my own pain, but not Natalie’s.
“Wait here.” I tugged my hand from hers and moved toward the door. “Fee.”
“I...” Gritting her teeth, she braced her hands on the mattress and scooted back so she could rest against the pillows. “I’m really fine, Luc. Please, just come back.”
“I’m here.” Felicity swept past me and into the room.
“She needs something for the pain.” I turned after Felicity.
“I need to check you out first.” Felicity said to Natalie as she moved to the side of the bed and reached for the hem of Natalie’s ripped sweatshirt. “Show me where it hurts mo—”
Her voice died on a gasp. I moved toward her to see what she was looking at, but Felicity tugged Natalie’s sweatshirt down quickly and turned toward me. “She’s going to need fresh clothes, Luc. She’s too tall for most of my stuff. Can you run down to the villa and grab her some things? Sweats? Pajamas? Something loose and comfortable.”
“Yes.” I had a feeling there was something she didn’t want me to see. “But—”
“She’ll be fine.” She pushed two hands against my chest, forcing me back a step. “When you get back, I’ll be done with her, and I can take a look at your forehead.”
“I don’t need any—”
“You’ve got a gash there that needs stitching. Go.”
I glanced toward the bed where Natalie was still reclined in the pillows, but her eyes were now closed, and one hand was resting near her ribs, her breaths slow and shallow. “Angioletto?”
Her eyes popped open, but I saw the quick shot of pain that rushed over her features before she masked it. “I-I’m fine. Go so you can come right back.”
I didn’t want to leave her, but Marco tugged on my arm. “Come on, Luc. I’ll help you.”
We made it to the stairs, then Felicity’s voice echoed at our backs. “Luc, wait.”
I turned, every inch of my body on instant alert the second I saw the worry darkening Fee’s normally light eyes. “What?”
She shot Marco one wary look, then focused on me. “I didn’t want you to react in front of Natalie. You didn’t see her side, did you?”
Fear shot up my throat. “What’s wrong with her side?”
I tried to step around Felicity so I could rush back to Natalie, but she moved in my way and held up two hands, blocking me. “This is the kind of reaction you can’t let her see. Luc, focus on me.”
“What?” I looked down at her, my heart thumping hard and fast. “What did you see? Tell me.”
“Physically, she’s going to be fine. She’ll heal. But, they marked her.”
“Marked her how? What are you talking about?”
She drew a breath and glanced toward Marco at my back again before refocusing on me. “They branded her.”
“Santo Dio...”
“It’s a death rune. I’m going to guess it’s the same one they branded Maricella with, from what you told me.”
I stumbled back and hit the wall, my mind spinning with the consequences of this news. I’d thought that was a tattoo on Maricella, but a brand still carried the same meaning. “If anyone else sees it...”
“Yeah. I know. They’ll know your father passed judgment on her before his death. They’ll put two and two together and realized what happened to the leader of House Salvatici.”
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 pushed away from the wall and 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 was ever going to 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.
Chapter Twenty
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 ran 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.
Satisfied 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.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Pain washed over me. Not physical pain. The kind of pain that runs soul deep. 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, un
ique, 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 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.”
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